“I know,” she said, cutting him off, “no one must know it was us.”
“No,” he corrected. “No one must know it was taken.”
This was a point he thought he’d hammered home.
She sighed, tired of his lectures. “You will never get the woman back from Rene until he’s afraid. He may be a brute, but I tell you he lives in great fear and that’s why he lashes out. You want her back, you will have to tap into that fear.”
Sebastian was silent for a moment. “You might be right,” he said. “Come to my office. Rene’s messenger should be arriving any minute now.”
Twenty minutes later, a servant opened the door to Sebastian’s office. “A guest has arrived, Monsieur Brèvard. He claims to speak for Mr. Acosta.”
“Did he come alone?”
“He came with three men. They are undoubtedly armed.”
“Show the messenger in,” Sebastian said.
“And the others, sir?”
“Offer them a drink from our private stock.”
“Very good, sir.”
The servant bowed slightly and backtracked through the double doors.
Moments later, a stocky man in tan cargo pants and a loosefitting polo shirt came in. “My name is Kovack,” the man said. He spoke English with an Eastern European accent. He made uneasy eye contact with Sebastian and glanced nervously behind him at Calista, who stood with her back pressed flat against the wall. She didn’t acknowledge him or move or even blink.
Sebastian grinned inwardly. His odd little sister had a way of unnerving even the most hardened of guests. “Where is Rene?”
“He’s here and there,” Kovack said flippantly. “A very busy man.”
“And why has he broken our agreement? The American woman was supposed to be returned to us after the Iranian exercise was over.”
Kovack took a seat in one of the chairs fronting Sebastian’s ornate desk and began to explain. “We have discovered other buyers for her services.”
“Who?” Sebastian asked.
“I’m not at liberty to tell you.”
Sebastian guessed the Chinese were involved, and probably the Russians. Both were known to be interested in cyberwarfare and using computer hacking as a weapon. Perhaps there were others. Under different circumstances, he would have set up a bidding war and sold the woman and the others to the highest bidder just as Rene was attempting to do. But he needed her back. No one else would do.
No doubt aware of this, Kovack shifted in his seat. His new posture oozed superiority and arrogance as if he were ready to dictate terms in Brèvard’s own home. His eye seemed to catch the box of Cuban cigars on Sebastian’s desk.
“These are most delicious.”
“You don’t eat them,” Sebastian pointedly explained. “But if you mean they have a wonderful flavor, then, yes, you’re correct.” With great calmness Brèvard picked up the box and offered it to his insolent guest. “Why don’t you try one?”
Kovack reached out and plucked one of the cigars from the box. In the next instant, Calista appeared in the chair beside him. She moved quickly and startled Kovack. She didn’t sit as much as perch on the armrest with her feet on the cushion.
She reached down, took the cigar cutter from Sebastian’s desk, and toyed with it. “Allow me,” she purred. In a swift move, she cut off the end of Kovack’s cigar.
Sebastian almost laughed. How she loved that little guillotine.
Kovack seemed to enjoy the attention. He smiled and brought the cigar up to his nose, breathing in the aroma. “Do you have a light?”
Sebastian reached for a wedge-shaped block made of iridescent glass. It had sharp edges and looked vaguely volcanic. It held a butane lighter, partially recessed in one surface. “Obsidian,” Sebastian said. “From Mount Etna.” In a moment the cigar was alight. The rich flavor of the Cuban tobacco was soon wafting through the room. Sebastian let his guest enjoy the smoke for a minute and then spoke once more.
“Back to business,” he said. “What exactly does Rene want from me?”