Chasing the White Lion by James Hannibal (best free e book reader .TXT) 📗

Boyd gave him a used-car-salesman smile. “I wanted to come out and see the product myself. Hence, the delay. I hope it’s all right.”

Panther Five One gestured at the door, and Gorev lost sight of them as they entered the building. The transmitter crackled with interference from the cinder-block structure.

“Is this all of them?”

“No sir. Half are here. Half in the other building.”

“These look healthy enough, except for that one.”

“Yes, but he is not the type of product you asked for, is he? We’ll put him down before we leave.”

“I wouldn’t waste the bullet. He’ll expire soon enough. I think I’m ready to move forward. I’ll just need to see the others.”

“Yes. Right away.”

The door opened, and Gorev saw Boyd for an instant before the Englishman backed into the shadows again. “Please,” he heard him say, “after you.”

Gorev kept his scope on the door and laid his finger on the trigger. The moment was fast approaching. Five One came out first, followed by the two soldiers who’d gone in with him, and then Boyd.

When all four were in the open, Boyd drew a silenced Beretta. “That’s far enough.”

Panther Five One shouted in Thai. Two of his soldiers reacted with decent timing, but not fast enough. Gorev pulled the trigger twice. They both fell. The others clued in and raised their rifles high in surrender, except for the teen, who froze. Gorev let out a breath. If the boy so much as twitched, he’d have to put him down.

“What are you doing?” Five One asked. “We had a deal. You said you would connect me with buyers.”

Boyd walked two paces closer. “I said I’d connect your product with buyers. Tell your men they work for me now.”

When his victim hesitated, Boyd pressed the silencer to his forehead. Five One stammered out a few sentences of Thai. His men nodded their understanding. The teen let his rifle hang from its strap. Gorev gave him a quiet grunt. He’d live another day.

“Any of you speak English?” Boyd asked.

One of the soldiers raised a tentative hand.

“Good. Come here.” The Englishman stepped out of the way. “Put your rifle to your boss’s head and pull the trigger.” When the soldier dragged his feet, Boyd thrust his pistol at him. “Don’t make me ask again.”

“Still,” Gorev muttered, drawing his eye from the scope and jerking his elbow out of the muck, “you cannot do own wet work.” He had no desire to watch. The echo of the Kalashnikov’s three-round burst told him the job was done.

CHAPTER

FIFTY-

EIGHT

MILOS NATIONAL AIRPORT

MILOS, GREEK ISLES

THECREWARRIVEDATTHE AS2’SHANGAR on Milos in midmorning after a short sleep. Cleanup at Club Styx had taken some time. Talia, along with Tyler, who had shown up at fifteen past midnight, had lingering guests to shoo away.

“Some people just can’t take a hint,” Tyler had said, using a few well-placed rounds to encourage a pack of drunks to wade off down the ferryman’s tunnel.

Eddie had gobs of files to download. Pell and Darcy had weapons and ammo to collect from Jafet’s armory, and Val had dozens of ten-sided gem dice to gather from the balcony game tables.

A message was waiting for Talia at the computer station Eddie had set up beside the jet. Finn wanted to talk. She called up the video chat application on the center screen and dialed his number.

“Hey, there.” Finn looked down into the camera from the passenger seat of a pickup truck. The image froze, jittered, and froze again, with only fleeting seconds of clarity. “How was the club?”

“The usual. Lots of noise. Self-indulgent patrons. Left me with a splitting headache.”

“Headache?” Finn seemed to catch her subtext. “You injured?”

So, he did care. “Bump on the head. That’s all.”

“Wish I’d been there.”

“Yeah. Me too.” She shifted the conversation. He hadn’t left the message just to check on her. “What about the kids?”

“Still looking. We tracked ’em to a road in the jungle. A goat herder walking the same stretch saw a pair of covered troop carriers two days back. Got pretty riled about it once we got him on the subject. Gave us a pretty fair description. Seems they ran him and his black Bengalis right off the track.”

Her heart dropped. Talia didn’t know what, exactly, she had dared to hope for, but it was more than a description of some trucks. “Okay.” She tried not to sound disappointed. “What’s next?”

“We’re asking after them at every fuel stop and village. Got a few leads. Looks like they’re heading toward Bangkok.” He turned his phone so that Talia could see the man beside him, a Thai man in a muddy button-down and jeans. “Helps to have a translator. We’d never have gotten this far without Ewan here.”

“I’m sorry. You’re breaking up. It sounded like you said that Thai man was Ewan.”

The Thai man rolled his eyes and shook his head as Finn turned the camera back to himself.

“Another fuel stop’s coming up. Gotta go.” The call ended.

Looking past the monitor, Talia saw Val, Tyler, and Don Marco at the edge of the hangar, looking grave.

“But you can’t,” Val said to Marco as Talia walked over. “They’ll arrest you the moment you show up at customs.”

The Italian gave her a fatherly smile. “Do you think I did not know this when I left Campione?”

“So avoid customs all together. Your jet—”

“—is not coming back. My orders.”

“This is my fault. I should never have called you.”

“It was the right thing, figlia mia. The only thing. Part of a greater plan.” Don Marco took Val’s hand in both of his. “And I was glad to be here. Seeing you in this work warms my heart. You will dismantle the evils of Jafet’s organization, and do the same to a far greater monster—Livingston Boyd.” He raised her fingers and kissed them. “I am so proud.”

Still holding her hand, as if unwilling to let go yet, Don Marco turned to Tyler. “You will take care of the house, my people?”

Tyler nodded. “If that is what