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“None I can see,” Wick said. “What are your orders, Mitch? They’re starting to move. You’ve got less than a minute before they’re too scattered to take out with a missile strike.”
“Tell the Reaper to stand down,” Rapp said as the terrain opened up a bit. There was no way those men were going to catch him andthere wasn’t another inhabited settlement for at least thirty klicks in any direction. “I’m going to stay on this heading. Pick me up eight miles south in an hour. By then they’ll be far back enough that you won’t have to worry about taking fire.”
“If you say so,” Maslick responded. “Enjoy your workout.”
CHAPTER 5
PARIS
FRANCE
ITwas well after midnight and the quiet neighborhood in the 16th arrondissement was completely silent. The homes visible outside the limousine’s windows looked much like they had a century ago—dark, imposing, and exclusive. Damian Losa gazed at them as they passed, but his mind was lost in other places. Other times.
His driver finally pulled up in front of one of the grander structures, a neoclassical villa partially obscured by an iron gate and manicured grounds. He’d never seen it before and, after his stay, he’d never see it again. Such were the security measures necessary for a man like him.
“Sir?” his driver said hesitantly. “I’m sorry, but there’s no parking on the property. You’ll have to walk.”
The men from Losa’s lead and chase car stepped out onto the street, moving in various directions to secure the area. Once satisfied, one of them opened the gate and another led him to the open front door.
Losa passed through alone, entering a cavernous vestibule withspotless marble floors and abundant artwork that bordered on the grandiose. A young woman appeared at the other end, tilting her head inquisitively as he approached.
Isabella had come into his orbit shortly after her graduation from college in Venezuela. The collapse of the country and death of her family had happened almost simultaneously, leaving her alone and without much hope. Initially his housekeeper, she now managed what could loosely be called his personal life.
Humorless to the point of being robotic, she’d proved to be one of his better acquisitions. The loss of her country, her future, and her loved ones had stripped her of all desire. She’d concluded that the pain of loss was greater than the joy of having. It was an attitude that translated into steadfast reliability. Her work was all she had, and she aspired to nothing more.
“You’re alone,” she observed, a hint of concern visible on her normally expressionless face. Selecting the Girl had been her duty and she’d be concerned that she’d performed it inadequately.
“She was lovely, Isabella. I just have too much on my mind.”
“Do you know how many days you’ve taken off in the last month?”
“I don’t. But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“None. You work fifteen hours a day, seven days a week. No one—not even you—can sustain that.”
“Of course,” he said as he approached. “You’re right. Next time. But tonight, could you call Julian? I need to speak with him.”
“Do you realize it’s almost one in the morning?”
“I do.”
She gave a short nod and pointed behind her. “You’ll find what you’re looking for at the end and to the right.”
“Thank you, Isabella.”
He followed her directions to a wood-paneled study dominated by a fireplace large enough to stand in. Because of the summer temperatures, a fire wasn’t appropriate, but a series of flickering candles offered an adequate substitute. On a desk near the window, he found a bottleof Perrier and used an ornate knife to cut a slice of lime. It was something he preferred to do himself. Many of his associates speculated that it was out of fear of being poisoned but, in fact, it was just another reminder of his mother’s kitchen.
Losa sat and focused on the tiny flames, sipping calmly from a cut-crystal glass. The older he got, the more he found himself thinking about how he’d become what he was. The violent early days as he broke into the business and tried to carve out a place in it. The increasing complexity and sophistication as his star rose. The rapid, sometimes uncontrollable, expansion that had made him a target of the dangerous men he was overtaking. And finally, the reversal of those roles as he fought to prevent someone younger, more motivated, and more merciless from doing the same to him.
Not that he had any right to complain about how his life had unfolded. Many of the people he dealt with had been born with very little hope. They had learned to kill or be killed while still in the cradle. He, on the other hand, had become the man he was for no better reason than that he was easily bored. And one day that conscious decision would be the end of him.
But not today.
His lieutenant arrived half an hour later, looking no more or less disheveled than he usually did. Seven years Losa’s junior, Julian was in every way his opposite. He’d been born into a family of Mexican thieves that had put him to work in the street as soon as he was able. There had been no time for school or any thought of escape. Nor had there been any need. The man was brilliant, devoted, and had a ruthlessness that was much more calculated than most of his peers.
Thirty years ago, Julian had been one of Losa’s first contacts in the criminal world, and the only one willing to take him seriously. He’d been a witness to the first man Losa had killed. To the first million-dollar deal he’d made. To his first meeting with a head of state and the day his net worth topped a billion.
What made them such a stable team, though, was Julian’s self-awareness. He recognized his general lack of vision and the fact that he would never be able to move in the circles that Losa navigated so effortlessly. He recognized the weight of Losa’s crown and preferred to hide in its shadow rather than risk trying to steal it.
