68. Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter sixty-eight
Zeqiri entered the square fifteen minutes after eight.
Noble had nearly given up hope. The mean little ferret inside his belly had gone on chewing at his belly and Noble had started to believe he’d missed the exchange.
He was about to step out of the recessed door when Captain Zeqiri walked past within arm’s reach.
Had he moved a few seconds earlier, Noble would have been out of the doorway and come face-to-face with the Albanian. Instead, Noble sucked in a breath, shrank back into the shadows and froze. He held perfectly still, his eyes wide and his mouth open in a grimace.
If Zeqiri had turned his head to the left, he would have spied Noble. But the Captain was busy surveying the busy square full of people. He had dressed in a summer-weight suit of light beige linen and carried an aluminum case in his left hand, about the size of an American football.
How much virus could a case that size hold?
Enough to kill everybody in the city of Zagreb? Enough to wipe out Croatia?
Noble didn’t have the answer to that question. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. He wanted to get his hands on that case and take it someplace safe, where experts in thick rubber suits could deal with it.
It was everything he could do to stop himself from leaping out of the shadows and snatching it.
Play it cool, Noble cautioned himself. The buyer would be in the area and Noble had no idea what the man looked like. Or if there might be others lurking, watching, ready to ambush anybody who might try to interfere.
Noble watched Zeqiri go past before stepping casually from the alcove.
He fell in behind the Albanian as he scanned Ban Jela?i? Square for anyone out of the ordinary.
The Captain had chosen his meeting place well.
Tourists snapped pictures of the statue while locals sat on the edge of the fountain, talking and laughing.
A red tram rattled to a stop and disgorged a load of passengers.
Any one of them might be hired muscle. They could be watching Noble even now, ready to pull out a gun.
He realized a thick sleeve of sweat had encased the back of his neck.
The angry ferret had finally stopped savaging his belly.
A swarm of buzzing hornets had taken up residence there instead, making Noble feel like the pastries might come up in a rush.
One hand drifted toward his waistline, while he closed the distance between himself and Zeqiri.
The Captain clutched the aluminum case with the virus in his left hand, which forced Noble to approach from the right. Zeqiri would be armed and Noble wanted to control the man’s gun hand. That meant coming up behind Zeqiri on the right and taking control of his arm before he could pull a gun.
And pray nobody in the crowd waited in ambush.
It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the best he had under the circumstances. The other option was letting the IRGC walk away with the virus, and that wasn’t an option at all.
Noble closed the last few steps, reaching for Zeqiri’s right arm as he pulled the 1911 Browning from his waistband at the same time.
Moving with the coldly efficient ease of an assassin, Noble tucked the barrel of the pistol into Zeqiri’s ribs as he captured the Albanian’s elbow in a vice-like grip.
His fingers sank deep into the Captain’s forearm.
The moment Zeqiri tried to move, Noble would feel it.
He had already decided he’d ice Zeqiri right there in the square to get the virus.
Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. He said, “Don’t get cute, Zeqiri. Keep walking.”
The Captain stiffened. His steps faltered, but Noble gave a little nudge and Zeqiri got his legs moving again. In a voice laced with pure venom he whispered, “Goodman. You son of a—”
“Watch what you say next, Zeqiri.”
Noble steered Zeqiri across the crowded square, angling north and east. He’d deposited the stolen car in a weed choked lot half a mile away, where hopefully it had gone unnoticed.
Noble kept tight to Zeqiri, using their bodies to hide the weapon.
He made sure to keep a grin on his face.
If any civilians in the crowd happened to look this way, Noble wanted them to think it was just two buddies taking a morning stroll together.
He said, “You’ve already tried to kill me twice.
I’m in a rather foul mood. Do as I say and you might make it out of this with your skin intact. ”
“And if I don’t?” Zeqiri asked.
“I’ll put a bullet through your spine and walk away with the case.”
“You wouldn’t.” Zeqiri licked his lips. “You Americans have high ideals.”
“Care to test that hypothesis?” Noble asked. His eyes never stopped scanning the crowds as he herded Zeqiri along. They were halfway across the square when he spotted a middle eastern man in tan slacks and a black button down, carrying a leather briefcase.