“Then we’ll move on to plan B,” Rapp said. “But I don’t see any drawbacks here. If Donatella blows it, she and Grisha have a couple of drinks and we go home.”
“How are we going to cover . . .” Her voice faded at the sound of vehicles roaring up to the front of the church. Everyone got to their feet, and Black went for the door.
“Claudia, you’re going out the back,” Rapp said. “Donatella, go with her.”
“What are you talking about?” Donatella protested. “I—”
“Shut up! I’m holding you personally responsible for Claudia’s safety. Are you listening? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She frowned and looked over at the younger woman. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to your little French girl.”
By the time he and Azarov entered the main section of the church, Black was already unlocking the main doors. He started to pull one back and it was immediately shoved inward with enough force to almost knock him off his feet. A flood of locals in dirty fatigues rushed in, spreading out and aiming their assault rifles in what seemed to be random directions. They were smart enough to worry about potential threats, but too young and poorly trained to know where to look for them.
A few moments later, a more senior man in slightly less grimy camo entered. He was obviously in charge but had the look of someone who had gained his rank by being older and more brutal than the children he led instead of being more competent. Either way, his ragtag troops were clearly afraid of him. While their guns had settled on Rapp, Azarov, and Black, their attention remained on their commander.
“NaNomi!” Black said after he’d regained his balance. “Great to see you! How’s Abdo doing? They tell me he has a touch of malaria.”
“He heard you met with Kariem,” the African said. “That you are going to stop selling us guns.”
“Why would I do that? You’re my best customer and Kariem’s an asshole. I’ve got you guys covered like always.”
“Then I want to buy.”
Black let out a low whistle. “My inventory’s wiped out right now. But I have a shipment coming in soon, and when I do, you’ll be the first guy I call.”
The African grabbed Black by the hair and yanked his head back. Rapp moved his hand subtly toward the gun beneath his shirt but didn’t reach for it. In his peripheral vision he saw Azarov do the same.
“Or maybe you won’t call!” the African shouted. “Maybe you’re trying to starve us of weapons so Kariem can massacre us!”
He pulled out a massive combat knife and held it to Black’s neck. Rapp didn’t react. It was all for show. NaNomi wasn’t there to kill his boss’s arms dealer. Just to provide him with a little motivation.
“That’s not true!” Black said emphatically. “In fact, those two guys back there are my suppliers. I was just placing an order when you showed up.”
The African released him and started toward Azarov as Black fell to the floor.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
Azarov bowed his head respectfully. “I’m Grisha.”
“A Russian.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And is what Kent says true? Are you here to sell him weapons?”
“I am, sir.”
NaNomi turned and strode toward Rapp. “And you? Who are you?”
Rapp just stared back at him.
“I asked you a question!” he said, bringing the knife up.
They didn’t have time for this shit. The details for the Monaco op needed to be finalized and all the logistics needed to be ironed out before bin Musaid ventured out of his brother’s house. None of that was going to be possible with this tool nosing around.
The silence drew out long enough that Black finally filled it. “That’s Mitch. He’s an American. They’re bidding against each other. I’m trying to get Abdo the best price.”
“Is that true?” NaNomi asked.
By way of an answer, Rapp grabbed the man’s wrist, yanking his arm out and snapping it at the elbow. When NaNomi dropped the knife, Rapp caught it, then drove it into the top of his skull hard enough that the point came through his chin.
The room’s reaction was easily predicted. Azarov just stood there, watching calmly. Black ran and dove over an overturned pew. NaNomi’s men froze.
It was unlikely that any one of the young guerrillas had ever made a decision on their own in their lives. Now they were faced with an impossible one. Did they avenge NaNomi even if it meant killing the men who supplied their leader with weapons? Did they just ignore what had happened and go report back? Did they grab the white men and take them?
No, what they desperately wanted was for someone to give them an order to follow. And Rapp was happy to oblige.
“Get out,” he said. “Tell Abdo he’ll have his weapons next week and we’re going to give him forty percent off his normal deal.”
They just stood there for a few seconds. Finally, one on the right started for the door. The movement seemed to break the others from their trance and they began to follow.
“Hold on,” Rapp said, pointing to the corpse at his feet. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Two of the boys scurried over and dragged what was left of NaNomi outside. A few moments later they were speeding back up the road.
“What the fuck?” Black said, dropping the rifle he’d had stashed behind the pew. “Why did you do that?”
When Rapp didn’t answer, Azarov spoke up. “NaNomi wasn’t sent here to threaten, Kent. He was sent to get weapons. He would have stayed and held us until your shipment arrived. We don’t have time for these kinds of distractions.”
“Distractions? That’s easy for you to say—you don’t live here. You don’t work with these psychos. Do you know what Abdo did to the last guy who screwed him on a deal? He smeared meat on the guy’s dick and then turned a hyena loose on it. And not just any hyena. His pet hyena. That’s right. The guy keeps a fucking hyena as a pet.”
Rapp turned and started for the office. “You worry too much, Kent. You need to learn to relax.”
CHAPTER 27
The Principality of Monaco
WHAT do you think?” Claudia said, stopping at the edge of the dock and spreading her arms wide.
The yacht was a good hundred and fifty feet, its three decks glowing white in the setting sun. A gangway was connected to the back, but Rapp could see no evidence of anyone on board.
“Subtle,” he said.
She led the group into an expansive living area that was a sea of polished brass, gleaming wood, and immaculate furniture. There was even a futuristic wet bar along the port side.
“Before everyone starts thinking I’m insane,” she said, turning to face them, “this actually is pretty subtle in the context of Monaco. And it doubles as a getaway vehicle. Plus, should we need to get rid of any evidence, I have a chart of some of the deeper waters in the area. There’s a helicopter pad and a speedboat that can be quickly deployed if necessary. Finally, it has enough bedrooms and bathrooms to accommodate all of us.”
“Crew?” Rapp said.
“Congolese. They’ll be arriving tonight. I’ve worked with them before. Good sailors, discreet, and between all of them they probably speak no more than ten words of English.”