“That’s fine, but I’m telling you that you may not have three hours. We passed the information on the male target to your colleagues, so he’s in play. If something sets her off, you may wind up empty-handed.” The inspector’s voice softened. “It’s ultimately your call, but I thought I’d give you the option. We can take her without any drama, and you can deal with her at your leisure. Or you can risk losing her.”
Rudolf did a quick calculation. Arresting the woman wasn’t actually a bad option. The inspector had a good reputation, and there was really no compelling reason other than a fear of incompetence for Rudolf to fly in his own team. He breathed deeply and reminded himself that there was nothing to be gained by being purposelessly territorial. His objective was to capture the woman and have her held until Leo could question her, with his assistance – which would no doubt involve gruesome levels of torture for which he’d pay another small fortune. Or perhaps Leo would leverage his relationship with the Russian mafia and have them take her off Rudolf’s hands. Either way, his final payday wouldn’t happen if the woman gave them the slip.
“You’re confident you can do so without a problem?” Rudolf asked softly.
“I wouldn’t be calling if I wasn’t.” The inspector hesitated, and Rudolf could guess the next topic he’d advance. “Of course, I’d expect you would be grateful for our doing all the heavy lifting.”
The implicit threat was clear enough: if Rudolf ordered him to stand down, it was always possible that the woman would vanish, which would be blamed on Rudolf’s delaying a move. Someone could tip her off – a someone who was disgruntled at not receiving yet more money for his trouble. It was a fluid situation, and anything could happen. If Rudolf paid the fare for the inspector to take her in, he avoided that regrettable eventuality; he was buying a guarantee.
“Of course. How grateful do you think would be appropriate?”
The first number was ludicrous, and Rudolf said so. Three minutes later they’d reached an agreement. “But only if you take her unharmed. I need her alive and coherent.”
“Then I shall make it so. Consider it done.”
Rudolf disconnected and slid the phone back into his windbreaker pocket. The car rolled to a stop at a traffic light, and one of Moscow’s legions of homeless neared, carrying a filthy rag and a squeegee. The driver waggled his finger at the unfortunate, who gave him a gap-toothed snarl before moving to the next vehicle. Rudolf watched the man shamble past his window and shook his head in distaste at the sight of his soiled clothes and grimy skin. Every day more were forced onto the street by poverty and desperate circumstances. The Western sanctions had caused massive suffering in the Russian population, especially in the cities, but the West had badly misjudged the nation’s tolerance for pain. Russians were born into misery and expected nothing less until they died. This was a picnic compared to what they’d routinely endured at the hands of their rulers.
Rudolf sat back in his seat and thought about the deal he’d made for the woman’s delivery on a platter. The price he was paying was laughably low, and it would save him a small fortune on the second jet and paying off the members of the team. Even if he took a few of them with him to handle the woman, he was saving a king’s ransom, with the trickiest part handled by the inspector. On balance, it was a hell of a deal and would make his life considerably easier.
And Rudolf had been in the game long enough to have learned to never pass up a bargain.
Chapter 8
Madrid, Spain
Alonso Real stood with the rest of the passengers, waiting for the Jetway door to open. The plane had the distinctive aroma of a long-haul flight, a mixture of perspiration, a smell like wet wool, and metabolized ethanol seeping from tired pores. The flight from Mexico City had been turbulent, and even free cocktails all night had been inadequate to quiet his jangling nerves.
This was the second leg of his trek, which had originated in Guayaquil, Ecuador. He’d done the trip four times now in as many months, but he still hated the experience, even though the money was insane for a retail clerk who’d hit the wall on luck.
The pilot’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker, welcoming everyone to Spain, the volume too high for the enclosed space. Alonso fought to keep from growling at the short older woman who kept bumping him with the sharp corner of her carry-on bag, oblivious to the damage it was inflicting on his tired thigh, and watched the backs of the business-class travelers’ heads begin to move like obedient cattle on a slaughterhouse ramp.