Collision Course by Desiree Holt

climate—dressed as always
in a well-tailored silk suit, shirt and tie, the expression on his face far
from friendly.
    In
contrast, Bennett wore slacks and a linen shirt and still sweated profusely, a
condition having little to do with the tropical climate. He cursed himself
under his breath for letting his nerves get the better of him. He was a
powerful man with many resources at his disposal. Behind his corporate facade,
he had his fingers in half the illegal operations in the world. Yet the man
sitting across from him with his dead eyes, a descendant of the ruthless
Bedouins, had the power to instill fear in him. For the first time, he feared
death might be staring him in the face.
    A
houseboy had served them cold drinks, and they’d been sipping them in silence
for at least five minutes. Bennett welcomed the opportunity to gather his
thoughts. He’d be god damned if he’d start the conversation. And he had no
intention of apologizing. Shit happened and you cleaned it up.
    Get your shit together. Don’t lose
control.
    “So,”
El-Salaki began. “We have a problem.”
    Bennett
unwrapped the cigar and held it in front of his nose, inhaling the flavor. It
was better than a tranquilizer for him. It also gave him time to collect his
thoughts.
    “We
can’t rectify,” he said at last. “And I think we both own a share of this one.”
    El-Salaki
said nothing, merely lifted an eyebrow.
    “Don’t
give me that look.” Bennett kept his voice low and even. He who lost his temper
lost the fight. “The wrong person may have answered your call, but you should
have verified the person who answered before spilling your guts.”
    “If you
had transferred the money at the appropriate time,” El-Salaki countered, “I
never would have had to make the call.”
    “And I
will tell you something.” He pointed his cigar at the other man. “Tobias
Serrano is as big a thief as ever. I transferred the agreed upon amount. He was
holding you up for a bigger payoff.”
    El-Salaki
narrowed his eyes. “I can’t believe he doesn’t know there would be consequences
to such an action.”
    “You can
bet, however, he believes in this situation he’s in the driver’s seat and
doesn’t give a damn about consequences,” Bennett pointed out. “Perhaps it’s
time to find another supplier. Tobias doesn’t have the only drug cartel in the
world.”
    “No. Not
an option. We deal with others but our relationship with him is of long
standing. We’ve established a rhythm. And trust, a most important commodity.”
    Bennett
snorted. “Trust. How can you say that word in the same breath as Serrano’s
name?”
    “Because
we do have a measure of trust with him, more than any other cartel. And we need
to take delivery so we can then complete our end of the sale and purchase a
critical shipment of arms. We have a rebel army waiting for them.”
    They sat
in silence for a moment, studying each other.
    Bennett
turned the situation over in his mind. Between the three of them—himself,
El-Salaki and Serrano—they had ordered the death of a staggering number of
people without twitching an eyebrow. But Bennett had only arranged killings
twice. The other one had been personal, just like this one. He hadn’t liked it
the last time and he liked it less now. Trey Haggerty had a brilliant future
ahead of him, cut short now by an unintentional but fatal mistake.
    But a
man did dangerous things with his survival at stake. The information in the
Funda account alone, if Haggerty cracked it, could have the government
breathing down his neck.
    Fucking
shit.
    He
expected to be the one in control at all times. He prided himself on it. But
one lapse and everything went to shit.
    Sometimes
he enjoyed a silent laugh that the eminently respected Bennett Global
Enterprises had been built on money from illegal activities. He’d tricked them
all, fooling everyone so no one guessed the truth. But he wouldn’t be laughing
if the information fell into the wrong