Fight Fire With Fire. Amy J. Fetzer
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“Had they, they would be dead.”
She nodded once, regally. “Sometimes loyalty accompanies strict rules of self-preservation. Your clever discretion and influence has earned his admiration.”
His brows knit as he considered what would bend her loyalty.
He stood with her.
“It’s in your best interest to keep the genius alive and out of Western hands.” She tossed the napkin on the table. “Bring him to us.” She turned away, starting toward the plane.
He called to her, but she didn’t stop, and he rushed to grasp her arm. He heard the click of bullets chambered and looked at the plane. From under the open staircase, two men advanced from either side and aimed rifles with infrared scopes. The gaping entrance in the fuselage remained empty, yet a gun barrel slid from hiding.
She didn’t have to tell him to let go. He put his hands up, stepping back.
“Again you have underestimated, Cale.”
His gaze narrowed. He didn’t like anyone calling him that.
“Anticipating your enemy is necessary for success,” she said.
“I’m not your enemy. We are equal partners.”
“Equal?”
“I am risking everything while your boss hides in the shadows giving orders,” he snarled at her, taking a step closer and ignoring the men with weapons.
“Are you not capable of the task?”
“Do not insult me, woman. Of course I—”
“Then enough.”
The words weren’t sharply spoken, but he felt their bite. Something shifted between them and not in his favor.
“Do you want more money, is that it? Or simply to see a face when it’s shown to you several times already?” She flicked her hand at the jet and men. “We have step one. Now stop this… whining and fulfill your obligations.” She spun away and mounted the steps. “Succeed, and the rewards will be many, Barasa.” She paused to look back at him, smile, and add, “And I don’t mean in virgins.”
Barasa chuckled under his breath, admiring her ass shifting inside the gray cloth as she took the stairs. She never once looked back as she was swallowed inside the jet. The guards filed in, the door raising on a hydraulic hush and the locks clamped it seamlessly. Barasa hurried away as the engine powered up for takeoff.
“Hey,” someone said and he looked at the guard standing near his car.
“Address me as sir and nothing else. What do I pay you for?”
“Answering your phones.” The beefy man held out a clean one.
He suddenly realized that the woman couldn’t have arrived so quickly if she hadn’t known where he was first. He stared at the phone. She must have tracked it and while removing the GPS would end her watchful eye, the phone wouldn’t work without it. Disposable cells were easier. He put the phone to his ear.
“We have the package,” the gravely voice said.
Barasa snickered. Of that, he did not doubt. “Bring him to me, and take away his phone.”
“Yes sir.”
He waited till the jet banked off the runway and into the sky, then slid into the back of the town car. He wasn’t without influence and scrolled through his phone numbers for just the right advantage. He didn’t doubt Odette and her mysterious master were doing the same to him. He hadn’t survived in this business by being careless.
Max’s words pushed Riley, his arms pumping as he ran. He darted into the street, around people and cyclists, then jumped a cart, spilling baskets to the ground. A hunched man shouted at him in Mandarin, and his new kneecaps held up as he sprinted out of the dreary projects onto a newly paved street. Cars raced dangerously close together. He stopped, catching his breath. A traffic circle was packed with little cars like bugs marching to a nest. It led off in three directions but not anywhere he wanted to go. He watched the cars, then stepped into traffic. Horns honked, drivers shouted. A cab came so close he felt it brush and he figured it was now or get killed standing here. He darted between cars, then hopped on the back of a pint sized Carmen Gia, holding on as it took him around the curve. The driver shouted at him and Riley felt the bumper give under his weight. He had to jump, his target coming fast.
This is gonna hurt. He pushed off, but the driver sped up a fraction, and he tumbled to the road. His elbow burned as he rolled away from the street, then hopped to his feet.
“Finn, come back.”
Riley frowned. Why was he using call signs? “I hear you.”
“He’s on the docks.” Max’s voice popped in his ear. “Two men in a boat heading toward him. Christ, the package waves like a pansy.”
Riley paused on the balls of his feet, spying between the trees. The river looked almost black from the road. It was deceiving, the tributaries only hip deep. It confused him when he heard the soft putt of a motor and he rushed into the trees toward the water. Two men in a flat bottom boat floated toward the dock, the trolling motor small enough to accommodate the low water level. The pair in the boat looked like any local; big shirts over a muscle tank, but that’s where it ended. Riley was thinking fast as Vaghn waved with big gestures. It annoyed his chauffeur as he expertly slid the boat sideways to the dock.
“Back off, Drac.”
“We’ll lose him.”
“They’ve been here before and the locals know it. Look at them.” On their approach, people vanished, retreating into huts, dropping what they were doing and melting into the forest along the banks. “That’s too familiar.”
He recognized fear in their faces. If just showing up provoked that, then it was probably a smuggling trail. Within moments, there was only Vaghn, the docks, and his cabbies. The boat rocked as Vaghn stepped in and apparently not fast enough. The cabbie yanked him into the center seat, his partner in the rear. They used the long handled paddles to push away and under their loose shirts, Riley saw weapons.
“Christ, they’ve got an Israeli Galeils, and I’ve got two magazines. Sebastian where are you, man?”
“Stuck behind a rickshaw,” Sebastian said. “ I could walk there.”
He looked back at the road and saw the hood of the truck behind a cycle cart. “When you can, go north, cut them off.”
“What are you thinking?”
He told them.
Sebastian snorted. “You don’t actually think that will work, do you?”
“We don’t have much choice now that he has help. And I’m not into automatic gunfire with so many locals nearby.”
He wasn’t leaving without Vaghn. No bloody question about it. He hauled ass to get further ahead of them. The craft was moving slow, idling in the short canal as one man used a cell phone, the call no more than seconds. The main body of water was just a few yards ahead. The only path was around hundreds of soggy juts of land. Riley moved out on one of them, stopping to yank on thick green vines and cut a portion. He turned in a small circle to wrap it around his chest, then moved further out on the peninsula.
Max appeared in the forest several yards to his right. He crouched low, winded, then swiped his hand over his face. “That’s some definite skill there.”
“The norm lately, huh?” Riley approached a tree and quickly climbed.
Max moved into position. “This better work.”
The armed twins kept an eye on their surroundings and only the dense undergrowth concealed Riley. Broad branches curled without direction, the porous limbs seeking water and light. Soft moss coated the north side, and he slipped, hitting his chin, nearly biting off