RainStorm

myself
    back into the sling under the sink.
    A moment later, I heard the door to the suite open, followed by
    a muffled conversation in French. Delilah's voice and a man's. I
    heard them come into the suite, where they started trying to rouse
    Belghazi. I could pick out a few words in French: "sick," "hospital,"
    "doctor." Then Belghazi's voice, low and groggy: "Non, non.
    Je vais bien." No, no, I'm fine. Delilah's voice, closer now, urging
    him to see a doctor. More demurrals, also closer.
    Shit, he had gotten up and they were coming my way. I willed
    myself to relax and breathed silently through my nose.
    "Je vais bien," I heard him say again from just outside the bathroom.
    His voice sounded steadier now. "Attendez une minute." I heard
    his feet lightly slapping the marble floor, coming closer. Then the
    sound of a faucet turning, of water coursing through the pipes
    around me. I turned my head and looked down. A pair of feet and
    lower legs stood before the sink. If I'd wanted to, I could have reached
    down and touched them. I noted two bare lines running the length
    of his shinbones, where the hair had been worn away, along with a
    slight rippling effect in the surface of the bone itself--both signature
    deformations of That boxers and other practitioners of hardcore
    kicking arts. The bones enlarge in response to the trauma of repeated
    blows, eventually developing into a nerveless and brutally hard striking
    surface. Belghazi's file had said something about Savate--a French
    style of kickboxing. It looked like that information had been correct.
    I heard him splashing water on his face, groaning "merde" as he
    did so. Then the rhythmic sounds of a hasty scrub with a toothbrush
    --an ordinary enough urge after vomiting.
    The sounds of the toothbrush stopped. The water was turned
    on again. Then something clattered to the floor, practically underneath
    me.
    I turned my head and saw it: he had dropped the toothbrush. Fuck.
    My heart rate, which had been reasonably calm under the circumstances,
    kicked into overdrive. Adrenaline surged from my
    midsection into my neck and limbs. I tightened my grip on the Meisterstiick.
    I breathed shallowly, silently. My body was perfectly still.
    Belghazi knelt and reached for the toothbrush. I saw the top of
    a close-cropped scalp; the bridge of a nose, bent from some long-ago
    break; the upper plane of a pair of prominent cheekbones; his
    shoulders and back, thickly muscled, covered with dark hair.
    All he had to do was glance up, and he would see me.
    But he didn't. His fingers closed around the toothbrush and he
    straightened. A moment later the water stopped running, and he
    padded out of the bathroom.
    I heard voices again from the bedroom, but could only make
    out a bit of what they were saying. It seemed that Belghazi was
    adamant about not seeing a doctor. Christ, I was going to have to
    spend the night slung up under the sink like a rock climber sleeping
    alongside a mountain.
    I heard Delilah's voice. Something about "medetine." The door
    to the suite opened and closed.
    Two minutes passed. Silence from the suite. Then the sounds of
    footsteps, rapidly approaching. Someone burst into the bathroom
    and blew past me into the toilet stall. The stall door slammed, followed
    immediately by the sounds of Belghazi retching.
    I heard Delilah's lighter footsteps. She headed straight for the
    sink and squatted down so she could see me. She must have given
    it some thought and realized that this would be the only decent
    place to hide. Again I was impressed.
    "I've sent the guard to get some medicine," she whispered.
    "This will be your only chance."
    Without a word I rolled out of the harness and dropped silently
    to the floor on one hand and the balls of my feet. I started to reach
    up to undo the equipment, but Delilah stopped me with a hand on
    my shoulder. "Leave the rig," she said. "There's no time. I'll take
    care of it later."
    From behind the stall door, Belghazi exclaimed, "Merde!" and
    retched again. I nodded at Delilah and headed for the exit. She followed
    me closely. I paused before the door and used the SoldierVision
    to confirm that the hallway was clear before leaving.
    I moved into the empty corridor. She shut the door behind me
    without another word.
    THREE
    i'd been living in Brazil for almost a year when they finally
    got to me. It had rained that day, the sky full of oppressive, low-lying
    clouds that clung to Rio's dramatic cliffs like smoke from
    some