sun had worn off, before he inspected the day’s results. A necessary duty, with pleasing results.
Trygg was more than satisfied with the progress on the airplane. But then again, he expected nothing less than top results from those he hired.
Jim had recruited the best. Promised them money beyond their dreams.
The fact they’d never live to see their payoff lay easy on Trygg’s conscience.
Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.
Lewis stepped down from the plane, giving orders. Two men followed him to the plane’s underbelly, where the bay door stood open.
Trygg didn’t trust Pitman. But one didn’t have to trust a man to appreciate his usefulness.
The wind picked up, making the walls of the tent shudder. Trygg caught the scent of hamburger and grease from the mess tents a few hundred yards away.
Lunchtime soon.
He had forty men supporting him in this campaign. More than enough.
“From the satisfied look on your face, the mission is going as planned.” The voice spoke from outside the tent, just beyond his shoulder, catching Trygg off guard.
“Minos,” he greeted casually. But the hair bristled at the base of Trygg’s neck, and irritation pulled between his shoulders. The Al Asheera leader moved like a ghost. “This is an unexpected surprise.”
“Thought I’d see how the project was coming along.”
“We’re on schedule,” Trygg answered, his annoyance barely contained. He took in the other man’s scarf-covered features, the desert garb.
“And the cylinders?”
“All aspects of this mission are being handled,” Trygg replied stiffly. “To your satisfaction, I believe.”
Trygg turned on his heel and walked back into his tent.
“I have no complaints.” Minos followed, chuckling. He took in the massive desk, the leather straight-back chairs, the dining table complete with china and a fruit bowl, brimming with red apples, ripe oranges. “You live well, General.”
“I live civilized,” Trygg corrected. He placed his coffee on his desk and took his hat from a nearby coat stand. “You should try it sometime.”
“It’s not easy for me. I’m nothing more than a paid killer most times,” Minos replied slyly. “In fact, I was just paid one million dollars by Senator Harper to kill you.”
Trygg froze for a moment, his hat never making it to his head. “May I ask why?”
“I don’t care,” Minos replied. “So I didn’t ask. Not many men can manage three million dollars in bearer bonds as payment.”
He acknowledged Minos’s statement with a short nod before settling the hat on his head. “The amount doesn’t mean anything to Keith. He’s from old money.”
“It means quite a bit to me.” Minos tsk-tsked. “Did you two have a fight, General?”
“He might not have agreed with some of my past decisions,” Trygg acknowledged with deliberate vagueness. “Did you agree to take the contract?”
“I took his money. But we didn’t shake on it.” Minos shrugged. “I’ll take care of Harper so he stays out of your way. That was our deal.”
“Not all of it. You have the EMP?”
“Yes. My men left it just beyond the East Ridge. I didn’t want them accidentally mistaken for the enemy and shot during the transfer.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“Trusting you wasn’t part of our deal,” Minos replied. He grabbed a red apple from the fruit bowl, tossed it in his hand. “Do you have McKnight contained?”
“I’ll tell my men to move the emitter.” Trygg stepped out into the open, caught the scent of moisture in the air. “We’re in for a storm.”
“Sahara storms are more common than most think.” Minos glanced up at the sky. Dark clouds swirled over the hilltops; electricity charged the air. “A hint of what is to come maybe?”
“For whom?”
“Depends on where a person is at the time,” Minos quipped. “One thing for sure, Harper may have stopped Cain MacAlister from sending men over here the other day.”
“You heard about that?”
Minos shrugged. “You still have a major problem on your hands, General.”
“And that would be?”
“King Jarek and Quamar. I wouldn’t underestimate them. Or their men.”
“I don’t,” Trygg replied, his tone razor-sharp. “That’s why I hired you. To take care of them. After all, who would know them better than their oldest enemy?”
“Who indeed?” Minos acknowledged, then glanced at the men standing guard over the plane. “By the way, your men have holes on your perimeter. You need to shore them up, or you’ll be done before this thing starts.”
“Where?” Trygg turned toward the plane. When he got no answer, he turned back, then swore.
He stood alone.
* * *
“THIS IS IT.” Booker parked the jeep at the base of the mountain. He leaned over the wheel