Chapter 30
RAPP wasn’t prone to motion sickness.
Still, there was something unsettling about sitting in a vehicle with blacked-out windows as the driver navigated Veronese traffic.
Or perhaps it was the company. Besides the Mystery Man and his giant bodyguard, two additional men occupied the bench seats.
Counting the driver and the front-seat passenger, the van’s occupants numbered six plus Rapp.
Six male bodies in tight confines.
Rapp had been in locker rooms that smelled better.
“What precisely is your interest in the scientist?”
The question came from the Mystery Man, and while his mannerisms were still friendly enough, the inquiry was pointed. Probably because he thought he had the upper hand.
Time to disabuse him of that notion.
“Here’s how this is going to go,” Rapp said, leaning back and crossing his arms. “You are going to tell me who you are and why you want the Pakistani. If I like your answer, I’ll respond in kind. Otherwise, you can go fuck off.”
The Lebanese man smiled, but like his earlier words, the gesture had an edge. “I think you’ve misjudged the situation.”
Rapp shook his head. “I haven’t.”
As if on cue, a warbling police siren cut through the air.
The Mystery Man’s smile dimmed.
“You had friends at the restaurant,” Rapp said. “So did I. Friends I instructed to watch the establishment’s exits and entrances. I also told them to give the police the description of any vehicle I entered on the off chance you decided to do something stupid. I imagine they’ll be wanting a word.”
“What have you done?”
The Mystery Man was no longer smiling.
Progress.
“Clarified our relationship. The organization I represent is unhappy. You took something of ours. We want it back.”
The warbling grew louder.
“The scientist?”
Rapp nodded.
“He is beyond my reach.”
“Then I hope everyone’s passports are in order.”
The Mystery Man grimaced. “The scientist has already been smuggled out of the country. I can’t give you access to him, but perhaps I can provide something of equal value.”
“What?”
“A share of his product.”
Rapp frowned. “Explain.”
“Not here and certainly not now.”
“Best of luck with the police. I’m sure they won’t find a van full of armed Middle Eastern military-aged males concerning.
I mean it’s not as if they’re actively investigating the kidnapping of a Pakistani scientist. My organization enjoys a certain understanding with the Italian police. Does yours?”
“The cruiser’s behind us,” the driver shouted over his shoulder. “They’re flashing at me to pull over.”
“Last chance,” Rapp said.
“I thought you were from Iraq.”
“I thought you weren’t going to kidnap me.”
The van slowed to a stop.
“They’re getting out of their car,” the driver said.
“Decision time,” Rapp said.
“Who do you represent?”
Rapp smiled. “Enjoy your time in an Italian jail. I’m sure the wine’s magnificent.”
“My name is Ali.”
“I don’t care.”
“Maybe you care about this—my organization is going to use the scientist’s expertise to strike a blow against America. A blow from which they will never recover.”
“What organization?”
Ali shook his head. “Not here.”
“What are you offering?”
“An opportunity to join us. Or, to share in the Pakistani’s creation.”
“You would just give it to me?” Rapp said.
“Of course not. But perhaps we can help each other. I need a man with your particular talents.”
Rapp gestured at the van’s occupants. “You don’t lack for help.”
“True, but I have a job for which you are uniquely suited. Do it, and you can share in our venture as much or as little as your organization desires. Refuse, and you will lose the Pakistani and his creation.”
Rapp studied Ali for a beat as if considering. “I don’t have the authority to authorize my participation.”
The Lebanese man’s smile returned. “So, you do have limitations. How refreshing. Go back to your leadership. Present them my offer. If they agree, come to the Islamic Center in Rome in two days’ time. Attend afternoon prayers. Someone will find you. Do we have a deal?”
“The police officers are coming this way,” the driver said.
Rapp turned from Ali to his giant and put out his hand. “Pistol.”
The bodyguard looked to Ali, who nodded.
“We don’t have a deal,” Rapp said, holstering the pistol, “we have the beginnings of an understanding. Here’s another point to add to this understanding—if you ever point a gun at me again, I’ll kill you.”
Ali stared at him stone-faced for a long moment. Then his lips twisted into a smile. “I’m going to enjoy working with you.”
The van door slid open before Rapp could answer, revealing a policeman’s stern face.
“Signore Johnson?”
“Sì,” Rapp said.
“You left the ristorante without paying your bill.”
“Sono spiacente,” Rapp said. “I’ll be happy to take care of that now.”
“Indeed you will, signore. Allow me to offer you a ride.”
“La ringrazio.”
As Rapp climbed from the van, he shared a final look with Ali. The ghost of a smile tugging at the Lebanese man’s lips suggested he found the entire encounter amusing.
His cold eyes said otherwise.