Hitman: Enemy Within by William C. Dietz

about 80 miles to the north.
    A left, a right, and a short walk carried 47 out to a cedar-sheathed structure labeled BOAT HOUSE. The door to the office stood open, and with the exception of a single attendant, the room was empty.A fact that wasn’t all that surprising, given the time of day and the nature of the weather.
    “Good morning!” the man said cheerfully. The attendant standing next to the counter was sixty or so and was wearing a blue baseball cap with the words USS PONCE LPD 15 stitched across the front. The rest of his outfit consisted of a paint-smeared sweatshirt and a pair of baggy khaki pants. “My name’s Hal,” he continued genially. “What can I do for you?”
    “I’d like to rent a boat,” Agent 47 replied.
    “Well, there’s plenty to pick from,” the attendant said. “What’s your fancy?”
    “Something light,” the assassin answered.“Something easy to row.”
    “Then I have just the thing,” Hal replied confidently. “Follow me.”
    The attendant showed a keen knowledge of the wooden boats, and by the time 47 had been issued a pair of oars and a life jacket, he knew all about the vessel he was about to rent. Twelve-foot-longWhitehalls had originally been designed for use as water taxis inNew York harbor, and first put into service about 1840. Because they were faster than the other harbor taxis of their day,Whitehalls were favored by the boardinghouse “crimps,” or runners, who went out to meet incoming ships and bring seamen ashore.
    Hal watched Agent 47 as he rowed away, waved once he was comfortable that his customer was competent, and went back to the office.
    Though far from an expert, 47 knew how to row, and was pleased with the way the boat cut through the water as he pulled on the oars. And in spite of the cool air and the persistent rain, it wasn’t long before the assassin began to feel warm. So he brought the oars inboard and allowed theWhitehall to coast while he stripped the rain jacket off. That left him in a blue nylon top, matching pants, and running shoes. The Silverballers were invisible beneath the loose zip-up top. Hisgarrote, plus a hypo loaded with an extremely effective sedative, were stashed in a waterproof knapsack that sat beside him. It felt better without the jacket, and Agent 47 soon found that he was enjoying the exercise as he sent the rowboat north in a series of long, smooth spurts. The wind ruffled the surface of the lake, and the bow made a gentle smacking sound as it cut through the occasional wavelet. Gradually theWhitehall passed a marina, a dry dock, and the pier at which three NOAA ships were moored. Water dripped off the tips of 47’s oars, and left circles spinning in the boat’s wake, as the skiff began to close with the houseboats ahead. It was perfectly natural for those who passed to eyeball the floating homes, so there was no need to be secretive, as the assassin took an occasional glance over his left shoulder. The first thing he noticed was that the waterborne structures came in a variety of shapes and sizes. Some were only one-story tall, while others had a second level, and were more spacious inside. Almost all of them were well maintained, and many boasted baskets filled with flowers. One such home was of special interest to the agent because it was located at the end of the dock, directly across from the unit the target lived in. An elderly woman was kneeling on the front deck, tending a flower box full of bright red geraniums, as 47 directed the boat in toward her one-story houseboat.
    “Your flowers are very healthy,” he said, as the gap between the two of them closed. “What do you feed them?” The entire time he spoke, he remained aware of the target’s houseboat, but saw no sign of activity.
    Even with the weather, there were several rowers out on the lake, and the woman must have been accustomed to such compliments, because she registered no sense of alarm as the stranger allowed one of his oars to rest on her