Requiem for an Assassin

you?”
    Boaz shook his head. “Keep going.”
    “Well, the aborigines tie them up and set them down before the chief, who as it happens speaks a little English. The chief says to them, ‘We are a hostile tribe, and we despise you and your missionary ways. So you have only two choices. Death or… kabunga. ’ Then he gestures to the first missionary and says, ‘Choose!’
    “Well, the man doesn’t know what this kabunga business is, but he knows what death is, all right, and he knows he doesn’t want that. So he looks at the chief and says, ‘I choose… kabunga. ’
    “The chief raises his arms and cries out, ‘Kabunga!’ And a dozen warriors rush out. They throw this boy down, pull off his clothes, and sodomize him but good.”
    “There’s a theme in your jokes, are you aware of that?” I said.
    Boaz said, “Shhh. I like it. Keep going.”
    “So now the chief looks at the second missionary, and he says, ‘My friend, what do you choose? Will it be death, or… kabunga ?’
    “Well, this boy knows what kabunga is now, and he doesn’t want any of it. But choosing death, well, that’d be suicide, and suicide is against his religious principles. So he swallows hard and says to the chief, ‘I…I choose… kabunga. ’
    “The chief raises his arms and cries out, ‘Kabunga!’ And once again, a dozen warriors rush out, and they have their way with this boy, and it goes on for an awful hour. Finally, it’s over. The chief looks at the third missionary and says, ‘What will it be, my friend? Death, or… kabunga ?’
    “Now this boy’s seen just about all the kabunga he can stand. And even though it’s against his religious principles, and even though he knows death is the end, he just can’t face kabunga. So he screws up all his courage, sticks out his chin, looks the chief straight in the eye, and says, ‘I choose death!’
    “The chief raises his arms and cries out, ‘Death! But first, kabunga! ’”
    Boaz threw back his head and roared, and his hilarity was infectious. Within seconds, the inside of the van reverberated with laughter. As Dox had said, it had been a near, near thing. Laughter was one of the reactions. There would be others.
    “Wait, wait,” Boaz said, wiping his eyes. “I’ve got one, too. These three missionaries…”
    And it went on from there. I had a feeling we would be seeing Boaz again when all of this was done.
    I didn’t mind the thought at all.

35
    A T C HANGI, Kanezaki showed his credentials to a uniformed guard. The man spoke into a radio and waved us through the gate.
    “That worked well,” I said.
    Kanezaki called someone from his mobile. “We’re on our way,” he said. “Two minutes.” Then he glanced back at me and smiled. “Low friends in high places.”
    We drove through another gate to the part of the airport I assumed was reserved for private planes. There were two dozen small jets parked on the tarmac. Kanezaki drove up to one of them. The hatch opened, and a young, crew-cut man came down the stairs. His back was ramrod straight, his civilian trousers were creased, and if he wasn’t a Marine, the Marines didn’t exist.
    Kanezaki pressed a button and the van’s side door slid open. He got out and met the Marine around the side.
    “Two to transport,” Kanezaki said. “Plus me.”
    “Sir,” the Marine said, “I’m not authorized for other passengers.”
    “Come over here,” Kanezaki said, and walked the man out of earshot. I watched them talking. Kanezaki gestured and spoke; the Marine nodded and listened.
    After a minute, they came back. The Marine extended a hand to Dox. “Sir, can I help you aboard?”
    “Yes you can, son, and I’m glad to see they sent the Marines. Just give me five minutes with these reprobates first, all right?”
    “Yes, sir,” the man said, and stood off a respectful distance.
    “Well, this is the VIP treatment,” Dox said. “What did I do to qualify?”
    “The jet is part of a small CIA fleet,” Kanezaki said, “used to render very bad people to very secret places. You might have read a bit about it in the newspapers. And that’s all I’m going to say.”
    “We know about the program,” Boaz said.
    Kanezaki smiled. “I know you do. You’re part of it.”
    “What did you tell the pilot?” I asked.
    He shrugged. “Mostly I reminded him of the shame he would bear for the rest of his life if he flew off leaving a wounded Marine behind.”
    “That would be me,” Dox said. “Hope you