Robert Ferrigno - Sins of the Assassin

“Go on, Rikki, have another one,” said Baby. “I know you want it.”

Rakkim reached for the biscuits. “Been a while since I had home cooking.”

The Colonel blinked, trying to keep the numbers in focus. Two hundred million dollars as a down payment? The Chinese weren’t offering anything even close.

“I got an Ident wizard stashed nearby, real smart Jewish kid,” said Rakkim. “He’ll go over whatever you find in the mountain, see what it’s worth, and then give you and the Russians his evaluation. The weapons system won’t ever have to leave your possession until you decide to make the deal.”

“I never met a real Jew,” said Baby.

“He’s something, that’s for sure. I still don’t understand half of what he’s talking about, but he’s honest.” Rakkim turned to the Colonel. “Another thing you should consider, the Russians are willing to share the technology with you once their scientists get done with it. The Chinese may talk that shit-pardon me, ma’am-but once you turn the weaponry over to the Chinks, that’s the last you’ll see of it or them. You want parts or resupply for that fancy chopper of yours, they’re going to give you a million excuses, but you’re never going to get what you need. Once you make a deal with the Russians, it’s like you’re family. Putin-class choppers aren’t as good as the Chinese Monsoons, but you just have to put in an order, and the Russians will keep you up and running as long as you want.”

“How noble of our Russian brothers,” said the Colonel.

Rakkim shrugged, pushed his plate away. “Nobody does anything for nothing, agreed, but you have to realize, the Russians want the Belt stronger. The old USA was the only real counterbalance to the Chinese, and now that we’re all busted into a million pieces, we’re not doing anybody any good. Atlanta is useless, and that new president of yours is a total joke. Reminds me of one of those red-tailed baboons baring their ass to the world hoping to avoid trouble. Russians think you’ve got spine, Colonel. They respect that.” He slurped his coffee. “Just an opinion. You do what you want.” He stood up, nodded at Baby. “Thank you very much for your hospitality, ma’am.”

Baby yawned, her pink mouth a perfect O. “Anytime.”

“I’ll check back with you in a couple days, Colonel,” said Rakkim. “You can let me know what you decided. I promise I’ll knock first.”

“You must have a lot of faith in your charm,” said the Colonel.

“No, sir, I have a lot of faith in you. If you were going to kill me, you would have already pulled that flat gun out of your pocket and started blasting away.”

The Colonel inadvertently touched the pocket holding the gun.

“You’re still thinking things over right now,” said Rakkim. “You’ll run a check five minutes after I leave, see if that account in Liechtenstein is valid, and you’ll start wondering what you could buy with the down payment. What you could buy when you actually find something. Three or four billion dollars pays for a lot of food and equipment, health care if you want it, just any kind of expertise. It’s all for sale. You’ve already got half the state under your authority-why stop there?”

The Colonel didn’t respond. He didn’t like it when people predicted his responses, particularly when they were right. He did have someone who could check out Rakkim, him and this bank account, a contact in Columbia City, a gifted young woman with access to the best encryption technology and the brains to use it.

“It all comes down to who you want to be in bed with, the Russians or the Chinese,” said Rakkim. “Who can you really trust, people of faith or people who don’t even believe in God?” He shook hands with the Colonel, a good strong grip with nothing to prove. “It’s an honor meeting you, sir. I studied your wilderness campaigns at the Academy. Absolutely brilliant. I’m just glad the Belt didn’t have a dozen more like you.”

“How many wives do you have, Rikki?” asked Baby. “I hear Muslims have just a boatload of females willing to do all sorts of nastiness.”

“I’m not married, ma’am. I guess, unlike the Colonel, I never found the woman of my dreams.”

“Maybe you should look for a Christian girl,” teased Baby. “We know how to keep a man from thinking he needs more than one wife to make him happy.”

“Baby, please, let the man be,” said the Colonel.

“I’m just saying,” said Baby, “this man’s no more a real Muslim than Lester is.”

“Don’t worry.” Anthony Colarusso switched off the police cordon around Eagleton Digital Entertainment, the electrical field crackling as it went down. “Rakkim’s fine.”

“If he was fine he wouldn’t have gone to the doctor.” Sarah stepped over the threshold after the deputy chief of detectives. “He wouldn’t have asked for all those tests.”

Colarusso closed the door after her. Checked the street. The Zone wasn’t busy on a Thursday afternoon, just a few well-dressed moderns on their way to the Tarantino retrospective, and a band of Catholic workmen heading into the Kitchy Koo Klub across the street. He waved a hand and the defense blinds clicked into place-Eagleton had good security in his shop, able to protect against a determined burglar or a suicide bomber in the street. But his security hadn’t protected him from al-Faisal’s knife thrust.

Sarah pushed back her hood. She was dressed casually: jeans and sweatshirt, looking just like the college kids who frequented the Zone. Except she looked older and more tired, her hair needing a good brushing. Other than that…

He pointed at the blackened bloodstains on the floor. “This is where it happened, obviously. I’ve been all over the crime scene, but I was hoping a fresh set of eyes-”

“I’m worried about him, Anthony,” said Sarah.

“He seemed perfectly healthy before he left.”

“That’s what the medical report showed,” said Sarah. “In fact, he’s better than healthy. The Fedayeen doctor checked his current reaction times against when he graduated from the Academy. They’re faster now. The doctor said he’s never seen it before. That’s how I found out. The doctor called and wanted Rikki to come in for a retest.”

“I’d like to get quicker reflexes as I get older.” Colarusso patted his substantial belly, his baggy gray suit spotted with dried egg yolk from breakfast. “I’m fast with a fork, but not as fast as I used to be.”

“Don’t patronize me. Rikki wasn’t due for a checkup. He went in and asked for his DNA to be tested.”

“So he was worried about his genetic boosters.”

“He asked the doctor if it was possible to get cross-contamination from being cut with a Fedayeen knife. Not his own. A Fedayeen knife-”

“I know, it’s made with the owner’s own DNA.”

“The doctor told Rikki he was looking at things backwards-it’s all about the blood, not the blade. You can get hepatitis or plague or any number of diseases any time there’s blood, but DNA doesn’t get passed on,” said Sarah. “Rikki insisted on being tested anyway.”

“And the tests cleared him, right?”

Sarah nodded.

“Rikki never mentioned his concerns to you?”

“Does sharing his concerns seem like something Rikki would do?”

“Well…if his leg was cut off he might ask for a Band-Aid, but that’s about it.” Colarusso spread his arms around the small shop. “I need your help. I kind of hit a dead end here.”

“I thought the investigation had been completed. Al-Faisal and his bodyguard blew themselves up at the roadblock on I-90. Case closed.”

“That’s State Security’s version. Me, I’m a stubborn old Catholic.”