"Not yet, Baker," Kemel said. "He may have information I need."
"Like what? What is this place, anyway?"
Kemel ignored the question. The less Baker knew, the better. "Disarm them and guard them. You may do whatever you wish when I am through with him."
He had to hold that out to Baker. During the trip into these hills, Baker and his two remaining men had talked of little else than what they would do to the man who had killed their fellows. But Kemel also had to make sure that what he saw before him now was all of it, that there was no other transmitter. He would learn from the Clayton woman and her hireling how they located this one, and if they knew of any others.
And then…
And then they would all have to die.
Kemel did not relish that. In fact, he had been dreading this moment. He had known about the bomb on JAL 27, but that hadn't been his idea. It had disturbed him that so many innocent lives had to be sacrificed in order to take one, yet he had also understood the absolute necessity of preventing Ronald Clayton from reaching Japan. And what were 247 lives compared to the well-being of the entire Arab world? A relative few had been sacrificed for a far greater good. Was it not so throughout all history?
But at least those faceless deaths had occurred far away, and by the impersonal agency of an explosive device. Today would be different. The dead would have names and faces, and their killers would look into those faces, watch them die. By his order.
But he had his orders, and agreed with their wisdom, their implacable necessity: No one outside of Iswid Nahr must know about this technology.
He watched Barlowe hold his assault weapon to the Oriental's head while Baker's other man, the one he called Kenny, took the lamp from him and removed two pistols. They followed the same procedure with Alicia Clayton's man who, surprisingly, was unarmed. Baker moved them and the Clayton woman to the side, allowing Thomas Clayton access to the file cabinets.
Baker had finally proved useful. In fact, despite all the setbacks, he finally had accomplished what he had been hired to do. The little transponder he'd placed in the bottom of the woman's handbag had allowed them to stay miles behind as they'd followed her here. But he would not be rewarded with the huge bonus and lifetime of easy employment he anticipated.
Baker and his men would dispose of these three and bury their bodies far from here. And not long after today—as soon as tomorrow, perhaps—Kemel was sure that Iswid Nahr would pay Baker in his own currency.
Thomas Clayton would have to go as well, Kemel suspected.
No loose ends.
"It's all here," Thomas Clayton said, looking up from an open filing cabinet drawer. "Everything you need to know to broadcast power. And it uses solar energy. You owe me big time. I think I underpriced our deal."
"You should feel lucky you're getting a dime," his sister said.
Thomas looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Oh, really?" he replied, drawing out the words.
"The minute you walked through that door," she said, "you went from asset to liability. They don't need you anymore. You've become as disposable as the rest of us."
"No," he said, turning Kemel's way. "We've got a deal, right, Kemel?"
Kemel held his gaze and tried his best to give nothing away. He found Thomas Clayton a reprehensible human being, but did not want to deal with him now. Let Iswid Nahr handle him.
"Of course. And we will honor our word."
But some hint of what the future held must have seeped into his eyes, for Thomas's expression hardened.
"I was afraid of that," he said, reaching into his pocket.
He withdrew a pistol and pointed it at Kemel.
6.
Tommy-boy, Jack thought as he saw the little .32 appear, you're a class-A jerk, but I love you.
All eyes—Alicia's, Kemel's, Baker's, and his men's—were on Thomas now.
Almost all…
Jack glanced at Yoshio and found him looking his way. A quick lift of one of his eyebrows told Jack that he knew it too: This just might be their chance… the only one they'd get.
"That is not necessary, Thomas," Kemel said.
"Yeah," Baker told him. "Put that away before you hurt yourself… or someone hurts you."
Jack had gathered from talk between their captors that Baker's two men were Kenny—the redhead—and Barlowe—the dark-haired guy with the big nose.
"No," Thomas said. His voice wavered as much as the muzzle of the .32, but the little weapon remained trained on Kemel, who was only half a dozen feet away. Jack doubted even Thomas could miss at that range. "I think it's very necessary. I half suspected that I might get the short end of the stick once we found this. But that's not going to happen."
Jack slid his left foot a few inches toward the door. Then, making it look as if he was merely shifting his weight, he leaned left and brought his right foot over to it. Before leaving this morning, he'd stashed a Tokarev 9mm under the front seat of the Taurus. If he could get out the door alive, he had a chance to make it to the car. And then it would be a whole new ball game.
"Do not be silly, Thomas," Kemel said, holding his hands palms-out like a supplicant. "That is not what anyone was thinking. You will be paid just as we promised."
Another slide left… another weight shift…
"Damn right I will. This is mine, not yours. Mine. And I deserve it. So I'll be dictating the terms."
"We have terms," Kemel said.
"New deal," Thomas said. "It's my deck, and I call the game. But first…" He licked his lips. "First I want all the guns on the floor."
Another slide… Jack was closer to the door… a few more feet and he could risk a break. He saw Yoshio give him a barely perceptible nod, as if to say, Tell me when, so I can time my move with yours.
"Forget it," Baker said as if the words tasted bad. He was coiled and ready to spring, his pistol pointed at Thomas.
Thomas took a step closer to Kemel. "If you don't, I'll shoot your paycheck here."
"And when he's down, what do you think'll happen to you?"
Jack had a sudden feeling that Baker might be thinking of becoming management. He might not know what this was all about, but he must have figured out that the contraption taking up most of the space here was pretty damn valuable to someone.
"Tell them," Thomas said to Kemel. "You're paying them. Tell them to put their guns down and lie on the floor."
Kemel turned to Baker. "Perhaps you should—"
"Fuck that," Baker said, and shot Thomas.
The loud report was a starter pistol for Jack—he was off to the races. As he ran he saw a spray of red from the exit wound in Thomas's back and heard Alicia scream. Then another shot, half as loud as Baker's, as Thomas's pistol went off. Kemel grunted and clutched his abdomen. Thomas and the Arab hit the floor about the same time.
Jack ducked past the one called Kenny and grabbed his Tec-9 before he could bring it to bear. The assault pistol fired a line of slugs through the ceiling as Jack tried to wrench it away, but the merc had the strap wrapped around his forearm like a good soldier and it wouldn't come free. Jack had to settle for putting him down with an elbow to the face.
And then Jack was through the door, cutting hard to the left and heading down the slope for the trees. The path to the Taurus was off to his right across the clearing, but all that open space would make him an easy target. The trees were closer down the slope. They'd provide cover as he worked his way around to the car.
The clouds had thickened overhead, darkening the afternoon sky. He remembered that this was one of the shortest days of the year. The light would be fading fast. And that could only help him.