“I work for Amir. You harm me and the only one who’ll boil alive will be you. Tell your dogs to lower their weapons.”
Dattar had a sour taste in his mouth. Amir was a warlord who ruled a vast drug operation from his hilltop villa in Cyprus. Few knew his name, even those who had lived on the small island for years, and the fact that this lowly ship captain invoked it turned him from a mere lackey to a formidable foe in seconds. Dattar glanced at Rajiid, and nodded. Rajiid lowered his weapon.
“Don’t shoot,” Dattar yelled at his soldiers. They, too, lowered their guns. “Pay him,” Dattar told Rajiid.
“But—”
“Now.”
Rajiid shoved the pistol back into the shoulder holster under his olive-colored linen shirt and removed the tablet computer from the outside pocket of the duffle. He dropped the luggage on the ground while he tapped on the screen.
“I want to see it,” the captain said. Rajiid didn’t look up, but simply nodded as he worked. After a moment he walked to the captain and handed him the computer. The captain peered at the screen, moving it out of the sun’s glare. He gave it back to Rajiid.
“Don’t ever try to rob me again,” he said to Dattar. He spun and stomped back up the ramp to his freighter. Rajiid moved in close.
“That was the last of it.”
“The credit cards?” Dattar said.
“Frozen by the banks when you were taken into custody.”
“The latest from the mine?”
Rajiid shook his head. “Also frozen. And Jain, who regularly siphons from the site, has disappeared.”
“Deploy the weapon.”
“I’m still waiting for the results of the test, but I expect it will work,” Rajiid said.
“Deploy it on the freighter. I want that captain dead.”
“It may not work.”
“Deploy it,” Dattar said.
Rajiid nodded.
Dattar stalked to the SUV, doing his best to ignore the speculative glances from his soldiers. That he had allowed a stinking freighter captain to manhandle him in such a fashion and not retaliated had shocked them. Once he was inside and Rajiid next to him, he had come to a decision.
“Take me to Amir’s.”
“Why?”
“Just get me there!” Dattar shrieked at Rajiid. The driver threw the car into gear and hit the gas, making the wheels squeal on the pavement.
Twenty minutes later they were at the gates of Amir’s high-security compound.
Three guards strolled out, one holding a checkpoint mirror on a pole. He extended the mirror under the car and began scanning for bombs. The second guard indicated that they should step out while the third began a thorough search of the vehicle’s interior. The second had a pockmarked face and wary dark eyes.
“You don’t have an appointment,” he said to Dattar.
“I’ll be sure to make one in advance next time so that every one of my enemies knows where to find me,” Dattar shot back. “Just frisk me and get it over with. Amir knows me.” The guard raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. When the search was complete, the pockmarked guard nodded them through. They drove down a long driveway lined with poplars and past olive trees that opened up to the front of a massive villa. The two-story white stone mansion had a decorative façade, with round medallions bearing the faces of Greek and Roman gods, spaced at regular intervals, plastered horizontally along the center. Statues of the same gods lined the drive. Dattar thought the mansion’s design was gaudy and pretentious. To the right the gravel path continued under a portico and disappeared to a separate section of the compound. Stone urns contained flowers that must have been recently purchased because they were in bloom out of season. Two guards carrying semiautomatic weapons stood on each side of the front door and watched their approach. Between them stood Amir’s butler, Najon, a man Dattar had met before. The butler opened the passenger door.
“Mr. Amir is in the garden. I’ll show you there.” Najon headed toward the portico. After a stroll past a long infinity pool, they found Amir sitting at a table shaded by a gazebo. A French press filled with coffee and a platter of small sandwiches were placed on the table before him, along with a smartphone and a tablet computer, their LED lights blinking.
Dattar and Amir had met when Amir was a midlevel dealer in the cartel that he now headed and Dattar was a lowly minister in his country before rising in power. Dattar knew that a rival member of the Russian mafia had ordered Amir’s elimination. There had been three attempts already and in the last attempt, a rocket-propelled grenade had exploded under Amir’s armored limousine, causing nerve damage to his left arm. Amir held that arm in his lap, using his right to bring a cup of coffee to his lips.
“Your presence here surprises me,” Amir said. Dattar glanced at the empty chairs at the table and Amir nodded. “Please, sit, and tell me what brings you to Cyprus and my home so suddenly.” Dattar took a seat. Rajiid took one as well.
“I need a loan.”
Amir’s eyes narrowed. “You? Why?”
Dattar spread his arms wide. “The authorities have frozen my accounts.”
Amir snorted. “So? You have many accounts under aliases, I’m sure. Tap into one of those.” Dattar had known the moment would come that he would be forced to reveal his failings, but he still found himself swallowing his gorge as he did. That a woman had betrayed him made it all that much worse. He took a deep breath.
“My other holdings have been…diverted.” Dattar refused to use the word “stolen.” He would recover the funds.
“Diverted? In what way? And by whom?” Amir’s gaze was pointed.
“By a thieving investment advisor. But don’t worry, I have arranged for the advisor to be shown the error of…his ways.” Dattar noticed that Rajiid’s eyes flicked to the side at the use of the male pronoun, but he remained silent. Nevertheless, Amir seemed to have caught Rajiid’s reaction. He shifted in his seat and sipped the coffee.
“Where is this thief?”
“New York,” Dattar said.
Amir nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “And the one you have hired to school this person?”
“Khalil.”
Amir chuckled. “Ah. I think this thief will soon regret every penny he ever stole. Khalil is the best and ruthless. And so, you require a loan until Khalil completes his mission, am I correct?”
Dattar smiled and relaxed for the first time since leaving the freighter. Amir would loan him the funds and Khalil would find the American. All would be well.
“You are.”
“How much?”
Dattar paused. His expenses were building. “Twenty million.”
Amir nodded. “And your collateral?”
“Stones from my sapphire mine.”
Amir frowned. “I heard that scientists may have discovered a new source of sapphires in your region, but that the yield, if any, would be small.”
“Small, but of the highest quality, commanding the highest prices,” Dattar said.
“You just told me your assets were frozen. I presume that includes the mine. No. I require something solid. Firm. Nothing that the United Nations can grasp with its greedy hands in the name of international law.”