RainStorm

looked around us.
    "It's all right," she said. "I would, too, if our positions were reversed."
    I looked at her for a moment. It was good to be with someone
    who understood my habits. Who shared them.
    She glanced at my arm and my thigh. The dressings were gone
    now, and the slowly healing results of Belghazi's handiwork were
    clearly visible. Whoever had patched me up must have been more
    concerned about closing the wounds than with their subsequent
    cosmetic appearance. It looked as though I'd been attacked by a
    pissed-off lawnmower.
    "I know what you did at Kwai Chung in Hong Kong," she said.
    I shrugged. "What, that thing? I read that was the CIA and
    Hong Kong police."
    She chuckled. "You know where those missiles were going?"
    I shook my head.
    "To Saudi-funded groups that would have used them against Jerusalem
    and Haifa and Tel Aviv. The missiles have a ten-mile range.
    Israel is nine miles across at her waist. They could have reached
    anywhere."
    "So it was the missiles you were after?"
    She nodded. "We didn't have a fix on the seller. But we were
    tracking Belghazi, tracking him closely, as you know. Once he took
    possession, the shipping information would have been in his computer.
    He kept everything in it. Encrypted, of course, but we have
    people who could have cracked it."
    "What then?"
    "We would have tracked the ship that we learned was moving
    the missiles. Almost certainly it would have been destined for a
    Saudi port or to Dubai. So in the South China Sea, the ship would
    have been boarded by naval commandos, the cargo confirmed and
    appropriated."
    "Lots of pirates in that part of the world," I noted.
    "And not all 'pirate' activity is publicized, either. Some shipping
    companies would prefer to keep a theft quiet. Depending on the
    cargo involved, of course."
    "So it was the handoff, and the shipping information, you were
    waiting for."
    "Yes. If something happened to Belghazi before then, we would
    have lost track of the missiles. There would have been another
    buyer."
    I nodded, thinking. "I don't think Belghazi was planning on
    moving those missiles through ordinary container port shipping.
    From what I understand, one of his last acts was to have them
    loaded into a van."
    "The information we've been able to piece together suggests as
    much. The Alazans were an unusual shipment for all parties concerned.
    They were using unusual means of movement."
    "I got that feeling."
    "What I'm saying is, if we had proceeded with our original
    plan, we might have lost track of the shipment. That would have
    been disastrous. You have a lot of admirers right now among the
    people I work with."
    I smiled, but the smile felt sad. "I have a feeling there's a job offer
    in all of this."
    "There is."
    I laughed and looked away. I'd really been hoping there, for a
    minute. One glimpse of a thong bikini and my brain had gone to
    mush. It was ridiculous.
    "At least you're not pissed that I didn't wait for your signal,"
    I said.
    I heard her say, "I'm not. But none of that is why I'm here."
    I wasn't going to buy it. "Yeah?" I said.
    "I'm taking a long vacation, a long decompression, standard
    practice after living undercover and in danger of discovery for so
    long. My organization is generous this way, and sensible; They understand
    the stresses."
    It sounded depressingly like a sales pitch. "I'm sure they do."
    "Usually I go a little crazy for a while when an assignment is
    finished. I travel, hook up with some handsome young thing, try to
    blot out recent memories with a lot of wine, a lot of passion. No
    one knows where I go, and no one asks. I come back when I'm
    ready."
    "This time?"
    "This time I thought I'd spend some time with a man I met. If
    he's interested."
    I looked out at the water. A breeze was kicking up whitecaps.
    They flashed under the sun.
    "Tell me how you found me," I said, having waited long
    enough.
    "After Kwai Chung, priority was given to tracking you. We put
    together a lot of information quickly. The more we learned about
    you, the more we were able to find out. And we were able to access
    Hong Kong Customs records, going back over a year. Smart
    people made assumptions, technicians fed data into supercomputers.
    They tracked you to South America. After that, you were
    gone."
    "Not gone enough, it seems."
    "You forget, I know you. We spent time together. At the Oparium
    Cafe, in Macau, you ordered caipirinhas."
    I shrugged. "They're popular all over the world."
    "You said 'por favor'