Black Ice (Ice 1)

“You don’t think they’ll be suspicious? Wonder why I killed Hakim?”

“They know you and they knew Hakim. Why should they wonder? All that matters is they cement the arrangements, divide up the territory and choose a new leader. They might have chosen Hakim because he was a hardworking SOB, but with him out of the picture I’m guessing that Christos has a clear shot. And you’re going to stop it.”

“They may be willing to overlook Hakim’s death, but Christos has a great many more people in his organization. There are bound to be repercussions.”

“And so you’ll die,” Thomason said.

Bastien didn’t even blink. “Will I?”

“It’s very simple—you’ve done this sort of thing before, and even if you hadn’t I wouldn’t put anything past you. Once they choose Christos you’ll make a fuss, put a bullet in his head, and someone we’ll already have planted will shoot you. You’ll be wearing a dummy blood patch, and once you hear the gun go off you drop like a stone. Which means you only have one shot at Christos—you need to make it count.”

“I’ve never had any trouble hitting my target.”

“No, you haven’t. So Bastien Toussaint will be dead and if I’m feeling particularly generous I might let you take a little vacation in the south of France until your next mission. There’s a first time for everything.”

Bastien lit another cigarette that he didn’t want. “And the arms cartel?”

“The next obvious choice is the baron, and he’ll be easy enough to control. We have no interest in putting them out of business. Someone’s going to be supplying the arms to the international terrorists, and by watching the cartel we can trace the various splinter groups, tap into their plans.”

“I delivered detonators to Syria last April. Seventy-three people were killed, including seventeen children.” His voice was neutral, but Thomason wasn’t fooled.

“Don’t tell me you’re still sulking about that! The fortunes of war, my boy. Casualties of the fight against terror. You never used to be so sentimental, Jean-Marc. You know the math as well as I do. Seventy-three dead, with the potential of thousands being saved. Sometimes you just have to make the ugly choice.”

“Yes,” said Bastien, watching through the curling smoke of his cigarette.

“I trust you, Jean-Marc. I know you’d never make the mistake of lying to me. If you say the girl is dead then I’m certain she must be. Besides, what reason would you have to lie? In all the years I’ve known you I’ve never seen you show any human emotion, any weakness. You’re a machine. State-of-the-art, finely tuned, indispensable.”

“Even a machine needs to rest,” he said. “Let someone else do the job, and I’ll just disappear. Jensen has already built up a solid cover—he can take care of Christos himself.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired.”

“People in our line of work aren’t allowed to get tired. They seldom get time off, they don’t get to rest. There’s only one way to retire, Jean-Marc. The way Hakim did.”

“Is that a threat?” he asked lazily, stubbing out his cigarette.

“No. Only a fact. The cartel will be meeting at the Hotel Denis tomorrow, with Christos arriving the next day. I leave it up to you. I have every confidence you’ll do what needs to be done.”

“Do you?”

“Don’t annoy me, Jean-Marc. You know how much is riding on this.” He rose, folding his newspaper neatly.

“The fate of the free world? Isn’t it always?” He didn’t bother to rise. “I think I’ve heard this all before. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few and all that crap. You’ve been watching too much Star Trek.”

“I thought it was Star Wars,” Harry said.

“I know what’s at stake,” Bastien said.

“See that you don’t forget. Anything.”

Bastien looked up at him. His time was running out, and he simply didn’t care one way or the other. His luck had held far longer than he would have expected, and it wasn’t going to last much longer. He’d be dead by the first snowfall. Except that it was already snowing.

But before they got to him, he just might slit Harry Thomason’s throat. For old time’s sake.

12

She was gone, of course. He knew it even as he rode upward in the tiny elevator, but he went anyway, just to make certain. The place was dark, and she’d left a window open. Icy air was blowing in, laced with bits of snow, and he shut it and pulled the curtains before he turned on the light. He didn’t know whether they were watching, but he wasn’t in the mood to take chances.