Simon studied the boy’s face, already hard from exposure to so much brutality in his short life, and looked away. He didn’t know why his mind had taken to wandering so much of late, but he realized it was dangerous when he was operational. Normally he was cold and calculating in the field, but recently sights like the dog and the boy had shaken his usual unflappable demeanor, even if he succeeded in hiding it.
Deep in enemy territory, with danger at every turn, was not the place for introspection. He waited until the boy had scampered off, his bare feet so callused that the blazing concrete sidewalk had no effect on them, and leaned nearer to Amir.
“Where are we?”
Amir nodded conspiratorially. “As you requested, I made inquiries and was successful in locating that which you seek.”
“That’s great news. Where?”
“Ah, that’s the sticky part. In an undisclosed location.”
Simon frowned again. “How do we know that they have any? That they aren’t just claiming to in order to get their hands on our money?”
“There is risk in all things.”
The boy returned with Simon’s tea and made an elaborate showing of pouring a steaming stream from an ornate metal pot that looked like it could have been centuries old. When he finished, the boy offered a small bow, inquired whether they would need anything else, and then left them to their discussion.
Amir fished a package of cigarettes from his breast pocket and offered it to Simon, who shook his head. Amir lit one and then brushed a fly from his neck. Simon took a tentative sip of his tea and nodded approval.
“When can we verify that they have what we’re after?” Simon asked.
“Today.”
Simon’s eyebrows rose. “So soon?”
“Time is on nobody’s side. Best for them to consummate quickly than to risk losing a customer. The situation here is fluid, with constantly shifting allegiances. You know how it is in a hot zone like this.”
Simon nodded. He did indeed. “What’s the protocol?”
He was interrupted by a senile American K-car roaring to the curb in front of the café. Two bearded men toting assault rifles spilled from the rear doors and swept the street with their weapons as a third climbed from the passenger side, his pistol trained on Simon. He barked an instruction to Amir, who slowly raised his hands over his head and stood. The gunman gestured with his gun, and Amir stepped away from Simon, his olive complexion suddenly pale.
The gunman approached the table and tossed a black cloth sack to Simon.
“Pull it over your head,” he growled.
Simon nodded slowly and did as instructed. The sack was thin enough that he could breathe, but not see through it.
Another shouted order from the man with the pistol and the pair of gunmen grabbed Simon by his arms and lifted him to his feet. Simon remained silent through it all and did what he could to cooperate as the men walked him to the car.
Amir watched from the café doorway as the assailants pushed Simon into the backseat and climbed in beside him. The man with the pistol leveled it at the boy and snarled a warning to tell no one what had transpired. The boy nodded, his face a blank, and the gunman slipped his weapon back into his belt and moved to the car, eyes scanning the street.
The old car’s unmuffled exhaust roared, and the sedan pulled away in a cloud of beige dust, leaving Amir and his young companion staring at its rear bumper devoid of a license plate. Amir lowered his hands and reached into his pocket for his phone. He handed the child a few coins and then made his way back down the street, speaking softly into the phone, his voice tight as he rounded the corner and disappeared, leaving the sidewalk to the boy and the flies.
Chapter 27
Moscow, Russia
The prisoners gave Jet a wide berth when she came back to the common holding cell, her exploits of the prior day having established her as the last person in the area to be trifled with. If the three women she’d laid out had allies bent upon retribution, they kept their intentions well hidden, and when Yulia approached her in the afternoon, they had a quiet corner to themselves.
“Any word?” Jet asked without preamble.
“The head of security sent a guard over to the kitchen during the lunch prep. We’re on for tonight. We’ll be pulled from here after dinner and walked over to the men’s side. So all good on that end,” Yulia whispered, but something about her tone gave Jet pause.
“What about the guards you bribed? Are they on board?”
“They haven’t shown up for work yet. But I’m sure it will all be fine.”
“What if it isn’t? That would be a pretty major change in the plan.”
“Let me worry about that.” Yulia paused. “I got word to my men, so they’re ready.”
“Right, but if we aren’t sure that your guards will come through, it doesn’t really matter, does it? We’re going to have a major problem.”