Requiem for an Assassin

on the fly. It would be so easy to miss something.
    “I come off the boat with Dox,” I said. “He’s a big guy, and if he needs assistance my hands are going to be full. Boaz, you’ll be armed?”
    “How do you say it? ‘Fuckin’ A,’ I think?”
    “That’s how it’s said. You cover the retreat to the vans. Tom, we ride with you. Naftali, if anyone tries to follow, you ram. Clear?”
    Everyone nodded.
    “Whatever you need to bug out, have it with you. Bags, papers, everything. Assume we can’t come back to our hotels. Now, what are we missing?”
    “Probably a dozen things,” Boaz said.
    “I know. But there’s no time. We’re not going to get a better chance than this. Let’s go through it one more time, and then we roll.”

31
    D OX SAT ON HIS COT, his eyes closed, his head cocked. He’d felt someone step off the boat a half-hour earlier. The remaining footsteps told him the one who’d gotten off had been Hilger. The blond dude had been gone for days now. If the young guy left, too, that would leave just Uncle Fester. Dox had no doubt the sick bastard would come calling shortly after that—the taunts had worked the man to nearly foaming at the mouth before. Well, this time he had a plan. It wasn’t much, and it was likely to fail, but it was better than nothing.
    He’d wondered many times in his life whether, if the worst happened, he’d fall apart, or if he’d have the courage to go out swinging. He’d heard stories of brave men who’d lost it, their nerve, their backbone, whatever, at the moment of truth. He hoped he wouldn’t be one of them, but he supposed you could never really know until that moment came.
    He listened, grimacing slightly with the effort of straining for even the tiniest sounds. Footsteps, a door opening…then a heavy thud, like something big falling to the deck. A body, maybe. Then a door again, this time closing, followed by the click of a lock.
    Son of a bitch. It sounded like Fester had dropped the young guy and locked him in a room somewhere. That could mean only one thing.
    He felt a hot rush of adrenaline surge through his torso. This was it. His moment of truth was on its way right now.
    He took two deep breaths and strained against the chains, first left, then right. He’d been doing what isometrics he could every day since they’d grabbed him, hoping there would actually be some use to keeping his body from tightening up. Well, it looked like the effort had been worth it, and he wanted to be warmed up now. If this had even a prayer of working, he was going to have to go from zero to a hundred with nothing in between.
    Half a minute went by. He heard Fester’s footsteps coming along the corridor. Then there he was, smiling his psycho smile through the door window while he turned a key in the lock.
    “Hola, maricón,” he said, coming in, holding the battery and wires again. “We didn’t get to finish our conversation.” He turned and used the key to lock the door from the inside. “And now no one can interrupt us like last time.” He slipped the key into his pocket.
    “Wait a minute,” Dox said, controlling his voice to keep his pounding heart from creeping into it. “You mean you’ve had a whole day to stew, a hundred options to consider, and the best line you could come up with to get some of your mojo back is—” he switched to an ersatz Mexican accent—“‘We didn’t get to finish our conversation’?”
    Uncle Fester looked at him, nonplussed.
    “I mean, you might have said, ‘I like the way you talk, now let’s hear you scream,’ or, ‘You’re right, I do like to torture people, but I’ve never tortured anyone like I’m going to torture you.’ What do you think of those? You can try one, if you like. I won’t tell anyone you got it from me. Go on back out, we can start over.”
    Fester stood there, his eyes burning with hate.
    “Well, shit. If you’re going to get your rocks off with me, at least sing to me. I’m partial to that Lou Rawls number. You know the one…” He paused, then broke into song: “You’ll never find, dah dah, dah dah dah…as long as you live…someone who loves you, tender like I dooooo…”
    Fester didn’t move. Whatever script he had in mind, Dox was so far off it the man couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do next. Which was the exactly the idea. Now the trick was to flummox him even worse.
    “You’re crazy,” Fester managed to spit out.
    “Come on, man, admit what