The Chaos Kind

by Barry Eisler

  Maybe Key Bridge. You can still make it. And if you’re late, it’s okay. He’ll wait. Maybe it’s even better. You’ll seem . . . nonchalant.

  She didn’t feel nonchalant, though. This guy was really hot. They’d been flirting for weeks on Tinder, and tonight he was flying in from touring in Chicago, and they were going to meet at Lapis, an Afghan restaurant not far from her apartment. At 6:00. Less than thirty minutes.

  She checked Waze. Okay, Key Bridge was better. But only by two minutes.

  She wanted to shower and even put on a little makeup. Twenty minutes, minimum. Seven-minute walk to the restaurant. And she was still fifteen minutes from home.

  Twelve minutes late. That’s not bad.

  But she had to walk Frodo. The service took him to the park at lunch, but there was no way he would make it until she was back from dinner. Even if dinner was over early—which she was definitely hoping would not be the case.

  Maybe Ali. They had been in the same class at CIA, they both lived in Adams Morgan, and they were both Lord of the Rings fans. Ali even had a terrier mix like Maya’s that she’d named Pippin, and they covered for each other on dog care. Pippin had been visiting with Ali’s parents for the last few weeks, so lately Ali had been there more for Frodo than Maya was for Pippin. But Ali missed Pippin, and never seemed to mind walking Frodo anyway. Plus she would understand the reason . . . if she was home . . .

  She called. A ring, and . . . success. “Hello?”

  “Ali? Hey, I have to ask a favor . . . are you home?”

  “Not quite. I’m on Mass Avenue.”

  “Yeah, I should have gone that way myself. Listen, I’m running late, and I have a date . . . that guy I told you about.”

  “The jazz dude? Dave something?”

  “The trumpeter. Yes. He’s back in town and I’m meeting him for dinner at Lapis—”

  “Score!”

  “Hah, well, we’ll see. But—”

  “You want me to walk Frodo?”

  “If you could. You have your key, right?”

  “Of course. Want me to feed him?”

  “No, he can wait until I’m home.”

  Ali giggled. “What if you’re home late?”

  “You’re bad.”

  “Trumpeters. I hear they can do magic things with their mouths.”

  Maya laughed. “You’re extremely bad. Okay, if you could feed him, too. I’ll totally pay you back.”

  “You can pay me back by having a great night.”

  “Deal.”

  “And then telling me all about it.”

  Maya laughed again. “Hey, first there has to be something to tell.”

  “I have a good feeling.”

  “Anyway, I should be home in . . . thirteen minutes. And out the door twenty after that.”

  “I’ll come by after you’re gone. Don’t want to interfere with the preparations.”

  “There are no preparations! Okay, maybe just a few. But thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “Can’t wait to hear about it . . .”

  “We’ll see. Bye!”

  Exactly thirty-three minutes later, Maya rushed out the back of her apartment building. Ali was coming the same way.

  “Don’t hold the door!” Ali said. “Just go, we’re good.”

  “Thank you again! Don’t forget, he—”

  “Likes a little chicken with the regular food. I know, you spoil him. Go!”

  Maya cut through the parking area behind the building and zigzagged west. She wondered if she should call Dave. What time was it? She reached for her phone and realized she had left it in her other jacket—the navy peacoat. At the last minute, she had decided the leather looked cooler.

  Shit. She almost went back. But she was so late already. But what if he was trying to reach her, and couldn’t? Or what if Ali needed to reach her?

  Well, worst case, she could always borrow his cellphone. And she was so close already.

  But when she got there, she didn’t see him. The hostess confirmed that yes, they did have a reservation for two under David Teller, and offered to seat her.

  She waited a half hour. Had he come and gone already? But no, the hostess would have told her that. Besides, she was late, but not that late. She would have waited for him at least that long. In fact, she just had, and then some.

  Maybe he’d been trying to call her, or to text. She could have borrowed a phone and tried him, but she didn’t remember the number. And anyway, wouldn’t that look desperate?

  Well, it was less than a ten-minute walk. She could just go back, check her phone, and decide at that point. She wished she hadn’t called Ali. She could have walked Frodo herself. They could have taken a long one.

  She came in through the back of the building and let herself into her apartment. Ordinarily, Frodo, hearing the key in the lock, would be waiting at the door. But not this time. The lights were on, but the apartment was silent.

  “Frodo? Where are you, boy?”

  No response. She felt a little uneasy. Could Ali still have been walking him? Not impossible, but . . .

  The peacoat was hanging by the front door. She reached into the pocket and pulled out her phone. A text from Dave—sent just a minute after she’d run out, naturally. His plane had been delayed, but they had landed and he was on the way. He could still meet her if she wanted, or another time. She smiled, and realized she’d really been worried that he’d blown her off. But . . .

  “Frodo?” she said again. He always greeted her. Ali was still out with him. That must have been it.

  She saw lights flashing against the venetian blinds. She went to the window and peeked through.

  There were police cars all over the street. An ambulance. People standing around at the periphery. And at the center . . . Oh, God, was that someone lying on the sidewalk?

  She bolted out the door, down the stairs, and through the front entrance. Yes, someone was on the sidewalk. But there was yellow tape strung up and people in the way and she couldn’t get close enough to see.

  She heard whimpering. Frodo. She turned and saw a uniformed cop, a woman, holding him.

  “Frodo,” she said, running over. “Frodo, I’m here, boy.”

  “Yours?” the cop said.

  “Yes. Yes. Come here, boy. Oh, my God.”

  The cop handed him over. Frodo whimpered and licked her cheek. She turned and looked at the person on the ground again. But there were still too many people, and shadows from the lights flashing from the patrol cars. She tried to tell herself she was wrong, it was someone else, but the clothes, and who else could have been with Frodo . . .

  “Do you know her?” the cop asked.

  Maya was suddenly aware she was crying. “Yes. I mean, I’m not sure. Oh, my God, what happened?”

  “Detective,” the cop called out, holding up a hand. “Over here.” One of the people kneeling near the person on the sidewalk stood. He clicked off a flashlight and started over. As he ducked under the yellow tape, Maya saw a tough-looking guy with a dark goatee and a badge hanging from a lanyard. “Someone who knows the deceased,” the cop added.

  “Deceased?” Maya said. “What, no, that isn’t possible . . .” She looked again. She had to fight the urge to shout at Ali to get up, this joke wasn’t funny . . .

  “I’m Detective Pacquiao,” the goateed guy said. “Do you know Ms. Watkins?”

  “Oh no,” Maya said, shaking her head. Frodo was licking her tears, but she barely felt it. “No, no.”

  “I’m sorry. Believe me, I know how shocking this can be. Do you know her?”

  “Yes. But . . . I don’t understand.”

  “She was shot. She was with the dog . . . Yours?”

  “Yes. She was walking him for me. I had a date. Who didn’t even show up. But . . . why? Why would anyone shoot Ali?”

  “At the moment, we think a mugging. I’m so sorry. Take a minute, and we’ll have a few questions for you, okay?”

  Maya tried to answer, but she
was crying too hard. She thought, I shouldn’t have asked you. You’d be fine now, none of this would have happened, it’s my fault.

  She realized with relief tinged by shame that if she hadn’t asked, probably she herself would be the one on the sidewalk.

  I don’t care if it would have been me. It should have been me.

  And then a crystal-clear shard of a thought cut through her confusion and grief:

  It was supposed to be me.

  She didn’t know where the thought came from. She couldn’t have articulated the basis.

  All she knew was that she had to call Tom.

  chapter

  thirty-eight

  RAIN

  It was past midnight and they were back in Delilah’s apartment. Rain was at the laptop. He’d read the secure-site update from Larison. And he’d seen more fallout on the news: Schrader, mysteriously released from prison; three men killed in the Seattle Four Seasons; QAnon protests sprouting in major cities all over the States. He needed to go. But there were no flights until morning.

  It was strange to imagine them all doing something without him. He’d wound up as the group’s de facto leader twice before. It wasn’t a role he had asked for, or one for which he considered himself well suited. But at the same time, the thought of them operating alone was . . . worrisome. Was he just flattering himself? Or looking for an excuse to get back in the game?

  “Just so you know,” Larison had said, “Dox thought about bringing you in at the outset. But it sounds like you’ve persuaded him you’re serious about being retired. So you can blame this on me. I’m not as solicitous. Plus I don’t really believe you. Look at me, I live in paradise with someone I love. This is the kind of thing I do for a vacation. I don’t think you’re so different.”

  Rain had thought about protesting, but then didn’t. What would it have accomplished? Beyond which, he was afraid Larison could be right. And that protesting would prove it.

  He looked over at Delilah. She was sitting on the couch on the other side of the room, pretending to read. It was strange to have to coordinate on something like this. There had been a time in his life when there was no need to compromise, when he had lived alone, aloof, apart. But when he looked back on that time now, he realized all of it was itself a giant compromise, one that, while protecting his body, had been steadily suffocating his soul.

  He started to say something, then stopped. She’d stymied all his earlier efforts to discuss it with an impenetrable wall of It’s fine. He didn’t blame her. She was done with Mossad. Done with the life. So as fond as she was of Dox, she resented the big sniper for refusing to get out as she had. And even more, she resented Livia, who in her mind had once before pulled Dox, and therefore all of them, into her war against child abusers.

  But as he sat silently in front of the laptop considering his options, apparently she couldn’t abide the silence any longer. She closed her book and walked over. “All right, tell me. Is this coming from Livia?”

  Well, at least they were talking. Though the silence suddenly felt safer.

  “No.”

  “She’s leading Dox by the nose again, isn’t she? So all of us will be dragged in as a result.”

  He closed the laptop. “It’s not that simple. Livia didn’t ask for Dox’s help. She didn’t even know about whatever this is until after the fact. It’s coming from Kanezaki.” Earlier, he’d tried to brief her on what Larison had told him. This time, she let him.

  “It’s a distinction without a difference,” she said when he was done. “That Dox, always having to protect the damsel in distress.”

  “I wouldn’t call Livia a damsel.”

  “Tell that to your friend. He’s the one who needs to hear it.”

  “He’s your friend, too.”

  “He doesn’t come to me. He comes to you.”

  Rain tried to control his exasperation. “He didn’t come to me. He tried to keep me out of it.”

  “Another distinction without a difference. He brought in Larison. Larison called you.”

  “He called you. You’re the one who insists on carrying a phone.”

  The moment it came out, he regretted it. When Delilah was pissed, there was no winning move. Your only option was to try to find a way not to play.

  “Don’t you see how impossible this is?” she said. “It doesn’t matter who it starts with. In the end it’s the Three Musketeers, or four, or however many. One for all and all for one. How many rounds of this game are we going to play before someone gets killed or winds up in prison? I don’t want to save the world anymore. I want to be normal. I want some peace. Don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, I mean it. Do you really?”

  “Yes.”

  But it was obviously a rhetorical question, because she continued. “There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to let it go. The danger, the edge, whatever it is you’re afraid to lose. Everyone recognizes it but you.”

  “Who’s everyone?” he said, the realization that she’d succeeded in drawing him in coming an instant too late to stop the words.

  “Dox, for one. He once told me a stupid joke he says is a parable about you. A hunter in the woods—”

  “Yes, and the bear. He’s shared it with me. Along with a bunch of others.”

  “And you don’t think there’s anything to it? You don’t see that the hunter is you?”

  “I try not to think of myself that way. Look, you know if you were in trouble, Dox would help you.”

  “I don’t get myself in trouble the way he does.”

  “He wouldn’t care.”

  “I wouldn’t ask.”

  “You wouldn’t have to. And you wouldn’t be able to stop him.”

  On cue, her phone buzzed from where she’d left it on the couch. She stalked over, snatched it up, and brought it to her ear.

  “Allo.” She turned and looked murderously at Rain. “Hello, Tom, what a nice surprise.” A pause. “No, I wouldn’t want you to have to go through the secure site, it’s more efficient to use his secretary.” She walked over and handed Rain the phone.

  “Everything okay?” Rain said, watching Delilah.

  “They’re all fine,” Kanezaki said. “And, uh, sorry if I’ve caused a problem over there.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I know Larison already called. Already asked you to come to the States. That was smart. I should have thought to do it myself.”

  “Tom,” he said, watching Delilah, “I’m retired. At some point you have to believe me when I say that.”

  Delilah watched him, shaking her head. If he thought she’d appreciate his response more than whatever had precipitated it, it was a clear case of the triumph of hope over experience.

  “I need your help,” Kanezaki said. “Anything you want in return, you can have. I won’t haggle. I put someone in danger. I need you to protect her.”

  “I already told Larison—”

  “This is about the same thing.” He briefed Rain on a young CIA Science & Technology officer named Maya, and how she had helped uncover the plot Dox and the rest of them were now embroiled in, and how earlier that evening someone had tried to kill her, and mistakenly killed another young officer instead.

  Even beyond the fact of the dead girl, it sounded bad. They weren’t containing this thing. It was metastasizing.

  “You’re sure it was an attempt on Maya?” Rain said.

  “The murdered girl was her friend. Walking Maya’s dog as a favor in front of Maya’s apartment while Maya was out for a date. They look enough alike. And Maya forgot her phone. Think about it. A hurry-up operation. You’re going on nothing more than a photo and a description. It’s dark. You key on the girl, on the dog, on the place, the cellphone tracker confirms location—”

  “But why?”

  “Maya’s a hacker,” Kanezaki said. “She figured out a way to see what requests were being illegally deleted from Guardian Angel. She figured out Rispel was trying to protect Schr
ader by having Diaz killed. But she must have left footprints, footprints one of Rispel’s people traced back to her.”

  “So this is about Maya knowing too much?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “I do, actually, though I try not to. If Rispel made a run at Maya, why wouldn’t she make one at you?”

  “I’m a little more security-conscious than Maya. Or than I was when you first met me.”

  They’d originally crossed paths in Tokyo, when Kanezaki had been a green CIA case officer and almost fatally naive. But he’d learned fast. From Rain, from Dox, and most of all, Rain knew, from Tatsu, who before his death from cancer had looked on Kanezaki as a son. They’d been through a lot together, and occasionally Rain was surprised to find himself feeling proud of who Kanezaki had become. Proud of whatever he himself had contributed to it. And he knew Tatsu would have been even prouder.

  “What about your family?”

  “I’m not worried about them. This isn’t about revenge. It’s about a cover-up. But yeah, Rispel is moving fast and she’s making mistakes. Anyone who’s near me is at risk. I’m not going home until this is resolved.”

  “Is Maya with you?”

  “No. She’s with Yuki.”

  Yuki was Kanezaki’s sister. Rain had met her years before, when Kanezaki needed an outsider to get Rain and Dox out of a jam. A soccer mom with something of a mysterious past, she was impressively cool and capable.

  “She can’t stay with Yuki,” Rain said. A statement, not a question.

  “No. For the reasons I just said.”

  Rain didn’t resent the implicit calculus. There were pieces on the board Kanezaki would risk, and ones he wouldn’t.

  But then Kanezaki surprised him, adding, “I’m sorry. It’s not just Yuki. It’s my nieces, too. I can’t.”

  Rain remembered two adorable girls. “How old are they now? Ten? Twelve?”