Kent puts down his tea. “Someone hired you to carry out a hit on Esguerra?” At my confirming nod, he asks sharply, “Who?”
I open my mouth to tell him, but he reaches the correct conclusion on his own.
“Novak,” he spits out, pushing the tea away. His jaw flexes violently. “Of course. Who else would fucking dare?”
I take another swig of my beer. “A hundred million euro is his offer, but I’m willing to let Esguerra match it—if you bring me to Colombia to talk to him. I want bygones to be bygones. Well, that and a hundred million,” I clarify, lest he think I’m all about making peace.
Kent stares at me, eyes narrowed. “You know he might not go for it, right? Now that we know there’s a traitor, we’ll figure out who that is. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Sure. But time matters—especially when a vulnerable newborn is involved.”
Kent’s face turns to stone. “What the fuck do you know about newborns?” His voice is dangerously soft. “Because if you’re trying to imply that—”
“Lizzie is in danger? I’m not implying, I’m telling you. Novak knows all about the recent addition to Esguerra’s family, and he has plans for her.” I’m taking a risk revealing so much, but I can’t afford to pussyfoot around.
I have to get Esguerra to listen to me.
My future with Sara depends on it.
The waiter approaches to take our order, but Kent shoos him away with a curt wave. “What if Esguerra just wires the hundred million to you?” he asks, picking up his tea again. “A hundred million for a name, all at zero risk to you.”
“No go,” I say and finish my beer. “I don’t need to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for Esguerra to carry out his revenge on me. He either hears me out in person, or I take the job. It’s up to him.”
Getting up, I walk out of the restaurant, my stomach rumbling at the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen.
If all goes well, I’ll eat here for real one day… with Sara by my side.
31
Peter
I don’t have to wait long for Esguerra’s answer. His email is in my inbox by the time I get back to my hotel.
Tonight at seven, the message reads. Lucas will pick you up.
Seven is only a half hour away, so I swiftly notify my guys and get ready.
Kent shows up at my hotel room promptly at seven. I’m not at all surprised that he knows where I’m staying; I knew I was being tailed from the second I left the restaurant.
Kent’s face might as well be hewn from granite. “No weapons,” he says, and I lift my arms, letting him frisk me from head to toe.
He finds the knife in my boot, the two knives in my pockets, and the small revolver tucked into the inner pocket of my leather jacket. However, he doesn’t notice the razor blade in the hem of my jeans or the coil of wire sewn into my jacket collar.
Camp Larko taught me well.
“Let’s go,” he says when he’s satisfied that I’m clean, and I follow him out of the hotel and into an armored limo.
The ride to the airport passes in silence. I expect Kent to deliver me to Esguerra’s private plane and take off, but he goes in with me.
“You’re piloting?” I ask, and he nods curtly.
“Esguerra requested that I bring you myself.”
He doesn’t sound too pleased about that, and I smile as I take a seat on the cream-colored leather couch in the cabin. Kent being pissed about the disruption to his routine is a bonus as far as I’m concerned.
I can’t yet kill him for letting Sara crash, but I can certainly enjoy screwing up his plans.
I spend part of the eleven-hour flight napping and the rest emailing with my team. They’re on their way to Colombia too, and will be waiting for me outside the compound as per our Novak-approved plan. If all goes well, I won’t need them, but if things go sideways, they might be able to help get me out.
Assuming I’m still alive to get out, that is.
Esguerra’s enormous estate is in the southeast part of Colombia, right on the edge of the Amazon rainforest. It’s night when we land on the small airstrip inside the compound, and the humid air is warm and completely still as we step off the plane.
I recognize the driver of the car waiting for us. He was one of the guards here when I was in Esguerra’s employ.
“Hey, Diego,” I greet him, and he grins, white teeth flashing.
“Sokolov. Never thought I’d see you again, man.” His Spanish accent is not as thick as I remember, but still quite noticeable. “What have you been up to?” Then he notices the blond man at my side. “Hey, Lucas. Where’s Yu—”