Once inside, he approached one of the seated bank officers and announced that he would need to get into the vault. The older woman was courteous and efficient, and after his palm was verified by the wall scanner, she escorted him to the safe-deposit room and left him to his task, assuring him that all he needed to do was push the green button on the wall intercom if he required anything further.
Matt moved down the bank of locked compartments and stopped at one of the larger ones, then removed a key from his wallet and slid it into the lock. It opened with a soft click. He extracted the long drawer and reclosed the compartment before carrying the container to one of the adjacent rooms. After shutting the door behind him, he scanned the chamber for any indication of cameras. Thankfully, like the other room he’d used there, it was just four seamless walls and a ceiling, with no surprises evident.
Matt slid a steel chair from beneath the metal table and set the box down, then lifted the lid and removed one of a dozen black velvet bags. Smiling to himself, he pulled a ladies’ coin purse from his pocket and unsnapped the top, then turned his attention to the black sack. He undid the drawstring and tapped out fifty-five diamonds, each four to six carats, D color, VVSI and IF clarity. After doing a quick mental calculation, he removed another dozen, and then scooped them into the coin purse before removing six more and placing them into an envelope he’d bought on the way there.
His project completed, he stowed the still-bulging pouch of stones back into the box and slid the coin purse and envelope into his front pocket as he rose to carry the drawer into the vault room.
Two minutes later he was back on the street, anonymous in the throng, looking nothing like a man who had ten million dollars in his cargo pants. Glancing at his watch, he figured that he easily had time for a leisurely lunch and a trip back to his hotel to stash all the stones except the ones he planned to sell. He wove his way through the hodgepodge of cars and retraced his steps to his room. After locking the diamonds in his room safe, he set off for a Chinese restaurant near the buyer’s offices, where he’d eaten a few times.
Navigating the streets of Bangkok felt as natural as breathing for Matt, and he wondered absently as he meandered down the sidewalk whether he would ever get Thailand out of his system or feel nearly as comfortable anywhere else. After spending decades there, he’d grown used to the customs and idiosyncrasies. A shapely young Thai woman almost collided with him, and as he apologized for his carelessness his thoughts gravitated to Jet, and he imagined himself with her, somewhere in South America. Maybe he could get used to Argentina – a country he’d never visited, but was game to try. At this stage of his life the future was a blank canvas – for the first time in forever he wasn’t either hiding from someone or on a mission.
As he saw the sign for the Golden Moon restaurant, Matt realized that he had absolutely no idea what to do next – and that he was comfortable with that, as long as he was sharing his time with Jet. True, they were an odd pairing, but he had resolved not to question things too closely and instead follow his gut and see where it led. After all, he had plenty of money, and his enemies were either dead or in disarray, so he could afford to be directionless for a while.
He pushed through the restaurant doors and surveyed the large dining room as a waiter approached him. The lunch crowd hadn’t appeared yet, so he took a table near the rear and ordered, then waited the longer-than-usual time it took to prepare it, reminding himself again where he was. Bangkok functioned at its own pace, and everything took longer than it should. It was just part of the charm that made the place unique.
Once he had finished, he placed a call to his buyer to see if he could move the meeting up an hour since he was running early. Niran sounded overly cheerful when he came on the line, but agreed to Matt’s proposal, assuring him that he had the cash and could do the transaction whenever Matt wanted. They agreed to meet in an hour, and then Matt disconnected, pleased that his errands were almost finished. Perhaps he’d fly to Phuket and spend a couple of days on the beach. He was on no particular schedule, so maybe some relaxation away from everything would do him good.
The taxi dropped him in front of the jeweler’s building – one of the most prestigious boutiques in a city that boasted enormous wealth. Matt entered the cool showroom, nodding to the fashionably attired sales people he passed, and walked to the rear of the shop where a stunning young woman pouted at him from behind a glass display case.
“Something special for a lady friend?” she asked in perfect English, flashing a smile as bright as a solar flare.
Matt shook his head, taking in her expensive blouse and a fitted black dress that clung to her like a second skin.
“No, I’m here to see Niran. I have an appointment. Could you tell him Ralph is here to see him?” he asked in equally flawless Thai. She reappraised him and then turned to a wall phone and dialed a two digit extension before whispering into it.
“Niran will see you now. Please follow me,” she instructed, and then buzzed open the little half door by her perfectly toned thighs so he could trail her into the administrative offices.
They walked down an onyx-floored hallway, and she offered another megawatt smile as her glittering eyes flitted to the armed security guards framing the front entry. Matt strode behind her, admiring her fluid stride, as smooth as if she was gliding on ball bearings. He edged past her as she beckoned to Niran’s door.
“I know the way. Thanks,” he said, then grasped the lever and twisted it as she spun on stiletto heels to return to her sales duties. He stepped into the spacious office, and an obese Thai man wearing a garish red and orange Hawaiian shirt and white linen pants, sweating in spite of the frigid air pumping from the air conditioner, rounded an enormous desk to greet him.
“My friend. It’s been too long. May I get you a refreshment? Something cool to drink? Water or a soda…or perhaps something stronger?” Niran asked, eyeing Matt like a wolf eyes a lamb.
“I’m good. Thanks for seeing me early. I’ve got a ton of stuff to take care of today. You have the money here?” he asked, in the customarily brusque manner he affected when doing these transactions.
“But of course. In the safe.” Niran gestured to a glass-topped table on one side of the room with a scope, a scale and a variety of gemological instruments on it. “Please. Take a seat and let’s get a look at what you’ve got for me today.”
Matt did as requested and removed the envelope from his pocket, then slid it across the table to Niran. “As always, they’re top of the color and clarity scale. Probably worth more like one point two wholesale, but everyone’s got to make a few bucks, right?” Matt said.
Niran studied the stones greedily, trying to mask his delight, and after a few minutes carefully examining each, he nodded. “It’s too bad the market’s been so soft lately. They’re beautiful. But I’m not sure they’d bring what you think they would.”
Matt leaned back, smiling, relaxed. “That’s a shame for you then, my friend. As I said, I have others that would be more than happy to buy them at the offered price. Perhaps you’d like to take only half, and I’ll find a home for the others? To mitigate your risk, of course.”
Niran’s face tightened. “I didn’t say that I wouldn’t take them. It’s more a question of value…”
“As always. Look, I know they’re worth at least twenty to thirty percent more than I’m asking. I know that because this is my business, and I’m not a stupid man. If making that margin – assuming you flipped them to a wholesaler and didn’t double or triple your money selling them retail – isn’t enough for a day’s work, then no hard feelings, it’s time for me to get going, and I wish you nothing but success in your future endeavors.”
Niran sighed noisily. “You drive a hard bargain, my friend, but for you, I will pay more than I should. Nine-fifty. It’s the realities of the new marketplace. Since the economic crisis…”
“Nine seventy-five, or I’m wasting my time, you pirate.” Matt fully expected to take a small ha
ircut, and he frankly didn’t care about the final number that much – it was still a hell of a lot of money.
Both men grinned as Niran considered pushing back one last time; and then sizing Matt up, thought better of it.
“Fine. Rob me. Just take my money and leave me destitute. I don’t care. I’ll do this out of friendship. Nine seventy-five it is. Love is blind,” Niran said with an exaggerated eye roll. Matt watched him carefully as he put the diamonds back into the envelope, stood, and waddled to the safe.
It took less than five minutes to verify the number of hundred dollar bills in the brick-thick stacks using the automated bill counter. Once Matt was done, he returned the rubber band-wrapped bundles to the chocolate-colored leather satchel in which Niran had carried them and rose, his business with the Thai merchant concluded. He looked at his watch, confirmed that he had adequate time to make it to his other bank to deposit the funds, and said his goodbyes. Niran buzzed the showroom, and the same Thai woman returned to escort Matt to the exit, offering another brilliant flash of teeth as she showed him out.
Back on the sidewalk, he crossed the street and made for the intersection. Thirty seconds later he’d flagged down a taxi, and after giving the driver the address of his bank, he reclined into the seat and closed his eyes for a moment, another milestone completed.
A red Yamaha motorcycle pulled from the curb where it had been parked eighty yards from the jeweler. The rider eased the powerful bike into the dense stream of vehicles, the black tinted glass of his helmet shielding his eyes from the sun as he took up a position behind the car, following at a safe distance as the taxi progressed in fits and starts toward the financial district.
“I have him,” the rider said in Thai, speaking into a tiny helmet microphone as he shifted gears and goosed the throttle, swerving to avoid the fender of a limousine that was intent on changing lanes.
“Good. You know what to do.”
Chapter 21
Benghazi, Libya
Jet performed her final equipment check, the FN F2000 bullpup assault rifle loaded, night vision goggles functioning reasonably well. The two new Mossad operatives next to her were alert and seemed competent, their young faces already toughened by training and the demands of covert field operations.
It was midnight, and the lights in the house had gone out two hours before. They’d been watching from down the street in a stolen green van, and other than an occasional vehicle or a hastily moving pedestrian anxious to get home, the dirt road was deserted, the lights also off in the surrounding buildings. A black and white cat, more skin and bones than anything, darted from the heaps of fresh garbage rotting by the few wooden light poles, and Jet watched its progress through the goggles before flipping up the viewing screen and facing the two men.
“Okay. We’ll do this exactly as I laid out. I’ll go into the construction site and neutralize the night watchman, then radio you. Adam, you wait by the front gate, and Levi, you stand by with the engine running – we might need to make a very fast getaway. Avoid shooting unless there’s no other option. Even with the suppressors, these things will make a racket, and we’re in a quasi-war zone.” Luther had come through with not only the F2000 rifles, but also silencers for all their weapons.
“So you’re going in from the construction site, and then when you give the word I’m to breach the front gate and come in after you to extract any survivors. Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you? Levi can still keep the van running, and duck out to blow the gate on our signal,” Adam suggested.
“Negative. I want to go in alone. With any luck I can secure the house before they know what hit them, and you’ll be in a better position to help from the road. We have to be in and out as quickly as possible – the militia is still in control of this sector and we’ll have to avoid them. Just stick with the plan, with no variation. Do you understand?” she asked, her tone firm.
Both men nodded. Adam clearly wasn’t happy about his role, but he’d been ordered to take his commands from Jet, and he knew better than to argue – the instructions came from the very top.
Jet studied their faces. “Give me three minutes to get situated. I’ll radio when I’m about to go in. Adam, get into position immediately after. This is going to go down fast. Any questions?”
“No, I’m playing chauffeur, and Adam will hold the door. You get all the fun,” Levi said, trying to keep his tone light, but a faint buzz of apprehension evident in his voice as he spoke.
“Correct. Ladies first.” She checked her watch. “All right. This is it. I’m going in. See you in a few,” Jet said, then flipped down her goggles and opened the rear doors, scanning the empty street before she stepped down onto the hard-packed dirt, virtually invisible in the shadows in her head-to-toe black long-sleeved top and pants.
She listened for any hints of movement in her proximity, but only heard the dull roar of an occasional car from the larger streets a few blocks away. Satisfied that she was unobserved, she trotted to the construction site next to the target. A chain link fence ran across the front of the lot, and a gate barred her way, held shut by a chain with an ancient padlock clasped through the link ends. Not wanting to cause any more noise than necessary, she decided not to shoot it off, and instead took a running start and threw herself as high as she could and gripped the top with her gloved hands. She was up and over in seconds, the fence clattering against the steel support poles, and when she landed in a crouch inside the perimeter she froze, ears perked for any indication that she’d been spotted.
She heard a rustle from the second story of the construction site, and a man’s voice called out shakily in Arabic.
“There’s nothing to steal here. I have a gun. Don’t mess with me…”
Jet was moving before the second word was out of his mouth. She crept on catlike feet to the interior of the building and paused near a load-bearing wall, controlling her breathing, waiting for the watchman to come to her. He was an amateur, one of the construction crew earning extra compensation by staying at the site all night, and she was confident he would make a mistake that would be his downfall.
Her opportunity arrived sooner than she’d expected when the watchman hesitantly groped his way down the dark concrete stairwell, his gun rifle barrel leading, the expression on his face one of fear. The hapless guard couldn’t see her in the gloom, and when he got to the final step she swung out of the darkness and delivered a series of brutal strikes, the last of which, below his ear, knocked him unconscious. He dropped to the floor in a heap, and she reached into a pocket of her cargo pants, withdrew a syringe, and injected the contents into his leg. She had three more syringes for any captives, and Luther had assured her that whoever got a shot would be out for six solid hours.
She took the steps to the second floor two at a time, and in moments was peering at the house from one of the windows that had been roughed into the bare cinderblock wall. The target was dark, with no indication of anyone being awake. After another scan of the compound and the road beyond, she retrieved a radio from her belt and murmured into it.
“I’m going in. Get into position. I should be inside in a minute – two at the most. I see the cable for the front security cameras, so I’ll cut that before I move in. Remember. No heroics, and stick to the plan.”
Jet didn’t wait for a response, choosing to turn down the volume and slip the radio back into place. The yard was almost as bright as day in her goggles, illuminated in the distinctive eerie green she knew so well, and she glanced at the wall below her and the side of the target house before making her move. She lowered herself until her feet were hanging above the perimeter wall, and then abruptly swung her legs to the side, creating momentum before she pushed off with her feet. She sailed through space and caught the top of the wall with her hands to stop her fall. Jet used the energy from the drop to bounce; then she swung a leg over the wall and straddled it, looking down into the compound from her perch.
The clouds above her parted and the
moon came out, shining down on her position, and she squinted to allow her eyes to adjust to the unexpected light. With a final glance in both directions, she estimated the distance from the house to her landing spot she’d need to cover when she dropped into the compound, and took two deep breaths before tensing her upper body in preparation for the main event.
~ ~ ~
Adam approached the iron gate of the perimeter wall, his weapon clenched close to his body, keeping to the shadows cast by the walls of the other homes, in the hopes of evading the cheap cameras’ limited fields of view. He was almost to the gate when he froze at the sound of a large motor revving from one of the nearby streets, and then was nearly blinded by approaching headlights as a flatbed pick-up truck with five armed militia on the back rounded the corner and lurched down the pitted dirt road toward him.
Darting to the side, he ducked behind the carcass of an old Nissan sedan that had been almost entirely stripped, hoping he had acted fast enough to avoid notice by the gunmen. He’d almost convinced himself that he’d evaded detection when a voice screamed from the truck.
“You. Behind the car. Come out with your hands up, now, or we’ll open fire.”
The truck slowed as it crept forward, and when it was twenty yards away one of the men yelled again.
“Come out now, or you’re dead.”
He’d read the reports on the warring militia that acted as the vigilante justice in some areas of Benghazi and cursed the analyst who had assured them that this district appeared to be too close to the town center to be under their control. He momentarily debated trying to bluff his way through, and then caught himself – he was wearing night vision goggles and had a high-tech assault rifle with enough ammunition to level a battalion.
JET V - Legacy Page 13
