*
Pearce’s failure stood in contrast to Redmond’s success. Within two hours after Markov’s request to find Olivia Sanchez, he called Markov’s secure cell phone line.
“We’ve located the individual. We have her credit card charged for two nights at the Four Seasons Hotel in New York, starting tonight. I went ahead and found out her room for you. Four-zero-zero-one.”
“Wonderful. Thank you. I knew I could rely on you.”
“You also e-mailed me that you want to contract a team with black-ops capabilities.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sending you encrypted information on that. I suspect you want a standard team of three?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t tell me what it’s for. Discuss it with their representative. I’m sending you information on one source. The best. The man you call will go over backgrounds and capabilities. These men are very, very serious. Don’t compromise them. Don’t renege on your agreement in any way. Don’t fail to pay them in full. Any misrepresentations or failure on your part will reflect badly on me, and result in serious consequences. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I hope so.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It means I know you. Pay the price they ask. Don’t try to bargain. And don’t ask them to do anything more than you agree on.”
“All right. Of course. How soon can I get them?”
“If you need someone who can be at your location quickly, make that a requirement.”
“Right.”
“Is there anything else?” asked Redmond.
“Yes. Your shipment is leaving in seven hours. Arrival at the agreed-on place approximately fifteen hours from now. Have your people in place for transit to wherever you want the shipment to go.”
“They already are.”
Redmond cut the call without further conversation.
Markov checked his watch. Nearly ten-thirty.
So, first the woman. She was smart to hide in a hotel. But not smart enough. He would call Gregor, tell him to take one of his men and meet Kolenka’s men outside the hotel.
By this time tomorrow his shipment for Redmond would be completed. Beck and the woman would be history. Which would certainly help motivate Crane.
Markov heard his computer sound a tone that signaled an e-mail had arrived. A series of letters, numbers, and symbols appeared when he opened the e-mail.
He used the encryption code Redmond had given him and a single phone number emerged with a name. Wilson.
He checked his watch again. First, get Gregor and Kolenka’s men going. Gregor plus one of his, and Kolenka’s two. That should be more than enough for one woman. Then hire the contract team.
They were usually ex–Special Forces, of some country or other. He knew he would have to carefully plan the negotiation for the black-ops team. What exactly did he want? Foremost above anything, he needed protection for Crane. Gregor would not agree to watch Crane. He probably preferred beating Crane to death after what had happened to his two men. Gregor was now completely focused on eliminating Beck and the woman. Good. But if something happened to Crane, none of it would matter.
Markov also knew that at some point there was going to be a war. There might be a way to use their military skills, at least at the planning stage. But Markov had to be careful. He knew hiring such men would be very costly. He knew he couldn’t involve them in anything that would cause trouble for Redmond and jeopardize that relationship.
But mostly, he had to get them on board quickly.
Markov dialed the phone number of Wilson.
A recorded message started abruptly, stating, “Please leave a clear recording stating the following: number of personnel, time and dates of employment, place of employment, skills required. Also, leave a secure contact number. If we can fill the requirements, you will receive a callback within thirty minutes, confirming personnel and price. Thank you.”
Markov had been jotting notes. When the electronic tone beeped, he cleared his throat and recited the information in order, “I need three men, starting as soon as they can arrive in New York City, until approximately 4 p.m. Friday. I need experts in surveillance and personal security.”
Markov gave his cell phone number, hoping he hadn’t been too vague. If they wanted more details, he would just emphasize they would be guarding one man who was working for him. He couldn’t think much beyond that.
He had completely sweated through even his underwear. His empty stomach grumbled. He reached for his attaché case laying on the bed and removed a gram of cocaine from the lining. He snorted a small pile into each nostril from his thumbnail. He sniffed at the sting in his nose and the back of his throat and blinked away the tears that filled his eyes.
The cocaine picked him up considerably, but it would be wearing off soon. He rummaged around in the side pocket of his attaché case, looking for his Adderall. He would be working for a few hours more, at least.
39
Olivia continued to stare at Beck, unblinking, with such intensity that it sparked something in Beck beyond desire.
Power.
She was making him feel incredibly powerful. As if he had total dominance and control over her.
Until that moment, he had not fully understood how dangerous Olivia Sanchez could be. Or how devious she actually was.
The temptation to exercise control over such an astonishingly alluring woman actually made it difficult for Beck to breathe. Beck’s eyes narrowed. He let the fear of how much control she was about to obtain over him penetrate into his gut, actually feeling his stomach tighten.
She didn’t move.
She didn’t waiver.
She continued holding on to his legs, pressing herself into him, staring at him.
Beck pictured what would happen if he simply reached out and touched her, ignited the fire by making her believe he was comforting her.