switched to English.
“Your friend! You must come now! Hurry!”
She tugged his hand. The sound of slamming doors echoed from the corridor, except the noise was louder, sharper. The two big guys stepped out into the light and headed for the exit. They weren’t running, but they weren’t strolling, either. It was a businesslike pace, assuming your business was trouble. One had a hand in his jacket. The other scanned the floor and locked eyes with Sam, a glance that dropped the temperature to Siberian levels. Gray eyes, buzz cut, Slavic cheekbones. Features sharp enough to break ice all the way to the Arctic Circle. Russian, Sam guessed, like the woman. Her angry pimp, or maybe the pimp’s enforcer. What on earth had Charlie done, and what had become of him?
He followed the frantic woman down the hallway to an open door at the far end. Charlie lay a few feet inside, faceup in a spreading pool of blood. His midsection was a meaty red blotch torn at the edges like the tip of an exploded cigar. Viscera and pulp, blood and intestines. Sam had failed him, had failed everyone, and Charlie was dead, practically blown in half. Switch off your phone in a single moment of independence, and this was what happened.
Sam bent forward. Then he retched and heaved. Five drinks and an overpriced dinner streamed hotly up his throat and onto the bloody floor.
Poor dead Charlie. He deserved better.
2
Sam heard the first wave of cops approaching down the hallway—the clank of gun belts and nightsticks, excited shouting in Arabic, the heavy tread of boots. He sat exhausted and distraught in a swivel chair. Charlie’s body lay at his feet, fully clothed but crudely disemboweled, as if clumsy surgeons had hacked the man open and then abandoned the operation. The room smelled like gunfire, blood, vomit, and new carpeting.
Charlie’s face was a pale grimace, a trace of righteous anger seeming to linger even as his corneas filmed over like the eyes of a beached fish. His arms were spread wide, as if his last words had been a question: “Why here, and why now?”
At least the pool of blood was no longer spreading. Sam had already vomited a second time, into a trash can. A few minutes ago he had phoned Nanette to break the news. Her anger turned instantly to shock.
“Oh, my God!” she said. “How?”
“Someone shot him. Two men, I think, but I didn’t see it happen, and they ran off. I’m with him now. It’s horrible. They blew him apart.”
“Have you alerted the police?”
“They’re on the way.”
“Stay with the body, if you can bear it. And Sam?”
“Yes?”
“I know this is awkward, but can you check for his BlackBerry? It’s a terrible thing to ask of you, but we can’t risk having it fall into the wrong hands, not in Charlie’s line of work.”
“Quality control?”
“You’d be surprised.”
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, already bracing for the grisly task. Good God, but she was coldly efficient. Or maybe it was simply the difference between sitting in a spotless office in Manhattan and being in a bloody room with a dead body. And it was her job. She’d probably handled this sort of thing before.
“I—I’ll try. It’s a pretty big mess.”
“I understand. Just do what you can. I’ll phone the embassy, they’ll want to know. At some point there will be forms to fill out, procedures to follow, but leave all that to me. I’m coming on the next flight. Leaving tonight, probably.”
“You’re coming here?”
“We’ve lost one of our own, Sam. In the line of duty. Of course I’m coming. Just stay there until help arrives. And whatever else you do, cooperate fully with the authorities. We have lawyers there on retainer if you need one. In fact, I’ll round one up now.”
“Why would I—?”
“You probably won’t. It’s only a precaution. Police aren’t always the best in places like Dubai. Another reason to get his BlackBerry before they arrive. Otherwise, do what they ask and get some rest. I should arrive in the evening, your time, and I’ll take it from there. Better cancel your appointments in Hong Kong when you get a chance. There are usually a few loose ends in these situations, and I might need your help tying them up.”
“Sure. See you tomorrow, then. Or later today, I guess. It’s three thirty here.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. I know this wasn’t what you bargained for. I never should have asked.”
“If I’d only—”
“Please. Save it for later. I’ll call the lawyer. Stay strong, Sam.”
“Right.”
After hanging up he felt lonelier than ever, and faced the grim prospect of poking around in Charlie’s pockets for BlackBerrys, or phones, or whatever else needed salvaging. He found himself hoping that the bullets had destroyed any hardware so he could just leave everything in place. It was sticky and glistening down there, a slaughterhouse.
He peeled back a lapel of Charlie’s suit jacket, wondering vaguely why the man was fully dressed. Maybe he and the whore had finished their business and Charlie was preparing to leave. There was no BlackBerry, no phone.
