removed the decanter’s stopper and poured himself a measure of whisky. Leeson watched him the whole time, expressionless.
Victor poured a second glass and offered it to the younger man, who made no move to take it.
‘I don’t drink alone,’ Victor said.
Leeson reached out a hand, but didn’t lean forward, and Victor had to stretch further to bridge the gap. A power game. He sat back down and rested the tumbler on his thigh, the paper napkin still between his fingertips and the glass.
‘You’re a cautious man,’ Leeson said and took a sip from his glass.
‘Is that a problem for you?’
‘Not at all, Mr Kooi. I believe in reliability and trust. And I trust that a cautious man is a reliable man.’
Victor sipped too. ‘I’ve had no complaints thus far.’
‘I can imagine,’ Leeson said with a nod. ‘My last client was most pleased with the way you dealt with those problems in Yemen and Pakistan.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘But not his,’ Leeson said, watching how Victor reacted. ‘He has disappeared into the ether.’ He made a rippling motion with his fingers. ‘Rumour has it that he has been captured or killed by friends of your previous target.’
‘I don’t see the significance,’ Victor said, because he did see it.
‘This is a great shame for two reasons. Firstly, I expected a number of similar contracts to pass my way from him, and therefore to you. That business has now vanished along with the client.’
Leeson paused, and Victor knew he was expected to ask, ‘What’s the second reason?’
‘Ah, the second reason. If the first reason was a great shame then this second is highly troubling, because if the client was apprehended then it raises doubt as to the quality of your work.’
Victor didn’t respond. He looked at Leeson while thinking he could put a bullet through his skull and be out of the Rolls-Royce before the driver could respond. But that would put him in the kill zone between the two cars. The Makarov was a poor copy of a much better, but still outdated, pistol. It had limited effectiveness against anything beyond point-blank range. Victor couldn’t hope to face the marksman and live, even exploiting the limousine’s armour plating as cover. He would have to go out of the left side to put the limousine between himself and the guy behind the rifle, but that meant scrambling over the seat and past Leeson’s corpse. That delay could mean the driver would be ready for him. He might have a better weapon, perhaps body armour underneath his jacket, and would have an easy shot as Victor leapt out of the door. If the limousine’s armour extended to the partition between the rear compartment and the driver’s cab, then a 9 mm round from the Makarov had no chance of penetrating it. There was more chance a ricochet would kill Victor if he attempted to kill the driver by shooting from where he sat. If the partition was unarmoured, Leeson’s corpse would still be in the way and shooting at a trajectory that would avoid the body meant a significant chance the luxury seats and partition wall, thickened by the angle, would deflect the round or slow it enough to render it ineffective. If he attempted to open the partition window it would give the driver enough time to be out of his seat before Victor could shoot through the window.
‘Well?’ Leeson asked. ‘Do you have anything to say for yourself?’
‘Yemeni authorities ruled that my last victim committed suicide, as per the stipulations of the contract. Same as the Pakistani informant.’
‘I’ve read the Yemeni report,’ Leeson said. ‘The target died from a stab wound to the neck. Hardly a common way to end one’s life.’
‘He was a hard target. A CIA operative. He was smart. He took precautions. When you passed me the contract you should have known it would be a difficult ask. And, lest we forget, it was still ruled a suicide.’
‘So why has the client disappeared?’
‘I don’t know enough about the client to offer a considered opinion and I’m not the kind of man who likes to guess. That said, if I had given the target’s associates enough reason to convince them he was murdered, and I say convince because they would automatically suspect given his occupation, then how would they have learned of the client? Certainly not through any mistake I made, because I don’t know enough about the client to leave clues leading to his doorstep. Any mistake I made, and I made