He strode over to the lead truck and climbed inside, the air-conditioning providing a welcome respite from the unrelenting heat. They headed for the camp, the truck bouncing up and down on the uneven terrain.
Fifteen minutes later, they entered the military encampment, and the Land Cruiser stopped in front of a large canvas tent with a sweeping overhang. A massive figure stood beside two young boys dressed in matching Nike shirts.
The General.
Nikos stepped out of the truck and came face-to-face with his former kidnapper for the first time in twenty years. The man walking toward him had been his abductor and his savior, but today they shared a common bond—a hatred of Christos Aristotle Paris. So when Nikos had reached out via encrypted satphone with his proposal, the General had agreed immediately.
At six foot one, Nikos was hardly a small man, but standing next to this giant, echoes of his twelve-year-old self resurfaced. Somewhere inside, his rigid self-control faltered for a second.
No, things were different now. He was the power player, the General only a pawn. The weathered warrior had gray hair near his temples, deep crevices etched in his ebony face, and his tribal scars had left his skin looking like the hide of a rhino. His immense bulk had softened, the buttons of his uniform fighting against his belly. He also had a slight limp from that long-ago firefight, when Kofi had betrayed the General and shot him in the leg.
In contrast, Nikos was fit and in his prime, a feared arms dealer who could order someone’s death with a casual whisper into the right ear.
Nikos had become the giant.
The General waved his large hands toward the boys. “My grandsons—we’re just spending time together before they head back home this afternoon.”
The kids scrambled away, chasing each other around the Land Cruiser.
“You’ve certainly grown up.” A faint smile lingered at the edges of the General’s mouth. He proffered a meaty hand. “After all these years, we meet again.”
Nikos hesitated for a second, then accepted the handshake. The General turned his palm downward, trying to maintain control. Nikos turned it back, reclaiming the dominant role. Just as he’d expected, the soldier wasn’t interested in relinquishing his supremacy. That made him useful, at least for a while.
“The troops are in a strict training regimen in case they’re needed.”
“Excellent.” If the oil negotiations didn’t end well, they were poised for a coup to overthrow Kanzi’s administration.
“I read about your father’s kidnapping in the papers. Christos is now under lock and key?” A gleam in the General’s eyes unsettled Nikos, but he didn’t want to read too much into it. Why would the giant be involved in Christos’s kidnapping? Why would he undermine Nikos’s arrangements and risk the enormous wealth and influence he’d gain by working with Nikos—unless he had another endgame in mind?
“We’re moving forward as planned.” Nikos’s stomach felt unsettled.
“Within a few days, Kanzi and all its oil wealth will be ours.” The General smiled.
No, mine. All mine.
A familiar bang reverberated through the camp. Nikos looked around, searching for the source. One of the grandsons had discovered a guard’s AK-47 lying on the rear seat of the Land Cruiser. The boy’s small hands held the rifle, and he pointed the barrel straight at them, a thousand-watt smile on his face.
The giant’s eyes widened. Fear. Not for himself, but for his grandson. The skinny youngster holding the rifle triggered Nikos’s memory. He’d been no older than this boy when he’d used a Kalashnikov to kill on Oba’s command.
Nikos strode over and squatted beside the child. He gently released the kid’s tiny fingers from the weapon. “Zuri mtoto, baya ridhe.” Good boy, bad gun.
The boy giggled and ran after his brother, not realizing the danger they’d all been in. Innocence needed to be protected at any cost. That was why he funneled money from his arms deals into helping children in need. In their formative years, kids’ psyches were established, and they became who they’d be for the rest of their lives. Every child deserved a chance at happiness, but many youngsters never had a hope in hell.
He touched the pocket where he kept the music box and glanced at the General, a look of understanding passing between them. Unlike Oba, the giant agreed with him that children should never be involved in war.
Chapter Thirty-Five