RainStorm

advantages. But we weren't going to get anywhere
    at the baccarat table. Besides, I was losing money.
    "I was thinking about going somewhere for a drink," I said.
    "Care to join me?"
    She looked at me for a moment, then said, "Sure."
    We left through the street exit. As soon as we were out of
    earshot of the casino's few patrons, she said, "Not the hotel bar. I'm
    too well known here. We'll get a taxi in front of the hotel and go
    somewhere else. There's not much chance that any of my acquaintances
    will show up right now, but just in case, we ran into each
    other in the Mandarin casino. It was dead. I mentioned that I was
    going to try the Lisboa. You asked if I wouldn't mind you catching
    a cab over with me. Okay?"
    I was impressed, although unsurprised. She was obviously in the
    habit of thinking operationally, and was as matter-of-fact about it
    as she was effective. I'd already concluded that she was trained. To
    that assessment I now added a probable minimum of several years
    of field experience.
    "Okay," I said.
    I took us to the Oparium Cafe, a place I'd found near the new
    Macau Cultural Center along the Avenida Baia Nova while waiting
    for Belghazi and getting to know the city. The ground floor
    featured an oppressively loud band playing some sort of acid-funk
    and a bunch of deafened teenagers gyrating to the beat. Not the
    kind of place you'd find someone unfamiliar with the area, especially
    someone whose tastes ran to things like the Macau Suite at
    the Mandarin Oriental.
    We went upstairs, where it was darker and quieter, and sat at a
    corner table in a pair of oversized beanbag chairs. The other seating
    consisted mostly of couches, some of them occupied by couples,
    a few of them locked in intimate embraces that the shadows
    only partially obscured. A pretty Portuguese waitress brought us
    menus. They were written in Chinese and Portuguese. Delilah
    smiled and said, "I'll have what you're having."
    In the dim light her eyes looked more gray than blue. I liked the
    way the lighting softened her features, the way it rendered her eyes,
    even her smile, alluringly ambiguous.
    I glanced at the menu and saw that they didn't serve any single malts worth drinking. Instead I ordered us a couple of caipirinhas, which I knew from recent experience would be delicious in the
    tropical heat.
    The waitress departed. We were quiet for a moment. Then
    Delilah leaned toward me and, looking into my eyes, asked, "Well?
    You have something you want to give me?"
    I looked at her. Why was it that her question seemed suffused with
    double entendre? She was attractive, of course, more than attractive,
    but that wasn't all of it. She had a way of looking at me with a sort of
    confident sexual appreciation, that was it. As though she was seeing
    me just the way I might hope a desirable woman would see me.
    And she made it seem so natural, so real. I would have to be
    careful.
    "Like what?" I asked, curious to see her reaction if I hit a few
    back at her.
    "Do I need to be more explicit?" she asked, maybe suggestive
    again.
    I wondered what response she was expecting. I knew that my information
    about her cell phone and the computer boot log would
    make her view me as a potential threat. And she would probably expect
    me to try to exploit the video, to hang its existence over her
    head as a way of protecting myself. I decided to surprise her.
    "The thing about the video was a bluff," I told her. "I think you
    know that. I was afraid that, without it, you might take a chance on
    waking Belghazi."
    She paused, then said, "You're not concerned that, without it, I
    might take other chances now?"
    I shrugged. "Sure I am."
    "Then why are you telling me?"
    I looked at her. "I'm not a threat to you."
    She raised an eyebrow. "This is like, what, a dog showing its belly?"
    I smiled. "Well, I've already seen yours."
    She smiled back. "Yes, you have."
    The smile lingered, along with her eyes, and I felt something
    stirring down south. But I thought, Don't be stupid. This is how she
    plays it, how she gets people to drop their guard.
    "Well, you don't have a video for me," she said, after a moment.
    She was still looking into my eyes. "So what do we do next?"
    The stirring worsened. I decided I'd have been better off if I
    could have just removed the damned thing and left it in a drawer
    for the evening.
    But I saw a less extreme means of defending myself.
    I thought for a moment about the scores of other men she
    would have played before