what he promises, hey? It is how I stay in business – and how I stay alive.’
The Kalashnikov was finally returned to the desktop, the other weapons lowering. Adam concealed his relief behind Toradze’s more casual acceptance of the situation: of course they believe me. I am Giorgi Toradze! However, Khattak still seemed troubled. A potential problem?
For now, Adam’s main concern was the mission. There was still something he needed to do – beyond simply getting out of the building alive.
‘If you are happy when you test these,’ he said, gesturing at the case, ‘then will you agree to my price? Two thousand dollars for each warhead.’
‘It is still a lot of money,’ said Syed.
‘Yes, I know. But my contact in the factory is taking risks to obtain them for me – he demands to be well paid.’
‘And you demand your profit too.’
‘Of course! I am a businessman, after all.’
‘Then you know the importance of haggling. One thousand dollars each.’
Adam shook his head. ‘I would make a loss at that price. My contact is not the only person I have to pay. They have to be transported, there are officials to bribe . . .’
‘One thousand two hundred.’
‘I am also taking risks. No, two thousand is a good price.’
Syed struggled to hide the anger in his voice. ‘One thousand five hundred.’
‘Ah-ha! Now we are getting somewhere.’ Adam patted one of the rockets. ‘Malik, my friend, you are a hard man – but also a fair man. I think we can make a deal that suits us both. Say for . . . eighteen hundred?’
‘One thousand six hundred.’
‘Seven hundred. My final offer.’ There was sudden steel in Adam’s voice, his expression hardening.
The terrorist leader drew in a slow breath. ‘Very well. One thousand seven hundred dollars.’
‘Excellent!’ Adam clapped his hands together – and as he did, he pushed one of the rings on his left hand around so that its setting pointed outwards from his palm, a small dark square on the gold. ‘We are both happy – it is good business, hey? Now, we shake on it.’ He held out his right hand to Syed again.
Syed hesitated, then took it. Adam gripped hard as he shook, preventing the Pakistani from pulling away, and placed his left hand firmly on Syed’s sleeve. ‘A good deal, a very good deal,’ the American agent said with enthusiasm. ‘You won’t regret this.’
‘I had better not,’ Syed replied quietly, the threat unmistakable. Adam finally released his hand. ‘I will contact you again in . . . one week? After we have tested these.’ He closed the case.
‘I will be waiting for your call.’ Adam raised his left hand to rub an imaginary speck from the corner of his eye, surreptitiously checking the ring. The little grey square was gone. ‘Until then, have fun, hey?’
Syed regarded him with disdain. ‘One week,’ he repeated, before issuing a Pashto command. The other members of his group prepared to move out. Adam was about to do the same when Syed raised a hand. ‘And Giorgi?’
‘Yes?’ A sudden adrenalin surge. Was this a betrayal?
The leader indicated the case. ‘The combination?’
‘Ah, how did I forget?’ Relieved, he showed Syed the tumblers. ‘It is easy to remember. One, two, three . . . five.’
‘Five?’ said Syed dubiously.
‘Who would think to try that? Four ones, four nines, then one-two-three-four – everyone tries those, but after that they are lost. Nobody has ever got into my luggage with that combination!’
‘Perhaps they did, and you did not know.’
‘Oh, I would know. Trust me.’ He gave Syed a conspiratorial smirk. ‘But now, it is time to get my other luggage from the hotel and go to the airport. There is a lot to do. I will talk to you in one week. Until then, nakhvamdis!’
Adam followed Marwat and Umar out and down the stairs, the other members of the cell coming after him. Syed had delegated the task of carrying the case to another man. Was there still some way to prevent the terrorists from using the improved warheads?
He forced himself to dismiss the idea. Syed was the mission’s sole objective. As much as he wanted to somehow sabotage the rockets, that wasn’t why he was here.
Umar opened the door to the street, warily checking outside before stepping through. He and Marwat didn’t go far, waiting by the neighbouring shopfront. ‘We see you,’ said Holly Jo with relief as Adam emerged after them. ‘Baxter’s in the van, fifty metres to your left.’