When she came out she was already dressed. She looked relaxed and refreshed. I had pulled on one of the Peninsula’s plush bathrobes and was sitting on the bed, as though ready to turn in for the night.
She sat down next to me and said, “What do we do now?”
I put my hand on her thigh. “Well, I’m ready for round two, if you are.”
She laughed. “About the situation.”
“Oh, yeah. Can you send text messages with your phone?”
“Of course.”
I gave her the URL of one of my encrypted bulletin boards. “The password is ‘Peninsula,’ ” I told her. “The name of this hotel. Tell me when you’ve gotten what you need from Belghazi and where I can find him then.”
“You’ll do that?”
I shrugged. “I’m still waiting to hear from my contacts, who should be able to shed some light on who came after me and why. And how. For the moment, I don’t have access to Belghazi, anyway. Standing down seems sensible.”
“It is. Whoever was coming at you in Macau won’t have unlimited resources. It will take them time to get new forces in position.”
“I know,” I said.
“But you need to be careful. I know you know this, I know you’re a professional. But Belghazi is a dangerous man. Remember when I told you that I’ve known men who could act without compunction? Never more so than with him.”
“What do you mean?”
“In Monte Carlo, I saw him kill a man. With his feet and bare hands.”
“Yeah, he’s got a Savate background, I know.”
She shook her head. “More than a background. He has a silver glove in Savate and was a ring champion in Boxe-Francaise. He works out on sides of beef. With his kicks he can break individual ribs.”
“He ought to market it. ‘Belghazi’s meat tenderizer.’ ”
She didn’t laugh. “And he carries a straight razor.”
“Good for him,” I said.
She looked at me. “I wouldn’t take it lightly.”
“You know what they teach salesmen?” I asked, looking at her. “Don’t sell past the close. I already told you I would stand down, for now. You don’t need to keep trying to persuade me.”
She smiled, and for an instant I thought the smile looked strangely sad. “Ah, I see,” she said.
We were quiet for a moment. Then she said, “Tell me, do you think I went to bed with you… tactically? To manipulate you?”
I looked at her. “Did you?”
She dropped her eyes. “That’s something you have to decide for yourself.”
There was a kiss, oddly tentative after our recent bout of passion, and then she was gone. I waited fifteen seconds, then slipped off the bathrobe and pulled on my clothes. The rest of my things were still in my bag. I waited a minute, looking through the peephole and using the SoldierVision to confirm that the corridor outside the door was empty. It was. I moved out into it, taking various staircases and internal corridors until I reached the ground floor. I used one of the rear exits, which put me on Hankow Road, cut across Nathan, and took the elevator down to the MTR. I made some aggressive moves to ensure that I wasn’t being followed. I wasn’t. I was all alone.
7
I SLEPT AT the Ritz Carlton, across the harbor. It was a shame to have to leave the Peninsula, but Delilah knew I was there, and might share that knowledge. Better to sever the potential connection.
I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. I thought about Delilah. She badly wanted those two days of grace, the day or two during which Belghazi had “meetings in the region.” I assumed that whatever he was doing on this trip was what Delilah and her people had been waiting for. They must have been expecting that something from the trip would wind up on his computer, something important, and that’s when they would act.
But why had she tried to access it that night in his suite, then? Opportunistic, maybe. A warm-up. Yeah, could be that. But no way to be sure. At least not yet.
And all my conjecture assumed that she was telling me the truth, of course. I couldn’t really know. I needed more information, something I could use to triangulate. I hoped I’d get it from Kanezaki.
I showered and shaved and enjoyed a last soak in the room’s fine tub before going down to the front desk to check out. The pretty receptionist looked at me for a moment, then politely excused herself. Before I had a chance to consider what this could be about, she had returned with the manager, a thin specimen with a pencil mustache.
“Ah, Mr. Watanabe,” he said, using the alias I had checked in under, “we believe a man might be looking for you. A police matter, it seems. He says it is important that you contact him. He left this phone number.” He handed me a piece of paper.
I nodded, doing nothing to betray my consternation, and took the paper. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you call me about this?”
“I’m very sorry, sir. But the man didn’t even know your name. He left a photograph at the front desk. It was only just now, when the receptionist saw you, that she realized you might be the gentleman in question.”
“Is that all? Was there anything else? Did the man leave a name?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“May I see the photo?”
“Of course.” He reached down and produced what I recognized as an excellent forgery-a digitized image of my likeness. The face in the photo wasn’t a dead ringer, but it was more than close enough.
I thanked them, paid the bill, and left, checking the lobby more carefully than I had when I had entered it. Nothing seemed out of order.
I did a series of thorough surveillance detection moves, wondering how the hell someone could have tracked me, and who it could have been. Having someone stay on you when you think you’ve gotten clean feels highly unpleasant.
When I was confident I was alone, I found a pay phone. I punched in the number the hotel had given me.
The phone on the other end rang twice. Then a voice boomed out, “Moshi moshi,” Japanese for hello, in a thick Southern twang.
“Jesus Christ,” I said. Dox.
“Well, some people think so, but no, it’s just me,” he said, with annoying good cheer. “Did I get the Japanese right?”
“Yeah, it was perfect.”
“I think you’re just saying that. But thank you anyway.”
“What do you want?”
“Ain’t you going to ask how I found you?”
“Not until I put you in another leglock.”
He laughed. “I told you, you don’t need to do that. I’ll tell you what you want to know. In person.”
I paused, then said, “All right.”
“Where are you now? Still at the hotel?”
That’s when it hit me. I knew how he’d done it.
“Yeah,” I said, testing my theory.
“Well, okay, good. I’ll come to you. Tell me, though, I don’t know Hong Kong so well, what’s the best way to get there again?”
I smiled. “Taxi.”
“Sure, that makes sense. But give me some directions. I like to know where I’m going.”
Yeah, that was it. I’d been right. “Just tell the driver the name of the hotel,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll be able to find it.”
There was a pause, during which I imagined him looking decidedly nonplussed. “Damn, what was the name of the place again?” he asked, trying valiantly.
I laughed and said nothing. After a moment, he said, “All right, all right, you got me. I’ll meet you anywhere you want.”
“Why would I want to meet you at all?”
“All right, I was out of line. Just wanted to see if I could sneak one past you, but you’re too slick. But you’ll still want to hear what I’ve got to tell you. Believe me on that.”
I thought for a moment. Of course I wanted to meet him. I needed to know what all this was about. But I would have to take precautions. Precautions that could prove fatal to Dox if things didn’t go the way I wanted them to.