Incarceration (Jet #10)

“Indeed,” Simon agreed.

The tea finished, Zarif and his silent sidekick led Simon back to the same dusty car he’d arrived in. The driver tossed Simon the sack, and Zarif shrugged apologetically.

“I’m sorry for any discomfort this causes you. It is necessary.”

“I understand. It would be nice if you could convince your men to be more liberal with the air-conditioning, though,” Simon said.

Zarif ordered the driver to chill the car’s interior until frost formed on the windows, and then barked at his men. Two of them rushed over carrying the missiles, which barely fit in the trunk. Simon watched as they packed rags around the launch tubes so they wouldn’t move on the drive back to the hotel, and then he slid into the rear seat and pulled the sack back over his head, resigned to another long drive, but this time with freedom waiting on the other end. The engine started, and the vehicle droned away down the dusty, anonymous road, leaving the arms depot behind in the arid Syrian night.





Chapter 33





Moscow, Russia



The Volga stopped beside the roll-up door, and Jet whispered to Yulia, “Kill the engine. That will give it a chance to cool off while we’re waiting.”

Yulia looked doubtful. “What if it doesn’t start again?”

“It will.”

She twisted the key and the motor went silent after a final cough, the only sound now the ticking of the engine block in the cool night air and the patter of rain on the roof. Jet twisted to the men in the back and spoke softly.

“There might be a watchman inside. I don’t think so, judging by the absence of lights, but you never know. If there is, let me deal with him. Nobody try to be a hero or you could wind up gut shot.”

Mikhail’s face darkened, and he leaned toward Yulia. “Who does she think she is? We’ve all seen our share of fighting. I don’t appreciate being spoken to like a schoolboy.”

Yulia sighed. “Mikhail, please just cooperate. Sandra has some remarkable skills – I’ve seen them at play. I trust her judgment. Do as she says.”

“I don’t like it. Since when is she our leader?”

Jet debated a response and opted for a conciliatory tone. “I’m sorry. We’re all under a lot of pressure. But Yulia is right – I’ve had a lot of experience with this sort of thing. I’m not trying to wear your pants, Mikhail, just get out of this in one piece. Like all of us.”

Mikhail didn’t look convinced, but he seemed at least somewhat mollified by Jet’s words. “Maybe you can tell us exactly how you have all this experience. Because if I’m going to rely on someone I just met, I want to know who I’m dealing with.”

Jet sighed. “I’m a mercenary. Got my start with the German mafia,” she explained, inventing the story on the spot.

Mikhail switched to passable German. “How do we know you aren’t lying? That you aren’t a plant whose job is to deceive us?”

Her German was flawless. “Deceive you out of what? Fashion tips? Advice on how to get arrested? What could you possibly have that I want?”

Mikhail looked away and switched back to Russian. “I guess we have no choice but to go along. Yulia’s the boss.”

“You have every choice,” Jet countered, her tone hardening. “If you like, I can walk away right now, and you’re on your own. If you can make it four hundred something kilometers without me, have at it, because I can vanish in minutes without a trace.” She paused. “I’m not interested in butting heads with anyone. I owe Yulia for getting me out of there, so it’s her call. Your contact didn’t show, or we wouldn’t be having this little discussion, but if you think you’ve got a better way to do things, then you go hot-wire a vehicle and I’ll wait here.”

Yulia intervened. “We’re soon going to have the entire Russian system hunting us down – we don’t have time to bicker among ourselves, Mikhail. Your objections are noted, but I’m overruling them – it’s my responsibility to get us home in one piece, so my decision is final. I brought Sandra into this because I felt she would be an asset. Everything I’ve seen so far says that was a smart decision. Let’s do this her way.”

Mikhail grumbled assent with crossed arms. Jet cracked the glove compartment open and rooted around. Finding nothing that would help her but a plastic roadside assistance card, which she pocketed, she stepped into the rain, which thankfully had abated to a drizzle.

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