Beside Berglund was Harrison Zidane. One of his hands was resting on the desk in front of him, as if he needed its support to remain upright. His other hand was at his side, partially obscured by the desk itself. His skin was pale, but his eyes were bright and hopeful. He showed none of the fear that Berglund exhibited, as if gunfights were commonplace on his property.
Payne and Jones raised their weapons, but both knew they couldn’t risk a shot. Not without the possibility of their bullets going through Zidane and rupturing one of the tanks behind him.
‘Where’s Hendrik Cole?’ Payne demanded.
‘Dead,’ Zidane replied. ‘I am told he was wounded in Rakovnik and that he didn’t survive the trip to Italy.’
‘Did you see him die?’ Jones asked Berglund.
‘My face was bound in some sort of covering,’ Berglund answered. ‘I could not see or hear anything until we made it to the villa. But I have not seen him since we arrived.’
‘I know that men in your profession cannot be certain of anything until you see the body for yourselves,’ Zidane stated, ‘but I am afraid that in this instance such a meeting simply cannot be arranged. Cole’s remains were disposed of en route. No one but the men involved could give you an exact location, and I am afraid they are now dead as well.’ Zidane nodded toward the carnage that was strewn about his patio as he sat down at his desk.
Payne lowered his weapon as Zidane placed both hands where they could be seen.
‘Cole’s death was inevitable, really,’ Zidane continued. ‘He was never part of the long-term plan.’
‘Which was?’ Payne asked.
‘A partnership,’ Zidane said. ‘One that would bring us unimaginable wealth, not to mention extra years to spend it.’
Jones laughed. ‘You need to check your meds. I think you’ve lost your mind.’
‘Actually, my friend, I never lose.’ Zidane flashed his best smile. ‘I am offering the chance of a lifetime. The breakthroughs Tomas has made will revolutionize the human body. No more disease. No more weakness. The perfect machine, customized to your choosing.’ He glanced at their weapons. ‘Imagine the military applications. The healthiest, most advanced fighting force the world has ever seen, with the ability to heal themselves on the battlefield.’
‘You’re talking about super-soldiers,’ Payne said.
‘Exactly! With this technology we can create an entire army of such men. There’s no limit to what people would pay for such an advantage. Your military. Mine. The rest of the world. We could sell the technology to the highest bidder, then we could tweak the science and sell it again.’
‘Immortality to the highest bidder,’ Jones concluded.
‘While we control the balance of power,’ Zidane stated.
‘Who is we?’ Payne asked, egging him on.
‘Your company and mine,’ Zidane smiled. ‘The power will remain solely with us.’
Payne smiled and lowered his weapon. ‘In that case …’
Zidane moved to congratulate the men he now saw as his partners. ‘Excellent! I knew you could be convinced. Believe it or not, Jonathon, we are a lot alike. We come from wealth, yet we yearn for more.’
Zidane offered his hand to seal the deal, but Payne used it against him. He gripped it hard then squeezed it harder until Zidane fell back into his chair. As he did, the smile on Payne’s face turned into a menacing scowl.
Payne glared at Zidane, his hold still firm. ‘You’re a sick son-of-a-bitch responsible for the death of dozens of innocent people. You and I are nothing alike.’
Zidane’s face grew pale as his reality began to sink in. For the first time in his life, he had met someone who could not be swayed by money or power.
‘How long do we have?’ Payne asked.
‘What do you mean?’ Zidane replied.
Payne squeezed until he could feel Zidane’s knuckles begin to pop. ‘How long … do we have?’ Payne demanded.
From the moment Zidane had sat down, Payne had sensed his ploy. Zidane was stalling. He was buying himself precious minutes, waiting for whatever was to happen next. Payne had sensed exactly what was going on, but he’d chosen to take advantage of it. If Zidane was going to offer information about his master plan, Payne was willing to listen. Now that he had heard enough about Zidane’s grandiose vision, all he wanted to know was how quickly reinforcements would be arriving.
A moment later, he had his answer.
Payne and Jones knew they had to move the moment they heard Masseri’s voice through their earpieces.
‘You guys have company!’ Masseri announced. ‘A yacht just pulled up at the dock, and whoever’s on board is in one hell of hurry.’
‘Can you cover us?’ Jones asked.
‘Negative,’ Masseri answered. ‘The boat is blocking my shot. It’s directly between me and the house. You’re on your own.’
With a jerk of his arm, Payne pulled Zidane to his feet. In the same motion, he spun Zidane around and pinned his hand behind him. ‘The stairs to the boathouse, now!’ Payne ordered as he pushed Zidane in front of him.
Jones grabbed Berglund by the belt and ushered him after Payne and Zidane. It wasn’t an act of aggression, but it was forceful enough to let Berglund know that Jones’s directions should be followed without question.
Payne and Jones were in charge.
Berglund needed to trust them if he wanted to survive.
64
Payne knew from the reconnaissance file that Raskin had produced — which included everything from satellite footage to construction blueprints — that the house had a stairwell just off the main hallway leading down to the boathouse. As they pushed through the lower door, Payne saw what he was looking for. The boathouse stored a jet boat in its covered dock. Payne smashed the lockbox mounted on the wall nearby with the butt of his gun and tossed the keys to Jones.
‘Get them out of here,’ ordered Payne, whose main priority was bringing Berglund to safety and Zidane to justice. He would stay behind and cover their escape to make sure they got away.
‘You’re taking a later train?’ Jones asked.
‘Not quite,’ Payne said as he pointed through the open waterfront doors of the boathouse. ‘I’m taking one of those.’
Jones turned to see the opulent yacht that was parked alongside Zidane’s dock at the front of his estate. Two WaveRunners were suspended in cradles on the aft deck. These high-speed personal watercrafts could be lowered to the lake by a small crane that was also used for loading palates of food and other supplies.
‘Nah, man, screw that!’
‘Screw what?’
‘You get to zip out of here on a water Harley, and I’m stuck chauffeuring a white dude across the lake like I’m Morgan Freeman in Driving Miss Daisy? What kind of racist bullshit is that?’
‘First of all, you’re Morgan Freeman with a gun, which is pretty bad ass.’
‘True.’
‘Secondly, I’m your commanding officer, and I say—’
‘Wait! You’re my what? I hate to break it to you, but we’re retired.’
‘Retired? We just jumped out of military plane and shot a squad of armed men. That doesn’t sound like retired to me.’
Jones growled as if he were going to turn the situation into a standoff, but only for a moment. As much as he loved to give Payne a hard time, he knew when to relent.
‘Fine!’ Jones snapped as he jumped into the open bow and shoved Zidane toward the front of the boat. ‘But you’re driving. That’s right, Miss Daisy, I’m your worst nightmare. I’m Hoke with a fuckin’ gun.’