21. The Bateleur Clan
The Bateleur Clan
Amir watched his men silently through the jet window; they were hard at work.
Wrapping up a stiff corpse in plastic sheeting was no simple task, especially when there were blood-soaked jewels flinging off it.
Others were busy washing off the jewels and pocketing them near the back of the hangar.
They even moved some things around in the cargo hold of the jet for Samir’s body.
Though emotions were mixed on how to dispose of him: some wanted to drop him off over the Atlantic, and others wanted to feed him to a cement mixer.
Amir still hadn’t decided. He’d spent the last several hours inside the jet taking calls.
He was a world-renowned businessman; or wanted fugitive, depending on who you asked.
Amir had risen through the ranks in the criminal underworld in France before branching off and starting his own little group, he called the Bateleur Clan.
A native of Algeria, he had served in the French intelligence services as a young man and used that training to enrich himself in the underworld.
He still had some contacts within that organization.
But since then, he’d expanded operations into areas such as drug trafficking, weapons procurement, extortion, money laundering, and even political assassinations; he was superb in that last one, particularly in Africa.
But his ambition had no end in sight, and once he learned of APOLLO from an old friend within French Intelligence, he ventured into corporate espionage, too.
His mood had much improved from the day before, and although he didn’t have the package, everything was moving forward as planned. Amir had a special guest due to arrive any minute, and he would not cancel the meeting under any circumstances.
“Was the final product delivered to our friends in Corsica?” Amir said.
He was seated in the farthest chair on the plane.
Feet elevated, comfortable, and with a glass of his favorite Algerian red wine in hand.
A map was spread out on the table in front of him.
And on it a laptop, with pens and other papers strewn about.
“The final product arrived and payment was made without issues, Amir. Though they complained about the quality once more. I gave them the stash of ammunition near the docks you told me to get rid of,” said the man on the phone.
“Quality, huh? It appears our contact in South America is not as reliable as we thought. Do you think he’s skimming off the top? Diluting his end to sell the extra bit to someone else?” Amir said, before taking a sip of the wine.
“This thought came to mind, but after speaking with him, it looks like he has too much demand. He has promised to send an extra ten kilograms in the next delivery to make up for it.”
“Too many demanding customers; frankly, I believe him, but this isn’t the first time it happens. Keep an eye on his shipments. What about Marseille? I heard our men ran into some issues there,” Amir said.
“An undercover pig, he bought some weed from a kid working for one of our guys and followed him to the supply drop. When the other cops arrived, one lookout let our guys know, and then all hell broke loose.”
“Good, hopefully they’ll stop interfering in our business. And the product?” Amir said.
“Our guys left with it all, some weapons, and all the euros they’d made in the past week. We were lucky no one was arrested or killed.”
“Luck? Our luck will change soon, my friend. Once I’ve secured this package and sell it to the interested party, we can leave all this behind. We can go back home, back to our village,” Amir said.
“Yes, I’ll ready everything on my end, Amir.”
Amir placed the empty wineglass on the map and tossed the phone onto the empty chair to his side. He sat up and glanced at the map quickly; it showed all of southern France. And circled at the bottom was Monaco. He tapped the name twice with his finger and said, “Soon, we’ll have it all.”
Moments later, one of his men entered the jet, followed by a thick man holding a bag.
He wore an olive-green shirt with khaki shorts that contrasted poorly.
And his shoes, those were half white and half black.
He was skittish, like a feral cat who’s introduced into a new home, afraid of everyone and everything.
This was the special guest he’d waited all day for.
The man sat down right across from Amir and crossed his legs awkwardly; Amir smiled awkwardly and nodded his head at his arrival.
“Do you have it?” He said, with heavy breaths.
“Soon, my friend. Soon,” replied Amir, handing him a glass full of red wine.
“I must say, your promises of vast data, secured by the highest quality encryption, are very enticing.”
“This is what interests you, eh? Not the money?” Amir said. He reached down and pulled out a small envelope that was lodged in the chair’s crevice.
“No, the money’s good too.”
A smile came to Amir’s face, and then he let out a laugh that filled the jet. He dropped the envelope on the table in front of him; its heavy weight smacking the table forcefully.
“It will all be yours, my friend,” Amir said. “Just remove the protections on the drive, tell me what’s inside, and make a copy for me. Did you bring your equipment?”
“Yes! I have it with me. What should I do in the meantime?”
“It’s Miami! Enjoy the city. My men will take you on a little tour,” Amir said. He called over one of his men who was standing watch by the doorway. “Take him to see the city and get him a change of clothes. I will let you know when the drive arrives.”
And off the man went with Amir’s henchmen on a luxurious tour of the city while others hunted down the hard drive.