Greg Rucka - A gentleman_s game

She looked at him and he smiled broadly, and Chace motioned with her free hand at her own mouth, indicating crumbs. Borovsky swiped at his chin with the back of a hand, unashamed.

Landau said something softly to Borovsky in Hebrew, and Borovsky looked at him, surprised, responding curtly. Landau answered, as quietly as before, but longer this time, and Borovsky listened. Chace watched his smile evaporate, to be replaced with a decided scowl.

To Chace, Landau said, "Our options are as limited as yours."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that the HUM-AA camp in the Wadi-as-Sirhan must go, Miss Chace. Unequivocally, the camp must be neutralized, destroyed. One way or another."

"Then please get on with it," Chace said tartly. "The sooner you take care of it, the sooner I can go home."

"You know our dilemma."

"No, actually, I don't. I'm told that you've been blocked by the Americans, but the Americans have blocked you before and you've gone around them before. A clear and present danger to the State of Israel has always required the same response from your lot-you take care of the problem. Why not this time?"

"This time the Americans are threatening to suspend four billion dollars in aid," Borovsky said. "And since the problem can be solved without direct intervention, our Government is content to allow things to run their course."

"Which brings us back to you," Landau said. "I understand that SIS has listed you as rogue, Miss Chace. Certainly, you suspected that would be the result of your flight from England. Of all the places in the world you could run to, you came here."

"And you were waiting for me at the airport," Chace said. "Which means you knew I was coming. How is that? Crocker tip you?"

Landau shook his head. "So you are here because you want our help, because you feel you must neutralize the camp by yourself or else run for the rest of your life. You are here because your own Government will not aid you, and so you turn to us."

"And you're eager to help," Chace said. "That's why you've held Tom and me here for the last twelve hours?"

"You left the job undone," Landau said.

Chace stared at him, for a moment stunned by his arrogance. "I beg your pardon?"

"El-Sayd is still alive, Miss Chace. Until you fulfill our last agreement, I see no reason to enter into another with you."

"You're fucking joking."

"No, I'm not."

Wallace crushed out his cigarette. "You're seriously saying that we've got to go kill el-Sayd before you'll help us take care of the camp?"

"No," Landau said.

"Thank God."

"Miss Chace will go kill el-Sayd. You will remain here."

Both Wallace and Chace stared at him, and for a moment Chace wondered at the world's insistence on making her its bitch. She shook her head stubbornly, but Wallace spoke first.

"The hell I will. If she's off to Cairo, she'll need support."

"But if you go with her, there's no reason to assume she'll complete the mission. If we hold you here, as our guest, she will be motivated to take care of el-Sayd with the same efficiency she brought to the assassination of Faud."

"You're a staggering bastard," Chace said to Landau after a moment.

"Perhaps, but no more of a bastard than your D-Ops." Landau removed his glasses, checked the lenses for smudging. "Surely you didn't think we'd want nothing in exchange for our help, Miss Chace?"

"Actually, since it's your problem as much as it is ours and the Americans', yes, I sort of did."

Landau replaced his glasses. "That was surprisingly naive of you."

Chace sighed.

"You're telling me," she said. • Landau and Borovsky briefed her in the apartment, with Wallace listening, until just before dawn. Shortly after sunrise, they drove her back to the airport, leaving Wallace behind with two of the brutes to mind him. Her tickets were already arranged, a flight to Athens, and from there to Rome, and then from Rome to Cairo. They gave her five thousand dollars for her expenses and a number to contact when the job was done, to arrange her return trip.

They stayed with her until it was time to board and waited until they saw she was on the plane.

She appreciated the fact that neither Landau nor Borovsky wished her luck.

Egypt-Central Cairo, the Shepheard's Hotel 20 September 0937 Local (GMT+3.00) Sinan watched Nia through his binoculars from the window of his room in the Shepheard's Hotel, knapsack on her back, guidebook in her hand, dressed in T-shirt and shorts and sunglasses, just another visiting sightseer, exactly as they had rehearsed. He smiled when she stopped at the corner, asking a passerby for directions. She was very good, very convincing, and it made him proud and happy to know that she would soon be shahid. The sunlight glittered on the cross she wore on the chain around her neck, the final touch to her disguise, a Christian woman looking to take in the Coptic sites.

"Where is she?" Matteen asked.

"Turning from the marina, about three hundred meters to go," Sinan said.

"Let me see."

They swapped places at the window, Matteen putting his eyes to the binoculars on their tripod, Sinan stepping back to the desk, where the cellular phone and the remote were lying. Neither would be required: Nia would telephone only if something were wrong, and he would use the remote only if she were going to be apprehended. There was no danger of that, he was sure. He had faith in her.

He loved her.

And she had told him last night, as he saw her to bed in the adjoining room, that she loved him.

He didn't think about the opportunity that her death would deny them, and he didn't mourn her for what she was about to do. Rather, it gave him a powerful sense of pride that their bond was so deep, so profound, that they had come together in this wonderful way, Nia making the journey to Paradise, Sinan there to see her on her way.

If he had been able to articulate it, he would have gone so far as to describe the situation as romantic. • While Matteen had taken Nia to the hotel, to settle them into their rooms, Sinan had returned to the cafe on Sikket al-Badestan that he and Aamil had visited so long ago-a lifetime ago-to meet their contact, a man named Hafiz, and to acquire the components for the bomb.

But instead of Hafiz, Sinan had found Muhriz el-Sayd waiting for him, and for Sinan, it was a triumphant homecoming indeed. To be face-to-face with the man who had turned him away, and in so doing turned him toward Salih and Abdul Aziz, to meet him as an equal, was yet another moment of pride.

"Sinan," el-Sayd said. "A better name than the last time we met."

"I am a better man now, Allah be praised," Sinan had replied. "A change you helped to make happen. It is good to see you, my brother."

"I saw a boy who would be a jihadi. Now I see a man. Our friend speaks well of you, Sinan. He says that, with time and Allah's blessings, you will achieve great things."

"If Allah wills it."

El-Sayd had clapped a hand on his shoulder, kissed his cheeks in greeting, and Sinan had returned the gesture, relishing the acceptance. They had moved to a room in the back of the cafe, and el-Sayd had given him the knapsack, already prepared, and the remote, and the two mobile phones.

"The bomb is a good one," he'd said. "Like the ones Hamas uses on the Zionists. Eight kilos of explosive, PE9, another four of nails, all of them coated with rat poison. This is a big one, Sinan, it will kill many."

Sinan had hefted the knapsack experimentally. It was heavier than they had planned for by about three kilos, but he was confident Nia would be able to carry it without difficulty. It had been well packed and made no noise when he moved it, the shrapnel packed tight around the charge. Coated with poison, the nails would create hideous wounds that would hemorrhage uncontrollably.