“We are not!” Greznya snapped.
“You’re controlled by your father, who can…” Mike said in English and then switched to Georgian. “Let me explain this as well as I can, okay?” he said to Greznya fiercely. “I know American customs and where there are going to be friction points, okay?”
“Okay,” Greznya said, frowning.
“How old do you think Anisa is?” Mike asked Macnee as the girl leaned against him harder.
“I’d put her at about twenty,” the fiftyish businessman said, shrugging. “I mean, that’s a bit young…” he added, nervously fingering his wedding ring. “But I’m not planning on…”
“She’s seventeen,” Mike said, grinning as Macnee sat up and started to back away. “Don’t let it bother you and it won’t bother them. And what goes on in the suite, stays in the suite. But the point is that she’s working as an intel specialist and she’s a damned good one. Quite a few of these girls are married and the oldest is Greznya, who isn’t by the way, and she’s nineteen.”
“Oh, my…” Thomas said, blinking hard.
“The Keldara grow up fast,” Mike said. “Greznya is considered an old maid. Most of them get married around fifteen. These girls didn’t have electricity in their homes a year ago. Now… well they’re some of the best intel troops I’ve ever had the honor to serve with. Not to mention great models,” Mike added with a grin.
“The girl in the pictures?” Macnee asked, frozen. “The redhead. How old?”
“Fifteen,” Mike said, shrugging. “I checked the various laws; it’s legal. She’s dressed, so it’s not child pornography. And you won’t have to worry about a lot of information getting out about them, no matter how much interest. The Keldara don’t talk and the area they live in is a restricted military zone. The point to this brewery, and other things that I’m doing, is to get them an economic boot-strap into the twenty-first century; there’s only so much I can do alone. They need to earn it so they understand where it comes from.”
“Okay,” Thomas said, looking at Greznya in even greater interest. “Where’d you learn to negotiate like that?”
“In the village market,” Greznya said, shrugging. “When you have nothing, you learn to bargain for every kopek.”
“I suppose there’s that,” Thomas said. “Well, this has been a fascinating evening, but if I don’t drag Colin off, he’s likely to get divorced and I can’t afford that.”
“Spoilsport,” Macnee said, but he heaved to his feet with a sigh. “Ladies, it’s been fascinating to meet you. I don’t suppose we can visit?” he added to Mike.
“You, I can get through the checkpoints,” Mike said. “Honestly, all that anyone who wants to get near the Keldara has to do is bribe the regular guards. But once you get to the area we enforce, nobody moves without my say.”
“I think we’ll leave the ‘local warlord’ aspect out of the marketing,” Thomas said dryly.
“Please do,” Mike said. “Among other things, there are various people who would like to put my head on their wall. And I mean that quite literally.”
“Another thing to keep in mind,” Macnee replied. “We’ll be in touch with Gurum about delivery schedules. I’m sure you have other things to do.”
“Such as talk to Katya,” Mike said as Greznya closed the door. “Girls, it looks like we’re in the clover. But I’m not done. If you ladies could clear the suite and somebody ask Cottontail to stop by. And has anyone seen Chief Adams…?”
“You are joking, yes?” Katya said, her eyes wide as Mike finished explaining the plan.
“I am joking, no,” Mike replied. “We’ll talk with the doctors about it and if you absolutely say no, then the answer is, no. But you won’t be able to just walk into Lunari and back out. And even if you walk in, we won’t know where you are. This way, we can track you constantly and be ready to pull you out.”
“I agreed to do this for twenty thousand euros,” Katya said, angrily. “But not to get cut on beforehand. I will probably get cut enough in Lunari.”
“Do you want more money?” Mike asked, shrugging. “I will promise you this, if the surgery goes bad I will put you in a very nice place and set you up for the rest of your life.”
“I won’t be able to see it, yes!” Katya snapped.
“Tropical paradise, guaranteed,” Mike said, seriously. “Servants and all the rest. How much do you want for this?”
“The same either way,” Katya replied tightly. “If I do this operation, we are done. I get very much money and a nice place someplace warm. I’ll make my own way from there.”
“Done,” Mike said. “There might be some requirements to tell them how things are going after the fact. Can you handle that? Among other things, it would mean that you’d have the U.S. government taking care of at least part of your medical.”
“Probably,” Katya said, frowning. “But I still want the tropical island.”
“Agreed,” Mike said, smiling. “So, to be clear, that’s a yes?”
Katya paused for a long moment and then shrugged.
“Yes.”
“I’ll point one thing more out, though.”
“What?” Katya asked.
“You’re going to be wired for sound and video the rest of your life,” Mike said. “Admittedly, it will be a limited number of people that can access it. The U.S. government is probably going to be showering you with money to try to get you to do other ops. You’re going to be the world’s top super bug until they find somebody else crazy enough to do this. And with your looks and… training I’d be surprised if you couldn’t get in about anywhere.”
“Why don’t you, then?” Katya asked, her brow furrowed.
“I’m a fighter not a lover.”
“And I’m a killer, not a lover,” Cottontail pointed out, with a purely evil smile.
Mike was tapping his foot, watching the Keldara take down the last of the display.
The convention was over, the troops were packed, and he still hadn’t heard from Adams. He was beginning to think that maybe the redoubtable former SEAL had run into a mugger or something. Maybe he should call the damned morgue. Or, hell, face it, the chief might have just decided that being around Mike wasn’t conducive to long life and prosperity. Although he’d been making more money with Mike than he’d make doing virtually any job for which he was trained and prepared.
“Kildar,” Gurum said, diffidently. “We have all the gear packed. It is time to go.”
“Where in the fuck is…” Mike started to say and then stopped as he saw Adams wander around a set of booths that still hadn’t been taken down. He was noticeably weaving and appeared to be in lousy shape. Mike wasn’t sure what… Oh. Hell. He’d forgotten about Adams and Las Vegas. He shouldn’t have, but that last weekend had been a long time ago. And, frankly, Mike didn’t remember most of it.
“Been on a bender, Ass-boy?” Mike asked maliciously, as soon as he was sure that Adams was suffering from a hangover and not malaria.
“Oh, Go’,” the chief replied, leaning up against a booth and stifling a belch. He scratched under a, apparently new, Hooter’s T-shirt for a moment and contemplated the scenery blurrily. He also had picked up a pair of Bermuda shorts, somewhere, that were at least a couple of sizes too large. They appeared to be belted with string. “Wha’ day is it?” The words were distinctly slurred.
“Monday,” Mike said. “The day we’re leaving.”
“Good,” Adams said, trying to stand to attention. “I ma’ mo’ment.”
“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Mike asked, putting his hands on his hips. “That you made movement? You’re supposed to be my second-in-command! You’re not a fucking meat anymore, Chief!”