The Last Assassin

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 backseat 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 water 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 rain. That would clean things up. And who was going to pay any attention to a dark spot on a Hudson River dock anyway?
    I worked. I tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but my mind kept offering up images from Midori’s apartment. My son in my arms. Midori’s expression as she handed him to me. I looked down at what I was doing and the contrast made me feel sick. The hope and wondrous sense of possibility I’d felt just hours earlier were receding with each stab of the knife.
    Just finish this. Just get through.
    The whole thing couldn’t have taken longer than a minute, but it seemed like more. When I was done, I pocketed the knife and paused, kneeling, to catch my breath. I leaned my head back and breathed the cold air and tried not to think at all.
    I heard a car coming south on the access road paralleling the highway. I looked over and saw the outline of police flashers eighty yards away. A spotlight was trained over the water.
    Oh, shit. Without another thought, I rolled Wong into the river and vaulted in after him.
    I hung on to the edge of the pier with my fingertips, but even so I was dangling past my waist in freezing water. The cold hit my testicles like a blow and I struggled not to gasp.
    I heard the car coming closer, closer. It seemed to be taking forever. Were they slowing? Looking for something? At something?
    I looked down. Wong was already gone, sunk beneath the surface.
    I listened but couldn’t hear anything. Had they stopped? The spotlight lit up the pier and I was sure they had. I pictured two cops coming toward me with guns drawn. There was nothing I could do but hang there and wait.
    Finally, the light moved on. I heard their tires moving past.