“Yeah, but on the other hand, you said those Thai guys weren’t pros.”
“No, they weren’t. They were outsourced-hell, two of them ran off as soon as they started taking fire.”
“Guess the money wasn’t worth it.”
“Exactly. Now, if the snatch had been a CIA op, I would have expected an integrated group from the Agency’s paramilitary branch. They’ve got the operators, and they can move fast if they want to.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Tell me again. How do we know Hilger is CIA?”
“We don’t for sure. But two people implied that he was-Kanezaki, and the late Charles Crawley the third.”
Crawley was the Agency staffer who had tried to hire Dox to take me out. Dox warned me. After which I had what the government likes to call a “full and frank discussion” with Mr. Crawley, uninvited, in his suburban Virginia apartment. He had told me about a Hong Kong NOC, but wouldn’t give up the NOC’s name. The way Hilger had shown up afterward had left me in no doubt.
“Well, if Hilger’s CIA,” Dox said, “and he was behind Brown Sugar, why did he send a bunch of locals instead of the A-team?”
“He didn’t send a bunch of locals. He sent Winters. Winters assembled the local team.”
“I see what you’re saying. That’s the right way to look at it.”
I looked at him. “So the question…”
“Is, ‘Who is Old Man Winters?’ ”
“Right. Was Winters Agency, or not? Right now, I’m guessing not. Which would tell us a lot about what Hilger is really up to.”
I turned to the monitor and Googled “Mitchell William Winters.” We got no hits.
Dox said, “It seems that Mr. Winters has spent some time flying under the radar.”
“It does. Hang on a minute.”
I went to the bulletin board I used with Tatsu. There was a message waiting from him: the two dead men were named Scott Calver and David Gibbons. That tracked with what Kanezaki had told me. They were both ex-military, Third Special Forces. First Gulf War vets, honorable discharges. After that they entered the State Department Foreign Service, with postings to Amman, Karachi, and Riyadh.
Except for proper names, the message was in Japanese. I translated for Dox. He said, “So they left the Third Special Forces to become diplomats. Now there’s a believable career path.”
“Yeah,” I said. “At one point, they were Agency. But the message says they left in 2003. Looks like Kanezaki was being straight when he described them as ‘ex-company.’ ”
I glanced back at the screen. Tatsu’s post said the two men had left the government to join “Gird Enterprises.” I read it to Dox.
“What do you make of that?” he asked.
“A company, I’m guessing. My contact says he has no further information on it, but…”
I Googled “Gird Enterprises” and “Gird Enterprise.” Nada.
I went back to Tatsu’s post. At the bottom, there was an additional paragraph.
When you have a chance, there is something of a personal nature I would like to discuss with you. It’s not related to the matter at hand. Will you be in Japan soon? Perhaps we could get together for tea and our small talk, which I confess I quite miss. I hope you are well. Please be careful.
I wondered what the personal matter might be, and hoped that Tatsu and his family were all right. I typed in a message:
I need information on Jim Hilger, American resident in Hong Kong, reportedly a CIA NOC. There’s a connection with a man named Mitchell William Winters, probably residing in Jakarta, probably with a U.S. military special operations background, probably with experience in Thailand. Possible connection of both to “Gird Enterprises.”
And I would very much like to see you for tea and to discuss the personal matter you mention. I hope you and your family are well. Thank you for all your help, and please take care.
“What about Kanezaki?” Dox asked.
I went to that bulletin board. There was a message waiting:
I’m still looking into things, but running into a lot of interference and have to be careful. Anything more you can give me could help.
I typed in, What can you tell me about “Gird Enterprises”? Apparently the two departed men left the government for something by that name. I closed the two bulletin boards and reflexively purged the browser.
“Let’s see if there’s anything in the news,” I said.
I Googled a few variations on “Shooting in Manila Shopping Mall CIA.” And came up with a very interesting headline, from the Washington Post: “Two Slain Americans Reported to Be CIA Officers.”
“Shit, look at that,” Dox said.
We read the article. Apparently, “sources” were claiming that the two dead men were CIA. A CIA spokesman, citing Agency policy, refused to either confirm or deny the affiliations of the men.
We were quiet for a moment. Dox said, “Kanezaki said they were ex-spooks.”
I nodded. “He did.”
“Well, I’d have to call this a discrepancy.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe your lady found out something that might shed some light on the situation. Why don’t you give her a call?”
I thought for a moment. For all the reasons Dox and I had just discussed, I didn’t think Delilah could have been involved in what had happened in front of Brown Sugar. What was bothering me was that I was hoping she hadn’t been involved. I realized this was dangerous: it used to be that I would just do the math and accept the results. I didn’t hope one way or the other or have any other particular feelings about it. Now I was emotionally invested in the outcome. That made me wonder whether I could trust myself not to skew the data.
I’d have to figure that one out as we went along. If I could.
I called her. There were three rings, then she answered. “Allo?”
“It’s me. Okay to talk?”
“Okay to talk. I was just going to post you something.”
“Where are you?”
“Bangkok.”
“So am I. Can you meet?”
“No. Gil is here. I have to be careful. And so do you.”
“He’s here?” I asked.
She must have heard something in my voice. Or else she had just come to know me well enough to know what I was thinking. Either way, she said, “Don’t even think it.”
I didn’t answer. I don’t like the feeling of being hunted. I tend to take it personally.
“Don’t even think it,” she said again. “If something happens to him, you will make an enemy of me. I promise.”
All right, Gil was on her team. I needed to remember that.
“I understand,” I said. “I’ll just keep a low profile.”
“Good.”
“Any new info?”
“Yes. It sounds like those men really were CIA. Gil knew them in the first Gulf War. They were all part of the same unit, headed by a man named Jim Huxton, now Jim Hilger.”
Hilger again. Okay.
“What else?”
“Hilger was observed in multiple meetings with Lavi. And he uses CIA cryptonyms. Hilger is ‘Top Dog.’ Lavi is ‘Jew-boy.’ ”
“Well, that’s not very politically correct, is it?”
She chuckled.
“I’m serious. You think you could use a crypt like that at a U.S. government agency? Christ, the Transportation Security Administration can’t even do an extra check on a Saudi chanting verses from the Koran and mumbling ‘Allahu Akbar’ as he boards a plane, you think the CIA can call an asset ‘Jew-boy’?”
“That’s a good point.”
I picked up the Treo and looked at the date book. “TD” and “JB” suddenly took on a whole new meaning.