Dane shook the hand of his counterpart, each tightening enough to tell the other they weren’t to be screwed over. Dane needed to look tough, but also one step below Simon. And Simon seemed a king in this world. Showing not a flicker of nerves, the man commanded the area, alert and confident.
Teodor and Simon made some insignificant small talk while Dane observed Jarek. The man was nervous. Very nervous. Too damn nervous for a person who did deals like this all the time.
“Do you have the cash?” Jarek asked.
Dane nodded and went back to the car for the down payment. The group of cars acquired from the sale of the painting were to be delivered when the guns made it into Palestine. Dane told the driver to be alert, that something wasn’t right, and then brought over a metal briefcase and handed it to Jarek.
Jarek opened the case himself and counted the money. When he’d finished, he called for Teodor’s helicopter. Dane joined Simon and Teodor for a moment. Their conversation flowed from the weather to the newest weapons coming out of factories in China. As soon as Dane heard the helicopter, he motioned for the van.
Everything seemed to move as planned until one of Teodor’s guards turned a gun on Simon and Teodor. Shock and confusion flashed over Teodor’s features before he fell to the ground, having taken a bullet from his own team.
What the fuck?
The bastard aimed and shot at Simon next. Simon, though, had dove behind the car after the first round of bullets. Everything erupted from there.
More gunshots whizzed by and hit the Maybach. Jarek, a man who had just murdered his way to the top of a very rich organization, screamed orders to the other men. Shit.
With no time to wait to see how everyone would react to the threats on their lives, Dane pulled out his Glock and shot the armed guard in the back of the head before the guy could turn and sprayed bullets in his direction. He then dove left, tucking and rolling until he was flat on his stomach. He didn’t have time to breathe. He aimed at Jarek, who still had his gun out ready to shoot. One shot and Jarek was dead on the ground, his neck partially severed by a bullet that exited his throat. Two more souls on his conscience.
The Maybach roared to life and fled during the gun battle. With both Teodor and Jarek dead, why stay and risk the same fate. Simon’s driver had already followed orders to leave if the plan fell apart.
Simon rose from his spot on the ground and waved Dane over to the helicopter.
“Jarek wanted the money and the guns. The greedy prat. Come on. If their bird doesn’t take off. We can benefit from this.”
The helicopter waited in the field behind the farm. The pilot must not have seen the carnage, and was unprepared for the arrival of several armed men. Simon’s men had the pilot on the ground with his face in the dirt. One of the crew members was dead, while the other had his hands raised above his head. Tim frisked him for weapons. After they placed the man next to the pilot, Martin assisted Tim with transferring the crates of rifles into the van. They moved the bodies of Teodor, Jarek, and his dead comrades into the bird. Five minutes had elapsed since the gunfire. Police would be arriving soon.
Tim raced around, placing charges near the aircraft’s fuel tanks and by the engine. Seven minutes after the attack, the helicopter exploded into a burst of fire and metal scraps. The pilot and surviving crew member stared in horror as their ride incinerated before them.
Martin, Tim, and the other two men left in the van with the weapons. Simon and Dane took off in a BMW Simon had left in the back of the barn. Just in case. Dane drove. He needed to do something with his hands so he didn’t wring Simon’s neck.
“Easy in and out, you said?”
“Jarek is Russian. Maybe he couldn’t handle working for a Ukrainian.”
Silence pressed down their emotions for several minutes, until Simon punched the side of the car. “Bloody hell. I’ll miss Teodor. If Jarek wasn’t already dead, I’d rip him apart and let his body rot into dust.” He turned to look at Dane. “Thanks for the help. I knew you’d be an asset in the field.”
“Damn it all.” Dane swerved around a curve, not caring that Simon was pushed into the door. “As far as I’m concerned, that operation was a complete failure. Those men didn’t have to die.”
“Occupational hazard.”
He glanced at Simon’s shirt. It was burned in an area by his elbow. If the bullet travelled one inch farther, he’d have lost his arm. “You need a new shirt.”
“And a bottle of vodka. Shit, I thought I’d snuffed it.”
They both sat in silence. Dane’s heartbeat pumping furiously. He floored the gas and soared over the country roads, an outlet for the high coursing through his body. The lightning speed and the hum of the motor matched his spiking adrenaline. His hands braced the wheel as the car hit one hundred twenty kilometers per hour, one hundred forty, one hundred sixty. He accelerated around a wide curve, the speed rising still higher. He barely saw the Fiat ahead of him.
“Hold on.”
He veered into the opposite lane and zoomed ahead of the tiny car. The speed decreased for a moment as Dane caught his breath. Then he started laughing. Simon joined him, and they beamed like adolescent boys on their first joy ride. Dane knew from past experience that the euphoria would crash soon, so he enjoyed it while he could, and let the ability to drive away from the event unharmed propel him forward.
“That whole thing was a rush.” Simon propped his head against the headrest. “Nice aim, O’Brien. I guess I owe you one.”
Within a minute or two, Simon was fast asleep. He needed it. His brain must have been on overdrive when the bullet skimmed him. And he needed to be coherent when debriefing the team in Lyons.
The whole team would need time to decompress and talk freely to each other about the events. They couldn’t talk to anyone else about what they’d done or how they felt or whether they wanted to return for another operation or retire with the funds they’d earned. 90 percent of arms deals resulted in nothing more thrilling than a transfer of goods. These isolated violent incidents, however, could devastate a team.
Dane had walked away from his CIA post years ago when he couldn’t come to grips with death—not the threat of his own death, but the taking of others’ lives. Time, maturity, and a better understanding of what killing entailed was helping him deal with this situation without falling back into his hole. The confidence he’d been missing for years returned. Saving lives was the only justification for taking lives. And his aim was still strong. He could do this job and do it well. In fact, he could rule this world if he wanted to. Did he want to? And did he want Eve next to him as he entered the lion’s den in multiple transactions per year? He didn’t know, so he hit the accelerator just short of too fast and barreled on toward Lyons.
…
Dane returned home from the botched deal with a hangover, a sore back, and a healthy appreciation for having a team instead of functioning alone. The debriefing consisted of drinking a few beers and reliving the incident from each man’s perspective. They were allowed to laugh, cry, and punch walls. Anything to deal with the initial emotions. The regret and the nightmares would come later. Dane had lived for years with memories of his victims.
Thank God Eve hadn’t been there. If something had happened to her, he would never have forgiven himself. He wanted her safe, and yet he also wanted her happy. Would those two goals always be mutually exclusive?
When they returned home that evening, Simon headed straight to his bedroom with Cassie. He’d changed his shirt and had made Dane promise not mention the close call to anyone, ever. The bullet knocked out Simon’s usual devil may care attitude. On the drive back to his house, he told Dane that he didn’t want to die before he could influence the upbringing and personality of their little girl. And he didn’t want to leave Cassie. He’d never get enough of her. At this juncture, it was time to act smarter and safer. Dane heartily agreed.
Eve was waiting for him in the kitchen. “Simon barely said a word to me before he fled the room with Cassie.
Something happened out there.”
“It didn’t go as planned.” He pulled her to her feet and into his arms. Her warmth, her beating heart, and her calm presence took away so much of the strain of the day. His grip tightened on her, and he rested his forehead on her head, tucked tight into his chest. “I need you so much, Eve.”
“I’m here.”
He pulled her toward the door, away from the Dunn’s. They drove in silence to the bed and breakfast. When they closed the door to his room, he held her as close as he could and imagined her at the transfer. The thought scared the hell out of him. This strange woman who had entered his life only a short time ago was his entire reason for living at present. Nothing else mattered. The insanity Simon exhibited when he’d fallen for Cassie made sense now.
“How many people died?” she asked, as she caressed his back.
“How did you know?”
“I’ve seen a lot of death. No matter how many times you see it, it affects you deeper and deeper. You’re wearing the blood stains in your eyes and in the tension in your face.”
“It bothered me before, but this time was different. The thought of never seeing you again? That was something I couldn’t handle. How crazy is that, Mrs. O’Brien?”
“Not crazy. There’s something that’s drawing us together. Why fight fate? Let’s just enjoy it and see where it takes us.”
…
The next day, Eve and Dane returned to the Dunn residence to review the logistics for the next deal. Everyone was more subdued. The excitement of Bulgaria had been twisted into a regrettable memory, one that both men would love to forget.
According to Simon, Federico Isler had arranged a meeting with the Mexican buyers in one week. Dane had met him in passing many times over the years—a smart businessman with an understanding of strategic alliances. Sources from the arms world bragged about Isler’s ability to steal gun ideas and manufacture replicas at discount prices. His current work of art was a sniper rifle capable of blowing through concrete and accurately hitting a human target. That’s what the Mexicans wanted, although they wanted it cheaper than the asking price. A lot cheaper.
Dane had experience creating a buzz for goods. He’d get Federico’s asking price, no problem.
“It’s an under the table deal and will require a few safeguards to keep the authorities from knowing about it.” Simon explained what each party wanted. “The sales meeting takes place in three days in Juarez.”
Three days? “I thought it was in a week?”
“He moved up the time. It’s now or never.” Simon’s nose remained in a laptop, as he brought up emails from Isler.
“I can’t go. I have to be in Washington. If I don’t check in, I’ll be brought back without my consent. I’m sort of AWOL as we speak. I haven’t decided whether to feign infiltration in your organization. Once I give them a yes or no, I’m in for a long time.”
“Can they wait a few days? You’re about to commit to one of most notorious criminals in the world.” Simon laughed. He had Dane by the balls.
“No.” Not according to Greg and his boss. They wanted to know if he had joined Simon Dunn’s group. “I have to go. Once my past is settled, I can move more freely into my future.”
“With me,” Simon said, as though the two would be setting up house together. Simon would make a great partner, but working for him? Not so amazing.
Eve laughed. “You two are adorable. Can I have some of Dane when you finish with him?”
Simon stood up and stretched. “I suppose I can spare him an occasional evening.”
“Can you do this sales meeting alone?” Dane asked, trying to keep them focused.
“I can do anything alone.”
Cassie shook her head. “Our son was a joint effort.”
“Daughter.” He winked at her and then turned back to Dane. “I’ll go in for the preliminary set up. I need to meet the players and then arrange the collateral. The transfer may not take place for a few weeks anyway. If you can’t be there, I can fly someone from one the South American teams to be my backup.”
“I can do it,” Eve volunteered. “I know the players, I’ve researched the rifle, and I understand Spanish as well as you do.”
Despite this only being a meeting to set up the sale, Dane didn’t like the idea of Eve participating. These men were not known to be followers of the win-win philosophy of life. It was every man for himself. And yet, she’d survived attacks on the villages she’d been working in. Hell, she survived an attack by two armed men in Columbia. How could he say an office visit in a city would be too dangerous? He couldn’t.
“No.” Simon rubbed his hand over his face as though expelling a thought from his head. “The last trip we went on resulted in dead men, too many of them. I’m not sure I want to take the chance.”
Eve placed both hands on the table and implored Simon to see her side of the argument. “You said yourself that this was only to set everything up. I won’t go to the transfer site. You already had your botched incident this year. Federico has been a player in arms deals for years. He knows the ins and outs, and the group he’s selling to has too much at stake to screw anything up.” For some reason, she didn’t glance in Dane’s direction. “Just this once, and then I’ll work in the background.”
Dane added his own voice, regardless of who wanted to hear it. He did have a stake in her assignments. His heart was mixed up fully in what she did. “You’ve proven yourself to be good on the business side of things, and you know how to handle war lords, CEOs, and Simon. I think you could take my place for this one task. I’ll help you create a sales pitch that will have the men begging for the product.”
Simon frowned, but stayed silent for a moment. Cassie took her usual role of quiet observer. Eve remained focused on the true decision maker, pissing Dane off further about his secondary role in this group.
“Fine,” Simon finally said. “Just the sale, and then fly back here.”
She punched her arm into the air. “Yes. I won’t let you down.”
…
They gave her two days to prepare. Two days to learn the intricacies of Mexican rebel factions and to create a perfect sales pitch that would wow Federico and convince the buyers to pay any price asked. She and Simon boarded a private jet in London at midnight and then drove through the early morning streets of Juarez to meet with the potential buyers. She slept for part of the journey and awoke with a foggy brain haze. This was not glamorous, it was exhausting.
Simon walked a few steps ahead of her into a glassy three-story office building in one of the back neighborhoods while she carried her sample in a fancy black case that could have passed for an executive’s hard covered golf bag. Neither spoke to each other.
For this part of the sale, she wore a Chanel suit tailored to perfection—only Simon had made her put it on over a Kevlar vest. An instant ten-pound weight gain, and a bit over cautious. Her gun case was confiscated at the entrance of the facility to be brought up after it received a proper inspection. She walked into the conference room in three-inch killer heels and crowned by highlighted and newly styled hair. The makeover gave her enough added to confidence to relax and enjoy how far she’d come since first joining up with Simon. He trusted her finally, and she would not let him down.
She placed her briefcase on the table after flashing blood-red manicured nails to the five men sitting with her. Simon, dressed in a black suit, shook hands with everyone deemed important and then sat down to the right of an old guy who looked and acted like a corporate attorney.
She overheard someone mention the name of the leader, Amado Rebollo. The name was familiar to her. Amado was no leader of some rebel outlaw group aimed at disbanding the government. This was a drug cartel. If she were to pick him out from the crowd, she’d pick the tall man in the jeans and leather jacket. His attitude screamed “don’t fuck with me.”
From the expressions of the other men at the table, her presence was a disappointment. Perhaps they wanted some old
er, more important member of Simon’s group to assure them of the importance of this deal. Over time, maybe people would begin to regard her as a player. For some reason, she wanted to play this game, especially knowing the outcome benefitted her kids.
Federico stood on the other side of the room and waved them over.
“Welcome, Mr. Dunn.” Federico spoke in Spanish and shook Simon’s hand before kissing Eve on both cheeks. She allowed it because it was more cultural than sexual. “And Eve O’Brien. You’re as beautiful as ever. I’m glad you could make it. Where is your husband?”
Did he know Dane? They both had worked in the defense industry for years, so maybe they’d met.
“Are we selling your product or are you here to screw around with a married woman?” Simon nodded his head toward Eve.
Federico shrugged. “I like to know who I am dealing with at all times.”
“And I like to make money. Let’s get started then, shall we?” Simon motioned Eve to the table and then stood next to her. “Mr. Rebollo, please join us.”
The man in the jeans, probably Rebollo, strolled over while telling something to the two men beside him. He shook everyone’s hand, including Eve’s, and then sat across from Simon. His two men stood behind him.
Another man, dressed in a suit, approached him, pulled out a list of demands, and presented them. Maybe Rebollo’s negotiator. His arguments for a lower price were lame, but his time frame was reasonable. Three weeks to deliver.
The man went step by step over the proposal. Federico did not even feign interest in the numbers they were talking about. He could walk if he didn’t get his price. At the close of the offer, Simon passed the presentation over to her, as they had planned. She boasted about the gun’s power and accuracy in an accent she tried to make more Mexican, but Rebollos appeared to be falling asleep.
He finally leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “Unless the price of the weapons is lowered, it’s not worth our time. We can obtain the same caliber from Brazil.”
Fantastic. Her first solo venture, and they were going to lose the deal. It was time for a Hail Mary.
True Peril Page 17
