operational credo, then?” He did not wait for Court to answer. “Stalin, the Romanovs, the Great Patriotic War, the current skinhead Russian nationalist phenomenon. I have, you see, an affinity for terrible, terrible things. I am a fan of the power of cruelty. A man who has the ability to inflict death and misery on his fellow man is more powerful than the rich, the famous, the good.”
“Your operational credo?”
“Not really. A pastime, nothing more. Most of my business interests are rather benign: prostitutes, money laundering, stolen cars, credit cards, drugs . . . money-makers, yes, but money is not my true passion. There is, you see, nothing to me so fulfilling as to be a player in the industry in which you ply your trade. I am speaking of the industry of death. I am Russian. Our history is gloom and destruction. There are many sufferers and only a few dealers in suffering. I chose to be one of these. Awful, but preferable to the alternative, yes?”
Court said nothing. He was accustomed to working for, with, around, and against total nut jobs. This Russian freak was just par for the course on which he played.
Sid continued, “You are my instrument. You are my tool.”
“If I choose to be.”
Sidorenko smiled. “Yes. If you choose. Which is why I brought you here today.”
“I thought you brought me here to intimidate me.”
“Are you intimidated?”
“Not in the least.”
Sid smiled. “Ah, well, good thing I have another reason. I have a job.” He took another long sip of his purple tea and leaned forward on his desk as if to get down to business. “If you could kill anyone in the world right now, who would it be?”
“Greg Sidorenko.”
Sid laughed. Court did not. Sid’s levity chilled and morphed into a slight smile. “The best assassin on the planet wants to kill me. I should be frightened. But I’m not, because once I tell you who your new target is, you will thank me, and you and I will be the best of friends.”
Court stood and turned on his heel. Quickly the four men by the door behind him pushed off the wall and moved closer. Court said to Sid, “I’m leaving. These guys try to stop me, and they will get hurt. I get the impression that you might get off on watching that, but you’ll have to find yourself a new crew of hoodlums.”
“President Bakri Abboud,” Sid shouted the name, the name echoed in the long hall, and the Gray Man stopped dead in his tracks. He did not turn around immediately.
Court said, “I don’t mind difficult, but I insist on the possible. He is an impossible target.” He began walking again.
“Normally, yes, it would be so. But I have a way in, I have his schedule, I have access to him, and I have a way out.”
Court chuckled derisively. “Then do it yourself.”
“I did not say it would be easy. But you . . . you can do it. Just listen to my plan. You may still walk away, of course, if you do not like it. But I am sure you will be satisfied.”
Court turned and took a few steps back to the desk. “The president of Sudan knows he is a wanted man. There is a warrant for his arrest by the International Criminal Court in The Hague for the genocide in Darfur. A hunted man who is surrounded by bodyguards, controls a national police force, an intelligence agency, an army, an air force, a navy . . . who rules an entire fucking nation? One man cannot get to him.”
Sid sipped his tea again slowly. “Nine days from now a Russian transport plane will depart Belarus with military equipment for President Abboud’s army. The aircraft’s destination is Khartoum, the capital. It is a secret flight. No manifest, no customs, no problems. Four days after that is April 10, Abboud’s birthday, which he always spends in his hometown of Suakin, an ancient port city with no military garrison and no major government installations. He will travel there with his close protection detail, two dozen or so men, but that is all. His farm will be well-guarded, to be sure, but he will go to the local mosque three times a day while he is there. In the morning, at dawn, the president will perform the muezzin’s call to prayer himself from the minaret of the mosque. Suakin is also surrounded by ancient ruined towers and buildings from the time of