He fiddled with the PDA for a moment and hit play to repeat the recording. Croissard talked him through it, and once again they heard Soleil’s breathless voice. There was a noise in the background, maybe wind through leaves, maybe anything at all. Juan played it a third time. Then a fourth. The background became no clearer.
“Can you send this to my phone? I want to have the recording analyzed.”
“Of course.” Juan gave him the number on the phone he was currently carrying, one that would have its SIM card pulled when the mission was over. “Were you able to get her GPS coordinates?”
“Yes.” Croissard unfolded a map that had been lying in his briefcase. It was a topographical map of Myanmar done before the country changed its name from Burma. Faint X’s had been marked with a fine-tipped mechanical pencil, and the longitude and latitude numbers added next to them. Cabrillo was familiar with them, having seen a copy of Croissard’s map already. But there was a new notation about twenty miles northeast of Soleil’s last-known location.
“You’ve tried to call her back?” Juan asked, knowing the answer.
“Yes, every fifteen minutes. There is no reply.”
“Well, this is good news,” Cabrillo said. “It’s proof of life, even if it sounds like she’s in trouble. As you must understand, we need some more time to get everything into position. An operation of this nature must be carefully thought out so it can be precisely executed.”
“That has already been explained to me,” Croissard replied, obviously not liking that simple truth.
“We’ll be ready in three days’ time. Your daughter has already passed effective helicopter range, which will make our jobs a little tougher, but, mark my words, we will find her.”
“
Juan cocked an eyebrow, not liking the tone in the financier’s voice. “Yes?”
“I want John to accompany you.”
“Out of the question.”
“Monsieur, this is not a negotiable request. I believe the expression is ‘my charter, my rules,’ yes?”
“Mr. Croissard, this isn’t a fishing trip. We could be facing armed guerrillas, and I simply can’t allow an unknown man to come with us.” Cabrillo planned on bringing MacD Lawless, who was a bit of an unknown himself, but the financier didn’t need to know that.
Wordlessly, John Smith unbuttoned the cuff where he didn’t carry the knife. He pulled up his sleeve to reveal a faded blue tattoo. It showed a flaming circle above the words
Juan looked at him levelly. “Sorry, Mr. Smith, all that tells me is that you’ve visited a tattoo parlor.” It would explain Smith’s generic name, though—Legionnaires often adopted
“About fifteen years ago, by the looks of it,” Max added.
Smith didn’t say anything, but Cabrillo could see the anger building behind the man’s dark eyes. Juan also recognized that he was between a rock and a hard place because ultimately he would have to cave if he wanted the contract.
“Tell you what,” Cabrillo said, and lifted up his trouser leg. Croissard and Smith were startled at the sight of his prosthetic leg. Cabrillo had several that had been tricked out by the wizards in the
He showed it to Smith for just a second, and said, “Eyes on me.”
Then he handed it over.
Smith knew what the test entailed, and, without moving his gaze from Juan’s eyes, he quickly disassembled the small pistol down to its basic parts and then just as quickly put it back together again. He gave it back butt first. It took him about forty seconds.
“Kel-Tec P-3AT,” he said. “Based on their P22 but chambered for .380. Nice gun to fit in a lady’s purse.”
Juan laughed, breaking the tension. “I tried fitting a Desert Eagle .50 cal in this leg, but it was just a tad obvious.” He slipped the gun and magazine plus the loose bullet into his coat pocket. “Where have you served?”
“Chad, Haiti, Iraq of course, Somalia, a few other Third World hot spots.”
Cabrillo shifted his attention back to Croissard. “You’ve got your deal. He passes.”
“Good, then it is settled. John will accompany you now back to your aircraft and then you will find my Soleil.”
“No. He’s going to meet up with us in Chittagong. In case you aren’t aware, that’s a port city in Bangladesh.” Smith wasn’t going to be aboard the
“
“Mr. Croissard,” Juan said solemnly, “I am many things, but a man who backs out on his word isn’t one of them.”
The two men studied each other for a moment. Croissard nodded. “No. I don’t suppose that you are.” They shook hands.
As they exchanged phone numbers with Smith, Max pulled their laser defeater from the window and packed up the bug detector. He snapped the briefcase closed and handed it to Cabrillo.
“If you hear anything from her, no matter the time, call me immediately,” Juan told Croissard at the suite’s door.
“I will. I promise. Please bring her back to me. She is headstrong and stubborn, but she is my daughter, and I love her very much.”
“We’ll do our best,” Juan said, because he would never promise something he couldn’t deliver.
“Well?” Max asked as they were striding down the hallway heading for the elevators.
“I don’t like it, but what choice did we have?”
“That’s why the face-to-face. To spring Smith on us at the last minute.”
“Yeah. Pretty cagey of him.”
“So, are we going to trust him?”
“Smith? Not on your life. There’s something they’re not telling us, and he’s the key.”
“We should back out of this whole thing,” Max opined.
“No way, my friend. If anything, I’m more interested than ever in what the lovely Miss Croissard was doing so deep into Burma.”
“Myanmar,” Hanley corrected.
“Whatever.”
They exited the elevator and started crossing the busy lobby when Cabrillo suddenly hit himself on the head as if he’d forgotten something and grabbed Max’s elbow to turn them around.
“What is it, did you forget something?” Hanley asked. Juan had picked up his pace ever so slightly.
“I noticed two guys hanging around the lobby when we first entered. Both look local, but they’re wearing long coats. One of them noticed us when we got into view and quickly turned away. Too quickly.”
“Who are they?”
“Don’t know, but they’re not with Croissard. If he wanted us dead, he would have had Smith shoot us as soon as we entered his room. And he knows we’re going back to the airport, so what’s the point of following us?”
Max saw no flaw in Cabrillo’s logic, so he just grunted.
They approached the express elevator for the SkyPark. By feel, Juan was able to insert the magazine back into his Kel-Tec automatic. He even managed to cock the weapon against his hip bone without taking it from his jacket pocket. The two men were making their move, coming across the lobby without taking their eyes off the Corporation duo.
The elevator door pinged open. Juan and Max didn’t wait for it to empty before shouldering their way in, all but ignoring the looks of indignation thrown their way. It wasn’t even going to be close. The men had waited too long, and now the elevator doors were closing. It was too public out in the lobby to pull any sort of weapon, so Juan threw them a taunting smile as the doors met with a hiss.
