RainStorm

and a lot more. I handed it to Dox. He worked the
    buttons for a moment, then gave it back to me. I saw a surprisingly
    sharp image of a fine-boned, thirty-something-year-old Caucasian
    with curly wheat-blond hair, blue eyes, a thin nose, and thinner
    lips. The picture had been taken from an odd, and apparently surreptitious,
    angle.
    "Weaselly-looking little fuck, ain't he. I got a few more if you
    want to take a look. Just press that advance key there."
    I did as he indicated and scrolled through, getting a better sense
    of what Crawley looked like. Photos aren't always good likenesses. If you see more than one, you increase your chances of being able
    to recognize the subject in person. Which I was beginning to think
    I might want to do.
    When I was done, I turned the phone off and handed it back to
    Dox. He was still smiling. "If you want, I can forward the photos
    directly to your cell phone," he said. "Or to an e-mail account.
    Hell, if you feel like having fun, we can post old Crawley's face on
    any bulletin board you'd like! Dumbass didn't even know what I
    was doing. Shame on him for failing to keep up with the ever-advancing
    march of technology."
    "Who is he?" I asked.
    "Well, his resume says he's with the Consular Affairs section of
    the State Department."
    I couldn't help smiling. "Looks like Consular Affairs has a pretty
    wide-ranging brief these days."
    He smiled back. "They certainly do."
    "How'd you find this out?" I asked.
    "Come on, buddy, I can't tell you all my sources and methods!
    You know magicians don't like to show how they do their tricks."
    I looked at him and said nothing.
    "All right, all right, just having a little fun with you. No need to
    get so serious on me with those scary eyes and all. I ran the photos
    through a new Agency database. The database compiles images from
    electronic media--online versions of newspapers and magazines,
    video, whatever. You feed in your photo, the system goes out and
    tries to find a match using something called XML--entensible
    markup language, something like that. It's like Google, but with
    pictures instead of words. I think they stole it from some startup
    company."
    "It worked?" I said, thinking, Christ, what are they going to come
    up with next?
    "Well, sure, it worked. Gave me a couple thousand false positives,
    though. The Agency has a little way to go before Google has
    any reason to panic, I'll tell you that. But you know me, I like to
    party, but I can be patient, too. I went through all the hits until I
    came across the unforgettable face of Mr. Crawley." He reached
    into his pocket and took out a piece of paper, unfolded it, and
    handed it to me. "See there? That's him, standing next to the Ambassador
    to Jordan at a press conference the Ambassador was giving
    in Amman. Doesn't he look important?"
    "Very. What did he want?"
    He leaned forward. "Well, here's where it gets interesting. He
    told me he represented very, very, senior interests in the U.S. government.
    But that, for national security reasons, these interests had
    to maintain good old 'plausible deniability' about certain courses of
    action and couldn't meet with me personally as a result, much as
    they of course would otherwise like to. Yeah, 'certain courses of
    action,' I think that was how he put it. I think he liked hearing
    himself talk. Anyway, he told me that there was this former undercover
    operative who'd gone rogue and killed a bunch of friendlies
    in Hong Kong and Macau, and who needed to be 'removed,' is
    what he said. I said, 'Removed?' Having fun with the guy now, you
    understand. And he nods and says, with his voice serious, the way
    I guess he imagines Really Important Government representatives
    should talk about these things, 'We want his actions terminated.'
    Lord help me, I couldn't stop myself, I said to him, with my eyes all
    wide now, 'With Extreme Prejudice?' And he just nods once, like
    he was afraid if his head had gone up and down more than that it
    could get him into trouble."
    "And then?"
    "Oh, after that, the usual praise for my past service to my country
    and appeals to my patriotism. You know the drill. Then he tells
    me he's got twenty-five thousand dollars for me right now, and another
    seventy-five thousand upon completion, if I take on this little
    service that Uncle Sam wants of me."
    "And you said?"
    "I told him it would of course be an honor to serve my country
    on this most auspicious occasion. He gives me a key to a coin
    locker, shakes