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I say, “You say you’re about to seize a nuclear device to be used against my home country. I’m coming along on this operation.”
“No, you’re not,” Victor says. “Jeremy…yes. He’s been with me a long time. But not you, Madame Amy—you will stay behind.”
I reach into my rear waistband, pull out my 9mm SIG Sauer, point it at Victor.
“I’m not really a stay-behind kind of gal.”
Chapter43
MARCEL PULLSthe van up to the left side of the aircraft’s fuselage. Rashad removes his night-vision goggles, steps out to join him on this pleasant evening. The Cessna’s engine is idling and the spinning propeller kicks up a breeze that feels refreshing.
Marcel goes up to the man from Kazakhstan, who has moved to the tail of the aircraft. They talk for a moment, then Marcel runs back.
“We are ready,” he says.
Rashad ducks into the Fiat, pulls out a leather case, hands it to his trusted associate.
“Make the exchange,” he says.
A minute later Marcel returns. At the open door of the Cessna, two men are working to remove a heavy, bulky item, rectangular in shape and equipped with carrying straps.
Seeing the package being removed, Rashad takes Marcel to the side of the Fiat Doblò, where Marcel unlocks the sliding side door.
“Do we still have enough time?” Marcel asks.
“Allah is on our side,” Rashad says, not bothering to check his watch. “Never doubt, ever again.”
Marcel slides open the door, and a familiar scent comes to Rashad, and there are voices as well.
“God is great,” is muttered, and Rashad thinks,God, and his agent here on earth.
Me.
Chapter44
I SAY,“Be a nice guy, Victor.”
One of the men sitting in front of a monitor calls out something in a fast stream of French. I can make out only some of the phrases, since Parisian French and the Québecois French you learn in Maine aren’t exactly the same.
But I’ve heard enough:
The plane has arrived.
The van has moved.
And local detectors are recording gamma-ray emissions from the area of the aircraft.
Shit.
Maybe I’m wrong…but my gut says otherwise.
Victor spits out something and a heavyset armed man with dark skin steps forward. “This is Carlos Paqua. He will be with you and Jeremy, as your armed escort…and now we must depart. And Madame Amy, I’m sorry to say, we have no protective gear for you.”
I lower my pistol. “Yeah, I can tell that’s really upsetting you. Let’s go.”
Several minutes later I’m with Jeremy, Victor, and two armed men—one of them our bodyguard, Carlos Paqua—in the crowded rear of a black Land Rover Defender. Another Defender is right on our tail. Carlos keeps his attention on Jeremy. I have a feeling that if something bad goes down, Carlos will defend Jeremy first, then get to me at some point after the shooting stops.
When we climbed into the Land Rover earlier, Victor offered Jeremy a protective bullet-resistant vest, and Jeremy in turn offered it to me, and I took it and dropped it on the floor of the Land Rover.
