Killing Rain

“Shit.”
    Winters was a pro, and Hilger had assumed the man would avoid any unnecessary risks. Worst case, he had expected they might not be able to find Rain, or that Rain might get away when they moved in on him. He hadn’t expected casualties. Certainly not Winters.
    “What about Dox?” he asked, regaining his focus.
    “He got away, too. Two of the Thais briefed me.”
    “Do the Thais represent a liability at this point?”
    “No. They don’t know enough to matter.”
    Hilger thought for a moment, then said, “How did it go down?”
    “Apparently Rain saw it coming. He reacted before they were properly in position.”
    If Rain had seen Winters coming, he must be damn near psychic. That, or the Thais had slipped somehow. You couldn’t expect them to own up to something like that. They were just local muscle, after all. Contractors. With Calver and Gibbons dead from that goat-rope in Manila, Hilger hadn’t been able to field a full, professional team.
    “How did Winters die?” Hilger asked.
    “Rain had a knife.”
    Hilger frowned. All that kali stuff . . . Winters was supposed to be an expert with blades. “He beat Winters, with a knife?” he asked, thinking that something was wrong with the story.
    “Dox threw a chair at him, it seems. It knocked him down.”

    Well, that would do it. “And then?”
    “The Thais said Rain and Dox jumped on him and started stabbing him. There was nothing they could do and they ran away.”
    Hilger believed they ran away, all right. He just wondered exactly when in the sequence it had actually happened.
    “Were you able to confirm any of this?” he asked.
    “Yeah. I’ve got a contact in the embassy who was able to check with the Thai police. Winters had broken ribs and was killed by a knife wound in the chest. He had defensive wounds on his arms.”
    Even in the midst of his anger and sorrow over Winters, Hilger felt a sense of relief that the man had died on his feet. Winters knew a lot, and it would have been a problem if Rain and Dox had managed to interrogate him. Not that Winters had been any sort of pushover—it would have taken a lot to separate him from any information he was intent on keeping—but this way, Hilger didn’t have to deal with any doubts at all.
    “What do the police make of it?” he asked.
    “They think it was a bad drug deal. Winters was traveling sterile. No problem there.”
    Damn, Winters had been a good man. Thorough. Losing him was a blow.
    Hilger realized he was going to have to call Winters’s sister, Elizabeth Shannon. Winters hadn’t been married; his sister was his next of kin. Hilger had dated her after the war. She was married now, with a family, but they had stayed friendly. Goddamnit, he was dreading that call. He hated Rain for forcing him to make it.
    “What’s next?” Demeere asked.
    Hilger thought for a moment about telling the man to come to Hong Kong for the meeting with VBM, but then decided not to. It would have been useful to have him there to take Winters’splace, but he judged it more important to keep someone on Rain and Dox. He wanted them dead.
    “Try to reacquire Rain and Dox,” Hilger told him. “And use your discretion, but I would advise against trying to render them again. We’ve lost too many people already, and I don’t see how we could do it anyway without a full team in place. If you can find them and the opportunity is there, just take them the fuck out.”
    “Roger that,” Demeere said. “I’ll keep you posted.”
    Hilger hung up. Christ, the op was coming apart. But he had to find a way to fix it. It had taken him two years to set up this meeting with VBM. And it wasn’t just the time he’d invested. It was the things he’d been forced to do to make it possible. Those things were going to haunt him forever, and if there was a God out there, Hilger knew one day there was going to be some explaining to do.
    He put his elbows on his desk, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against his fingertips. Yeah, he’d made some hard calls along the way, calls that no one should have to make. Having to take out that guy in Amman, an American, with a family, hadn’t been easy. And having to sit on information that he knew would have saved lives in Bali, in Jakarta, and elsewhere . . . well he was going to have to live with all of that, too.
    But a lot of good was coming from it, and that was the thing to focus on. You had to look at the big picture. Were the Brits wrong not to