Kornev said, “That’s OK. I’m doing just fine. Got 401k and lots of benefits where I am now.”
“Officially, the only benefit you have right now is a death benefit. Meaning, that many people would benefit from your death,” Hail said. “Choose not to accept our offer, and I will collect on that policy.”
Kornev looked Hail over for a moment, trying to place a face that looked so familiar.
Kornev tightened the towel around his hand, winced in pain and said, “Humor me. If I decided to accept your offer, just how is this arrangement supposed to work?”
“I’m glad you asked,” Hail said, adjusting the brim of his cowboy hat back on his head a little. “What we propose is that you continue selling all the arms you’ve been selling. Just make sure that we know who you are selling to and what you are selling them. The little stuff, small arms and such, we don’t care about. But the big stuff like the weapons that can bring down commercial aircraft — there needs to be a measure of accountability. You can think of it as the three R’s.”
“The three R’s?” Kornev asked.
“Restriction, redirection and repurposing will be done with the large arms. On a case-by-case basis, we will determine what major arms can be sold and to who.”
“That could get me killed,” Kornev said.
“The way I look at it is, you have three choices: 1) Get killed working for us, 2) Get killed by turning us down, or 3) Quit the business entirely. Just so you know, I will still kill you if you take option number three.”
“And why is that?”
Hail picked up the .38 in front of him, leaned in and very slowly placed the business end of the gun on Kornev’s forehead. Kornev flinched when the stainless-steel tip of the barrel touched his skull.
Hail pulled back the hammer of the weapon and said, “Because you are the no-good piece of human sewage that sold the missile to the assholes that killed my family.”
Hail froze there, with the .38 pressed hard into Kornev’s brain box, willing himself to pull the trigger. The guy was right there. It would take Hail less than 7.9 pounds of pressure to pull the trigger less than .55-inch and this scumbag would be gone. To Hell? Hail didn’t really care where Kornev went after he left this world. He hoped it was some place unpleasant, but watching the man die would give him a great deal of enjoyment.
Kornev must have sensed all those feelings coursing through Hail, because he said nothing. He sensed it wouldn’t take much in the way of provocation for the man to pull the trigger. And out here in the middle of the desert, no one would even hear the gunshot. He could throw Kornev’s body out into the badlands. Birds and small animals would have picked his bones clean before he was found, if he was ever found. And that was a big if, because no one would ever come looking for him. He had very few friends.
Behind Kornev, still standing in front of the Hummer, Hail saw Kara shift her weight and put her hands on her hips. This had not been part of the plan, and Kara was trying to send him a not so subtle message: Quit the Rambo act and get on with it.
Hail told Kornev, “Before you die, you are going to tell me who you sold the surface-to-air missile which took down United 9257. It was flying out of Düsseldorf. My wife and kids were on that plane.”
Kornev said nothing. This really didn’t seem like the time to piss this man off, you know, with the gun resting on his skull and all.
The cowboy wasn’t talking anymore, and Kornev felt that he was waiting for a response.
“Can I have some time to think over your offer?” Kornev asked in a defeated tone.
Hail commanded the drones: GUARD OFF. He withdrew the gun from Kornev’s head.
Using his free hand, Hail slapped the Russian’s stunned face. Smack-smack. Hail first used the front of his hand, quickly followed by the back of his hand. The blow was so forceful and violent that spittle flew from Kornev’s gaping mouth.
GUARD HEAVY, Hail ordered the drones, and they snapped back to attention.
Kornev placed his uninjured hand on his left cheek, and he looked both shocked and pissed.
Hail leaned back in his chair to adjust his cowboy hat, which had shifted during his brief assault on Kornev.
Choosing to ignore what had just happened, Hail said casually, “Actually, Victor, actions speak louder than words. We are going to watch you very closely.”
Hail set his .38 back down on the table in front of him.
He continued, “If we discover that you are still selling and not telling, the next time you see my drones, you better have a pocketful of corks for all the new holes you will need to plug. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” Victor said reluctantly. Hail could tell that Kornev wanted to kill him every bit as much as Marshall wanted to end Kornev’s life.
Kornev glanced down at the guns on the table.
Hail noticed his interest in the weapons and gave the order: GUARD OFF and the drones’ miniguns sagged, pointing to the ground.
Hail asked, “You are wondering why there are two guns on the table, aren’t you?”
Kornev said nothing.
“I wanted you to understand that I’m a fair man. You are an expert in weapons. You understand that these matching guns are identical in every way. The only thing you really don’t know is if I’m faster than you, because you don’t know a damn thing about me. But I know everything about you.”
Kornev looked up from the guns and stared at Hail.
Hail continued, “The drones aren’t guarding you. If you think you’re faster than me, the gun is right there. Go for it. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky?”
Kornev looked back down at the guns and calculated his chances of taking out the cowboy. It didn’t take him long to decide even if the man was slow on the draw, Kornev would be slower and probably less accurate. After all, he was right handed, and currently that hand was out of commission and wrapped in a towel. He could still fire with his left hand, but he was a righty. He knew his chances shooting with his left would handicap him. There was yet another unknown. Even if he killed this man, it was apparent that this operation was being carried out by a group, not just this man. So, killing him, even though it would bring him great joy, would not change his situation.
Instead of going for the weapon, Kornev said, “That was you in North Korea, wasn’t it?”
“Yep,” Hail said smugly.
Kornev asked, “How did you even know I was in North Korea, let alone at the warehouse?”
Hail smiled and said nothing.
“Who are you? I know I’ve seen you before,” Kornev said.
“You can leave now,” Hail told him. Between the tips of his index and middle fingers, Hail held out a card with handwriting on it.
He told Kornev, “Text this number when you get any sales — any sales at all. We’ve already set up a method of communicating with you, and we will text back that information when we hear from you. Now, get up slowly. Go back to your car and drive away. And, remember, I am always watching you.”
Hail then issued the order: GUARD MEDIUM, and the guns jumped to life, fixing their aim on Kornev.
Kornev did not have to be told twice. He placed his legs on either side of his chair, and using just the strength in his knees, he stood up very slowly. The Russian backed away from the table, disturbed to see the drones spin up and lift off the ground. A dust cloud formed under the drones as they fanned the desert soil into the still dry air. When Kornev was about ten feet from the table, he turned and began walking slowly toward his car. The drones escorted the Russian, hovering waist-high on either side of him. As Kornev came within fifteen feet of the Hummer, Tonya called out, “What are those things?”