Chapter 28

James and I checked into the Grand Hyatt Taipei. He'd booked a two-bedroom suite. All meetings would be in the living room area of the suite. After I put away my things and threw water on my face, I walked to the living room.

James was on his encrypted cell phone. He wore a shoulder rig with what looked like an XD-9 in the holster. "Just a sec," he said and put his hand over the mouthpiece. He motioned at the sofa. "Check out the duffel."

I unzipped the bag. Inside, I could see zi-wu knives, large and small. I also noticed a pistol, extra clips, a holster and ammo. Also hats and a box of latex gloves. Kevlar vests and a few other items.

"We'll take it easy tomorrow," James said on the phone. "Jet lag, you know... Yeah. The weapons and equipment were delivered moments after we checked in... Goodnight." He hung up and said, "Newt. He wished us luck."

A knock sounded at the door. James gazed through the peephole and let Jason and Mark in. Jason carried what looked like a dartboard, but the numbers were Chinese symbols.

"Hang the board on the wall," James said to Jason, pointing at the wall to my left. James turned to me. "Check out the throwing zi-wu. I'm not sure they're the same size as those you used during the simulation."

I pulled a couple of them from the bag. "They're a little larger," I said.

James grimaced. "Shit. Well, try them. That's what the dartboard is for. If you're not comfortable with them, I'll make a call and get them replaced tomorrow morning."

Jason had removed a framed print from the wall and hung the dartboard in its place. When he stepped away, I threw the first zi-wu, and then the other one immediately after the first. I used a side-arm throw, because that's how I'd throw them during the takedown. The knives chunked loudly as they struck the board. The first hit dead center, and the second a fraction of an inch to the right of the first. The second zi-wu split the board into two pieces.

Amazed, Jason cursed in Cantonese. Mark's jaw gaped.

"They'll be fine," I said, retrieved the larger knives from the bag and, moved into an abbreviated kuen with them. "These will do the job, as well."

James grinned and said to Jason and Mark in Cantonese, "I'm backup on this job. Clay will be taking the point position. Our job is protection, and he's the principal. Understood?"

They nodded and gave me a look of respect that wasn't there before. Did James engineer the demonstration for that reason? Probably.

"Let's run through the plan once tonight, and then call it a day," James said in English. "Jet lag has me in its grip."

After Jason and Mark left, I said, "Call Rubin on that phone of yours. I want to say goodnight to the ladies."

He frowned.

"And it wouldn't hurt if you said goodnight to Grace, either. One of the things she detests about your work is that she never hears from you while you're gone. Also, I've been meaning to ask why you gave me a phone number that could reach you, but you haven't given it to Grace. So I will, ask you, that is. And why don't you call Grace while you're on assignment?"

"I can't call Grace. She doesn't have an encrypted phone."

"Well, hell, get her one."

He shook his head. "That wouldn't work. She'd call me. My phone ringing at the wrong time could get me killed, or worse, get a captive killed."

"Rules, James."

"Joseph. On this assignment, I'm Joseph."

"Sorry. Make a list of rules for phone use. Grace will follow them."

"She'll expect a daily call. Sometimes that can't happen."

"Make that very clear. She'll understand."

"Regarding your other question, I gave you the emergency number for emergencies only. An emergency for some women can be a broken fingernail. Even at that, you called the number for a non-emergency reason." He laughed when I frowned. "You called to let me know where you'd be for New Year's Eve."

I grinned. "I did, didn't I? That call was for you in case your assignment ended in time for you to join us. Did the call cause you grief?"
"No." He chortled. "What's more, it was appreciated."

He walked into the bedroom portion of the suite and returned with his cell phone in hand. "Rubin will think I've gone bonkers," he said as he punched in a number. "Rubin, my principal would like to say goodnight to his ladies... Yes, I'll hold." He looked at me. "He's waking them up." He gave his attention to the phone again. "No, we're fine," he said. "We're just calling to say goodnight... We didn't think about that. Here's your brother." He handed me the phone.

I said, "Hi, sister mine. Did we call at a bad time?"

"I'd say four o'clock in the morning is a bad time, yes," she replied.

"Oh, oh, I didn't think about the time differential. You were asleep, huh?"

"Yes." I heard her yawn.

I said, "We just called to say goodnight. Is Mary awake? I'd like to say goodnight to her, too."

"She just walked into my room. After you talk to Mary, put James back on the phone. Goodnight, little brother. I love you."

"I love you, too."

"This call is a surprise," Mary said brightly. She didn't sound like I'd just awakened her from a sound sleep.

"At four in the morning, I guess it is. I just wanted to say goodnight and tell you that I loved you but failed to consider the differing time zones. I'd apologize but I don't feel truly sorry for waking you up. I wanted to hear your voice before I went to sleep."

"Ah, that's sweet. What time is it there?"

"Ten o'clock at night, thereabouts. Goodnight, Mary. I love you."

"I love you, too, more and more every day."

"Don't hang up. Grace wanted to speak with my protector again. Pleasant dreams, baby."

I handed the phone to James. "And goodnight to you," I said to him. "I'm going to sack out." I left him to talk privately with my sister.

I crashed. My body was on the same time clock as Grace and Mary's, so I wasn't happy when I woke up two hours later at what would normally be dawn in Hawaii. It was still dark outside, and James heard me bumping around.

"Here, take one of these pills," he said.

"What is it?"

"Melatonin. It's the principal hormone produced by the pineal gland. It will speed your adjustment to the circadian rhythm of this time zone. I've tried a lot of jet-lag remedies. Melatonin helps me the most. Also, you'll recover quicker if you can sleep until daylight here. Drinking a lot of water helps, too."

I took the pill with a large glass of water and went back to bed. I didn't go back to sleep. Instead, I stared at the dark ceiling and let my mind wander. I visualized the takedown that would happen two days hence, studying each of my moves as I killed three men. I felt no guilt about Fremont's death. If anyone ever deserved to die, it was Freemont, but the death of his bodyguards bothered me. I tried to come up with a method that would spare their lives, but all of my scenarios were ludicrous. A tranquilizer gun, for example. That wouldn't work. Before the tranquilizer could do its thing, the guards would pull their weapons and shoot me dead. Instant acting tranquilizers were a myth, I suspected, but decided to ask James if one existed.

Go to sleep, I ordered myself. Obviously, I wasn't particularly adept at following orders, even those coming from myself. Then I remembered a tried-and-true method of inducing drowsiness: a good come.

To induce a climax, I'd need to be hard. That wasn't a problem, not with my imagination. You guessed it. The fantasy I developed involved the two women in my life. It was as if my consciousness took flight and perched without form and substance near the ceiling of Grace's bedroom. I watched Grace and Mary make love. The imagery my mind's eye conjured was arousing, and my cock lengthened in my hand. I'd watched Carrie eat Grace. I hadn't seen anyone eat my Mary, so those were the images I went with. When Mary climaxed in my fantasy, I joined her with an orgasm of my own and promptly fell asleep without cleaning up the mess.

I woke up at first light with crusted, flaking semen on my hand and belly. I rolled from the bed, took a leak, and then a shower. I didn't need a shave. James was dressed and talking on his cell phone when I walked into the living room. He waved but continued talking. I noticed the makings for hot tea, so I fixed a cup.

"I'd rather wait a day, but..." He paused. "Let me talk with my principal. I'll call you back." He hung up and looked up at me.

"That was my electronic-surveillance specialist. Freemont has moved his schedule forward. He's flying to the States the day after tomorrow. He'll visit his mistress late afternoon today, but he'll be too busy getting ready preparing for the trip to visit her tomorrow. We'll need to take him today, or follow him to his place outside Washington, D.C., in Virginia and try to take him there. How are you feeling?"

"Like last year's bird nest." I swallowed. "Regardless, let's take him today."

"Are you sure you're up to the task?"

"At this moment, no. By this afternoon, yes. Let's get this over with, so I can go on with the rest of my life."

"The rest of your life is what we're talking about, Clay."

I blew air over the rim of my cup of tea. Today is for you, Mom. You, too, Dad. My silent conversation with my beloved parents buoyed my mind and body.

"I'll be ready," I said.

The hats in the duffle bag weren't hats. They were ski masks, and James made me practice with the zi-wu knives wearing a bulletproof vest and surgical latex gloves. Jason and Mark joined us, and we went over the plan again, and then again.

"What can go wrong?" I asked after our final run-through.

James groaned and said, "Let's not go there."

"I'm serious," I said.

"The possibilities are infinite," James said. "Freemont could cancel his visit to his mistress, or arrive early before we're in place, or he could arrive with three bodyguards instead of two. Perhaps he realizes he's under surveillance, either electronically or physically, or both, and has made arrangements to trap us. Maybe the apartment security guard will investigate the fluttering of the outside video camera we'll cover momentarily. There are three other apartments on the 18^th floor. Perhaps one of the occupants will inadvertently step into harm's way and become collateral damage. That's a bad one. Maybe we'll encounter someone in the stairwell while we're ascending to the 18^th floor, or later when we're leaving. Considering all the possible ways the plan can go wrong and trying to counter each potential problem would do nothing but distract us from the main objective. When I first entered this business, I tried the cover-all-contingencies approach. It doesn't truly work. I learned the hard way that the best approach to any takedown is to plan for the most logical scenario and be prepared to adjust on the fly for any change. I also learned that changes in a plan are inevitable."

I nodded. "That makes sense."

"The main point to remember is we'll be going up against three armed and dangerous men. If you take them out as planned, all other problems that might develop can be handled with relative ease. Jason, Mark, let's clean and reload our weapons," he said and pulled on some cotton gloves.

I watched them wipe down their weapons and load bullets from a new box, wiping each shell with a soft cloth before inserting it into a clip. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Making sure we don't leave a fingerprint behind so the gendarmes can connect us to Freemont's demise," James said. "Put on some gloves and wipe down the zi-wu knives. They'll be left at the scene along with any shell casings if Jason and I are forced to fire our weapons."

We finished the weapons check, and James suggested that I carry a pistol in a shoulder holster. I told him no, that a pistol would just get in the way. He shook his head in dismay but didn't press the issue.

Mark and Jason left, with Mark carrying the duffel bag. James checked out of the room, and Jason and James assumed their protector roles until I sat in the back seat of the sedan that was parked and idling under the canopy in front of the hotel. Mark drove us to the apartment building.

The building security guard didn't investigate the momentary loss of a picture from the exterior camera when James and I entered the apartment building from a rear entrance. James had a key for the door. I didn't ask how he'd acquired the key. We met no one as we ascended the stairs to the 18^th floor. So far the plan was picture perfect. I started to relax a little.

James used another key, or perhaps it was the same key, to open the equipment room door, and we moved inside the cramped space.

"We're in the equipment room," James whispered into the microphone in front of his mouth. He spoke Cantonese. The plan called for all communication to be in Cantonese. When he'd included me in that directive earlier that morning, I gained a little more respect from Jason and Mark.

"Roger that," Jason said. "I'm in place. The security guard is talking with one of the residents."

Me, I was trying to catch my breath. Climbing eighteen flights of stairs is like running a mile. My legs felt rubbery. A few minutes later I was breathing normally again, and the muscles in my legs had stopped twitching.

We waited. The room was stuffy. I pulled the ski mask to the top of my head and opened the gym bag that contained my weapons. I put on the bandolier holding the throwing zi-wu and tested each knife to make sure none was hung up in a pouch.