? ? ?
There had always been a chance that even if Azzam did not move his baby from Bianca’s home in the Western Villas section of Damascus’s Mezzeh district, he would, at least, move the room the baby was being kept in. It would have been a simple security measure designed to slow anyone who came after the child, at least long enough for them to be spotted by security in the house.
But when Court finally got to the room at the end of the hall where Bianca said he would find the baby’s room, he opened the door and found a baby lying in a crib, and a mattress on the floor next to it with a girl sleeping soundly on it.
Court closed the door behind him and moved slowly across the bedroom. The rugs on the tile floor made it easy to keep his footfalls silent. All his senses were tuned to high, still focusing on any noises from other parts of the villa.
In seconds he was on his knees next to the mattress, inches away from the sleeping au pair.
Court could think of absolutely no way to do this without scaring the living shit out of this poor girl, which served no purpose here. Intimidation was an effective means of gaining compliance, he well knew, but in this situation he needed more than compliance; he needed Yasmin to become his partner in crime, and for this he wanted to earn her trust.
And that was going to be hard considering the fact that her first impressions of him were going to be as some sort of monster leering over her in her bed at night.
He placed a hand over her mouth, knelt over her face, and pressed down.
Her eyes opened slowly, then popped wide when she saw the strange man in the low light above her. He placed a finger over his own lips.
“écoute, s’il vous pla?t, mademoiselle.” Please listen, miss. He continued in French. “I have been sent by Bianca. I am not going to hurt you, but we must not make any noise. Do you understand me?”
A tear formed in and rolled from each eye. She blinked. And then she nodded.
Court kept the hand in place. “Bianca is safe in France, but she will not be returning. Shakira Azzam has tried to kill her, and she will try again if Bianca returns to Syria. We have come to retrieve Jamal so he can be with his mother.” There was just Court, there was no “we,” but when he’d worked out what he’d say to the nanny, he’d decided there was a greater chance she would buy into this entire improbable escapade if she thought there were more people involved with the getaway.
Court took a moment to listen for sounds in the house, and then he continued in French, speaking softly and quickly. “I am taking Jamal now. Bianca wants you to come with him for your own safety, no other reason. But no one will make you do this. You can stay right here if you want to, but she is worried Ahmed will become angry when he finds the baby gone, so Bianca thinks it would be best for you if you came with us.”
The girl just stared at Court with wide, frightened eyes.
“Do you understand me?”
She nodded.
Court decided he needed to be more explicit. “I have a gun. As I said, I won’t hurt you, and I won’t hurt Jamal, but I will kill anyone else who gets in my way.”
Yasmin began nodding emphatically under Court’s hand.
“You want to leave tonight?”
Another nod.
“Good. I am going to take my hand off your mouth. Please don’t make any noise, because if you do, you will be in danger from those who will come.”
As soon as he took his hand away, Yasmin did speak. She kept her voice in a whisper. “Please speak slower, monsieur. Your French . . . it is not so good. How do I know Bianca really sent you?”
Court ignored the slight because he knew she was right. He slowed down a little. “She told me to remind you of the day Jamal was born when it was just the three of you in the room at the hospital, and you sang to him. Bianca told you that you have a beautiful voice, and she asked you to sing to him every day. You promised you would. She wants to know if you’ve been keeping your promise while she’s been away.”
Yasmin nodded slowly.
“As soon as we’re out of here you can talk to her; she’s waiting for me to call and tell her I have you and the boy.”
Yasmin closed her eyes and nodded, still lying there in the bed. She was terrified, Court knew, but she would also know by now there was no way she could stop him from taking the child, and there was also no way she was going to remain behind if he did so.
“You need to get dressed. You will only take your clothes, and things you need for the baby on the trip.”
“How long is the trip?”
Good question, thought Court. He gave her the optimal version. “We will travel tonight to the Jordanian border and slip over before dawn.” And then he added, “But I don’t know what happens immediately on the other side of the border, so bring enough food, diapers, and clothing for him in case we are delayed.”
“Okay.”
Now Court said, “I have a car, but it is several blocks away. Do you have a vehicle?”
She shook her head no. “Bianca has a Range Rover. It’s out front. The keys are in the kitchen.”
Court nodded.
“But,” she asked, confusion on her face, “why don’t the others just pick us up?”
“What others?”
“The other people helping you.”
Oh, yeah. All those guys, Court thought. “They’re out there, but we have to do this part alone.” He meant they were way out there, as in France, but he didn’t get specific.
She nodded again. “So you can really kill ten men?”
Court cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“There are ten men in the house.”
“You mean . . . right now?”
“Oui. Since Ahmed came the day before yesterday. He doubled the guard.”
Bianca had told him five. He’d killed two already, a third man walked the grounds, and a fourth sat on the roof. He’d seen a fifth in the alcove near the stairs, and he’d heard two men talking in the living room.
That was seven. Court wondered if there could really be three more armed men in the house he didn’t know about.
“Where do the guards congregate at this time of the night?” he asked the girl.
“Usually a group of them sit in the living room and watch TV or look at their phones. I have to get the keys and Jamal’s formula out of the kitchen; it’s right next to the living room.”
“Formula?”
Yasmin blinked in surprise at this. “Food.”
Court just stared at her.
“It’s what a baby eats,” she said.
Court nodded his head. “Right. There’s no formula here?”
She went over to a small refrigerator in the room and looked inside. She pulled out one bottle. “It’s not very much. Two feedings at most.”
Court cocked his head. “Two feedings . . . what’s that, about a day?”
Yasmin looked at the stranger with confusion. “A day? No . . . three or four hours, maybe.”
“Shit,” Court said, looking at the tiny human lying asleep in the crib. “Can you get his formula at night without the guards being suspicious?”
Again she gave him a funny look. “I do it all night, every night. Do you know anything about infants?”
“Look . . . until we get to Paris, the baby is your department. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Oui. I think that would be best for Jamal.”
CHAPTER 46
Vincent Voland opened the door to the hearth room and was surprised by what he saw. Sebastian Drexler stood in the middle of the room talking to Boyer, and the former Legionnaire wore his submachine gun hanging down over his back, not pointed at the prisoner.
Voland said, “What is going on here?”
Boyer said, “Look, Vincent . . . This isn’t our cause. When you hired us, you said an agent not aligned with the Syrian embassy might come with some bent French police officers to try to take the woman back. You definitely didn’t say anything about tier-one Syrian government paramilitaries being involved. We’re surrounded, and it’s suicide to hold our ground. I’ve made a deal with Drexler, and I’ve ordered my men to lower our weapons.”