“Nice,” Sean said, admiring their resourcefulness. “Were you able to get some knives for Adriana? You know how much she likes those.”
“Sure did,” Mac said, pulling back the cover on another mattress. Five four-inch throwing daggers were sheathed in a utility belt. A tactical knife was concealed in a longer housing at one end of the belt. There was something else included with the other blades that Tommy and Sean hadn’t expected.
“Is that a tomahawk?” Tommy asked. He took a step closer and lifted the weapon. Its black steel was perfectly balanced, the beard sharpened to a fine, lethal point. The edge of the blade was razor thin.
“Yeah, one of the guys said if she liked knives she might like to give this a try. He has a line on them from back in the States. Said a guy in Tennessee runs a company called RMJ Tactical that manufactures them for the military. Apparently, he also makes custom historical tomahawks. You know, the ones with like a peace pipe on one end and such.”
Tommy swung the weapon around in a reckless fashion. From the look on his face, he was highly intrigued by the weapon.
Sean stuck his hand out and grabbed Tommy by the wrist, halting his movements. “Why don’t we let her play with that toy? Grab yourself a few guns, and let's get ready to move. When Adriana gets back, we’ll need to leave immediately.”
Tommy looked like a child who had been punished for misbehaving, but he did as suggested and laid the weapon back in the faux mattress.
Sean turned back to Helen and Mac. “This will do nicely. Mind if we take those duffle bags?” He pointed at two black bags sitting behind the passenger seat on the floor.
“They’re yours,” Helen said. “We had a feeling you might need something to carry all this.”
He gave an appreciative nod and set to work loading the bags. He checked each weapon, making sure no rounds were chambered and to see if all of them functioned the way they should. Sean was judicious in what he chose to bring. He knew Adriana would want a Heckler & Koch to go along with her knives, tomahawk, and pistol, but concealing the submachine gun might prove to be problematic. Sean preferred to travel a little lighter, taking a pair of handguns and a stack of fully loaded magazines. He stuffed the ammunition into a vest he felt he could conceal with a jacket, and continued stocking the bags.
“So when Adriana gets here, I guess y’all will be buzzin’ out of here, huh?” Joe was unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.
“Pretty much, Mac. I wish we could hang out longer. When we get back to the States, we’ll look you up and grab dinner.”
Joe and Helen smiled at the offer. Helen looked perplexed. “Where did you say she had to go?”
Sean’s eyes shifted mischievously from one person to the other.
“He didn’t.” Joe answered for him.
31
Adriana slithered through the flowing mass of people like a snake through a debris-filled river, colliding with people on more than one occasion. One man, with a thick beard that stretched nearly to his eyes, stopped and stared at her. The look was one of surprise more than irritation. He probably couldn’t believe a woman could take a bump to the shoulder like that and keep her balance. What he didn’t know was that beneath the black robes and veil was one of the world's most agile thieves.
Not bogged down with the need to make money, Adriana had pursued a life of adventure. For the past several years, she had spent most of her time researching and tracking down stolen artwork from World War II. Adolf Hitler, it seems, was a sucker for collecting, and he had amassed a priceless fortune in art from various sources in Europe.
A portion of that collection was discovered in a cave near his countryside estate by the fabled unit known as the Monuments Men. Movies and books were written about the men and their search for the lost masterpieces. While their mission had been largely successful, so many other works of art were still missing. She made it her personal obsession to find out where they might be, steal them back, and return them to either their rightful owners, or the appropriate museums.
With a hobby like that, staying fit and nimble were obvious prerequisites.
Her eyes remained narrow as she navigated the pedestrian chaos until she arrived at the market. Fabric awnings and tents lined the streets. Even at this early hour, vendors were in peak performance, shouting out offers and deals to any passersby whose ears they could bend. She glanced up at the strips of cloudless, blue sky hovering over the canyon of buildings and tents. For a second, her mind drifted, and she wondered how women could wear these dark outfits in the blazing heat of summer. She shook the thought from her head and refocused. She was looking for a specific type of vendor, one she’d seen in this area before. Maybe the seller had moved or was out of business. For what Sean needed her to buy, it was likely that someone else would have the requisite items, assuming they were somewhat common.
She weaved through the potential buyers of spices, fruits, meats, and vegetables and finally arrived at the stall she remembered from a previous visit. Adriana couldn’t remember if the seller was the same person, but it didn’t matter. The old man in the turban with squinty black eyes, a gray beard, and three missing teeth would do just as well as any. She looked down at the rows of bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and stones.
Adriana pointed at two items and asked in Farsi, “How much?”
The man responded with a price that was cheaper than she’d thought he’d give. She reached into the folds of her robe and produced several bills. She quickly counted it and pressed the money into his palm. He turned away to get change as she’d given him too much money, but when he spun slowly back around, she’d vanished into the seething mass of people.
As she moved through the street, Adriana secured her purchase in a small leather pouch that she’d taken from the stall. She didn’t consider it stealing. After all, she’d given the man almost double what he asked for. He wouldn’t miss a little bag. But it was what Sean had said they needed, and she trusted him. Underneath her robe, Adriana wore a pair of gray capri pants and quickly tucked the pouch in her back pocket for safekeeping.
Thirty yards away, she could see the opening where the side street intersected the main road. From there, she would go across to where another street led out of town. She could hail a taxi and give the driver the address once she was safely in the car. Her little side mission was easier than she’d imagined.
Just as the thought entered her mind, Adriana felt a firm hand slap down on her shoulder. She stopped instantly but didn’t turn around. Strong fingers dug into the soft tissue between her clavicle and her neck, sending a sharp pain through her nerves. She squinted into the sunlight and waited for a moment. If her assailant were armed, it would be unlikely that he would use a gun in this mob. Discharging a firearm would cause a panic. And it would also lead to his arrest, more than likely.
Sure enough, the man’s voice filled her in on the missing detail. “If you try to run, I will stick my knife in your kidneys. If you try to scream for help, I will stick it through the back of your neck to silence you.”
Adriana spoke enough Farsi to know what he was saying, though she was better with Arabic. She assumed he was holding the blade close without actually pressing it against her since she didn’t feel the point.
“What do you want?” she asked in the man’s preferred tongue.