Requiem for an Assassin

27

THE LONG FLIGHT TURNED out to be exactly what I needed. There was nothing I could do about anything until I was on the ground again, and knowing that, and accepting it, enabled me to unwind for the first time since receiving Hilger’s message in Paris. I fueled up on the first-class dinner, then slept like a dead man for nearly twelve hours after. I woke up feeling reasonably fresh, with less than five hours remaining to Singapore.

I thought about what I would do after landing. I’d stay in the terminal, at least to begin with. If Kanezaki had gotten a fix on Hilger’s position, and depending on when Hilger wanted to do the call, I might have to fly immediately to Jakarta, or Kuala Lumpur, or wherever. I didn’t want to waste time clearing customs twice, or be forced to explain such a rapid back-and-forth to an immigration official, either.

Okay, find an Internet connection in the terminal after we land, access the bulletin boards, see what Hilger…

My thoughts stopped there, snagged on a problem I hadn’t anticipated. If Hilger had a way of knowing where I was accessing the board, and he saw the access in Singapore, or anywhere else in Southeast Asia, he’d know I was coming for him.

Shit. Stupid to have missed something so obvious. There had been a lot going on, and I was tired, but still…

Delilah. I didn’t see an alternative. I could give her the URL, and she could cut and paste Hilger’s message onto the bulletin board she used with me. Or read it over the phone, either way. And then I could dictate the response to her, and she could type it in. Hilger would think I’d gone back to Paris after New York. There were actually some advantages this way. If he thought I was in Paris, it would lull him, get him to lower his guard.

But what if she told her organization? Maybe she wouldn’t, but I couldn’t count on her not to. On the other hand, if they wanted Hilger dead, as she had told me, I supposed there was at least a decent chance they’d stay out of my way. And if they interfered…well, I’d just have to take the risk. I might have turned to Kanezaki, but I didn’t trust him enough to have him filtering my messages from Hilger, not on this. He had an agenda, and saving Dox was only tangentially a part of it. For a dozen reasons, personal as well as professional, I didn’t want to go to her. But there was no one else but Delilah.

As soon as we landed and I was off the plane, I headed to a pay phone in the terminal to call her. It was midnight in Paris, but she was a night owl, and I knew she’d be awake. The only question was whether she was alone. If she was operational, she wasn’t going to answer the phone.

But luck was with me. She picked up right away with a throaty “Allo.”

“Allo,” I said. “C’est moi.”

There was a pause. She said, “Is everything okay?”

“No breakthroughs, but some movement. I…need your help with something. Is that okay?”

“You know it is.”

“All right. Our friend uses a bulletin board to contact me. But he may have a way to check the location from which I’m accessing it. I don’t want him to know where I am now. So I need you to access it for me.”

“That’s nothing. I thought you were going to ask for more.”

“I might. But this is all I need for now. Just for you to access it, cut and paste the message into the bulletin board you and I use, and then cut and paste my response back into the bulletin board I use with him. If we do it this way and he checks as I expect, he’ll think I’m in Paris. That’ll give me an advantage.”

“I understand.”

“You have to go someplace sterile. You don’t want him to be able to trace…”

“Yes, I know that.”

I thought of Kanezaki’s peeved “of course” responses for a second, and some of the comments I’d received from Dox over the years, too.

“Do I…micromanage?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I cleared my throat. “Listen, don’t sugarcoat it. I can handle it straight.”

She laughed. “I’ll leave right now. Give me a half-hour.”

I went to an Internet terminal. After the usual check for spyware, I uploaded the Hilger URL to Delilah. Then I checked the Kanezaki bulletin board. I’d found nothing on it so many times in the last week that I was expecting nothing now.

I was wrong. Kanezaki had hit the jackpot.

The dead man in NYC was named Wim Demeere. He applied for a Vietnamese visa under the name William Detts and traveled to Saigon at the same time as you. Here’s the photo from the visa application.

There was a postage stamp-size photo attached. It was him: the blond man I’d seen in Saigon, then killed in New York.

A James Hillman applied and traveled at the same time. Here’s his photo. Look familiar?

There was a second photo. I recognized it instantly. Hilger.

Here’s the best part. You were right, Dox was trying to tell you about a Marine. The guy’s name is Frank “Pancho” Garza, and Hilger knows him from Iraq. There’s a thirty-foot fishing boat, Ocean Emerald, registered to Garza in Shanghai, berthing privileges at the Shanghai Boat and Yacht Club. Ocean Emerald docked in Jakarta last week, and two days ago made a port call at the Republic of Singapore Yacht Club. As far as I know, it hasn’t left Singapore.

I realized I was gripping the mouse hard and made myself stop. Singapore…damn, they were right here. I didn’t even have to make the short hop to Jakarta, Kuala Lumpur, wherever. It was the best omen I’d felt since this whole thing started.

Now, secondary effects: Jannick had a brother, Henk Jannick, who cleared customs in San Francisco last week, apparently to take care of his brother’s family and help with burial and estate matters. Henk is the head of security at the port at Rotterdam. Henk’s number two is another Dutch national, Joop Boezeman.

Two things about Boezeman. First, presumably he’s in charge of security while Henk Jannick is away. Second, he attended a conference in New York City in September last year: the U.S. Maritime Security Expo. Accinelli was one of the speakers. Demeere was another attendee.

Here’s my take: Boezeman works for Hilger. Whatever Hilger is up to, it involves something in Rotterdam, something that the head of port security there could prevent. But a hit on the security head himself is too difficult, or too high profile, or both. So Hilger kills Henk’s brother in California, forcing Henk to take leave, and in Henk’s absence, the #2 guy, Boezeman, is in charge. Boezeman in charge creates an opening for Hilger to do something. The question is what.

Other questions: Why did Hilger have Accinelli killed? Why were Demeere, Accinelli, and Boezeman at the Maritime Security Expo in New York at the same time?

I know you’re in the air. Call me as soon as you get this. This thing is bigger than just Hilger, I can feel it.

It was what I’d been hoping for. A bunch of disconnected pieces that, with just one additional datapoint, or one fresh perspective, suddenly cohere into meaningful intelligence. But Accinelli, and now Boezeman and the rest…I didn’t care about any of it. Hilger had Dox right here in Singapore. That was all that mattered.

I gave Delilah the half-hour she’d asked for, then accessed our bulletin board. She had pasted in Hilger’s message:

I don’t know what you’re talking about. Good work on Accinelli, but you still have one more to do before Dox walks. I know you’ll want to talk to him. Call me like last time at 08:00 GMT. That’s 24 hours from the time I’m leaving this message.

I smiled. Stimulus, response. By leading with threats and accusations, I’d created an opening for him to deny everything and try to dissuade me. And maybe I’d bought Dox a little time in the process.

I checked the time/date stamp. He’d left the message at 08:00 GMT the previous day. That was four in the afternoon in Singapore, while I’d been in the air. So I had-I looked at my watch-a little over eight hours before the call.

I purged the browser, went to another pay phone, and called Kanezaki.

He picked up right away. “Where are you?”

“Not over the…”

“I’m using a scrambler, it’s okay. Where are you?”

“Singapore.”

“Perfect, perfect. I was hoping you’d catch the nonstop from Newark. I’m here, too.”

“What are you…”

“You saw the bulletin board, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You were already in the air when I got the information. I had to leave right away-assemble the gear you need, charter a plane…there wasn’t much time.”

“Where are you?”

“Grand Hyatt, Scotts Road and Orchard. Can you meet me here?”

Ordinarily, I would have declined. It’s inherently uncomfortable for me to allow someone else to choose a meeting place. But it made no sense for Kanezaki to try to set me up now. Maybe another time, but not now. I suppressed my paranoia and said, “Yeah. Give me two hours.”

“Room seven-oh-four. I’ll be here.”

I hung up and called Delilah from another phone.

“You get it?” she asked.

“I got it. Thank you.”

“Let me give you another number, a sterile line, scrambled. I need to talk to you, it’s important.”

“You can just put it on the…”

“I’ll put the number on the bulletin board. But I need to talk to you.”

I hung up, checked the bulletin board, and called her back on the sterile line.

“What is it?” I said.

“Do you know where Dox is?”

“I…have a good idea.”

“You said he’s on a boat. How are you going to get him off?”

Why was she asking me this? “How do you think?” I said.

“I think you’re so angry and afraid that you’re planning on going in with both guns blazing.”

I frowned. “That’s not exactly the way I’d put it.”

“Without solid intelligence about the layout, and the numbers and placement of opposition on the boat, you might as well be wearing a blindfold. It’s suicide, for you and Dox. You can’t do this alone.”

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but this is going down today. You’re too far away.”

“I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about Boaz.”

“What?”

“He’s in Jakarta now. And he has something you need.”

“What the hell is he doing in Jakarta?”

“You know what he’s doing there. Waiting for your call.”

I felt something go cold inside me. “You told him,” I said quietly. “About Dox. About Hilger.”

“Yes, I told him. My people want Hilger dead. They’ll help you.”

“Hilger dead is secondary. All I’m trying to do for now is save Dox.”

“It amounts to the same thing. And if you get killed storming that boat, you won’t save anyone.”

I didn’t respond. First Midori, I was thinking. Now you. I drop my guard a little, and look what happens. Every damn time.

“Do you understand?” she said.

“I don’t need your help,” I said, barely managing to modulate my voice. “I don’t need you second-guessing me and deciding what’s best behind my back. I’ve lived a long time, through shit you wouldn’t believe if I tried to tell you, and I’ve managed it with my own instincts and my own judgment.”

“Good. Keep living that way. Don’t ever change your tactics. It’ll all work just fine for you, right up until the day you die from it.”

Maybe it’s for the best, I thought. This is your way out, your reason. You always knew you couldn’t trust her. Now she’s given you the proof. Just say goodbye and you’re done.

“You had no right,” I said, getting ready.

“No, John, I do have the right. You see, I’m in love with you. And that means I have the right, and the obligation, and yes, the fucking self-interest not to let you do something stupid that gets you killed!”

“You…you’re…” I said, stupidly, my game plan suddenly shredded.

“I love you,” she said again.

There was a long pause.

“I don’t know what to say,” I managed to mumble.

“The traditional response is, ‘I love you, too.’ You can try that, if you want.”

I swallowed. “Tell me about Boaz,” I said, hoping she would accept it as a kind of answer.

“He has something that can get you onto the boat safely. And Dox off it. He’s on a private plane. It’s fueled and ready to go, and he can meet you anywhere. You just have to call him and tell him where.”

There was another long pause. I said, “Give me the number.”

She did. I jotted it down.

“I, uh, I’ll…” I said.

“Just help Dox. And protect yourself. We can talk about the rest later.”

“Wait,” I said. “I…”

But she had already clicked off.

I called the number. A voice I recognized said in gruffly accented English, “Boaz here.”

“Hello, Boaz,” I said.

“Shalom, Rain-san,” he said, and I imagined his irrepressible smile. “I was hoping you would call.”

“This line is secure?” I asked, hoping the answer was yes now that he had used my name.

“Of course. Where are you?”

“That depends. What do you have for me?”

“Delilah didn’t tell you?”

“Not specifically.”

“Then I’ll just say this. It’s a hostage rescue technology developed by our Sayeret Matkal commandos. Top secret. And just what you need.”

“What’s it going to cost me?”

“We want Hilger dead. He killed Gil in Hong Kong, as you know, and we’ve been looking for him ever since. Delilah says you have actionable intelligence pinpointing his location. If that’s true, the Sayaret technology is yours to use. I can bring it to you.”

Actionable intelligence? I thought. Maybe now, but not when Delilah had contacted Boaz. Well, she’d told him what she thought was necessary to get him involved.

“You’re not worried about CIA retaliation?” I said, stalling for time so I could think about whether to tell him where to find me.

“Hilger’s not CIA anymore, as you know. He’s a freelancer now. That makes him vulnerable.”

Not exactly a comforting statement, from my perspective. Goddamnit, how was I going to handle this…

“I’m in Singapore,” I said, feeling I was losing control of the situation. First Kanezaki, then Delilah, now Boaz…Christ, why not just throw a party?

“I’ll be there in three hours. Tell me where.”

“Can I reach you on this number?” I asked.

“Of course, it’s a mobile, GSM.”

“I’ll call you. Be somewhere in the Orchard Road shopping center.”

After the usual assuming-the-worst precautions at and en route from the airport, adjusted to account for the extensive public camera coverage courtesy of the Singapore government, I made my way to the Grand Hyatt near Orchard Road, Singapore’s upscale shopping district. It was about eighty degrees and humid, and I relished the tropical heat after the arctic conditions in New York. The area in front of the Towers was bustling with well-dressed Chinese, Malays, Indians, and foreigners, and I caught snatches of conversation in a half-dozen tongues. Cars and taxis were lined up patiently at traffic lights in the rush-hour congestion, and I almost smiled at the distinct absence of honking horns. It seemed these people had found a way to get along.

I took the elevator to the tenth floor, then the stairs down to seven. I moved along the empty hallway watchfully until I came to Kanezaki’s door. I knocked, then took several steps back. Despite what my rational mind was telling me, I hated showing up where I was expected. Especially after what had happened outside Accinelli’s apartment.

Kanezaki opened the door and looked out at me, a slightly quizzical expression on his face. “You going to come in?” he said.

I nodded and made my way into the room. The shades were down, and I noticed immediately the sliding doors to the bathroom were open. Likewise the closet. He was being courteous, as well as sensible. When you’re dealing with someone looking for a threat, you’re asking for trouble if you don’t let him see your hands.

Kanezaki locked the door and turned on the DO NOT DISTURB sign. Then he put a nylon duffel bag on one of the twin beds and gestured for me to help myself. Inviting me to reach into the bag, instead of doing it himself, again showed experience and good sense.

I dropped my carry-on and took a look. Inside was a 45 SOCOM HK Mark 23 with Trijicon night sights, a laser aiming module, Knight’s Armament suppressor, two spare mags, one hundred rounds of Federal Hydra-Shok, and a Wilcox tactical thigh holster. Also night-vision equipment. Same gear he’d gotten Dox and me for our raid at Wajima a year earlier.

“I told you, something concealable,” I said, hefting the HK, racking the slide to check that the chamber was empty. With the attached suppressor, the damned thing would be a foot and a half long.

“I do the best I can,” he said. “I thought you liked the SOCOM.”

“I like it fine. I just don’t want to walk down the street with it in broad daylight.”

“This is going to go down during the day? We don’t need the night-vision equipment, then.”

“No. Although better to have it and not need it.”

“Well, the SOCOM is what I can borrow from the armory without anyone asking questions. Look, there’s a pair of fishing coveralls, too. The thigh rig will fit inside with room to spare. Slice a hole at the hip and you’ll have easy access.”

I pulled out the coveralls he was talking about and draped them open. Yeah, I supposed they would serve. He even had disassembled rods and a tackle box inside, obviously for cover at the yacht club. I saw a baseball cap and shades, too, along with gloves, binoculars, and the requested medical kit.

“You’ve thought of everything,” I said, not displeased.

He shrugged. “Two heads are better than one. Look in the tackle box.”

I did. In addition to a full complement of fishing gear, there was a Benchmade Mini-Reflex with a three-inch blade. I pressed the catch and the blade sprung into place.

“Nice,” I said.

“Don’t get caught with it. It’s illegal except for active duty military and law enforcement. You could get in trouble.”

I laughed and pocketed the knife. “What about the body armor?”

“In the closet.”

I glanced over. Two blue vests hung from a pair of hangers. I walked over and hefted one. “Christ, it’s light,” I said. “You sure this is any good?”

“Dragon Skin. It’ll stop a 7.62 round at twenty-four hundred feet per second.”

I nodded, liking the sound of that. “You’ve got two in here,” I said.

“I’m going with you.”

I looked at him, and saw he was serious.

“No,” I said. “It’s not necessary. It’s not even a good idea.”

“I’ve thought it through. I don’t see how you can do it alone. Figure at least two fixed defenders, maybe more, and…”

“Do I seem to be getting old?” I asked.

“What? No. I mean, the same as usual.”

“At the rate I’m going, I half expect someone to try to take my arm when I go to cross the street.”

“Why, who else is trying to help you?”

“Never mind.”

“Anyway, it wouldn’t matter if you were twenty. That’s not the point.”

I thought of Boaz. “I’ve got something that’ll change the odds.”

“What?”

“Let’s just say you’re not my only low friend in high places.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Look,” I said, “it’s not that I’m not grateful. But you and I have never operated together before, not when it comes to kicking down doors, anyway. We’re as likely to get in each other’s way as we are to do each other any good. Trust me on this, okay?”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re an ops guy, Tom, and you’ve turned into a damned good one. But you’re not a shooter. Play to your strengths. You’ll live longer.”

We were quiet for a moment. He said, “You’re still going to need someone to drive. I’ve got a van.”

I thought for a minute. I had been planning to rent a car myself. If I managed to drop everyone cleanly inside the boat and Dox was in good shape, we could walk leisurely out to the parking lot when it was done. If he wasn’t in good shape, or if there was pursuit, having a car waiting with the engine running could make all the difference.

“All right,” I said. “You drive, and I go in.”

“Deal. How about the rest?”

“Hilger wants to do the call at sixteen hundred local time. That gives me the rest of the morning and early afternoon to pick up the other equipment I need, get a feel for the layout of the yacht club with Google Earth, reconnoiter the perimeter, and go in.”

“You sure he’ll make the call from the boat?”

I paused, seeing a disconnect between us that I’d missed until just now. “Yeah, I’m sure. The purpose of the call is proof of life. He’s got to be able to put Dox on, assuming Dox is even still alive, and there’s no way they’re going to move Dox off the boat. So the boat is where the call happens. But the call isn’t when I want to go in. I want Hilger off the boat, not on it.”

“I don’t get it. How…”

“Hilger is secondary. If I hit the boat early, maybe he won’t be there. It’s one less person shooting back at me, and Hilger is a damn good shot. If I wait until the call, their numbers likely go up, and my odds of getting Dox out go down.”

Not that I hadn’t been tempted to go for the “two birds with one stone” scenario. Certainly, the iceman wanted to do Hilger badly enough to wait until he was sure to be on the boat. But if Dox got killed because of my lust to kill Hilger, I wouldn’t be able to live with it. We could always pick him up later. One thing at a time.

Kanezaki almost said something, didn’t, then almost said it again.

“What?” I said.

“If you’re not going to do Hilger, help me with something else.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I told you in the bulletin board message, this is bigger than just Hilger. The kind of thing I was hoping to prevent by taking him out, I think it’s already under way.”

I said nothing, and he went on. “Hilger used to be military, and after that, the Agency. You know what the difference is now?”

I shook my head.

“There’s no oversight now, and he’s running a for-profit outfit. Translation: He can do anything, for anybody. Look what he was mixed up with in Macau-radiological-tipped missiles with that arms merchant, Belghazi. Then in Hong Kong, nuclear matériel to the terrorist, Al-Jib. Do you see a pattern here?”

“I suppose so, but…”

“So what do you think it means that he’s found a way to put his own agent temporarily in charge of Rotterdam port security?”

“I don’t know.” I might have added that I didn’t care, but there was no advantage in provoking him.

“It means he can bring anything he wants into the port.”

“So…”

“Rotterdam is the largest container port in Europe, and every one of the world’s leading oil and chemical companies is active there. You’ve got four world-class oil refineries and more than forty chemical and petrochemical companies. We’re talking jet fuel, gasoline, everything. It’s a major terrorist target.”

“Because…”

“Because if something shuts down the refineries, the price of refined petrochemical products skyrockets. Driving, flying, heating oil, you name it. Shortages of everything, and the world economy drops to its knees.”

“You think that’s what Hilger’s up to?”

“I think that’s what he’s being paid to do, although I don’t know by whom. But here’s the way I see it. Accinelli’s company sells chemicals, right?”

“I know.”

“Including radioactive materials like cesium 137, which is used in oil drilling, atomic clocks, certain medical applications…and dirty bombs.”

I was quiet, waiting for him to go on.

“Hilger and Accinelli went way back, all the way to the first Gulf War. I think they were friends, as you suggested. I think Accinelli introduced Demeere and Boezeman at that security conference in New York, and I think Accinelli procured cesium, or something like it, for Hilger, maybe under false pretenses. I think the reason Hilger had Accinelli killed was because he knew too much, he’d be able to connect Rotterdam to Hilger if something happened there.”

“That’s a lot of speculation.”

“There’s more. Remember the British Petroleum Prudhoe Bay shutdown? Because the pipes were rusty? That was Hilger.”

“Hilger put rust in the pipes?”

“There was no rust. Hilger has information on everyone, he blackmailed the people who make those decisions at BP. All pipes have some rust, just not enough to matter. But who could contradict the company? It was the perfect excuse. I think Hilger wanted to see the global impact of an interruption. And I think he found it unsatisfactory. He wants something bigger-not just a pipeline, a whole refinery complex. Like the one at Rotterdam.”

I sighed. “Why can’t you deal with him through channels?”

He laughed. “I’ve got a friend in the Inspector General’s Office. I talked to him about Hilger once. He told me the man is untouchable. No one even wants to mention his name. The word is, he’s got leverage on a lot of people, and powerful friends, too. No one’s willing to go after him at the top, and if you try from down below you’ll run into obstructions, or worse. Do you get it now? The system’s broken.”

We were quiet for a moment. I said, “What are you asking me?”

“Boezeman lives in Amsterdam. Go there. Brace him. Find out what Hilger’s been up to and help me stop it.”

“Don’t you have real secret agents who are paid to do this kind of thing?”

“Yeah, we have lots of them. All I have to do is fill out the necessary paperwork explaining where my intel comes from-that means you, by the way. Except…oh, shit…no one knows about you. Since the first time you helped me with my treasonous boss in Tokyo, I haven’t reported our contacts, which is a felony, by the way. I’ve shredded files on you-oops, another felony. But I’m sure the bureaucrats who run the CIA and are beholden to Hilger will be happy to overlook all that and do whatever I ask of them in Amsterdam or anywhere else as long as I say please.”

He was quiet for a moment, breathing hard.

“Look,” I said. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. But we had a deal. You help me with Dox, I take out Hilger.”

“You’re breaking the deal. You’re letting Hilger walk away. I’m saying okay, just help me in Amsterdam, instead.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“You killed two people. Both with families. Don’t you even want to try to prevent whatever all that was intended to foster?”

I wasn’t even aware of crossing the room. It was like I was gone for a second, and when I came back, I had him against the wall, my hand gripping his shirt, my forearm jammed against his throat.

“I did that for my friend,” I snarled. “Not to help Hilger, or anyone else. For my friend. Because I didn’t have a choice.”

“Does that mean you don’t care?” he rasped, his mouth a grimace.

I held him there a second longer, then let him go. He coughed and massaged his throat, but he didn’t take his accusing eyes off me.

“Tell me something,” I said. “The difference between you and Hilger.”

He cleared his throat and swallowed. “The ends, Rain. It’s all about the ends.”

I looked at him. “I bet he’d say the same thing.”

“He’d be right.”

We stood there for a moment in silence. Finally, I said, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

“You sound like Tatsu. And you’re manipulating me the way he did, too, you bastard.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, he would have said that, too.”

I borrowed his shower, changed into fresh clothes, and got ready to head out. “I’ve got some things to do,” I said. “I’ll leave my bag here, if that’s okay. Why don’t you load the gear into your van and reconnoiter the yacht club. Don’t get too close. You don’t need to know the interior layout. That’s my job. You do need to know the streets, ingress, egress, everything.”

He started to say something, but I cut him off. “Sorry,” I said. “I know you know that. I’ll meet you back here in two hours.”

He smiled and held out his hand. I shook it. He started to say something again, and again I cut him off.

“Don’t tell me to do the right thing,” I said. “I already told you I’d think about it. Don’t sell past the close.”

He looked at me. “What, are you psychic now?”

I frowned. “What, then?”

“I was just going to say good luck. Is that okay?”

I told him it was. We were going to need it. And so was Dox.