RainStorm

sat in a coffee shop overlooking the restaurant where Dox and I had last
    eaten. He showed up an hour later, alone. I waited ten minutes,
    then went to join him.
    "I didn't expect to see you again so soon," he told me, as I sat
    down.
    "I missed you," I said.
    He laughed. "You take care of our friend Mr. Crawley?"
    I looked at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
    He laughed again. "All right, all right, I was just asking. May he
    rest in peace."
    A waitress came over. "You know what you want?" I asked him.
    "Can you get me some more of that caterpillar soup?"
    "Glad you've developed a taste for it."
    "Well, the taste is all right, sure. But it's the effects I really admire.
    Last time we ate here, that night, I showed two Thai ladies
    what love with Dox is all about. By the time the sun came up they
    were practically begging for mercy."
    "I'm sure they were."
    I ordered the food and looked at him. "How are your sniping
    skills?" I asked.
    He scowled as though offended. "Shoot, partner, now you've
    gone and hurt my feelings, asking a question like that. You know
    marine snipers are the best in the world."
    "What I mean is, you've been staying in shape?"
    He smiled. "Well, let's just say that our friends at Christians In
    Action didn't hire me exclusively for my charm, considerable
    though it is."
    "Do you have access to a rifle?"
    " 'Access'? Last job I did, I wanted to try out the new M-40A3.
    I had one waiting for me the next day, with a matching ANPVS-10
    night scope, no questions asked."
    "How'd you like it?"
    "Liked it a lot. It's a little heavier than the M-40A1, but I like
    the adjustable cheek piece and the recoil pad on the butt stock."
    "You used it in field conditions?"
    He smiled. "With an M118LR round, chambered in 7.62mm.
    Drilled a certain malefactor through the eye in the middle of the
    night at four hundred yards. Nothing like seeing the pink mist to
    make a sniper feel alive, I'll tell you. Although in the night scope, it
    was more green than pink."
    I nodded, satisfied. I'd seen some of Dox's exploits in Afghanistan.
    I knew he might enjoy exaggerating his prowess with women, but
    when it came to sniping, he was as good as he said.
    "I've been on a job that's gotten more difficult as it's progressed,"
    I said. "To finish it, I'm going to need help. If you're interested,
    I'll split the fee with you--two hundred thousand U.S.,
    one hundred thousand each."
    "Two hundred thousand? They're paying you that much? Shit,
    I've been getting short-changed. I need to have a talk with that
    damn Kanezaki."
    "Plus there might be some additional cash involved, although I
    don't think we'll know how much until the time comes."
    "Well, I'm interested, all right. Tell me more."
    I told him what he needed to know about Belghazi, the NOC,
    and the Hong Kong container port connection. He didn't react in
    any way that would have indicated prior knowledge or involvement,
    but you can't prove a negative, as they say.
    "Well, first thing is, I need to see the terrain," he told me. "You
    say there's only one entrance to the terminal, that's where we're going
    to hit them, that's good. But can I get in and out of position
    without being seen? Will I have concealment? Can I shoot undetected?
    Will there be a clear line of sight to the target?"
    I nodded and pulled out a sheaf of papers from inside my jacket.
    "These are printouts from the company that runs Container Terminal
    Nine," I told him. "They ought to be a good start."
    I handed the papers to him and he started shuffling through
    them. "My gracious," he said, pausing at one of the pages, "is this
    a map of the terminal?"
    I smiled. "It's amazing what you can get on the Web."
    He nodded. "Well this is a nice head start, that's for sure. But I
    still need to do a walkthrough."
    "I've already rented a van. We'll drive over as soon as you've fortified
    yourself with the caterpillars."
    "It might be less conspicuous if I do the reconnoitering by
    myself."
    "Yeah, you're right, they get a lot of enormous, goateed white
    guys sniffing around Kwai Chung. I'm sure you'll blend right in."
    He grinned. "Well, that's a persuasive point you make there,
    partner."
    kwai chung and its massive container port are located in the
    New Territories, a name conferred by the British when they
    "leased" the area in 1898 and unchanged even after the transfer
    back to China almost a century later. Although its rolling hills are
    now obscured by ferroconcrete forests of residential