The Last Assassin

not much more than that. Even a paramedic team right around the corner couldn't save him now.
    I continued around him, heading toward Bowery. I folded up the Balisong and dropped it in my coat pocket. It was covered in blood and so was I. Not a surprise and nothing I could do about it at the moment.
    I ducked into an alley just west of Bowery, pulled out the phone, and called Dox. My hands were shaking.
    He picked up instantly. 'What's going on?'
    'Pick me up at Bayard and Bowery. Northwest corner.'
    'Be there in less than a minute.'
    'I'm a little messy.'
    'Damn it, I knew you were going to do something by yourself. All right, I'll put some newspaper down.'
    I looked at my clothes and thought,
Better be the Sunday fucking Times.
    'What are you driving?' I asked.
    'Dodge Ram Quad Cab. Black.'
    'Just slow down when you get to the corner. You won't see me at first.'
    'Roger that. I'm turning on Bowery from Canal now. You should spot me in a second.'
    I peeked out from the alley. There he was.
    'I see you,' I said. 'I'm hanging up.'
    I clicked off and walked out to Bowery. The passenger door opened and I reached it just as Dox was tossing a thick wool blanket onto the seat. We opened it enough to cover the seat and floor and I got in. Dox glanced at me and took off.
    'Yeah, you are a mess,' he said. 'Good thing I come prepared. That blanket there has seen its share of bodily fluids over the years, mine and a variety of lucky ladies', but not any blood before that I know of.'
    'I'll get you one just like it. There's a Salvation Army place north of Delancey.'
    He chuckled, cool as ever. 'Where to?'
    'The dumpster. If it's clear, I'm going to get rid of Wong.'
    'You leave the knife near Chan's body just now?'
    'No. That would be too obvious. Besides, I've handled it too much. It's contaminated.'
    'Guess that means I won't be keeping it.'
    'You're damn right that's what it means.'
    'All right, all right, just checking.'
    We headed back into the Village. I had been cold before, but now I was sweating. There were no police, and Waverly was deserted. Dox pulled up in front of the dumpster. I climbed inside and managed to hold Wong up against the side long enough for Dox to reach down from above and take hold of one of his wrists. We hauled him out, laid him down in the back seat of the pickup, and drove off.
    'What are you carrying these days?' I asked him.
    'You mean knife-wise?'
    'Yeah.'
    'Shoot, partner, you know I've got more blades than a combine. I've still got that Fred Perrin La Griffe we acquired in Bangkok, and…'
    'I mean what's your primary. Right now.'
    'Right this very second that would be an Emerson CQC-12 Comrade. Hell of a knife. You could cut through a car door with it if you needed to. Here.'
    He reached down, eased the blade out of his pocket, and handed it to me. I opened it. Yeah, this would do. And then some.
    Bodies that have been thrown into rivers resurface because gases produced by putrefying bacteria can turn the digestive tract and other areas into balloons. If you don't want the body to float, you have to puncture the balloons so they can't fill. The problem is, it's not just the stomach you're worried about. The phenomenon can occur in the limbs, trunk, face, and other areas, too. Preventing it entirely is therefore a grisly task.
    We found a suitably dark stretch along the Hudson River piers south of the Holland Tunnel. Dox pulled off the West Side Highway, cut the lights, and pulled in behind an empty playground. The river was right next to us.
    We dragged Wong out and dumped him on the ground. Dox started to lift him.
    'No,' I said. 'I'll take care of it. You drive out of here and swing past every five to ten minutes. When I'm done I'll be waiting.'
    'Come on, man, let me give you a hand. It'll go quicker.'
    'I don't want the car here. It'll draw attention. Besides, I've put you at enough risk as it is. I'll be fine. Just go.'
    'All right. I'll be back in five, and five after that.'
    I nodded. Dox drove off. I hauled Wong into a fireman's carry and lugged him to the end of the pier, my breath fogging in the chill air. The body felt heavy as hell and I realized how tired I was.
    I set him down as close as possible to the edge, took out Dox's knife, and started doing what was necessary. There were going to be some stains on the planks when I was done, no doubt. But dead bodies, lacking a beating heart, bleed a lot less than live ones. Besides, it looked like the city was in for another spell of