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Rapp swung the gun around on the other man, who was caught between the door and Hurley. He was never going to make it, so he stopped and put his hands up in the air.
"Shoot him," Hurley ordered in a raspy voice.
Rapp squeezed the trigger and buried a bullet in the man's forehead.
"Get me down ... quick," Hurley hissed.
"What about him?" Rapp asked, pointing the gun at Radih, who was showing signs of life.
"Get me down first."
Rapp ripped through the last bit of tape while he ran over to the wall and untied the makeshift pulley. Hurley dropped the short distance to the floor, landing on his feet. He wavered for a second and then caught his balance.
"Give me that gun," Hurley ordered, "and check the right thigh pocket of that second one you shot. He should have a knife."
Rapp placed the gun in Hurley's hands and went off to search for the knife.
Hurley walked over to Radih, whose arms were starting to flop around as if he was waking up from a deep sleep. Hurley stomped on his stomach, and the Palestinian's eyes popped open. Hurley bent over and pressed the suppressor against Radih's chest. Looking into his eyes, he said, "You should have killed me when you had the chance, you piece of shit." Hurley pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER 65
TWO of the sedans pulled into the hangar and three more stopped just outside. All of the doors opened at roughly the same time and a dozen well-armed men fanned out, creating a barrier at the door, effectively sealing Ivanov off from his Spetsnaz escort.
Ivanov looked at the commander with extreme disappointment.
Mughniyah approached with a confident grin on his face. Four of his bodyguards trailed a few paces back. "Mikhail, welcome to Beirut."
"I would hardly call this a welcome."
"You will have to excuse all of this, but I am not in a good mood today."
"And why is that?"
"Because I just found out that you have been scheming behind my back yet again."
"What are you talking about?"
"You will notice that our Iraqi and Iranian
friends are not here."
"Why?" Sayyed asked, alarmed by the news.
"Because I found out that Mikhail had made a deal with them. Didn't you, Mikhail?"
Ivanov tried to laugh the question away as if it was a harmless maneuver.
Mughniyah turned his attention back to Sayyed and said, "He set the ceiling at five million. The others were going to bow out and let him win."
"What did you do with them?" Sayyed asked.
"For the moment they are my guests. I will decide if I am going to kill them later."
Ivanov clasped his hands together and laughed. Mughniyah was proving to be much smarter than he had given him credit for. "You have outsmarted me, Imad. That does not happen very often. Would you like me to leave, or would you like to discuss business? Negotiate some terms, perhaps?"
"I will negotiate nothing with you. I am going to name a price and you are going to pay it."
"Really?" Ivanov said. "And what if I decide I don't like your price?"
