either side of his temples, forcibly redirecting his gaze back to Aarez.
“And now, my lieutenant Oassan is manhandling you,” Aarez hissed. “Pointedly, you will notice that still no-one is interceding.”
There was a flicker of concern in Anatoly’s eyes.
“So,” Aarez said, “do we now understand one another?”
Anatoly said nothing for a moment. Aarez could see him running through his options.
Fight? Flight? Or submission?
“Yes,” Anatoly replied, “Fedor is busy working on another project, overseeing it personally. As such, I am to assume control of the Wolves until his return. I will carry out your instructions.”
Oassan, towering menace, slapped the Russian gently on the cheek.
“Good man,” Aarez said. “You may go.”
Anatoly stood with a measure of uncertainty, unaccustomed to being dealt with in this manner. Aarez enjoyed watching the man tread hesitantly away. He knew the Russian’s story well, as he did for all those he’d brought into the Emirates to run their local mafia.
Anatoly was an excellent sniper, and an able second-in-command.
Unfortunately, he was still too military, and not yet mercenary. That made dealing with him directly tricky, which was why Aarez had installed Fedor Milanovich as the head of the group.
With Fedor busy, it left Aarez short on manpower to reclaim the puzzle box and contents.
Oassan sat opposite his friend and clicked his fingers at the Spanish waiter. He ordered some food and pulled out a napkin, which he stuffed into the gap between his neck and kandura.
“You think he’ll be trouble?” Oassan asked.
Aarez narrowed his eyes.
A large luxury yacht was sailing into the nearby marina. Soon, this project would pay off, perhaps as much as $100 million. A small amount, to be sure, but it was just the beginning. It would allow Aarez the lifestyle he wanted and the seed capital for his grand plan.
“He’ll do what we want,” he said, still staring out of the windows. “He’s ex-Spetnaz and accustomed to taking orders, he just needed reminding of the true chain of command.”
The waiter placed a plate of oysters on the table and Oassan began hungrily slurping them down.
“It probably doesn’t hurt,” Oassan said, “that he knows we have his wife and children under guard in Vladivostok until this game is over.”
“Or that displeasing us would result in him being buried in a Dubai jail for the next thirty years,” Aarez agreed. “Cooperating earns him more a month than he’d see in a year back home.”
“Carrot and stick.” Oassan said.
“Yes,” Aarez replied, “I do get the feeling, though that we’re not using enough stick.”
“You’re not happy with our progress?”
“Losing the puzzle box to that hooker was an unforgivable, sloppy mistake,” Aarez said. “We’re too deep into the race to change horses now. When this is over, we may need some fresh blood.”
Oassan nodded.
“Agreed,” he said.
“Also,” Aarez continued, “given the Russians’ laxity in recovering the package, I think it might be worthwhile putting in place some back up.”
“What did you have in mind?” Oassan asked.
Aarez ran his finger around the rim of the wine glass until it resonated with the high pitched ring.
“Are you still screwing that contact I set you up with at the Journal?”
“Absolutely,” Oassan replied. “I knew that little bitch would prove useful eventually.”
“Given our Russian friends’ tardiness...” Aarez said.
“It would be my pleasure,” Oassan smiled. “They’ll know who has the box and key.”
“Good. I want that package before the evening is over,” Aarez said. “And I want anyone who has come into contact with either to bare the calling card of Ash-Shumu’a.”
Aarez flicked the side of the glass.
It released an angelic ping.
14
In contrast to the Asian mafia’s hang out in the depths of International City, the Russian mob had its head office in the decidedly corporate
“And now, my lieutenant Oassan is manhandling you,” Aarez hissed. “Pointedly, you will notice that still no-one is interceding.”
There was a flicker of concern in Anatoly’s eyes.
“So,” Aarez said, “do we now understand one another?”
Anatoly said nothing for a moment. Aarez could see him running through his options.
Fight? Flight? Or submission?
“Yes,” Anatoly replied, “Fedor is busy working on another project, overseeing it personally. As such, I am to assume control of the Wolves until his return. I will carry out your instructions.”
Oassan, towering menace, slapped the Russian gently on the cheek.
“Good man,” Aarez said. “You may go.”
Anatoly stood with a measure of uncertainty, unaccustomed to being dealt with in this manner. Aarez enjoyed watching the man tread hesitantly away. He knew the Russian’s story well, as he did for all those he’d brought into the Emirates to run their local mafia.
Anatoly was an excellent sniper, and an able second-in-command.
Unfortunately, he was still too military, and not yet mercenary. That made dealing with him directly tricky, which was why Aarez had installed Fedor Milanovich as the head of the group.
With Fedor busy, it left Aarez short on manpower to reclaim the puzzle box and contents.
Oassan sat opposite his friend and clicked his fingers at the Spanish waiter. He ordered some food and pulled out a napkin, which he stuffed into the gap between his neck and kandura.
“You think he’ll be trouble?” Oassan asked.
Aarez narrowed his eyes.
A large luxury yacht was sailing into the nearby marina. Soon, this project would pay off, perhaps as much as $100 million. A small amount, to be sure, but it was just the beginning. It would allow Aarez the lifestyle he wanted and the seed capital for his grand plan.
“He’ll do what we want,” he said, still staring out of the windows. “He’s ex-Spetnaz and accustomed to taking orders, he just needed reminding of the true chain of command.”
The waiter placed a plate of oysters on the table and Oassan began hungrily slurping them down.
“It probably doesn’t hurt,” Oassan said, “that he knows we have his wife and children under guard in Vladivostok until this game is over.”
“Or that displeasing us would result in him being buried in a Dubai jail for the next thirty years,” Aarez agreed. “Cooperating earns him more a month than he’d see in a year back home.”
“Carrot and stick.” Oassan said.
“Yes,” Aarez replied, “I do get the feeling, though that we’re not using enough stick.”
“You’re not happy with our progress?”
“Losing the puzzle box to that hooker was an unforgivable, sloppy mistake,” Aarez said. “We’re too deep into the race to change horses now. When this is over, we may need some fresh blood.”
Oassan nodded.
“Agreed,” he said.
“Also,” Aarez continued, “given the Russians’ laxity in recovering the package, I think it might be worthwhile putting in place some back up.”
“What did you have in mind?” Oassan asked.
Aarez ran his finger around the rim of the wine glass until it resonated with the high pitched ring.
“Are you still screwing that contact I set you up with at the Journal?”
“Absolutely,” Oassan replied. “I knew that little bitch would prove useful eventually.”
“Given our Russian friends’ tardiness...” Aarez said.
“It would be my pleasure,” Oassan smiled. “They’ll know who has the box and key.”
“Good. I want that package before the evening is over,” Aarez said. “And I want anyone who has come into contact with either to bare the calling card of Ash-Shumu’a.”
Aarez flicked the side of the glass.
It released an angelic ping.
14
In contrast to the Asian mafia’s hang out in the depths of International City, the Russian mob had its head office in the decidedly corporate
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