The Detachment

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Authors: Barry Eisler
Treven and Larison how much you’re paying?”
    “No, I have not.”
    He probably thought I wanted to hold out on them. “Make sure you do,” I said. “We’re going to split this four ways even, and I don’t want any confusion about the size of the pie.”
    He sipped his coffee. “I admire an honest man.”
    “Where are they now?”
    He smiled just slightly. “Waiting for you. In Las Vegas.”

I sat on one of the twin beds in a room at an off-strip Embassy Suites, Dox to my left, Larison and Treven facing us on the opposite bed. We would all check into the Wynn later that day, but once we were there, it would be better if we were seen together as little as possible. This would be our only chance to discuss Shorrock face-to-face.
    It was strange to be in charge of the op. I prefer to be in charge of nothing larger than myself, and though I supposed that several years and multiple close calls of teaming with Dox and sometimes Delilah constituted a kind of practice, managing Larison and Treven was going to be a challenge. Neither struck me as a natural team player, and I imagined each was accustomed to long stretches alone in the field and to doing things his own way. Also, because I knew Horton had something on each of them, though I didn’t know what, it meant that in addition to whatever innate alpha male stubbornness I might encounter in taking charge of things, I also had to remember that their agendas might range considerably beyond the money the op represented.
    But Horton was right—I needed four at least, and even so it wasn’t going to be easy. We knew Shorrock would be staying at the Wynn, but that was about all. We didn’t know what room he’d be in, and, outside the keynote, we had no details about his schedule. Given the size of the resort, without more it would take a lot of luck to find and fix him, let alone make him expire of “natural causes.” Nonetheless, I had an idea for how we might close to him, and I might have proposed it directly. But I decided it would be better to solicit opinions. I had no command authority over these people, and I sensed things would go more smoothly if I helped them reach their own conclusions, rather than presenting them with mine. So I asked Treven and Larison what they thought.
    “The keynote,” Treven said immediately. “Cover the exits, follow him when he’s done, rotate the point, wait for the opportunity.”
    It was the response I was expecting from Treven, who struck me as a little more eager and a little less devious than Larison, and I didn’t like it. “The keynote’s tempting because it’s our only real fixed point,” I said. “But that’s also the problem. Most likely he’ll be surrounded by hangers-on before and after. And worse, because it’s on his public schedule and therefore an obvious vulnerability, his security detail will be alert and keeping very close. It couldn’t hurt to try, especially if we find we can’t pick him up any other way, but I don’t think it’s our first choice.”
    “Then what?” Treven said.
    I rubbed my chin as though thinking. “The file says he’s a fitness fanatic,” I said. “I wonder if there’s something we could do with that.”
    “You think the gym?” Treven said.
    I nodded slowly as though favorably considering his idea. “Maybe. Yeah, maybe.” I turned to Dox. “What do you think?”
    A dog was barking outside, the sound high-pitched and screechy, probably a small breed and apparently an exceptionally neurotic one. It had been going off intermittently since we’d checked in and its fingers-on-a-blackboard pitch made it hard to tune out. Dox got up, opened the drapes a crack, and looked down. “Wish that mutt would simmer down,” he said. “Looks like somebody tied it up by the pool. Nobody’s even there, what the hell’s it yapping at? Lucky for it I don’t have my rifle.”
    When Dox was engaged—on what he was watching through his sniper scope, for example—his focus was

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