RainStorm

to the bed, and began to undress.
    Shit.
    The situation was deteriorating. I couldn't count on her to get
    to sleep quickly enough, or to stay asleep deeply enough, to enable
    me to slip out unnoticed. Hell, from what I'd seen so far, she
    looked like she might sleep as lightly as I do. Also, from the care she
    had displayed so far, I knew she would have engaged the suite's interior
    dead bolt, that most likely she would have done so deliberately,
    as part of a mental checklist, and that she would therefore
    remember doing it. If she found it disengaged in the morning, she
    would be more likely to conclude that someone had been in the
    room than she would be to doubt her recollection.
    Kill them both? Impossible to do "naturally," under the circumstances.
    Kanezaki had stressed that payment was conditioned on no
    evidence of foul play, so I wouldn't use overt violence unless I had
    to. Besides, what I do, I don't do to women or children. There had
    been one recent exception, but that had been personal. I had no
    such extenuating issues at work with Belghazi's companion. On the
    contrary, I found myself liking this -woman. It wasn't just her looks.
    It was her moves, her self-possession, her air of command. And the
    instincts and brains I thought I had just silently witnessed.
    There was one possibility. It was risky, but certainly no worse than
    the other alternatives among my currently meager range of options.
    I waited until the woman had fully disrobed, the moment when
    she would feel maximally helpless and discomfited. She was just
    moving toward the bed, presumably to get into it, when I strode
    into the bedroom.
    She startled when she saw me, but overall kept her composure.
    "What the hell are you doing here?" she asked in a low voice, in
    some sort of European-accented English. She stressed the "you" in
    the question, and sounded more accusatory than afraid.
    "You know me?" I whispered back, thinking, What the hell?
    "From the casino. And I've seen you in the hotel. Now what are
    you doing here?"
    Christ, she was as observant as he was. "Any luck with Belghazi's
    computer?" I asked, trying to regain the initiative. My gaze
    was focused on her torso, the area I always watch, after confirming
    that the hands are empty, because aggressive movement tends to
    originate in the midsection. In this instance, though, the view was
    distracting. She looked even better naked than she had in the black
    couture I had seen her in earlier.
    She kept her cool. "I don't know what you're talking about."
    I flashed the SoldierVision, still secured to my wrist, and
    bluffed. "Really? I've got it all right here on low-light video."
    She glanced at the device, then back to me. "On a Soldier-Vision?
    I didn't know they recorded video."
    Damn, she knew her hardware. Whoever she was, she was
    good, and I needed to stop underestimating her. "This one does," I
    said, improvising. "So why don't we make a deal? I don't know
    who you're working for, and I don't care. As far as I'm concerned,
    this never happened. You didn't see me, and I didn't see you. How
    does that sound?"
    She was silent for a long moment, seemingly oblivious to her
    nakedness. Then she asked, "Who are you with?"
    I smiled. "Don't ask, don't tell."
    She was silent again. My gaze dropped for a moment. Her body
    was beautiful: simultaneously muscular and curvaceous, like a figure
    skater's or that of an unusually tall gymnast, with delicate, pale skin
    that seemed to glow faintly in the light diffused through the curtains.
    I looked up again. She was watching my eyes. "You're probably
    bluffing about that video," she said, her voice even, "but I can't take
    the chance. I can't let you leave with it."
    I was impressed by her aplomb. I nodded my head in Belghazi's
    direction. "He's going to come out of it any minute now. If he
    wakes up and I'm here, it'll be bad for both of us."
    She rolled her eyes as though exasperated and said, "I'm going
    to get dressed."
    I almost bought it. It seemed natural enough--she was naked in
    front of a stranger, she wanted to put clothes on. But her nakedness
    hadn't seemed to bother her a moment earlier. And exasperation
    wasn't an expression she wore very convincingly.
    "Don't," I said sharply. The pen was in my pocket now, and I
    wouldn't be able to deploy it in time. Even if I could have, pointing
    a Mont Blanc at someone tends to be less attention-getting
    than, say, employing a Clock 10-millimeter for the same purpose.
    I wouldn't have