“That’s why they pay you the big bucks. I’m just the humble chauffeur.”
Both men laughed. The driver was actually the diamond checker’s superior – the local case officer for the operation. That he was actually at the meet was a rarity, but there was a lot of money at stake, and he wanted to ensure that everything went according to plan. It wouldn’t do for fifty million in diamonds to go missing on his watch – and with a number like that involved, he trusted no one, not even his own agents.
“As long as the Russian has the weapons, there’s nothing to go wrong,” the driver said. “If only all our assignments were this easy.”
“I don’t like that he’s handling security. More of our guys on the ground would make me feel better.”
“This is his deal. It’s on him to ensure it goes smoothly. No point in duplicating effort in his backyard. Besides, he has the depth with the port authority people and the local cops. We don’t, and any of ours would get in the way of his crew.”
“Oh, I understand. I just don’t like it.”
“Just get in and get out. Simple.”
“You’re the boss.”
Minutes dragged by, and then the driver looked out over the water. “Hear that?”
“No. What?”
“Engines. A boat’s approaching.”
“You sure?”
The driver pointed out the faint lights of a slow-moving yacht entering the mouth of the harbor. “See?”
“So game time in a few more minutes.”
“Looks that way. Let’s give them a chance to get situated. His people will ping us when they’re ready to hand over the stones. The Africans need to inspect the weapons first.”
“Why not do it simultaneously?”
The driver shrugged. “Probably because the attorney’s going to have his own people verify the stones are the real deal before he calls us in. That’s what I’d do. Like I said, it’s his ass if this goes sideways, so he’s not going to take any chances.”
“Makes sense.”
They watched as the boat cut through the water and slowed as it neared the wharf, its engine revs dropping to a low drone on approach. The driver raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes and nodded slowly. “There’s four men aboard, plus the captain.”
“Sounds like game on.”
~
Jet raced along the waterfront, ducked low over the handlebars, urging the little motorcycle motor to maximum speed as it wailed like a scalded child. She had no idea why Leo had left the function to go for a boat ride to the port, but whatever it was might provide a better opportunity for her than a potentially suicidal rush at the party.
Her windbreaker flapped as the wind tugged, the gaudy miniskirt over her pants completing the unlikely ensemble. A car in front of her braked for no apparent reason, and she swerved just in time to avoid eating its rear bumper, swearing from beneath the helmet as she took evasive action. She bounced onto the curb and narrowly missed a pair of drunks staggering along the waterfront road from one of the dive bars strung along its reach, and then dropped off the sidewalk at the end of the block and steered back onto the road, thankful that no police cars were roaming the area.
She downshifted at a turnoff and glanced at the water. She could barely make out the cabin cruiser as it churned a white froth on its way toward one of the piers. She was now close enough to the wharf to slow down and be on the alert for any threats – if Leo was going there with his enforcer, it was likely for a clandestine reason, and it would be foolish to expect there to be no security.
Jet’s instinct was validated as she rolled past a van and continued along the road at speed. She’d seen two men standing by the dark vehicle, which meant she could expect more where they’d come from. She turned up an alley that led away from the water and parked the bike, and then shrugged off the windbreaker, pulled the dress over her head, and donned her shirt. The weight of the grenade in her pocket was as reassuring as the pistol at the small of her back – on a dark pier she could execute the attorney and vanish far more easily than at the ceremony, especially with her little arsenal. It might not have seemed like much, and she would have gladly traded it at that moment for just one of the RPGs or shoulder-fired missiles in the Ukrainian stash, but in her hands it would still be deadly enough – at least, that was her hope.