The Last Assassin

We found a twenty-four-hour diner and went inside. We sat away from other people and ordered coffee. I was still too on edge to eat anything.

'Let me see what he was carrying,' Dox said.

I pulled out the knife and slid it to him under a napkin.

'Damn, son, that's a double-edge Cold Steel Arc Angel. That boy knew his hardware. You going to keep it?'

We'd been over this kind of thing in Bangkok, not with entirely satisfactory results. Dox was a trophy taker and I wasn't.

'I was going to get rid of it,' I said.

He made a face of exaggerated sadness. 'That strikes me as a shame.'

I rolled my eyes and extended a hand palm up in a 'help yourself gesture. Dox gave me one of his irrepressible grins, rubbed the knife down with the napkin, and put it in his pocket.

'Don't forget to scrub it,' I told him. 'Alcohol, then bleach.'

'Yeah, yeah,' he said. 'Although I think your Mr Careful image might need a little polishing after tonight's outing.'

I let it go. I looked at my watch. It was just past three. The sun would be up in about three hours.

I realized that getting rid of Wong's body wouldn't buy me much time. Presumably his boss, Chan, knew where he was going tonight. Dox had seen them talking right before Wong headed to Midori's apartment. So Chan would assume that whatever happened to Wong had happened while he was watching the apartment. The place and timing in turn would implicate me. Chan would report this to Yamaoto. I didn't think Yamaoto would attack Midori and the baby directly, but he would probably do something to increase the pressure on them, as a way of drawing me out. And if Midori had any hint that my sudden presence had brought Yamaoto and company back into her life, whatever hopes I harbored of being with her and with Koichiro would instantly be snuffed out.

There had to be a way out of this. There had to be.

I thought about what I knew. Chan was the gang's captain. Wong reported to Chan. It was a conservative assumption that Chan reported, directly or indirectly, to Yamaoto. That meant Chan was the link between Wong's disappearance and Yamaoto's more active involvement.

Meaning, if something were to happen to Chan, too, no one would know where or when Wong had gone missing. Hell, if I handled things right, no one would even know what had happened to Wong. In fact, they might just think…

'You know what?' I said, a plan starting to take shape. 'I'm going to need that Balisong after all.'

'Why?'

I wanted to tell him, but I knew if I did he'd want to help. And I'd put him at enough risk already.

'I'll fill you in later,' I said. 'But we don't have much time now. How soon can you get your car?'

He shrugged. 'I valet parked it at the hotel, and they put it in some local garage somewhere. So probably a half hour, forty-five minutes.'

'Good. Go get it, and stay mobile around East Houston. I'll call you shortly.'

He looked at me. 'What are you planning on doing, man?'

'Don't worry about it. I'll tell you after.'

'You're fixing to take out Mr Chan, aren't you?'

I sighed. 'Maybe.'

'Yeah, devious minds think alike. But that's not going to make things worse?'

'It could. But we know from having seen them together that there's some kind of bad blood between Wong and Chan. Other people must know about it, too – it wasn't as though they were doing a lot to hide it. And Wong's got a reputation for being quick to use that Balisong.'

Dox grinned. 'This one, you mean,' he said, taking it out of his pocket.

'Exactly. There's an opportunity for some strategic deception here, and I want to take advantage of it.'

'So the plan is to do Chan with Wong's knife, make it look like they had a fight. Then Wong's missing, people figure he's in hiding after what he did.'

'Exactly.'

'Crude, but effective. Are you sure you want to do this all by yourself, though? That'd be the second time tonight, and the first one didn't go all that well, if you don't mind my pointing it out.'

'Yeah, you've mentioned it. I appreciate your honesty.'

'It's one of my charm points, it's true.'

'I'm just going to take a look at that noodle place. At this hour, I don't even know if Chan will still be there. Depending on what I find, we'll figure out what to do next.'

'Yeah, but…'

'Look, I need your car to move Wong's body regardless. So you get the car and while you're doing that, I'll just check out the restaurant.'

'You're not going to do anything without me?'

'Have I ever?'

He laughed. 'I lost sight of old Wong tonight for all of ten seconds. When I turned the corner, there he was, already dead. So no, you've never done anything without me.'

'The knife,' I reminded him.

He wrapped it in a napkin and slid it across the table.

'All right,' I said. 'Let's do it.'

9

Dox went to get his car and I caught a cab to the northern edge of Chinatown. The streets were quiet. I walked to Columbus Park and looked in the restaurant. What I saw there was classic good news/bad news. The good news was, Chan was there. The bad news was, he was playing cards with two other hard-looking Chinese men. Probably mid-level gang members.

I watched and waited, shivering in the cold. At a little before four o'clock, the men got up. Okay.

My phone buzzed. I took it out and opened it. 'Yeah.'

'Got the car and I'm in the neighborhood. What's your status?'

'Watching and waiting.'

'He in there?'

'Yeah, with two other guys. But I think they're getting ready to leave.'

'Why don't I swing by? I've got my rifle right here with me. From the park, I can reach out and touch all three.'

'No, I told you, a shooting's no good.'

'Look, man, you've got three guys to deal with there. You need some kind of backup, a plan B. You're parachuting without a reserve, partner.'

The men walked toward the door.

'They're coming out,' I said. 'So it's too late to stage something from the park, anyway. I'm going to stick with Chan. Just stay in the car, stay mobile.'

'But…'

I closed the phone and took out the knife. The three men reached the door.

There's a horrible intimacy to all forms of face-to-face killing. Firearms, impact weapons, bare hands… they all carry a cost. But a knife is the worst. Partly it's the blood. Partly it's the sounds a man makes when he's dying of knife wounds. Partly it's the almost sexual act of penetration. I know soldiers who've cut men's throats in war and who can no longer change their own engine oil as a result. It's the feel of it on their hands.

I would have done it another way if another way had existed. Christ, the thought of Dox dropping the three of them from a hundred yards out was practically seductive. But if I could just get close to Chan, alone…

The men came through the door. Chan turned and locked it, then pulled down a graffiti-covered corrugated metal gate and locked that, too. They all headed north on Mulberry. I paralleled them from inside the park.

At the corner of Bayard, the two men continued north. Chan went right.

I took a deep breath and let it out. Okay.

I emerged from the park and started closing in on Chan. I glanced left. The two men were moving away, their backs to me. I crossed Mulberry. Twenty feet. Ten.

The quickest, surest, and, from behind him, cleanest way would have been to cut his throat. But I didn't want this to look military or otherwise professional. I wanted it to look like something a hotheaded gangbanger had done in the grip of resentment and rage.

Five feet. I moved noiselessly toe-heel on the sidewalk.

Chan stopped and started to reach into his coat pocket. I knew he hadn't heard me, so I doubted he was going for a weapon. More likely a smoke. Although at this point it made no difference either way.