Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind

Willian Shakespeare

*

It used to be that, when an intelligence agent wanted to communicate with an asset so sensitive that a meeting was impossible, they had to use what's called a dead asset would drop a message in the hollow of a tree, or hide it in an obscure book in the public library, and later the spy could come by to retrieve it.

It's easier with the internet, and a lot more secure. The client posts an encrypted message on a bulletin board, the electronic equivalent of a tree hollow. It's much safer and more reliable than texting a message to a cell, or a phone call that might be overheard.

Checking the bulletin board I now had with Sakura, I kept telling myself, was a mixture between business and pleasure. She had provided me with information that had led to the Deidara job and, if I could straighten that one out, there might be more jobs in the future. But I couldn't honestly say that was all. The real reason that I still communicated with her was because of our little time spent together after the Gaara Op.

It wasn't just the sex (mind-blowing as it was). Nor was it only her beauty. She wasn't the perfect companion for me: she could be demanding, sometimes moody, and she wasn't without her temper. But sweetness and perfection were only parts of a charade that I assumed she played with her targets at work. The uncertainty and work of our relationship actually helped to spice things up, made her feel real to me, made me want to trust her.

And trust, as I was discovering with Naruto, was a dangerous narcotic. I'd had a little taste of it. And now the thing I had lived without for so long had suddenly become indispensable.

At the Internet café, I went to the bulletin board I had set up with Sakura, not with any more than the usual hope of maybe/maybe not. But there was a message waiting. My heart did a little backflip.

It said: I've got some time off. Do you?

Below was a number starting with 331. The country code for France and the city code for Paris.

She answered after one ring. "Allo?"

"Hey." I stared straight out at the street. Afraid of my hopes.

"Hey," she said back. When I didn't answer, she asked, "How have you been?"

Well, whatever I had been expecting, I hadn't thought that a phone call could be uncomfortable like this. "Good…you?"

"The same. I've been working on a new project, but I can get away for a few days, if you can."

No mention of business. Either this was a personal call, as I wanted to hope, or it was business disguised as personal. Which among the current range of possibilities would probably mean something very bad.

"Yeah, I can get away. I'm in the middle of something right now, and it's quiet for the moment. But you never know when it might heat up again."

"I can come to you, if that's better?"

"That might not be so easy. I'm in Thailand."

Normally I never give away my position to anybody. But Sakura was smart, and all she would have to do was check the caller ID to see the area code. If this was tactical, then she was probably already aware of my location, anyway.

"Thailand sounds nice, actually. I've never been there, and I can probably find a nonstop flight from here. You want to take care of everything else?"

I recognized the concession to what Naruto might call my paranoia. She knew that letting me choose the final destination, without telling her in advance, would be more comfortable for me. "Great. You make the flight arrangements, and leave the rest to me."

"I'll put it up on the bulletin board." There was a pause, then: "It'll be good to see you."

"I…I'm glad you got in touch."

"Jaa," she said, displaying a little knowledge of Japanese. Well then.

I smiled. "A bientot." And hung up. I checked the flight plans from Paris to Bangkok, made all the necessary arrangements, and left the Internet café for the outside city streets.

When an assassination turns into an assassination attempt, you have to hide. Not the most honorable thing, true, but neither is being paid to kill a man and making it look like he struck the ground at an odd angle after slipping in a puddle of piss. So when you hide, it's best to head for the most distant area possible.

Thailand is nice.

I don't spend much time in Thailand. The smell of the cities, the vibe, is all low-level dealings, much of it sexual. The city that Naruto and I now found ourselves in, Bangkok, has made a lot of forward advancements in recent years to catch up to the rest of the world. But to me it always been about lasts: the last party of the evening that nobody wants to end because they have to get up and go to work tomorrow; the last chance to make mistakes with someone of the opposite sex that just so happens to be drunker than you are; the last place you want to call a safe haven. Because it's not.

As I walked along the city streets, letting the crowds take me closer to the restaurant that I was to meet Naruto at, I found something that caught my eye: a roadside vendor selling knives. I took the moment to arm myself with a cheap Sheffield folder with a wooden handle and a four-inch blade that looked like it had been sharpened by laser. I shaved off a few hairs from my arm to make certain, then paid the vendor and left.

For a long time I had gotten by without carrying a weapon. I like it that way. For one thing, you tend to comport yourself differently when you're armed, and there are people in this business who can spot the signs. Also, my mild-mannered civilian act would be slightly discovered if I were to be caught carrying, say, a folding karambit or some other concealed cutlery. And then there's the matter of blood. It gets all over you, and seriously compromises your ability to disappear into with a crowd after a close encounter.

But after one such close encounter with a certain red-haired savate practitioner a few months back, I learned that sometimes it's better to be prepared for combat than have deniability rights. The risk of being arrested is not as important as the risk of being dead.

I met Naruto at a diner called Sukhumvit 23. The place was packed with around 70 people; half local, half foreign. They all seemed more interested in what they were ordering than in the two hired killers that were meeting up after a two day escape run. I realized, though, that I was doing a security sweep more out of habit, not because I thought Naruto might have brought trouble.

I was surprised to realize that I trusted someone this much. My discomfort must have shown.

"Hey, man, you okay?"

I gave him a nod that wasn't nearly true enough. "Fine, yeah. Any problems on the way over?"

He shook his head, that damn grin of his still on his face. "Nope. You wanna eat here, or should we head somewhere else? I recommend we stay. Not only is the pu nim pad gra pow the best in the city, but there's a cute waitress over there that's been stripping me with her baby blues for the past couple minutes."

I ignored him. "You turned your cell off, right?"

He sighed. "Yes, Mom. But just know, I'm disappointing all the girls that are trying to reach me."

"Naruto, you've got to be a little more serious for about ten seconds."

"And you, my female deprived friend, have to get over this lone-wolf, International Man of Mystery shit. You can't live like that twenty-four-seven, man. It'll burn you out. Seen it happen."

I rolled my eyes. "Let's just eat here."

"Well, thank God for that, I'm starving." The waiter came over and Naruto ordered our food. He knew what he was doing—even his Thai was passable. "Okay, so what's the status? I hope your Israeli friends aren't too pissed."

"I'm not sure. I told them that two unknown players had popped onto the scene and turned it into a shooting gallery, and that said players might have been CIA. They sounded a little concerned at that. But they're just glad we got out alive and we can't implicate them for the failed hit."

"Yeah. About that…"

Shit. I knew this was coming.

Naruto looked me straight in the eye. "When I got into that bathroom, I was damn surprised to see that the target was still breathing. I know what you can do up close with your hands. You were alone with him long enough."

I didn't say anything.

"You gonna tell me what happened?"

I paused, then swallowed the bullet. "I'm still not sure. He came in, his back was to me, I moved out of the stall. Then you told me the boy was coming. I must've made a sound, because he turned around and saw me. I looked in his eyes—"

"Whoa. Wait a minute. Hold the fucking phone." He sat up and looked down at me, eyes narrowed. "You looked into his eyes, man? Why'd you do something like that?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

"Damn. Even when I look through the scope, I never look at his eyes. And if I do, it's only at one of them. Then all I see is a bullseye, you know? I never see a man, only a target. If you see a man, you might…I don't know…"

"Hesitate." I inhaled and pushed my frustration back down. "All right, it's over with. We've got to focus on our next step."

"You think the mission is over with?"

"Maybe," I considered. "We can't get close to him again the way we did. He's got too close a look at my face. And I think we can expect that he'll be taking extra precautions from now on. So we need a new variable. I want to figure out who the other two guys in the bathroom were, and I think the only way to get that information is from the Israelis."

"So we wait until they contact us?"

"Right. I'm expecting a call anytime."

He leaned back in his chair and grinned. "Well, there's no better place in the world to wait around than in Bangkok. Hope you like Asian girls."

I sighed, feeling like a parent about to argue with a teenager. "We've still got a job to do. You're not going to be very useful drained of all bodily fluids and nursing a hangover."

"Tell you what. Best way for us to survive is if we stick together. Why don't you head out with me tonight?"

"Oh, hell no."

"Come on, man, when was the last time you got yourself properly laid?"

"A night out with a prostitute isn't exactly my thing."

"Who said anything about a prostitute? My rugged good looks and your vampire Twilight impersonation? The local girls'll be throwing themselves at us when they see you traveling with a handsome stranger such as yours truly."

"I don't think so."

He snapped his fingers. "Hey, we can get you some of that black market Viagra, too! With a double dose you should do fine. Plus, you've still got about a quart of Uzumaki Crimson sloshing around in you, that should help…"