Petrov turned and looked out across the city. “I actually wanted to meet with you to discuss what you could do for me.”
“What I could do for you? You mean aside from getting the entire ECB to ditch the Euro and put our members in a more tenuous position by going with your plan to create a world currency?”
Petrov remained calm. “You sound as if you’re considering changing your mind, Henri.”
He furrowed his brow and stared at her. “You sound as if you’re trying to push me into a corner. And do you know what a bull does when it’s pushed into a corner?”
“You’re no bull,” she said before she sent a plume of smoke into the air.
“If you think you can have your way with me because of my past, think again,” he said. “That’s old news. Everyone has accepted my mistakes and moved on.”
She continued to look straight ahead, refusing to look at him. “You’re right, Henri. It is old news. I’m not interested in dredging up your sordid past. But I am interested in getting you to meet some of my demands on this issue. No, let me rephrase that: I am confident you’ll see things my way. Besides, if you don’t, your successor has already expressed that he’s much more open to my ideas than you are.”
Henri narrowed his eyes. “What are you suggesting?”
She reached into the pocket of her blazer and then handed him a stack of three photos, all obviously taken secretively. Slowly, she turned to see his expression.
Mouth agape, Dubois studied the photos one by one. “I can’t . . . How could you . . . ? What is the meaning of all this?”
“Henri, you’re the one who lectures everyone about the importance of family,” she said as she moved directly in front of him. “Perhaps your wife would like to see just how broadly you define that word.”
“This is outrageous,” Dubois said as he eyed Petrov, turning his back to the view of the cityscape. “If you think this is how you’re going to get me to acquiesce to your ridiculous requests, think again. No, in fact, forget it. I’m pulling the ECB out of this deal. We’re not going to join you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” he grumbled as he ripped up the photos.
“You might want to reconsider your position.”
“The position of the ECB has officially changed, and it’s not changing back,” he said as he glared at her.
With a sharp move toward Dubois, Petrov managed to catch him off balance as he tried to move out of the way. She gave him a forceful shove, one he wasn’t expecting.
When the back of his knees hit the railing, they buckled and he folded—only the weight of Dubois’s momentum had already sealed his fate. He fell backward and tumbled over the edge.
Petrov peered down to catch a glimpse of him flailing and screaming, eyes wide with fear. The last thing she heard him say was, “How could you?” Then a terrible thud against the cobblestone street below.
“He shouldn’t have been too quick to resist me,” Petrov said as she walked across the veranda and back into her suite.
CHAPTER 17
Somewhere in the Persian Gulf
WHEN HAWK REGAINED consciousness, he kept his eyes closed. It was the only chance he had to get a feel for his surroundings before the guards chatting above noticed he was awake. Hawk expected dismal treatment from the Al Hasib terrorists if he even managed to survive the night.
Hawk breathed in through his nose. The saltwater aroma was stronger than it had been in Kuwait City. That combined with the swaying motion led him to believe he was on a seafaring vessel. With his hands lying limp beside him, Hawk rubbed the floor, which was made of steel. It certainly confused his senses. If he hadn’t smelled salt water, Hawk would’ve sworn he was lying in the back of a truck. But he couldn’t ignore that or the sound of circling seagulls just outside.
Cracking his eyes open ever so slightly, he imagined to see a skyline. Instead, all he saw was a sky with a faint smattering of stars nearly muted by the glow of city lights in the distance. Then he heard the splashing of water.
Definitely in a truck on a boat.
It was a new experience for Hawk, but he wasn’t surprised. The quickest way out of Kuwait City was by boat. If he were to spring a surprise attack, he’d likely have followed a similar route.
Hawk scanned the truck and noticed the guards weren’t paying him any attention. The two who’d been assigned to watch the captured Americans were staring at cell phones.
Hawk turned slightly toward Samuels and nudged him. Samuels moved cautiously and barely opened his eyes. Hawk used his eyes to gesture toward the guard above Samuels.
“On three,” Hawk mouthed. “One, two, three.”
With their wrists still tied together, Hawk and Samuels sprang to their feet and used their bound hands like battering rams, delivering several wicked punches to the faces of the shocked guards. They never even had a chance to fight back. Once the men were knocked unconscious, Hawk and Samuels helped each other out of their bindings before they exchanged clothes with the guards and returned them to the prisoner position.
“Where are we?” Samuels whispered.
Hawk glanced at one of the men’s watches. “We haven’t been out that long. I’m going to guess somewhere off the coast of Kuwait in the Persian Gulf.”
“And where do you think they’re taking us?”
“Hopefully back to their compound,” Hawk said with a smile.
Samuels shook his head. “You’re one sick man, Brady Hawk. I mean, I’m all for getting dropped into the
