“So, civilians,” Black said. “How are we treating them?”
“Like gold,” Rapp responded. “None of them gets so much as a scratch.”
“That isn’t going to make life too easy. Does bin Musaid ever leave the house?”
“Not since he arrived,” Claudia responded.
“What are we talking about then?” Black said. “Breaching in broad daylight when the kids and the brother aren’t there? Maybe drugging the guards? You’d need a calculator to count all the things that could go wrong.”
“We’re not taking him at the house,” Rapp said.
“But Claudia said he never leaves.”
Rapp finished his beer and went for another. “Talal bin Musaid isn’t going to spend the rest of his life playing with his nieces. He’s going to want booze and he’s going to want women.”
“I tend to agree,” Azarov said. “And if he’s a wealthy Saudi, it’s likely that he’s spent a great deal of time in Monaco. Do we have any information on his habits when he’s been there in the past?”
“I’m glad you asked,” Claudia said, switching to a slide of a building surrounded by obscenely expensive cars. “This is Terry’s—a very exclusive club on a hill overlooking Monte Carlo. The prince is a member and it’s normally where he spends his evenings.”
“I’ve been there a number of times as a guest of my consulting company’s clients,” Azarov said. “There are a few armed bouncers out front, but their role is more to keep out undesirables than to handle anything serious. Cameras inside. No other security that I’m aware of.”
“Can we get in?” Rapp asked.
“Not without being a member or being accompanied by a member.”
“Then let’s get a membership.”
“Impossible,” Claudia said. “There’s a waiting list a hundred people long and most of them have more money than bin Musaid did.”
“If you’re so sure he’s going there, why not snatch him off the road?” Black said.
“I know how you men like to break things,” Donatella interjected. “But let’s not make this any harder than it is. Unless this is very different from the clubs I’ve been to, beautiful women don’t need a membership. I’ll go in, strike up a conversation with the prince, and he’ll invite me to a hotel. Then it’s just a matter of a quick jab with a needle.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work,” Claudia said.
“Why not?”
“Because while you’re right about beautiful women getting around the membership rules, those women tend to be half your age.”
Rapp tensed, but the ice pick stayed in Donatella’s designer purse. Instead she just waved a hand dismissively. “Bland children.”
She was right, Rapp knew. No one was going for some gangly kid if Donatella Rahn was showing them attention. Unfortunately, there was no way in hell he could say that out loud.
“I don’t like the idea of you going in alone,” he offered instead.
She reached back and put a hand on his knee, a move that was undoubtedly intended to get Claudia’s attention. And, based on her expression, it worked.
“Maybe you should come in with me, Mitch. It would be like old times.”
“I believe Donatella’s plan to be a reasonable one,” Azarov said. “But with one change. It should be me, not Mitch, who goes with her. The clientele of Terry’s includes a lot of people in the extraction industry. It won’t be long before someone appears that I know. When they do, I can just go in with them.”
“I’m not convinced,” Claudia said. “Based on my research, the women bin Musaid’s been involved with tend to be a lot younger and a lot blonder.”
“Probably less Jewish, too,” Donatella said. “It’s not a problem.”
“But—”
“What are we arguing about?” Black said, unintentionally bailing Rapp out. “There isn’t going to be a guy in there that wouldn’t cut his left nut off to get Donatella in the sack. This is a no-brainer.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Claudia asked.
“Then we’ll move on to plan B,” Rapp said. “But I don’t see any drawbacks here. If Donatella blows it, she and Grisha have a couple of drinks and we go home.”
“How are we going to cover . . .” Her voice faded at the sound of vehicles roaring up to the front of the church. Everyone got to their feet, and Black went for the door.
“Claudia, you’re going out the back,” Rapp said. “Donatella, go with her.”
“What are you talking about?” Donatella protested. “I—”
“Shut up! I’m holding you personally responsible for Claudia’s safety. Are you listening? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She frowned and looked over at the younger woman. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to your little French girl.”
By the time he and Azarov entered the main section of the church, Black was already unlocking the main doors. He started to pull one back and it was immediately shoved inward with enough force to almost knock him off his feet. A flood of locals in dirty fatigues rushed in, spreading out and aiming their assault rifles in what seemed to be random directions. They were smart enough to worry about potential threats, but too young and poorly trained to know where to look for them.
A few moments later, a more senior man in slightly less grimy camo entered. He was obviously in charge but had the look of someone who had gained his rank by being older and more brutal than the children he led instead of being more competent. Either way, his ragtag troops were clearly afraid of him. While their guns had settled on Rapp, Azarov, and Black, their attention remained on their commander.
“NaNomi!” Black said after he’d regained his balance. “Great to see you! How’s Abdo doing? They tell me he has a touch of malaria.”
“He heard you met with Kariem,” the African said. “That you are going to stop selling us guns.”
“Why would I do that? You’re my best customer and Kariem’s an asshole. I’ve got you guys covered like always.”
“Then I want to buy.”
Black let out a low whistle. “My inventory’s wiped out right now. But I have a shipment coming in soon, and when I do, you’ll be the first guy I call.”
The African grabbed Black by the hair and yanked his head back. Rapp moved his hand subtly toward the gun beneath his shirt but didn’t reach for it. In his peripheral vision he saw Azarov do the same.
“Or maybe you won’t call!” the African shouted. “Maybe you’re trying to starve us of weapons so Kariem can massacre us!”
He pulled out a massive combat knife and held it to Black’s neck. Rapp didn’t react. It was all for show. NaNomi wasn’t there to kill his boss’s arms dealer. Just to provide him with a little motivation.
“That’s not true!” Black said emphatically. “In fact, those two guys back there are my suppliers. I was just placing an order when you showed up.”
The African released him and started toward Azarov as Black fell to the floor.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
Azarov bowed his head respectfully. “I’m Grisha.”
“A Russian.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And is what Kent says true? Are you here to sell him weapons?”
“I am, sir.”
NaNomi turned and strode toward Rapp. “And you? Who are you?”
Rapp just stared back at him.
“I asked you a question!” he said, bringing the knife up.
They didn’t have time for this shit. The details for the Monaco op needed to be finalized and all the logistics needed to be ironed out before bin Musaid ventured out of his brother’s house. None of that was going to be possible with this tool nosing around.
The silence drew out long enough that Black finally filled it. “That’s Mitch. He’s an American. T
hey’re bidding against each other. I’m trying to get Abdo the best price.”
“Is that true?” NaNomi asked.
By way of an answer, Rapp grabbed the man’s wrist, yanking his arm out and snapping it at the elbow. When NaNomi dropped the knife, Rapp caught it, then drove it into the top of his skull hard enough that the point came through his chin.
The room’s reaction was easily predicted. Azarov just stood there, watching calmly. Black ran and dove over an overturned pew. NaNomi’s men froze.
It was unlikely that any one of the young guerrillas had ever made a decision on their own in their lives. Now they were faced with an impossible one. Did they avenge NaNomi even if it meant killing the men who supplied their leader with weapons? Did they just ignore what had happened and go report back? Did they grab the white men and take them?
No, what they desperately wanted was for someone to give them an order to follow. And Rapp was happy to oblige.
“Get out,” he said. “Tell Abdo he’ll have his weapons next week and we’re going to give him forty percent off his normal deal.”
They just stood there for a few seconds. Finally, one on the right started for the door. The movement seemed to break the others from their trance and they began to follow.
“Hold on,” Rapp said, pointing to the corpse at his feet. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Two of the boys scurried over and dragged what was left of NaNomi outside. A few moments later they were speeding back up the road.
“What the fuck?” Black said, dropping the rifle he’d had stashed behind the pew. “Why did you do that?”
When Rapp didn’t answer, Azarov spoke up. “NaNomi wasn’t sent here to threaten, Kent. He was sent to get weapons. He would have stayed and held us until your shipment arrived. We don’t have time for these kinds of distractions.”
“Distractions? That’s easy for you to say—you don’t live here. You don’t work with these psychos. Do you know what Abdo did to the last guy who screwed him on a deal? He smeared meat on the guy’s dick and then turned a hyena loose on it. And not just any hyena. His pet hyena. That’s right. The guy keeps a fucking hyena as a pet.”
Rapp turned and started for the office. “You worry too much, Kent. You need to learn to relax.”
CHAPTER 27
The Principality of Monaco
WHAT do you think?” Claudia said, stopping at the edge of the dock and spreading her arms wide.
The yacht was a good hundred and fifty feet, its three decks glowing white in the setting sun. A gangway was connected to the back, but Rapp could see no evidence of anyone on board.
“Subtle,” he said.
She led the group into an expansive living area that was a sea of polished brass, gleaming wood, and immaculate furniture. There was even a futuristic wet bar along the port side.
“Before everyone starts thinking I’m insane,” she said, turning to face them, “this actually is pretty subtle in the context of Monaco. And it doubles as a getaway vehicle. Plus, should we need to get rid of any evidence, I have a chart of some of the deeper waters in the area. There’s a helicopter pad and a speedboat that can be quickly deployed if necessary. Finally, it has enough bedrooms and bathrooms to accommodate all of us.”
“Crew?” Rapp said.
“Congolese. They’ll be arriving tonight. I’ve worked with them before. Good sailors, discreet, and between all of them they probably speak no more than ten words of English.”
“Very thorough,” Azarov said.
Claudia’s smile was a little forced. She was still terrified of the man.
“I have to admit,” Donatella said, “the little French girl has come through.”
“Hell, yeah,” Black agreed. “This is what I’m talking about.”
“I’ve had people watching Terry’s and have photos of everyone going in and out,” Claudia said. “There’s a tablet on the bar with the pictures. Grisha, could you take a look and see if you know any of them?”
He sat on one of the stools and slid the device toward him.
“We’ve had one change in the situation since the briefing in Juba,” she continued. Two bodyguards have come in from Saudi Arabia. They’re both former Saudi army and have worked for bin Musaid before. They’re with him at his brother’s house now and I think we can assume they’ll go with him if he leaves the compound.
“How are they getting paid? I thought we got everything.”
“He had them on retainer. There was nothing I could do about that.”
“So are we considering them civilians?” Black asked. “Or can we take them out?”
“Claudia?” Rapp said.
“No terrorist ties. Just former soldiers making a living.”
“There’s your answer,” Rapp said.
“Great,” Black grumbled.
“That could make getting bin Musaid out of the hotel room more complicated,” Rapp said. “If they stay in the car or in the lobby, it’s not an issue; but if they decide to post in the hallway, we’ve got problems.”
“Agreed,” Claudia said, turning on a big-screen TV and connecting her laptop. A picture of a luxurious hotel suite appeared a moment later.
“We’ve rented this room at the Metropole for Donatella to take the prince back to. We also have the one next door.”
“Do we have a shot of the hall outside?”
“Of course.” She switched the view and Rapp took a few steps forward, examining the details.
“I wouldn’t stand next to the door if I were them. I’d go to one on either end of the hall. Access?”
“The emergency stairs are on the left of the passage. On the right is the elevator.”
“Cameras?”
“Yes, but I can disable them.”
Rapp nodded. “Okay. Grisha and I can handle this. We’ll stun gun them and drag them into the room when Donatella gives us the signal.”
“How are we getting the body out?” Black asked.
“I didn’t see any reason not to just stick with the classics,” Rapp responded.
“Laundry cart?” Donatella said.
“Exactly.”
Claudia switched to a shot of a woman in a maid’s uniform pushing a cart large enough to cram bin Musaid into.
“This will be in Donatella’s room and I’m having a uniform made for her.” She glanced in the former model’s direction. “Size eight?”
Donatella’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Is it common for one of those carts to be on that floor?” Rapp asked. He knew the answer but was anxious to break the death stare the women had fixed on each other.
“No,” Claudia responded, turning back toward him. “But all we have to do is get it to the elevator. Then I can send you nonstop to the basement.”
“What about me?” Black said.
“You have a top-floor flat to the west of Terry’s. There’s a good-sized private terrace for you to set your rifle up on. The range is just over five hundred meters, but light winds are forecasted throughout the week.”
“Doesn’t sound like there will be anything to shoot at,” he said, disappointed.
“The hope is that you’ll just be spotting for us,” Rapp said. “But you know what hope’s worth.”
Claudia turned toward the Russian, who was now perusing the bar’s bourbon selection. “Any luck, Grisha?”
“I know two of the men in these pictures. One more I have a passing acquaintance with.”
“Okay,” she said. “Can you show me which ones? I can start getting background on their movements and find out if they have reservations at the club going forward. Why don’t the rest of you go pick out your bedrooms?”
Black grabbed his duffle and disappeared almost immediately. Donatella took her time, pausing next to Rapp as she passed. “It’s a very romantic
boat, no? Perhaps we should meet on the upper deck later. Say, midnight?”
“Give it a rest, Donatella.”
“Ah, yes. The little French girl. She’s quite beautiful. Why don’t you ask her to join us?”
* * *
Rapp leaned against the bow rail and stared out at the city lights. Fifty yards to his left, a yacht even larger than theirs was crawling with noisy kids who looked to be in their early twenties. The champagne was flowing and an increasing number of girls were abandoning their bikini tops. When he was that age, he’d thought a scholarship to Syracuse, a suburban girlfriend, and a six-pack of Busch was a pretty good deal.
He heard footsteps coming up behind him on the deck but didn’t bother to turn. He’d been living with Claudia long enough to know her gait.
“Everyone’s asleep,” she said, slipping her arms around him. “Are you coming to bed? Or are you going to join the party on the other boat?”
“It’s a nice night. I thought I’d enjoy it for a while. Did you talk to Anna? How is she?”
“Good. She’s on her way to see Tommy’s lacrosse match with Irene but asked me to remind you to wear your seat belt.”
They’d told her that the injuries he’d suffered in Pakistan were the result of a car crash. Now she was obsessed with what she perceived to be his unsafe driving habits.
“Have you ironed out all the details?” he asked.
“Almost. The parking garage cameras are the last thing. Oddly, they’re more difficult to access than the ones in the building. It’ll be taken care of by tomorrow afternoon.”
“With a little luck, this could actually go smoothly.”
“Oh, I doubt it.”
He turned toward her. “Are there issues we haven’t talked about?”