The Last Assassin

the drugs.

I took off the goggles for a moment and let my eyes adjust. I wanted an idea of how well anyone could see unaided in the darkness. Not well at all, I was pleased to note. There was some ambient light from distant streetlights and the moon behind the rain clouds — enough for the Chinese and sumos to make the exchange, I thought, but not enough to make out individual faces. As long as we took care not to silhouette ourselves against the reflected light from the town we wouldn't be seen until it was too late.

I put the goggles back on. A moment later there was a flash from somewhere on the water. The sumo with the phone took out a flashlight and blinked back. I signaled to Dox and he nodded, then moved off to settle into sniping position.

There was another series of flashes from sea, closer this time, and responses from the sumo. After a few minutes I heard the thrum of an engine through the steady beat of the rain, and then an inflatable catamaran came cutting through the waves.

My heart started hammering. Here we go, I thought.

I took out the cell phone and called Dox. The screens on both our units were taped to prevent light from giving us away. 'You in position?' I whispered.

'Roger that. I'm fifty yards behind you, prone on higher ground. Perfect position and a clear field of fire.'

'You see the boat?'

'I see it. Looks like two… no, wait, make that three Chinamen on board.'

'All right. Wait until they're off the boat, or as many of them as look like they're going to get off, then drop the sumos. I'll take it from there.'

'Roger that.'

I clicked off and put the phone away.

The boat came closer. As it reached the shoreline, I could make out individual faces. No one was sporting any night-vision equipment. Apparently, they didn't think they'd need it.

One of the Chinese cut the engine and raised it out of the water. Another jumped into the surf and waded in, pulling the boat behind him by a rope. When the boat was grounded, the other two Chinese got out, too. Each of them carried a large waterproof duffel bag. They went back to the boat twice more. When they were done, there were six duffels lined up next to the boat.

The Chinese who had jumped out first gestured to the sumos. The other two stood off to the side, watching the sumos warily. One of the giant men picked up the cargo bag and came closer, his buddy following from behind, no doubt to provide cover if something went wrong. As indeed it soon would.

I eased out from behind the Cadillac and moved silently toward the water.

The Chinese unzipped one of the bags, presumably to show the lead sumo the product inside.

I reached the surf ten meters down from them and went in up to my knees. The water was cold but I barely felt it. I started moving in from their flank, crouching low, the HK out at chin level in a two-handed grip. I moved deliberately, trading speed for stealth, wanting to get as close as possible. If I failed to drop them all instantly, whoever I missed might return fire on whatever muzzle flash escaped my suppressor, and I was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of panicked triad members spraying bullets in my uncovered general direction from a stone's throw away.

There was a soft crack from somewhere behind us. The rear sumo cried out and slapped a hand to his neck with a loud thwack.

Everyone froze and looked at him.

I crept in closer. Four meters now.

If the lead sumo hadn't turned, too, I expected the Chinese would have dropped him then and there. But his hands were out and he seemed as surprised as they were.

The rear sumo took an unsteady step forward. The lead Chinese yelled something, a warning, presumably, and backed away.

Three meters.

The lead sumo started to turn back to the Chinese, his hand going to his jacket.

There was another soft crack. Instead of reaching into his jacket, the sumo cried out and grabbed his neck.

The C0₂ cartridges produced no muzzle flash. And in the dark and rain, it was impossible to tell where the sounds of fire had come from, or even what they were.

The sumos were both staggering now. The Chinese were all watching with the internationally approved expression for What the fuck? frozen on their faces.

The first sumo sank to his knees. The other stumbled into him and tripped. The Chinese scattered, and the falling sumo landed on his partner like a tree felled by a logger. The ground shook with the impact, and, as one, the Chinese cried out and pulled out machine pistols. They pointed them first at the sumo pile, then, their higher brains perhaps getting a word in edgewise, started looking around wildly, their eyes wide in the dark.

I put the infrared laser on the head of the man farthest from me. I saw the dot clearly in the night-vision goggles. Without the goggles, I knew, the dot was invisible. I took a deep breath, exhaled, and rolled my trigger finger in.

Pffttt. The .45 round caught him in the side of the head and he flopped soundlessly forward onto the ground.

Pffttt. The second guy went down the same way.