“I like it,” I said.

He nodded. “You should. Without intelligence…”

“Yes, I know. Delilah’s already been persuasive on that point.”

He looked at me. “You’re treating her right?”

I returned the look. “That’s really none of your business, is it?”

He shrugged. “She’s my colleague, and as close as a sister. We watch each other’s backs.”

I nodded. “It’s good of you to ask, then.”

“So? You’re treating her right?”

I couldn’t help laughing. He laughed, too. “I know, I know,” he said. “We Israelis are pushy. You know, there’s no word for ‘Excuse me’ in Hebrew?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “An old joke. But with some truth. If I put my nose where it doesn’t belong, forgive me.”

“We’re…managing,” I told him, thinking of what she had said to me on the phone just a few hours earlier. “It’s not easy, though.”

He laughed again. “It never is, my friend. It never is.”

We were quiet for a moment. I said, “You…have a family?”

He nodded. “Three sons and a baby daughter. Thank God we finally had a girl. My wife was ready to give up. And you?”

“It’s a long story,” I said, after a moment.

We were quiet again, and this time he didn’t push.

“Why did Hilger take your friend?” he asked.

“Does it matter?”

He shrugged. “It won’t affect what happens to Hilger.”

“It did affect it. It guaranteed it.”

“Good.”

We finished the food. He said, “So? How do you want to do it?”

I shrugged. “Show me how to use the device. I’ll take care of the rest.”

He nodded. “I owe Delilah a hundred shekels.”

“What?”

“She told me you would say that.”

I looked at him, nonplussed.

“I can’t show you. It takes training and experience. I have to see the terrain. Set the controls wrong one way, and it has no effect. Wrong the other way, and you boil your friend’s internal organs. And while you’re trying to get it right, probably people on the boat will be shooting at you. Don’t be stupid.”

I didn’t answer.

“Besides,” he went on, “I’ve already got a van, a driver…”

“Jesus, you’re not alone?”

“No one works alone anymore, Rain. You’re the only one I know.”

Again I didn’t answer. I was trying to account for how quickly and thoroughly I’d lost control of this op. And at the same time thinking, admitting, really, that my odds of success were better because of it.

“You’ll like Naftali,” he said. “He’s, what do you call it, a wheelman?”

“You could call it that, I guess, yeah,” I said.

“Very serious. I don’t think he knows how to talk.”

“That’ll be refreshing.”

He laughed. “Here’s what I propose. Naftali drives. I operate the device. You do the shooting. I assume you’re equipped?”

“With a cannon.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing. I’m equipped. And I already have a driver.”

“You’re bullshitting me.”

“I’m not. I think we’re all going to have to sit down together. If we don’t coordinate…”

“You’re right, it will be a cluster fuck.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked at me, and I nodded to show that I appreciated his use of the idiom. “Yes,” I said. “A cluster fuck.”

He smiled. “And you’re sure Hilger will be on the boat, as Delilah says?”

I didn’t hesitate, or give any other indication that I was lying. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure.”

“Good. Then let’s sit down with our two drivers. We don’t have much time.”

29

HILGER STEPPED OFF THE BOAT, leaving Guthrie and Pancho with Dox. He needed to check the bulletin board, and preferred to do so from anonymous points like Internet cafés. He was able to tell where Rain was accessing it, and although he had taken steps to ensure that Rain couldn’t do the same thing on the other end, a little extra caution never hurt.

He did a surveillance detection route, then caught a cab to the Ritz-Carlton, where he logged in at their business center. No response from Rain, but…

He checked, and sure enough, Rain had accessed the board a few hours earlier, from Paris. He must have gone back there after New York. That’s where he’d been when they first grabbed Dox. Maybe he was living there these days. Something to consider, if they didn’t wrap him up soon somewhere else.

He wondered why Rain hadn’t responded. Maybe he hadn’t felt the need to. Hilger had told him to call at 08:00 GMT; maybe Rain simply planned to comply.

Or maybe Rain had found unpersuasive Hilger’s protestations of innocence about what had happened outside Accinelli’s apartment. So what, though? They still had Dox, meaning Rain had no choice but to play along. Playing along meant, at a minimum, calling in to make sure Dox was still okay. At which point, Hilger would deny everything again, assure Rain there was a third target, and just keep stringing the man along for another couple of days. Once Rotterdam was done, he’d give Rain a fictitious target and finish him off when he showed up for the job. But for now, Rotterdam was the main thing. He needed to focus on that.

He went to a pay phone and called Boezeman. They had never met-Demeere had recruited and run Boezeman precisely to keep his knowledge of Hilger’s operation as limited as possible-but they also had a backup plan, just in case. Agency SOP, and Hilger still followed it. Because if something happens to the primary case officer, how do you make contact with his assets? And how do you establish your bona fides when you do?

Demeere had implied to Boezeman that he was fronting a heroin operation. Demeere had never said so in so many words, of course; just a wink here and a nudge there, and Boezeman had filled in the details he was most comfortable with. Why else would the blond Belgian want a Rotterdam port security official to escort him onto the facilities, look the other way while he removed something from a shipping container, and escort him out? For a million dollars U.S., it had to be drugs, and a big shipment at that. And it wasn’t as though anyone was going to be hurt by it. Holland’s drug laws were the most liberal in the world, but they were still fundamentally silly, distinguishing between “soft” drugs, like cannabis and magic mushrooms, on the one hand, and heroin and cocaine, on the other. But people wanted them all, and what right did the government have to interfere with that? Or with a man’s right to profit so handsomely from the government’s hypocrisy?

The problem, Boezeman had explained to Demeere, was access. Only the head of security had the authority, official and perceived, to move an unauthorized person around the way the Belgian wanted. Didn’t the head of security take vacation? Demeere had asked. Boezeman had laughed at that, pointing out that Henk Jannick hadn’t taken a vacation in more than two years. Well, we can wait, Demeere had assured him. Maybe something will come up, and you’ll find yourself in a position where you can help me.

The phone rang twice on the other end, then three times. It was six in the morning in Amsterdam. Maybe Boezeman turned his mobile off at night, although most Europeans Hilger knew never did.

Then a voice cut in: “Hoi.”

“Hello, Mister Boezeman?” Hilger said.

“Yes, speaking,” the man said, switching to English.

“My name is James Hillman, and I’m a friend of William Detts. He told you I might be calling, right?”

“Uh, yes, he did.”

“Well, unfortunately, William can’t make it to Amsterdam as he was hoping. But perhaps you could hold open that rental property he discussed for me? The one with the western view and the sunsets?”

The reference to rental property and the rest was a prearranged signal that would establish Hilger’s bona fides. He waited for the prearranged response.

“Yes,” Boezeman said. “It’s a good property, and the sunrises are even better than the sunsets. I can hold it for you.”