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Paulo continues driving up the cobblestone driveway, and eventually, we come to a clearing where there are a few other cars parked. Paulo pulls into an open spot, and we both get out of the vehicle.
The mansion might have a historical driveway leading up to it, but this place is anything but historical. It looks like it might have been built within the last ten years, with extremely modern designs. There’s a large, oversized door if you walk through a small garden area, and it looks to be the kind that can open vertically if you want it to. I’ve been to some estates with this feature, but I don’t understand the point of it, really. Why would someone want to push their door so far vertically that it has either side of it open? I don’t understand, but it has to be some architectural thing.
I can see there are three levels in front of me, and on each floor, the space gets somewhat smaller. There are glass, wrap-around patios on the top two floors, and I’m sure Duarte must spend a lot of time out here. He has to, right? Who in their right mind would want to pass up the beauty of living in Portugal?
Paulo and I walk up to the pavers in the garden area, and soon, we’re in front of the door. We don’t even get to press the doorbell before there’s an older woman opening the door, smiling brightly at the two of us. “Welcome, Nazyr, and…” She looks at Paulo.
“Paulo, ma’am.”
“Ah! Paulo. My late husband’s name. A strong name.” She nods a couple of times and stares at Paulo like she’s reminiscing about times long ago. “Please, do come in. Duarte is expecting you.” She motions for us to walk into the home, and I’m not surprised by how beautiful the estate is. It’s just as gorgeous on the inside as it is on the outside.
At the end of the foyer is an elevator, which I naturally assume goes to every floor in the home. The hardwood floors are a sand color, and the walls are white. However, the furniture around the place isn’t as bland as the floors or walls. There’s a red wooden feature wall off to our left, with a massive painting hanging from it that reminds me of Eset’s style.
“Please, follow me,” the older woman directs, leading us to the right. We make a sharp left down a hallway, and then we’re in a spacious dining room and living room combination with an oversized bar on the right side of the room. The floor in here is a deep slate, spanned across the entire room. There’s another patio on this level, and I spot a man in a suit with a drink in his hand looking out across the city.
The woman leads us onto the patio, and the man turns, smiling brightly. This has to be Duarte. “Nazyr, it’s great to finally meet you.”
“Likewise, Duarte.”
Duarte looks past me at Paulo. “Your man is more than welcome to go inside and have a drink. As you can see, there is no threat to you. We are simply two men discussing terms, and there is no danger that will come to you in my home or in my country. I run Portugal, and they know you’re an ally of mine.”
I look back at Paulo and give him a nod which silently tells him he can go on and head over to the bar. He does so, and the older woman walks with him, leaving Duarte and me by ourselves.
“I’ve been waiting for a while to conduct business with your brother,” Duarte states.
“Yes, we were a bit surprised you reached out now,” I admit, walking over to the glass railing. I place my arms on it and keep my eyes ahead of me. Duarte has a pool on his property, but that isn’t what I’m staring at. I’m too caught up in the view of Lisbon. The amazing view in front of me.
“I don’t mind waiting for what I want. Your family has been dealing with Anzor and his allies for quite some time. I figured I’d give you time to deal with that mess before I sought out business with you all.”
“Mmm, I understand. What type of product are you looking for?”
“Mainly handguns, carbines, machine guns, sniper rifles, and assault rifles.” Duarte names them off like what he’s asking for isn’t a lot.
I smirk, knowing I’m going to be making a lot of money for my family right now. “How much are you looking to spend on this shipment?”
“750K, easily.”
I nod. “All right. I can get a mixture of everything you need unless you need specific amounts of certain guns.”
“I need two hundred handguns at least.”
I do the math quickly in my head. “That’ll be roughly 80K spent there. Any other specific requests?”
“I need twenty-five machine guns.”
“A little over 230K for those.”
Duarte and I discuss the rest of his order and stretch the total right up to his budget for his first order. “How long do you think it will be before I can get them all?”
“About four weeks. We just have to get the shipment secured, but of course, you know we have to go through certain channels to avoid detection.”
“Of course. I am a bit curious to see if you can do a little better on the pricing.”
I know for a fact I can’t, so I shake my head. “No, I can’t.”
“Is there anything you want that could entice you to change your mind?” Duarte’s questions are becoming a bit more devious now, and I know he has something up his sleeve. Call it a gut instinct, but I just know.
“No, there isn’t.”
