Killing Rain

hunting you until you’re hunting them. It’s just the way I work, the way I’ve always done things.
    But all I said was, “We’ll try to get this over with before he gets too antsy.”
    Dox showed ten minutes later. Damn, I’d never seen him like this—a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, white spread-collar shirt, and a monochrome blue tie. The only thing that was out of place was the goatee—I’d forgotten to mention that. It was too memorable and anyway we needed to alter his appearance as much as possible. I thought it ought to go.
    Unlike Delilah, Dox looked up before he looked anywhere else. It was reflex for him to check for sniper hides, and he saw us immediately. He crossed the lobby and headed up the stairs.
    He walked over to where we were standing and shook Delilah’s hand. “It’s nice to see you again,” he said.
    I realized that the latent formality Delilah seemed to evoke in him would be perfect for the job at hand. Dox, whose acting skills, in my opinion, still needed polishing, would automatically comport himself like the perfect gentleman, businessman, and solicitous host, which was exactly who he was supposed to be today.
    She gave him a warm smile and said, “Likewise.”
    “Sorry I’m a little late. I had some trouble getting fitted in this suit. They’re not used to the big guys in these parts.”
    “You look great,” she said, nodding her head appreciatively.
    He actually blushed. One day I would have to ask Delilah what her secret was. “Thank you,” he said. “You do, too.”
    She did look great. She was wearing a charcoal pantsuit with a fitted double-breasted jacket, short to the waist with the buttons set low across the chest. Underneath was a crisp white blouse open at the neck. The pants were also fitted, with a slight flare below the knee; farther down, a pair of deep purple flats, a little less dressy than pumps but better for maneuver. The whole thing was set off with a pair of diamond stud earrings and a simple platinum link necklace. She was carrying a leather attaché case and a small clutch. Her blond hair was down and blown out—the perfect attention-getter in Hong Kong, and something that could be expected to draw attention away from Dox, whom Hilger might recognize.
    We sat down and ordered tea. I briefed them on what I had just learned from my “source in Japan,” and on the latest news from the Washington Post.
    We all agreed that, although Gil’s information was to the contrary, the jury was in on Jim Hilger. Now all that remained was to carry out his sentence. And Manny’s.
    We spent some time mapping things out. Through the hotel, I had already arranged a visit to the China Club for later that afternoon, and Dox and Delilah needed to do the same. Reservations shouldn’t be a problem; all they had to do was get there early enough to ensure getting seats at one of the small tables in the bar. We’d communicate via the commo gear. We would use the wireless video transmitters that Dox and I had employed in Manila, but this time we would supplement them with audio, and the combination would let us know when tonight’s targets arrived, where they were positioned, and, most important, when one of them excused himself from dinner to attend a call of nature. I was confident I could find an appropriate place to hide on the premises; Dox and Delilah would monitor it all from the bar and keep me apprised of whatever I needed to know. As for Manny and Hilger, I would use my hands on the first one that presented a target of opportunity, then immediately proceed to the other. With any luck, at that point I would be armed. VBM, whoever he was, would go down, too, if he got in the way, but other than that he meant nothing to me.
    If this had been a sniping operation, I would have been the sniper; Dox and Delilah, the spotters. The division of labor isn’t always necessary, but it’s almost always useful. Having a partner spot, assess, and monitor the target enables the sniper to focus on a single task: killing. In this case, it would have been distracting for me to have to try to gauge whether and when Hilger or Manny might be moving toward my position; to adjust, if they went elsewhere; to react, if they did something I hadn’t predicted. Dox and Delilah, angled with their backs to the wall and monitoring everything on the laptop like two businesspeople discussing a PowerPoint presentation, would provide some welcome cushioning from all those vagaries.