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.”