SABOTEUR
When he returns to the passengers, they are folding their prayer rugs into rectangles. He proves to be eager to continue his discussion with Rock. There is something in Warid's persistent state of serenity that reminds Rock of Mr. Chang, even as he sits attentively on the floor, one leg folded and the other knee up.
"We were speaking of the end of the world," Warid says.
Nasir keeps digging through his suitcase, pretending he can't hear.
"I suppose we were," Rock says. "What makes you believe the end is near?"
"There are a number of greater and lesser signs. They vary in the nature of their specificity, but many have already come to pass. Indeed, it was even said that time itself will accelerate as Judgement Day approaches."
Something about that touches Rock. He can still remember standing in front of his window and staring out for hours or sitting up on the turret of the ship and losing track of where he was. At the very least, his own time felt like it was speeding up out of his grasp.
"What is meant by 'the acceleration of time'?" he asks.
Warid thinks for a few moments. "It must have to do with Man's perception of time. Indeed, with the airplane and the telephone and the computer, it might seem as if all the things that separate mankind have been compressed together. The old ways are breaking apart, and the new ways are too hollow to replace them."
Warid raises a single finger in the air, as if making an oath. Still he speaks in sure tones, totally unalarmed by his own predictions.
"The end is coming. We have only seen the beginning of the strife that will soon be upon us. It will eclipse anything we have seen so far. Forget the old age of World Wars, my dear Japanese. Every nation will find itself drawn into conflict. Millions will flee their countries. The fire will grow and grow across borders until finally God, in his infinite mercy, calls the end upon us."
Hearing predictions of the End is nothing new to Rock. Aum Shinrikyo had been making headlines in Japan before he ended up in Roanapur, a doomsday cult killing people, believing that they were saving the souls of their victims before a supposed nuclear Armageddon. Rock holds a rather dim view of such prophecy-makers.
"What is to be done about the end of the world?" Rock asks, expecting something obscure.
"Nothing." Warid smiles. "Our life in this world is only a test to reach Heaven. Thus I will act as if every day is my last."
The force of anticlimax makes Rock wants to shout. He brought up the apocalypse just to shrug it off? Instead he nods his head in false agreement.
"How wise," he says.
Warid shakes his head. "This is not a settlement I come to through wisdom. It is a lesson forced on me by life. Do you understand the difference?"
Rock recognizes Warid is not pretending to be humble. His face is grave, his words serious.
"I have seen men alive in one moment, talking and laughing, and then a moment later changed into nothing but corpses, bleeding out into the dust. You may have seen gunfights before, but have you ever seen a helicopter on the horizon and known that it was coming to kill you with weapons that would turn even a tank into scrap?"
Rock actually has seen such a sight. He nods and loosens his tie just a bit as he recalls it.
Warid's eyes narrow as he sees the change come over Rock. "Yes, you do know what I speak of," he says. "I can see it in your face now. You faced such a thing and lived, just as I did. God is great indeed, God is great."
Nasir cracks one eye open to observe Rock. He must not have heard about this story.
"Now tell me, what did you do when you saw that helicopter coming in for its final attack?" Warid asks. "Did you run? Did you hide? If you did either, I doubt you would be here today."
Rock shakes his head. They had evaded attacks for a while but when their back was in the corner, the crew had turned to face death.
"Then you know it as well as I do then. When the Angel of Death approaches, we must stand and face it. Victory and defeat are matters of fate."
The 'fate' Warid speaks of is something Rock has seen before. It rarely seemed positive.
"My feelings on the end of the world are like those towards the Russians and their helicopters. The next time I see Malak al-Mawt, I will make my stand. Until then, I live in the way I believe best."
Neither of the two men with Rock recognize that Warid has just given a rather large hint to his identity. He mentioned facing down Russian gunships. The only Arabic-speaking men to face down Russians in their own gunships had to have been militants in the Soviet-Afghan war. International participation in the war had not been a secret. The Mujahideen, they had been called in the West, funded by the CIA (among others), armed and trained by Pakistan and China, and rallied to the cause by the priests of Saudi Arabia.
After the war was called off, the international fighters in Afghanistan spread in every which way on the wind. Russians like Balalaika returned to a country that shunned their Afghantsi veterans, and Mujahids like Warid probably found their homes were no longer as familiar as the battlefield. Rock is done believing that it was a coincidence they were transporting these men just after a terrorist bombing. Perhaps they weren't directly involved, but the timing itself was suspicious.
"How did you like your time in Afghanistan?" Rock asks.
Warid grins at that and says something to Nasir in Farsi or maybe some other language. Nasir grumbles and turns away, as if to say I warned you, so now you're on your own.
"I never speak of my time in Afghanistan. Nasir told me your crew has a good reputation, but I still cannot make an exception for you."
"Of course," Rock says. "Some things must be reserved for brothers and comrades."
Warid is surprised by how easily the conversation passes over the difficult subject and claps his hand once. "You are quite fair in your pronouncements, dear Japanese. I will call you Hakam."
Hakam meant 'judge' if Rock's knowledge of Arabic was good enough. He accepts the nickname with a nod.
The conversation dies naturally after that. His investigation has reached its limit. He will not be able to track Warid when he departs from Roanapur and there is no definitive evidence to connect him to the embassy attacks. It would be a tough sell to an information broker. Rock sits in seiza and thinks of nothing in particular until his legs start to fall asleep.
Nasir breaks him out of his fugue by shaking his shoulder. "It is time for us to pray again. May we be escorted?"
Rock's legs have gone numb. He shifts himself off of sore ankles and tries to stand. He has spent too long sitting.
Warid offers him a hand and pulls Rock to his feet. "Come on, Hakam, or we'll all miss sunset."
Nasir makes the call to prayer again as they approach Singapore. Dutch is planning on topping up before they sprint out of the Strait of Malacca and up the Peninsula.
Revy confronts Rock in the cabin. "Damn, Rock, how many times are they going to come up on deck? I'm getting tired of hiding."
Surprisingly, Dutch has the answer. "They're traveling, so they get to bundle up their prayers. They won't come up again until tomorrow afternoon."
"That's a relief," Revy says. "That guy is louder than an alley-cat."
Rock makes sure his guests return to the hold and then goes about preparing dinner for the whole boat. He is usually in charge of feeding everyone onboard, even if the food comes from cans. Dutch and Benny were always too busy, and no one ever felt brave enough to ask Revy to do it.
He lights a tiny burner and heats cans one by one as they pull into Changi Bay. Below deck he has a rice cooker going. The cans are all from the Philippines, classics like pancit, spam, and flavored sardines. The crew eats straight from cans while the boat fills up on fuel and then Rock serves the passengers with surplus military mess kits. They take the sardines with thanks.
After making sure Warid and Nasir will stay in their quarters for the rest of the night, Rock takes first watch up in the turret. Dutch will keep the ship going north along the peninsula until they refuel at the Thai border, and then shoot straight across the open waters of the Gulf to get back to Roanapur. He has no interest in saving fuel now that he has his paycheck on board.
The boat rocks up and down through the waves and Rock is grateful that he no longer gets seasick. The Malay Peninsula lays to his left and he can take glances at the shadowed wilderness, interspersed with the pale yellow lights of town docks. To his right, there is the unending ocean. It continues on and on, the waves quickly dropping into black nothingness.
Rock drops into a fugue again. He thinks about the end of the world and the acceleration of time. He thinks he can sit forever like this in the turret, sheltered a little from the wind and the noise. He could spend the rest of his life in a waking dream, working the waters of Southeast Asia with the rest of the crew. It could continue for a few decades as he accumulated money and experience- maybe one day he would cash out. Either that or he'd be dead, caught at the wrong time in the wrong place.
When the time came for the Lagoon Company to close, Benny and Dutch would be just fine. They could pack up and leave Roanapur behind if the city wasn't tickling their fancy anymore. They weren't the ones who needed it.
Rock knows he needs Roanapur- the only place he could exist as himself, the last refuge of identity on the face of the yawning Earth. If it ever came to an end, he would be in trouble. Revy would, too. Where else was there for a fugitive like her to go? Where else could she carve out a shelter? Who else could she be?
He imagines Roanapur as the last piece of the world that would never be swallowed whole and consumed by the mundane. Yet if he needs it so badly, why could he think of nothing but eliminating it? Why does he want it gone?
"Rock!" someone calls.
Rock startles awake and looks down to see Benny.
"What's up?" Rock asks, already lighting his next cigarette.
"Is your radio on, man? You weren't responding."
Rock checks his headset and finds he's missing batteries.
"I guess my batteries are dead," he lies.
"Whatever," Benny shakes his head. "Dutch was thinking you could end your shift a little early so that you can be awake for our passengers in a few hours."
Rock descends through the turret back down into the cabin. The dayroom would have been the officer's quarters back in 1945, but in 1998 it's been converted into a spare room for storage with a single berth. Rock finds Revy resting there, arm over her eyes and a single earphone in.
He taps her boot. "Revy. Surprise shift change."
She isn't sleeping. Right away, her arm moves and her eyes are on him as she sits up. "Gimme your radio."
He unbuckles it from his hip. The first thing she does is check the batteries. When she sees them missing, she looks to him with cold anger, visible only by moonlight through the window.
"Hey, Rock," she says. "What's the point of a fucking lookout when they can't use their radio?"
"Sorry."
She curses again and rifles through the boxes in the dayroom until she finds a pack of batteries. She loads four of them in her radio.
"You're acting like a dope-head. If this shit keeps up, you're gonna end up like Leigarch, covered in bed sores and having your ass wiped by some nurse."
Rock does not know what to say. He did not choose to forget about the batteries. It just never connected for him. Once Revy gives up on him and leaves, he lies on the mattress and pulls a sheet over himself, ready to feign sleep for another night. There are tiny windows around the upper edge of the dayroom for him to look out of and tell when sunrise will come.
With his passengers already tapped as a source of interest, Rock's mind turns back towards Roanapur. Despite Dutch and Benny warning him off, he has a desperate need to know more about the changing city. Unlike Revy or Dutch, Rock commands no real respect in town He can only process the information other people give him.
Analysis was something he was bred to do. If he had made it into government service, his talent probably would have been squandered on petty backroom politics and minor trade disputes. Slaving away in Material Procurement was not much better than that because his inquiry only served one purpose: obtaining vast quantities of raw materials at the lowest prices possible.
Comparatively, life in Roanapur was fulfilling him. Each day gives him a dozen problems to solve. With the passage of time, however, Rock found himself unable to enjoy it. After falling into a few entanglements with Chang and Balalaika, a new challenge began to dominate his thoughts: the existence of the city itself.
He will have to turn to someone outside of the group for information. Feng had helped him before, but he couldn't risk her life and reputation on his own selfish pursuits. The only other person he can really go to is Sister Eda of the Rip-off Church, but he takes no pleasure in the idea. Eda had never been a true woman of God, considering that the 'church' she served at was little more than a front for smuggling. Even worse, Rock is all but certain that Eda is not even a true member of the smuggling ring, but instead an officer of the U.S Central Intelligence Agency.
She had quick access to information that would take a single person weeks to gather. Even though she feigned neutrality most of the time, Eda involved herself whenever she could further American interests.
Of course, Eda's main responsibility was keeping the city running, and anything Rock did to destabilize it would be unwelcome. In its current state, Roanapur is a useful node in an international network for the CIA, who could cycle illicit goods through it with absolute impunity. If Rock wanted to meddle with the shifting power balance there, he would need to prove his worth to Eda and the Lord she served. What would she accept in payment? He had already traded the Lagoon Company's records to get Revy out of prison once.
Again, he thinks of the passengers. Could he sell them out on just a rumor? Eda would be snooping for information on the bombing when they got back. All Rock has to do is break the Lagoon Company's 'no snitching' policy again.
It was risky to keep on violating that rule. If word got out that Lagoon was ratting on their clients, Dutch wouldn't have a single contract left in the city. It would be a deep betrayal, and Rock would be thrown to the wolves if his involvement was proven. Was the gamble worth it?
The sun begins to rise and Rock forces himself out of bed to check below. To his surprise, the men are awake and praying. Rock watches them as they stand next to each other, bowing, then kneeling in a pattern he can't quite pick up. He does not understand their expressions. When they finish, they inform him that they are actually going back to sleep until later in the morning.
Rock, left with little to do, makes a pot of coffee. Dutch has kept the ship going all night and needs the caffeine.
"Thanks," he says, sipping from styrofoam. "How is our cargo?"
"They woke at dawn to pray. I think they'll be fine until the afternoon."
"Good," he says. "Have they been seasick yet?"
"No," Rock says. "Nasir looks a little pale, but that's it."
Dutch nods. "Good. We'll be getting in late Sunday night, so let them know it won't be too much longer."
Rock spends the rest of the journey watching over the passengers. Warid had shut him off from all of the useful information, but Rock has already chosen his new plan of action. It is all too easy to just sit and let time go by. Revy brings them coffee again to mark the afternoon and Rock forces himself up so that he can serve his guests one last time. Then he takes his shift on watch.
Even once they are past the giant engraving of Buddha outside the port, Dutch keeps the passengers below deck all the way until they are docked in front of their warehouse. It is not the end of his wariness, either. Revy is sent ahead to check out the warehouse and make sure that it is clear. Only once she gives the signal are Warid and Nasir allowed up to the surface.
They call their ride on the warehouse phone and are picked up within the hour by an old-looking van. The license plate on the back shows that it is registered to Yala province.
"Well, Hakam, I suppose we part ways here," Warid says.
"Until we next meet," Rock says. "God willing."
Warid lets out a single bark of laughter and boards the van. His fixer does nothing more than nod to the crew before he gets in and closes the door. The van pulls away slowly and heads westward along the coast road. Because Roanapur is in the east end of Thailand, the passengers could be headed anywhere.
Rock is the first to bring up the license plate.
"Did you see that? They were registered in Yala."
Benny raises his eyebrows. "That's all the way back down in the Peninsula, isn't it? Seems like a long way to drive."
"That guy might have been rich, but goddamn was he stupid," Revy says. "I told you guys before, we could have just dropped them off in Yala when we were refueling near the border."
"I mentioned that to him," Dutch says. His back is to the crew as he looks out to sea.
"And this guy still wanted to get dropped off in Roanapur?" Revy shakes her head. "I give up."
Dutch finally turns around. "That's good, Revy, because the job's done with you, too. The money will be in our pockets soon enough. Let's all just forget about this."
Revy shrugs. "Alright. This weekend has been a bitch, though. How about we stop by the Yellow Flag? Your tab."
Dutch's smile is cool. "Fine. With the amount of overtime we put in over the weekend, you've earned it."
"I think I'll pass," Benny says. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I can barely keep my eyes open."
Benny gets a taxi to take him and his computer to his apartment, but the rest of them take the Trans Am out to The Yellow Flag. Rock drives, but Dutch and Revy do not have much to say. They all have something else to think about.
The bar is not heavily attended when they arrive. Only a few tables have anyone there, and most of them are just solo drinkers with nowhere else to be. Bao gives his new arrivals a casual glance when they arrive at the bar.
"Where's the computer geek?" he asks.
"Already done for the night," Revy says. "He's probably sending an e-mail to his nympho girlfriend right now."
Bao grunts. "So, what are the rest of you having? Rum?"
"Dutchie's paying," Revy says. "So we're going straight for the top-shelf stuff."
Dutch stands up. "On second thought, I could use the sleep."
He tosses a hundred dollars in small bills down before he leaves. "Cover my tab with this."
Dutch ignores Revy's complaining as Bao snatches up the money and counts it below the bar. He pours two glasses of Sang-Som rum and leaves the bottle with them. Rock and Revy clink their glasses and down their drinks. He barely feels the burn.
"What kind of shitty drinking party is this?" Revy says, already pouring the next round. "Where's the usual crowd?"
"They left early," Bao says. "I dunno why. Eda was in here too, with that other priest. They were asking about you."
"What for?" Revy asks. "Is something going down?"
Bao scoffs. "Do you think I would let you in the door if I smelled trouble?"
"How did Eda seem?" Rock asks. "Angry? Serious?"
"She was in those nun clothes," Bao says. "And yeah, she seemed serious. She said she's coming back. What, do you bunch owe the Rip-off Church?"
"No fucking chance," Revy says, and downs her glass again. Rock matches her.
Just as she's pouring the next round, the door busts open and Eda walks in, wearing her sunglasses as if it were not nearing midnight. Rico follows behind her, but his easygoing grin is nowhere to be found.
"Hey, Eda!" Revy calls. "Lucky you showed up. Otherwise me and Rock would have to drink this whole fucking bottle."
Eda responds with a casual smile. "Deal me in, then, lightweight."
Bao adds another two glasses and Revy fills them to the brim. Rock notices Rico spill some of his glass before taking it, but Eda drinks without concern.
"Where were you this weekend?" Eda asks, wiping her mouth. "Solitaire is fine, but half the charm in playing cards is taking your money."
Revy flips her off. "I had work to do, bitch. Why didn't you just play 'Old Maid' with the altar boy over there?"
"I prefer Go Fish," Rico says.
Revy shakes her head and drinks.
Eda leans against the bar. "You guys must have been going pretty far out if you're only coming back now."
Rock can see that Eda is asking for reasons beyond general curiosity. Revy is too busy making up for lost drinking time to care.
"A damn round trip with nothing to shoot, and some boring cargo," she says, pouring yet another shot. "We had to stop for refueling like we were taking piss-breaks."
"Dutch must have been in a rush," Eda says. "But at least you got to see Singapore."
"No, just some fucking docks." Revy is not drunk, but she's acting like it. Her head is down against the bar, her hand grasped possessively around the bottle.
"Why the interest?" Rock asks Eda. It is the first time he has spoken.
Her focus turns to Rock after his interruption. "It gets boring just waiting around up at the church. I just want to hear something interesting."
"Then did you hear about the embassy bombings?" Rock asks.
Eda switches positions to come between him and Revy. Rico takes up the other side. They have him surrounded, a classic interrogation technique. "What makes you think I want to hear something like that?" Eda asks, and her smile is sharp-toothed like some great beast of the deep.
"Do you have something you'd like to confess?" Rico is so close by his side now that Rock can smell his cologne.
Rock reaches around Eda to pull the bottle from Revy's hands. He fills his glass to the brim in one smooth pour and tilts his head back to down it all at once. He doesn't want to give into the pressure at such an early stage.
"Aren't confessions supposed to be held sub rosa?" Rock says. "Even if I had any sins, this isn't the kind of bar to have private booths."
Eda takes a long look at him. "Don't tell me that you're a true believer now, Rock. You haven't shown up for a single Mass."
He smiles. "I just haven't felt the call yet."
Revy interrupts by grabbing her bottle back. "In the name of the fuckin' Lord, are we drinking or what?"
They can go no further with Rock right now while maintaining their charade, so they go back to drinking with Revy. She drinks twice as much as the rest. Rock can feel the buzz building in him too, but the feeling is smothered within his anticipation.
When the first bottle runs dry, Eda and Rico make an excuse about their curfew and leave. Revy orders beer, but begins losing steam.
"What's the fucking point?" she says eventually, looking down into her mug. "What am I doing here?"
She turns to him to him, wordless. He knows the look in her eyes. On some level, Rock knows that it is the closest thing he will get to an invitation. Only now is she drunk enough to let some of herself drift to the surface.
Rock stares at his beer. He could answer Revy, say something cool or interesting and get her to stay with him at the bar. He could make her feel better and resemble the person she wanted him to be. There are so many possibilities between them, so many ways that the gap can be bridged and their relationship mended. He pretends not to see them. Her vulnerability has been revealed for his eyes only, but Rock forces himself look past it. The city has stolen his attention.
She gets off the stool, leaving her beer half-empty at the bar. "Fuckin' hell. I'm out."
"See you," Rock says. Revy gives him no reply.
Bao pours her mug out and begins polishing it.
"What's with the two of you?" Bao asks. "Did you have a fight or something?"
It is Bao's job to be nosy. People rely on him as a minor source of information. Rock keeps his mouth shut.
"You're planning something, aren't you?" Bao says. "I've seen that look on your face."
Rock drains his glass and gets up. "Don't worry, I have no plans to get your bar involved. Yet."
Bao heard the threat concealed in the warning, but he takes Rock's glass and begins polishing it without a care in the world. "Dutch won't cover for you if the tab gets too big."
Revy had taken the car with her, so Rock takes an unlicensed taxi back into the city and walks the rest of the way. The journey is safe enough. He is an employee of the Lagoon Company, who were themselves under the protection of Hotel Moscow. No person with affiliation could let something happen to him without answering for it, at least when he keeps to the main streets where the witnesses are.
As Rock comes up to his building, the doorman greets him, an elderly Thai man who is there to add a tiny bit of respectability to the place.
"Good evening," he says, eyes shaded by his bushy brows.
Rock smiles. "Any news?"
"Sister Eda of the Church wanted to see you on Saturday. She chose not to leave a message."
Rock chooses the elevator this night. He has recently moved to one of the more expensive apartments in Roanapur. Even if the carpet hasn't been replaced since the Vietnam War and the laundry room floods during the monsoon season, it has a sense of glory about it. When he moved out of his old place, Rock needed a place with meaning. Even the locks have a sense of weight to them. He turns his key twice in his lock just to get a feel for the heavy tumblers.
When he walks into his apartment, Rock can sense something is wrong. Shadows in the darkness, impossible to see on the dark-green walls. Minute changes in the air, an apprehension he can taste. Whatever he feels, it is not enough to save him.
The lights flip on and he sees Sister Eda sitting in his armchair, her Glock in her lap. Rico is by the light switch, a massive knife sheathed at his hip.
"Well, Rock, You're the one who wanted sub rosa," Eda says. "God has a way of making things work out. What needs confessing?"
Rock has been expecting this visit after dropping hints at the bar. "I think you know something was off about our job this weekend. You want to know if it was related to the embassy bombings."
"Us? We just run guns," Eda asks, faking innocence.
"Sister Yolanda runs guns," Rock says. "But you and Rico drop your part-time jobs and come running if you hear so much as an echo of the 'Star Spangled Banner' in town."
Eda gets a better grip on her gun. Rico is smiling faintly, looking at Rock from the corner of his eyes.
"Remember the last time the maid came to town, and I warned you about digging too deeply?" Eda says. "I'm not in the habit of giving second chances. Men have died for saying less than you have."
Rock loosens his tie and his lips curl into a smile. He knows Eda will dispose of him right now if he seems unable to keep her secret. The danger brings his blood pumping again.
"You won't have to worry about operational security with me, Sister." Rock sits on his own sofa, crossing his legs. He imagines Eda's eyes behind her sunglasses, giving him the same murderous glare he provoked from anyone with power in the city.
"I know that not even Moses could look upon the face of God," Rock says, taking his time, inflating his voice with courtesy. "In the Jewish tradition, even the name of God is taboo."
Eda grunts. "Get to the point."
"I have information to offer God," he says. "I don't need to look upon Him or call Him by his true name, but I want to know my contribution will be rewarded."
Eda looks to Rico and then back at Rock. She lifts the pistol up so that the barrel is now pointing somewhere into his chest.
"That's not how God works," Eda says. "Tell us what you know about the bombing, and I might let you walk. Keep running this game, and I'll send you on the express train to Gehenna."
Rock holds his hands up in surrender. "You'll get what I have free of charge. But imagine what I can provide you once I know my prayers are being heard."
Eda sighs, letting the Glock back into her lap. "Talk."
Rock tells them both what he saw that weekend: Warid, the rich Saudi man with a weak cover story and with at least one 'holy war' in his past. He was taking a long journey just to join up with men from one of the separatist Thai provinces of the South.
"That's all you have?" Eda asks. "Fighting in Afghanistan doesn't make someone a person of interest. Most of the mujis in Afghanistan went back to their countries. It's not worth it to keep track of all of them."
"How many of them are from the same social class as your prime suspect?" Rock asks. "Warid spoke of Osama bin Laden as if he had known him on a personal level."
Eda leans back. "Tell me why I might be interested in that."
She is testing him. Rock pauses for a moment to think through to his conclusion.
"Standard detective work would help you find the bombers," he says. "But the FBI is already doing that. You're better than that. You don't want to be looking backwards to find your enemy. You need to see oncoming threats."
"Good," Eda says. "Now tell us how your guy does that for me."
"At the very least, Warid is a high-status member of some kind of network. That is valuable on its own. More importantly, he might have some kind of rivalry against bin Laden. If you wanted to, you could try to turn him."
Eda looks down. Rock thinks that she is considering his response, but when she looks up, she's holding in a laugh. She turns to Rico, who has a grin of his own. They both start laughing, but Eda is considerably louder. "...Holy shit!" she exclaims, trying to catch her breath.
Rock stirs, suddenly uncomfortable in his seat.
"You make it sound so easy, just 'turning' a guy," Eda says. "Take it from me: not everyone can do what you did and turn away from everything they know just cause they don't like their job."
Rock accepts the shame he feels. He is not a spy; he has no way of knowing how spies think. He promises himself he will learn.
"That analysis isn't bad for a first try," she says. "But there's no reason for us to go any further than this."
Rock sees his plan collapsing around him. Rico steps in closer to explain for Eda. "If we're out past midnight on a Sunday, we're looking for something more specific than your pet theories."
Rock reaches into his pocket and pulls out the instant photograph he had picked up back in the ship. He unfolds it against the table and writes a Thai motor vehicle code in neat print on the back.
"Here's two pieces of solid information," Rock says. "That license plate comes from the van that took Warid and his fixer from the dock. This woman was photographed specifically to inform Revy on conservative religious dress."
Eda and Rico share a look, but Rock detects approval from it.
"Goddamn, Rock," Eda says. "You should have started with the solid intel! This is the kind of thing I can keep in a file."
She makes the photograph disappear under her habit and faces Rock.
"Still, what makes you think this deserves something in return?" Eda asks. "I know what you're gonna pray for, and I'll stop you right there, pal: you don't want to be a bigger pain in my ass."
Roanapur exists solely to make money off of crime. Rock knows that. He has listened to Benny and won't bite off more than he can chew. That is why he is talking with the two people the CIA has stationed to keep the city working in their favor. Eda is the sleeping leviathan who slumbers in the depths of the city. Rock wants to see what might happen if she bites down on Roanapur.
"I do not mean to cause trouble," Rock says. He leans forward and steeples his hands.
"Then why are we here?" Eda asks.
Rock lets her question hang in the air while he lights up a cigarette. He takes a few drags before talking. The audience is being pulled in.
"The balance of power is quite volatile currently," Rock says. "Are you sure your interests will be secured when the next war starts?"
"You've got my interest," Eda says. "Now explain yourself." She is less hasty now.
Rock kicks his feet up on his coffee table again and lets the confidence return to his face and voice.
"I'll start with the most obvious reason the war is coming: the Thai Baht has crashed, and the Asian Financial Crisis is rippling out to affect the entire region. When there's less meat to go around, lions and wolves will fight among themselves, let alone jackals and hyenas."
"Hong Kong is still on top," Eda says. "And Hotel Moscow won't allow any fighting either."
"You act like you can trust the Triad," Rock says. "But if Mister Chang was off the board, do you think his gang would still be yours?"
Eda grits her teeth. She already knows about her vulnerability. Rock had been reading the news: since 1997, the Triad had been making deals with the Chinese government to prepare for Hong Kong returning to their control. If Chang ever left the city, Eda would have to compete with Chinese Intelligence for control over the Triad.
"You told me before how hard it is to 'turn' somebody," Rock says. "Would you be able to get control of the Triad before the Roanapur Commission tears itself apart? They all hate each other."
"You forgot the Russians stepping in to stop a war," Rico says. "Never forget the Russians."
"The Russians?" Rock said. "I've been reading the financial papers every week. The price for crude oil is dropping and the Russian economy is being pushed to the edge of collapse. Their currency is going to crash before the end of the year."
"Bad news for Boris Yeltsin and the Kremlin," Eda says. "But what about Roanapur?"
This is a subject Rock has been dreaming of for months. What could possibly disrupt Hotel Moscow? What could make the city shake?
"When the ruble crashes just like the baht has, it's going to be Afghanistan all over again for Balalaika," Rock says. "Outnumbered and surrounded in enemy territory. Cut off from headquarters with no hope of reinforcements. If she gets pushed by some kind of conflict, she only knows two options: Attack or Retreat."
Rock taps ash off his cig. "Which do you think Balalaika will choose?"
"She'll attack," Rico says. "Before she loses any ground."
"Okay, hotshot." Eda ignores her partner. "We all know the situation is precarious, but it hasn't tumbled yet. Why are you sure the shit will hit the fan so soon?"
This is the key moment for Rock. He has been chasing it ever since setting foot on dry land. This is the test to see if he is worthy of God's grace, if he is considered useful enough to be shown the signs.
"The first barrage is coming soon. The Colombians are falling apart," Rock says. "The Nuevo Laredo cartel wants to expand, and I bet they're getting tired of waiting."
Eda gives him a nod, but she has a correction to add. "It's moving faster than that," she says. "Nuevo Laredo is getting muscle sent in from Mexico as we speak. Real A-tier killers with experience."
This is the first piece of intel Eda has given Rock. It must be the second part of her test.
"Okay, that changes things," he says. "Getting soldiers from home means that Nuevo Laredo can choose whether they want to go fast or slow. Lobos is their leader here and doesn't like to rock the boat, so he'll try to buy the territory from Chang and Balalaika first."
Eda grins. "And what if a little birdy on a telephone wire told you Lobos has been on the phone for the past two weeks, trying and failing to barter for Little Bogota?"
"Judging by past incidents, the leaders in Mexico don't seem to understand how this city is run. They might get impatient and force Lobos to fight the Colombians and seize the territory."
Rico shakes his head. "Go back to the part where Nuevo Laredo does a war. Everyone knows that when wars get fought in town, Balalaika shows up right away to kill everyone involved."
"That must be why the special troops are arriving, to put on a show of force," Rock says. "Balalaika likes being entertained, especially when it makes her life easier.
Eda laughs. "Sounds like guesswork."
Rock leaves a butt in the ashtray and lights another cigarette. His audience is engaged. He just needs to bring it home.
"I've been on the other end of her gun before," Rock said. "She let me go because I showed her something she liked. The same thing will happen when the Colombians are killed off. As long as the takeover is fast and smooth, she'll show her appreciation by not slaughtering the victors."
"And because the war is on her side of the city, she won't have to split the Mexican money with Chang," Eda says. "I guess you do have some idea of what you're talking about."
Rock smiles evenly. Pretending to be happy is one of his least favorite acts, but it is important to not appear aggressive.
"I can do better than that with more information," he says. "I'm not looking for secrets. I just need a better perspective."
Eda looks at him over her sunglasses. Rock has just done the equivalent of bowing before her. He does not want money, or power, or drugs. He just wants to see more than any one person could.
"So you want to know what it would be like to look down from Heaven?" she asks.
Eda's head rests on her fist, cocked sideways as she stares at him. What other reason could Rock have come to her for?
"Heaven is only for the true believers," Eda says. "And I don't think you've taken the Lord into your heart yet."
Rico digs the toe of his shoe into the carpet, made awkward by the metaphors being used and the things being asked for. Rock can feel his opportunity narrowing again. If he stops now, he can walk away from this situation still intact. If he puts too much pressure on the CIA connection, he will be disposed of.
Just before he is ready to give up on his plan, he remembers the life he would be returning to. He does not want to slowly shuffle out of the twilight and towards the abyss. Now is not the time for gambling. Now is the time for a sacrifice.
"I can be a 'true believer'," Rock says. "How should I prove my faith?"
Eda's surprise fades quickly away from her face. She was expecting negotiation from him, but instead she received a new tool for her toolbox.
"Start praying for the Colombians," Eda says. "Pray that their exit from Roanapur is as clean as possible. We'll see what happens after that."
Eda holsters her gun and leaves the room without further words. Rico pauses for a moment by the door and makes sure Rock sees him. First he puts his finger to his own lips. Then he draws his thumb across his throat, right above the priest collar. Shush. Or else.
That night, Rock sleeps well, despite coming so close to death. He dreams of the morning sky over Tokyo Bay and of the moonlit night at the mouth of the Mekong. Dreams about falling, of sinking beneath the surface of the water and leaving land behind. Only once he is on the seafloor can he think clearly, but his lungs are filled with water and Rock realizes he has been walking among the dead.
When he meets the crew late the next morning, they are all still sleep-deprived, yawning well into the afternoon.
"Made it home all right last night?" Rock asks Revy.
"Yeah," she says, but she ducks her head so that he can't see her face.
"She got home fine," Benny says. "But she got my car stuck in some alleyway. Rowan phoned us about it."
"Stop whining about the fuckin' car," Revy says. "I didn't crash it or anything."
Benny sighs, shrugs his shoulders, and returns to his computer. He has long since given up fighting her. Revy stretches out on the office sofa, using her arm as a pillow.
Rock figures Revy must have gone on a real bender after leaving the Yellow Flag. She looks hungover and the sleep rings below her eyes are prominent. He gets up to start a pot of coffee.
"Looks like Dutch will be out late again," Rock says.
"Mmph," Revy groans, her eyes closed tight.
With Benny on the computer and Revy trying to sleep, Rock has nothing to do but sit down and wait for something to change. He lights another cigarette and lets himself space out. He has already read everything in the office. He stares at the ceiling and listens to Revy's light breathing as she dozes.
It takes hours before he hears Dutch's boots on the stairs. The sun through the blinds has turned golden. Dutch lets the door slam shut to shock everyone awake, but Revy only opens one eye.
"We got something?" she asks, stirring from sleep.
"Yeah," Dutch says. "Or maybe I should say we got stuck with it. Lobos and Balalaika hit me with a double whammy, but the pay is too good to say no."
"Sounds like trouble," Benny says. "What is it?"
"It's going to be like a Mexican D-Day."