chance to see if I’ve got anybody tailing me.” I nodded at Carl. “You’ll need to be discreet.”
“What do you want me to do?” Jill asked quickly. It was almost like she was eager to prove that she was worth something.
I glanced at Carl. He shrugged. I already knew his opinion.
More than likely, nothing was going to happen. Hosani would give me an address or something, and I would slide him the backpack of cash. That was it. Odds were that this was going to be relatively boring. But then again, I had thought the same thing about Al Khor, and that had ended up with blood raining from the sky.
I placed the Bulgarian Makarov in the center of the table with a metallic clunk. “You said you know how to use this?”
She looked at me suspiciously for a second, then back to the gun, then back at me. “Who am I supposed to shoot?”
“Nobody in particular. You’re going to be a lookout if Hosani tries to bring in help or if Dead Six shows up. Early warning, that’s it. This is just for self-defense.”
“Got anything bigger?”
“No. You get the
Without further hesitation, she picked up the gun. I noted that she was careful to keep it in a safe direction and her finger was indexed outside the trigger guard. Maybe she had been taught well. “It’s . . . double action. The safety works backwards from Dad’s Beretta . . .” It took her a second to find the magazine-release. The Makarov had its magazine release button in the heel of the grip, unlike most American guns. She dropped the magazine on the table, then pulled the slide back, looking inside the empty chamber. She grinned maliciously. “Do I get bullets, too?”
I had to admit that she had a pretty smile. “We’ll work up to that.”
VALENTINE
Fort Saradia National Historical Site
May 3
1030
Tailor, Hudson, Byrne, and I were already sitting in the classroom when Hunter came striding in, Sarah in tow. “I’ll be brief, gentlemen,” he said, opening his laptop and hooking it up to the display screen. “You’re moving out shortly.”
“We were told that we’ve got a lock on our next target, sir,” Tailor said.
“That’s right,” Hunter replied, bringing up a picture on the screen. “This is your target, Jalal Hosani.” Hosani was an average-looking Middle Eastern man, with styled hair and a scruffy, stubbly goatee. He was dressed in a brown suit and a white shirt with no tie, as was the fashion. “He’s going to attempt to flee Zubara today. He’s not going to get out of the country alive.”
“How do we know this, Colonel?” I asked.
“Asra Elnadi,” Hunter replied. “During her interrogation, she told us that one of Hosani’s bodyguards was an ex-lover of hers, and they kept it on the sly. She was able to contact him and get him to sell out his boss.”
“No employee loyalty,” Byrne suggested.
“Not in this business, son,” Hunter said. “With his boss skipping town, this guy’s probably out of a job anyway. So he tipped off our contact without knowing who she’s working for.”
“How do we know this information is credible?” I asked.
“I made it clear to Ms. Elnadi that there would be severe consequences if the information she gave us proved to be false,” Sarah said coolly. “She’s afraid of us. I don’t think she’d try anything stupid, especially since we’ve kept her alive so far.”
Hunter switched the screen to a map of the city. “The target will be attempting his escape from a small warehouse that he owns in the Hasa Market, in Umm Shamal. This warehouse is right on the pier. According to the information Ms. Elnadi gave us, Hosani owns a boat. His escape plan is to load up his boat, hoist anchor, and sail away. Asra’s ex-boyfriend told her that he’s meeting someone in the warehouse around sixteen hundred hours, and that he’ll be leaving immediately after.
“There are several places he could go, so if we lose him he’s probably gone for good. Your mission is to intercept Jalal Hosani at the docks and kill him. There are no secondary targets. Tertiary targets are any of his employees and bodyguards that you encounter.”
“We’re going to kill him in the middle of Hasa Market in broad daylight?” I asked. “Sir, that’s one of the busiest markets in the city. It’ll be packed by mid-afternoon.”
“I’m aware of that, Mr. Valentine, but it is this or nothing. Any questions?”
We had plenty of questions. We spent the next two hours in the classroom, formulating the plan.
LORENZO
May 3
I had been dropped off several blocks from the Hasa Market and had walked in. Umm Shamal was the middle peninsula and was relatively middle-class, so I wore jeans, a soccer jersey, and a good pair of running shoes instead of sandals. I carried the money in a small backpack.
I liked baggy jerseys. They were handy for hiding stuff, including the relatively soft Level IIIA armor vest. My STI 4.15 Tactical was on my hip, concealed beneath my shirt. Between it and the two spare longer twenty-two- round magazines on my off-side, I had sixty-three rounds ready to go. Also concealed on me was my Greco Whisper CT knife. It had a five-and-a-quarter-inch blade and was perfectly balanced. If Hosani tried anything, I was going to stick to my promise to take him with me.
There was one benefit if I bought it today. Once Big Eddie found out, that would probably get Carl and Reaper off the hook, temporarily. But he had leverage on them too, so even though they couldn’t do this job, he would find some way to use them again. Believe me, I’d thought about faking my own death rather than finishing this job. But if Eddie ever got any inkling that I’d cheated him, he’d kill every single person in that folder.
The market was bustling with humanity. It was a miniature city, with buildings made from portable stands and wandering streets of weathered stones. This was where all the small-time fishermen sold their catch, so it was the best place in the city to get fresh fish. The violence in poor Ash Shamal and rich Al Khor hadn’t really hit here yet. This was the part of town where the actual work got done. This was the home of the regular people, and they just wanted to live their lives in peace, earn their money, and raise their kids. Too bad for them they were stuck between a bunch of fanatics.
There was a line of speakers placed over the central row of booths. They were playing traditional music, which was actually kind of pretty in a haunting way. Every now and then the music would cut out and a fast-talking announcer would tell the customers about some special at one of the booths.
The fountain dated back to the British and was styled to be vaguely ancient Greek. It was out of place between all the tan brick buildings. I took a seat on the edge of the fountain, waited, and watched bus drivers and school teachers buy sea bass. My Bluetooth earpiece wasn’t very out of place in this group.
“I don’t see anything yet,” Carl said. I knew he had stationed himself at the opposite end of the market near the corner of the school. He had dressed in full-on man pajamas and baggy vest. Carl was too stocky and muscular to pass for a Zubaran, but there were a lot of foreigners in this country, actually more foreigners than natives since the boom began, and he had grown a bushy beard that would make any mullah jealous. “I’m at the bootleg DVD table.”
“Anything interesting?”
