Killing Rain

pre-positioned outside of customs, where I had told Delilah I would meet her, along with when. Second, they would have someone on the plane with her, who would have to follow her if his presence were going to serve any purpose. Of the two, I thought the second the more likely, as well as the easier to deal with. More likely, because their probable lack of Asian resources would prevent them from getting someone in place that quickly; easier, because whoever it was would have to be close to Delilah coming off the plane and would have a hard time staying submerged once I started moving her. Either way, I wasn’t unduly worried about someone making a move inside the airport. Thelevels of surveillance, security, and control over ingress and egress involved would make an airport job almost impossible to pull off cleanly.
    The plane arrived ten minutes ahead of schedule, with nothing noticeably out of place in the crowd beforehand. I saw Delilah immediately as she came through. She was wearing a navy pantsuit and brown pumps, her long blond hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. A crocodile carry-on was slung across her left shoulder, the bag resting comfortably against her opposite hip. The surface brand was looks, money, confidence, style. There was a lot more to her than just that, I knew, but she wore that outward persona well.
    I reached into my pocket and turned off the commo gear, then turned on the mini bug detector Harry had made for me in Tokyo and that I’ve relied on since. The former would have set off the latter, and I wanted to make sure Delilah wasn’t wearing a transmitter.
    She looked around, saw me, and smiled. I felt something going on down south, like a slumbering dog stirring in response to an enticing aroma, and I thought, Down, boy. Don’t embarrass me.
    She walked over and put the bag down, then leaned in and kissed me lightly on the mouth. I put my arms around her and pulled her close. She smelled the way she did the first time I’d kissed her, clean and fresh and with a tantalizing trace of some perfume I couldn’t name. The warmth of her, the feel of her against me, her scent, it all seemed to ease in under my clothes, and in the crowded airport the embrace was suddenly private, focused, almost naked in its intimacy.
    She pulled her head back and looked at me, one hand resting against the back of my neck, the other dropping gently to my chest. The dog was coming fully awake now. Another minute and the damned thing would sit up and beg. I eased away and looked at her.

    She smiled, her cobalt eyes alight with good humor. “I guess this is when I’m supposed to ask, ‘Is that a gun in your pocket . . .’ ”
    I felt myself blush. “No, I’m definitely just glad to see you.”
    She laughed. “Where are we going?”
    The bug detector slumbered peacefully in my pocket. She wasn’t wired. I struck a casual pose, my hands in my pockets. I switched the bug detector off and powered the commo gear on. I heard a slight hiss in my ear canal where the flesh-colored unit was inserted.
    “A little place I know in Phuket,” I said.
    “Wonderful! I’ve heard it’s beautiful, but have never been. How are things there, after the tsunami?”
    “The place we’re going is elevated from the beach and did fine. Actually, most of the island is recovering nicely. How much time do you have?”
    “Three days. Maybe longer. You?”
    “I don’t know. I’m waiting for something. I hope it’ll take at least a few days to materialize.”
    “Well, let’s not waste any time. Where do we go?”
    “The other terminal. Our flight leaves in an hour.”
    I eschewed the shuttle bus, instead choosing a route that required a walk through the terminal and a descent to the level below us. She knew what I was doing but didn’t comment on it. On the level below, I flagged down a cab and had it take us to the domestic terminal. A minute after we had pulled away from the curb, I heard Dox in my ear: “All right, so far, so good. It doesn’t look like anyone’s trying to stay with you. If they are, they’re sure not being obvious. I’ll head over and see if we see any familiar faces.”
    The cab pulled up in front of the domestic terminal. I paid the driver, got out, and held the door for Delilah, checking behind and around us while I did. She saw what I was doing—Iwasn’t trying to be subtle, and she would have spotted it anyway—and again, she didn’t comment. I logged her failure to protest as a