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The call comes as soon as I pass through the gate. Dieter’s English is good, though his German accent is thick. He introduces himself, explains the nature of his services, and jumps right into haggling over payment. When we agree to terms, I give him a phone number, and hang up.
I call Reina next.
“Adrienne,” she says, drawing out my name. “I hope you didn’t call to whine about being stuck—”
“In about a half hour, a German man named Dieter is going to call you. He’s the head of a mercenary militia group that came highly recommended. They’re on their way to Greece, and he needs to know where to meet you.”
She says nothing. I hear her smoking on the other end. I’m grinning from ear to ear, fidgeting and excited out of my mind. I’m doing this, I’m really doing this. Finally, she exhales, and I can almost smell the smoke.
“This is a joke, yes?”
“No, it’s not a joke. When your phone rings, answer it. Dieter’s retainer has been paid and his people have been funded for at least a month. Do with them what you will.”
“Adrienne.” She sounds like she can barely believe it. “How? And why?”
“I decided that I’m sick of being something I’m not, and besides, I feel like some of this money is yours too. I’m going to use all the resource at my disposal, and fuck what anyone thinks and fuck what it makes me. I’m coming back to Greece, Reina, and we’re going to kill Rastus Filo.”
She lets out a low, earthy chuckle, and I wonder if I’ve ever heard her laugh before. “I can’t wait to see you, sister,” she says.
“The German will call soon and I’ll be on the next flight.”
“D’accord. A bientôt.”
She hangs up and I can’t stop grinning as I type the Philadelphia airport into my phone’s GPS.
Chapter27
Peter
The large black Range Rover rolls down the road toward Crete’s interior. It’s night and this part of the island is pitch dark with only moonlight and starlight to guide us. It’s quiet in the cab—the driver, a big German guy named Dieter, stares straight ahead. He’s wearing all black fatigues with body armor and tactical gear strapped to his waist and legs. A dark hat is pulled down low over his eyes. In the back, two more soldiers sit in full combat gear, with Reina stuck between them. Reina’s wearing something similar minus the hat, her hair in a tight braid, a sub-machine gun in her lap.
I pull the slide back on my rifle, check to make sure it’s loaded and ready, and lean back in my seat.
“Contact in ten,” Dieter says as we get close to the dirt track. Ahead of us, the lead Rover is moving into position, while the Rover behind stays close to our tail. Each vehicle is filled with dangerous, hardened, and well-armed Germans with a very strange thirst for violence and action.
I don’t know where the hell Reina found these men or how she’s paying for them—this whole operation must cost a small fortune—but the money doesn’t matter to me so long as we get results. I think of Adrienne safe back in LA and I’m happy she’s not here to see this.
The second Reina came to me with the plan and her mercenaries already in tow, I knew it was the answer to all our problems. A bloody, ugly answer, but the only way forward.
Storm the Filo compound.
Kill Rastus.
Make the other crime lords understand that they don’t have any other choice anymore.
We’re in charge now.
“Hold tight,” Dieter says as he hits the dirt track hard. We trundle down the uneven terrain. Instead of slowing, he hits the accelerator. He gets a communication from the lead car in German over the radio. “Plan is a go. Weapons hot,” he translates.
“Reina, you stay in the car.” I glance at her in the rearview mirror.
She makes a face. “You stay in the car, you pansy little American boy.”
The Germans all laugh at that and I grin. “If you get killed, Adrienne’s going to be pissed. Please try to survive.”
“Like Adrienne will give a shit.” But she rolls her eyes. “I have no plans to die tonight.”
“Good.” I look at Dieter. “You understand the deal here?”
