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cell-phone number via our secure electronic bulletin board. He was stateside at the moment, visiting his parents, and to contact Midori securely I would need his help.
    The call snaked its way under the Atlantic and rang on his mobile somewhere on the other side. Then the irrepressible baritone rang out: “Dox here.”
    I couldn’t help smiling. When he wasn’t in stealth mode, Dox was the loudest sniper I’d ever known. One of the loudest people, even. But he’d also proven himself a trustworthy friend. And, apart from certain stylistic differences that sometimes drove me to distraction, a damn capable one.
    “It’s me,” I told him.
    “Who’s ‘me’? I swear, if this is another one of those ‘switch to our cellular service and we’ll send you a free set of steak knives…’”
    “Dox, keep it together. It’s me, John.”
    He laughed. “Don’t worry, partner. No one else even knows this number, so I knew it was you. Just wanted to see if I could get you to talk a little on an open line. I see you’re loosening up some, and that’s all to the good.”
    “Yeah, well, I guess I owe that to you.”
    He laughed again. “You don’t have to thank me, I know how you feel. What’s on your mind? Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
    “I’ve got a…situation I could use your help with. If you’re interested.”
    “This one business, or personal?”
    “This one is personal. But it pays.”
    “Son, if you have a personal situation you need help with, I’m not going to take your money for it. We’re partners. I’ll just help you, like I know you’d help me.”
    I was so used to thinking in terms of me against the world that I was momentarily speechless at how much I could depend on this man.
    “Thank you,” I managed to say.
    “It’s nothing, man. Tell me what you need.”
    “How soon can you be in New York?”
    “Shit, I can be there tomorrow if you need me.”
    “No, take the weekend with your folks. I’ve got a few things to do first anyway. How about if we plan to meet on Monday?”
    “Monday it is.”
    “And maybe you won’t take money for this, but I’m not letting you go out of pocket. You tell me what you spend on travel, okay?”
    “Sure, I’ll just take my customary suite at the Peninsula and you can settle it directly with them.”
    “That’s fine. Although somewhere downtown might be more convenient.”
    “Shit, man, I’m joking. Not about the Peninsula—that’s an outstanding institution. About letting you pay. You shipped me your share of the proceeds from the Hong Kong operation, remember? That ought to cover my current expenses, and then some.”
    In Hong Kong, Dox had walked away from a five-million-dollar payday to save my life. Afterward I’d given him the fee I’d collected for the op as a small way of saying thank you. He hadn’t wanted to take it, but had finally agreed.
    “All right, I’m not going to argue with you,” I said.
    “Good. You can buy the beer, though. Or that fancy whiskey you like.”
    I smiled. “I’ll call you Monday.”

4
    I WASN’T PRESSED for time, so I flew indirectly, which is always safer. I cleared customs at Dulles, outside Washington. The Watanabe identity I had created to get me to Brazil three years earlier was still functional, and it took me through customs without a hitch. From there, it was just a short flight to New York.
    Despite my oblique approach, when I arrived at JFK, I scanned the crowd outside the arrivals area, then followed a circuitous route through the airport that would draw out any surveillance and render it visible. Arrival areas are natural choke points, typically with lots of waiting people who unintentionally offer good concealment for an ambusher, and I always go to a higher level of alertness, and engage in appropriate countermeasures, at this point when I’m traveling.
    When I was confident I was alone, I went outside. I emerged to a cold and rainy New York afternoon. The sky was lead