Killing Rain Part 19

We found a street sewer that worked nicely for the handkerchief and the knife I had used on Perry Mason and friends. As I was dumping them in, Dox said, "Wait, there's this, too." He reached into a pocket. "Here. I think it's some kind of hypodermic."

I looked at it and nodded. "That's exactly what it is."

The device was flesh-colored and looked vaguely like a plastic joy-buzzer. Where the b.u.t.ton would be on a joy-buzzer, though, was a short, thick needle, maybe 16-gauge. The needle was covered in some kind of wax that was hard enough to protect the user from an accidental stick, but soft enough to give way under strong pressure. The back of it was sticky, and I realized it had been adhered to Perry Mason's palm as he approached me.

"Slick," I said, musing. "I've never seen something like this before. It must be custom. Look." I stuck it to my palm and turned my hand upward so he could see it. "I thought what was going on back there was supposed to be a s.n.a.t.c.h. I was right. The four Thai guys grab me. The white guy moves in and hits me in the leg with an open-hand strike, or just grabs me and squeezes, whatever. Then what's in this thing-I'm betting a veterinary anesthetic, something with fentanyl, droperidol, whatever-gets injected, just like a snakebite. They've probably got a dose in here that could put down a Clydesdale. I'm unconscious in seconds and they drag me into the van. Yeah, that's why they had the atropine and naloxone in the glove compartment-to immediately reverse cardiac and respiratory suppression, make sure they don't accidentally lose the patient. That was the plan, anyway."

"What about me?"

I thought for a minute. "I'm not sure. But I would guess I was the main target. First they want to separate us. If they can pick me up, they could always deal with you later. Remember, they were tracking your cell phone."

"I doubt that you'll let me forget."

"Or if you'd actually gone off with Tiara, they'd have that. She probably would have suggested her apartment, told you she had a hot roommate and they had this fantasy about a threesome with a big, strong, white man. Not that you would fall for something like that."

"No, not me, I'm immune to that kind of thing."

"If you go to the apartment, you get ambushed there. If you take her back to your hotel room instead, she makes a call and lets them know where to go and how to proceed."

"Who were they all, do you think?"

I considered for a moment. "I don't know. The Thais were tough, but they weren't professionals. They felt like street muscle. The white guy, though, he was impressive. He was an operator, and I guarantee you this wasn't the first time he'd done a s.n.a.t.c.h."

"Company man, you think?"

"Definitely a possibility. But then why the Thais?"

He shrugged. "Maybe he was working on the fly. Didn't have time to a.s.semble a proper team."

"Yeah, could be that."

I looked at the syringe for another moment, then slipped it into my s.h.i.+rt pocket, needle-side out. "We're keeping the knives," I said. "I guess this might come in handy, too."

We went up the stairs, bought tickets, then headed to the platform. Dox said, "Where are we going, anyway?"

"To his hotel. The Silom Holiday Inn. He had a room key on him. I took it."

"What, are we going to try every door in the hotel? I know that place. It used to be the Crowne Plaza. They probably have seven hundred rooms."

I thought about Perry Mason. About the lack of identifying pocket litter, even in the van. About how smooth his approach had been, and how confident he'd been when we faced off.

He was a careful man, I could see that. A survivor. Yeah, look at his everyday carry, the quality knives, the Casio G-Shock watch. He was a good Boy Scout. He minded the details, looked for small advantages.

The kind of guy who knew to park a van so that the cargo could be loaded from the side it was being carried in from, because doing so would save a few seconds if he had to bug out. That kind of guy.

The kind who would insist on a hotel room on a low floor and next to a stairwell for the same reason.

"How many floors is the hotel?" I asked.

"I don't know exactly. It's got two towers. One is maybe fifteen floors, the other about twenty-five."

"You want to bet that this guy's room will be on one of the first five floors and adjacent to a stairwell? Figure two stairwells per tower, three rooms either right next to or directly across from each stairwell. Total of sixty doors to check. Fewer if we're lucky."

He grinned. "No, I wouldn't take that bet."

I nodded. "I wouldn't, either. Let's go."

FIFTEEN.

WE RODE THE SKY TRAIN two exits to Surasak and got off. As we walked the short distance to the hotel, I said, "We don't know for sure that the room is empty. So when we get the right door, we need to go in fast and hard, surprise anyone who might be in there, overwhelm them. Okay?"

"Okay. Who goes first?"

"I'll go first. You back me up."

"Don't I always?"

"When you're not trying to make it with a katoey, yeah."

"Hey, man . . ."

"Hang on a minute, there's a drugstore. You speak a little Thai, right?"

"Yeah, some."

"We need a few supplies to clean the knives. And our hands, too. Bleach and alcohol."

"I'll be right back."

"Get a toothbrush, too. And some rubber gloves. Four pairs."

"Four pairs of rubber gloves? s.h.i.+t, man, they're going to think I'm some kind of deviant."

"Dox, if the shoe fits . . ."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going."

Dox went into the drugstore and came out a few minutes later carrying a plastic grocery bag. When we were in sight of the hotel, I said, "All right. Let me go ahead. You wait one minute and follow me in. It's better if the two of us aren't seen together. Meet me on the first floor-not the lobby, the one above it-by the elevators."

"Which tower?"

"What are they called?"

"I don't remember."

I thought for a moment. "Whichever one is closest to the lobby entrance where we're going in. Worst case, you go to the wrong one, you don't see me, you adjust."

"All right, sounds like a plan."

I went in and headed straight for the elevators, just another hotel guest tired from an evening of carousing in nearby Patpong and heading to his room to sleep it off. There was a security guy in front of the elevator bank, but he did nothing more than return my nod of greeting and let me pa.s.s. I noted a camera in front of the elevators, and hoped there wouldn't be more of them.

I took the elevator to the seventh floor. I got out and glanced around. No cameras. Excellent. If this had been The Four Seasons or The Oriental or one of the other high-end hotels in town, we would have had a problem. With cameras in the corridors, you can only try two or three doors before security understands what's happening and comes running. But the Holiday Inn didn't have quite that level of service.

I took the stairs down to the first floor and waited. Dox showed up a minute later, emerging directly from the elevator. It would have been smarter if he'd gone to a different floor and walked down as I had, just in case anyone on the lobby level was watching where the elevator was going, but okay, not such a big deal. Certainly not worth mentioning right now.

We started by the stairwell nearest the elevators and worked our way up. Each floor took less than a minute. No luck going up. On five, we walked over to the second stairwell and started down again. On the third floor we found what we were looking for: to the right of the stairwell, room 316. I slid the card in and the reader lit up in green. I turned the handle, shoved the door open, and burst inside.

It was a simple room, not a suite. The lights were on in the main room, straight ahead; the bathroom, to the right, was dark. If anyone was in here, it was unlikely he'd be sitting in a dark bathroom, and I checked the main room first. It was empty. The fact that the door opened at all-that the interior dead bolt wasn't engaged-was encouraging, of course. If someone security conscious had been in the room, he would have engaged the dead bolt. And the fact that there had been no sounds of someone being startled, no reactive movement anywhere, that was good, too. Still, I had to be sure. I checked the bathroom. Empty. I even checked the closet and under the bed, something that, but for his recent chagrin, would doubtless have elicited some comment from Dox. Nothing. We were in.

We pulled on the gloves and started looking around. Unfortunately, the room was as clean as the van. There was a change of clothes in one of the dresser drawers, an empty suitcase against a wall. Some toiletries in the bathroom. Other than that, nothing.

Dox was checking the closet. "Safe's locked," I heard him say.

I walked over. Yeah, there it was, a typical hotel unit. I tried it and it was indeed locked.

"Told you," he said. "Well, you had a d.a.m.n good idea about getting into the room, I'll give you that. But I'm no safecracker, and I doubt you are, either. I think we've reached a dead end."

"Maybe," I said, looking at the safe. "Maybe not."

I walked over to the desk, picked up the phone, and hit the b.u.t.ton for room service. Dox looked at me quizzically, but didn't say anything.

The phone rang once, then someone picked up. "Yes, Mr. Winters, how may I help you?" the voice on the other end said.

"Huh?" I said, looking at Dox. "You've got me down as Mr. Winters?"

"Uh, yes, sir, 'Mr. Mitch.e.l.l William Winters' is what we have on the list. Are you not Mr. Winters?"

"Winters! I thought you said Vintners. I must be losing my hearing. Sorry about that."

"No trouble at all, Mr. Winters. How may I help you?"

"Well, I was hoping you could tell me what sort of exercise equipment you have down there."

"Exercise equipment, sir?"

"Yes, you know, stationary bicycles, weights, a sauna, that sort of thing."

"Ah, you must want the fitness center, sir. This is room service."

"Room service? Good G.o.d, I'm losing my mind along with my hearing. I'm so sorry to have disturbed you."

"Not at all, sir. But the fitness center is closed now. It will reopen at six o'clock in the morning, and someone will be able to a.s.sist you then. In the meantime, if you like, you can access it with your room key."

"I see. Well, that's very helpful. Thank you very much."

I hung up and turned to Dox. "Mitch.e.l.l William Winters," I said. "Or at least that's the name he's checked in under."

He nodded. "Okay, but now what? 'Open sesame' to the safe?"

"No, I thought it would be better if you call down to the front desk and tell them you've forgotten the PIN you used to lock it."

"Me? You want me to do that?"

I looked at him. "Do I look like 'Mitch.e.l.l William Winters' to you?"

He shrugged. "Well no, now that you mention it, you don't. But you don't look like a John Rain, either."

"That's not the point. My real name could be Winters, it still wouldn't matter. We just don't want to provoke any questions, or make anything look out of order."

"I know, I know, just keeping you on your toes is all. You sure no one on the staff would recognize this guy?"

I shook my head. "I wouldn't worry about that. I don't think he was the kind of guy who wanted to be noticed, or who would have done anything that would get him noticed." I might have added, unlike someone we know, but that would have been counterproductive.

I glanced at my watch. It was past midnight. I wanted to get this over with and be out of here.

"Look, they won't ask for ID," I said. "The fact that you're calling from the room is all the security they'll think they need."

"Sounds like you've done this before, partner."

"And even if they ask for ID, you tell them everything is in the safe."

"Yeah, and after that?"

I struggled not to get exasperated. Working alone definitely had a few advantages.

"You improvise," I said. "Weren't you a Marine?"

He looked at me. "h.e.l.l, yes, son." He started to pick up the phone.

"Wait, wait. Get out of your clothes first. Put on one of the hotel robes. Turn on the shower as though you're about to get in it, or better yet as though you've got a guest in there-it'll make them want to leave faster."

He grinned. "Ordinarily, partner, seeing me half-naked makes people want to stick around."

"You can call Tiara when we're done."

His grin turned into a frown.

"You want to make it look like you own the room," I told him. "This is your room, they're here to help you, but at your invitation, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. What, have they got a master PIN or something?"