launchers. As you have stated, your own countrymen would put you to death for offering these weapons for sale. Once I have them, you can no longer be apprehended with them.” Yaqub saw the truth of that in the Russian’s blue eyes.
“I have five Iglas.”
Yaqub smiled. “For five Iglas, we have a deal.”
A frown pulled at the Russian’s wolflike features. “I have a deal. You have steal.”
“There is one other matter I would require some assistance on.”
Borisov’s eyebrows rose. “You bargain this hard and you expect me to throw in more?”
“Perhaps it will benefit us both.” Yaqub ran his hands over the missile launcher’s case. “I have been told there is a CIA team in the city. I want them.”
“You can kill them yourself. Why ask me?”
“Because I want to take these men alive. I have a use for them.”
7
“GUESS THE COPS are still interested in you.”
Lying on a creeper under a Chevy Silverado pickup with four-wheel drive, Pike caught the vehicle’s edge and slid out into the open garage. Monty had put a hurricane fan in the corner to help circulate the air now that spring was starting to return to the city. In a few more weeks, working conditions in the garage would escalate north of miserable.
Monty stood between the Silverado and a Toyota Camry that was in for a brake job. The pickup needed a new transmission because the young driver couldn’t stay away from off-roading with his buddies, and Daddy’s wallet hadn’t gone flat. Seeing how the truck and the father were being treated irritated Pike, so he was working on other vehicles in between to slow down the return time. The young driver was calling daily.
Pike didn’t bother looking across the street to the small diner he and Monty sometimes ordered takeout from. Usually they ate what Monty’s wife fixed them for lunch, but she knew they both enjoyed the diner’s meat loaf Mondays.
The two-man detail assigned to watch over Pike had been there since he’d gotten back from his trip to Tulsa. They stuck out like sore thumbs. So much for whatever pull the federal prosecutor thoughthe had in the area. Pike hadn’t bothered calling Dundee to let him know that whatever request had gone through the channels was being ignored. The crack house was still out of business, and repairs hadn’t even started on the place, so everything was fine.
Pike wiped his hands on a grease rag. “Guess they are. Must be a slow day for crime fighters.”
Monty handed Pike a cold beer from the chest they kept in the office. It was after three, and they would knock off in another couple hours. Monty had to coach a Little League baseball game. Pike figured he would hang out at the garage and tinker for a while on Mrs. Garcia’s car because he didn’t have anything else to do and he was restless. If he went back to his apartment, he’d be crawling the walls.
“I think they don’t like you because they think you’re doing what they can’t.”
Pike took a long drink but didn’t say anything.
Monty hunkered down, sliding against the Toyota till he was in a sitting position. He rested his elbows on his drawn-up knees and dangled his beer can from his grease-stained fingers. He appeared hesitant, and that wasn’t like Monty.
More attentive now because Pike liked the guy and what he brought to his family and to the community, Pike watched Monty struggle with his thoughts for a moment. Monty didn’t usually do that. Usually he was a straight-ahead kind of thinker. Pike had watched Monty struggle more over figuring out his hitting lineup before a game than anything else. He kept his life on the straight and narrow. The garage owner had some bad stuff locked away in his closet from his younger years, but Pike didn’t meet many people with clean hands.
“Something on your mind?”
Monty knuckled sweat from his eyebrow and grimaced. “Yeah. Shouldn’t be, but there is.”
“What?”
Taking a deep breath, Monty looked at Pike. “Those cops
“I have five Iglas.”
Yaqub smiled. “For five Iglas, we have a deal.”
A frown pulled at the Russian’s wolflike features. “I have a deal. You have steal.”
“There is one other matter I would require some assistance on.”
Borisov’s eyebrows rose. “You bargain this hard and you expect me to throw in more?”
“Perhaps it will benefit us both.” Yaqub ran his hands over the missile launcher’s case. “I have been told there is a CIA team in the city. I want them.”
“You can kill them yourself. Why ask me?”
“Because I want to take these men alive. I have a use for them.”
7
“GUESS THE COPS are still interested in you.”
Lying on a creeper under a Chevy Silverado pickup with four-wheel drive, Pike caught the vehicle’s edge and slid out into the open garage. Monty had put a hurricane fan in the corner to help circulate the air now that spring was starting to return to the city. In a few more weeks, working conditions in the garage would escalate north of miserable.
Monty stood between the Silverado and a Toyota Camry that was in for a brake job. The pickup needed a new transmission because the young driver couldn’t stay away from off-roading with his buddies, and Daddy’s wallet hadn’t gone flat. Seeing how the truck and the father were being treated irritated Pike, so he was working on other vehicles in between to slow down the return time. The young driver was calling daily.
Pike didn’t bother looking across the street to the small diner he and Monty sometimes ordered takeout from. Usually they ate what Monty’s wife fixed them for lunch, but she knew they both enjoyed the diner’s meat loaf Mondays.
The two-man detail assigned to watch over Pike had been there since he’d gotten back from his trip to Tulsa. They stuck out like sore thumbs. So much for whatever pull the federal prosecutor thoughthe had in the area. Pike hadn’t bothered calling Dundee to let him know that whatever request had gone through the channels was being ignored. The crack house was still out of business, and repairs hadn’t even started on the place, so everything was fine.
Pike wiped his hands on a grease rag. “Guess they are. Must be a slow day for crime fighters.”
Monty handed Pike a cold beer from the chest they kept in the office. It was after three, and they would knock off in another couple hours. Monty had to coach a Little League baseball game. Pike figured he would hang out at the garage and tinker for a while on Mrs. Garcia’s car because he didn’t have anything else to do and he was restless. If he went back to his apartment, he’d be crawling the walls.
“I think they don’t like you because they think you’re doing what they can’t.”
Pike took a long drink but didn’t say anything.
Monty hunkered down, sliding against the Toyota till he was in a sitting position. He rested his elbows on his drawn-up knees and dangled his beer can from his grease-stained fingers. He appeared hesitant, and that wasn’t like Monty.
More attentive now because Pike liked the guy and what he brought to his family and to the community, Pike watched Monty struggle with his thoughts for a moment. Monty didn’t usually do that. Usually he was a straight-ahead kind of thinker. Pike had watched Monty struggle more over figuring out his hitting lineup before a game than anything else. He kept his life on the straight and narrow. The garage owner had some bad stuff locked away in his closet from his younger years, but Pike didn’t meet many people with clean hands.
“Something on your mind?”
Monty knuckled sweat from his eyebrow and grimaced. “Yeah. Shouldn’t be, but there is.”
“What?”
Taking a deep breath, Monty looked at Pike. “Those cops
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