The sheikh stepped closer, the tips of his fingers white as he closed the final snap. With care, he opened the breast pocket. Inside was a small flat red button affixed to some type of circuit board. The sheikh pressed the button very hard. A tiny bulb flashed red three times, then burned green steadily.
Mattias felt no differently now that he was dead. He had made his peace when he left his wife in their bed in Gothenburg. To his mind, he had died long ago, somewhere in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.
The sheikh kissed him on both cheeks, then once additionally. “Peace be unto you, my son.Inshallah.God is great.”
Thirty minutes later, Mattias walked to the front door followed by his friends. All were dressed in fine evening wear. Dark jackets and matching trousers. Shiny black patent-leather shoes. A white collared shirt and bow tie. All had showered and shaved earlier. No beards were allowed. None had ever looked more handsome.
There came a knock at the door. A man Mattias had never seen entered and handed Sheikh Abdul a package. A moment later, he was gone. The sheikh opened it and removed four laminated badges, each attached to a beaded-metal lanyard. He examined the pictures on each and handed them out in turn.
Mattias studied the picture on his badge, knowing that the man was dead. The sheikh had told him it was necessary. The actors could not be trusted. Surely they had been corrupted. Mattias did not know how they had been killed. It did not matter. The sheikh knew about such matters. Once he had let slip that he was a professional. Mattias only worried that someone might find them before the premiere. Then what?
He did not recognize the face on the badge, nor did he remember it from the raft. The man, Mohammed Tabbi, resembled him only in passing. They shared the same high cheekbones, the same shape of the eye, a similar nose and cut of the jaw. Nothing more. Were anyone to place it beside Mattias’s face, the game would be up in a matter of seconds. But Mattias knew that he looked at men from his part of the world differently than a European might.
Minutes later, a van arrived. The sheikh escorted them from the cottage and helped them climb aboard. The vest was unnoticeable. Mattias might look a bit stockier than usual, but he was a thin man to begin with. Now he looked average. He breathed in the evening air, exulting in the sharp fragrances. Dusk was beginning to settle. The sky was yet a rich and welcoming blue. Through the back window, he saw Sheikh Abdul waving goodbye.
Mattias raised his hand and smiled.
Chapter 68
Cannes
Last I saw, you were lying on the ground handcuffed to a table leg,” said Simon.
“It seems we both have a unique talent for looking after ourselves.”
“I haven’t learned how to let myself out of jail yet. You have me there.”
“You need a better class of friends.”
“I like mine just fine,” said Simon. “Mind if I turn around?”
“You think I would shoot a man in the back?”
Simon turned, hands raised, held away from his body. He didn’t want any mistakes. He was acutely aware of the pistol stuck into the waistband of his pants, hidden only by his untucked shirt. Had he chambered a round?
“It’s over, Kruger,” he said, trying to sound reasonable, unthreatening. “It’s all coming out. Everything Borgia has been up to these past years. It’s done.”
“Says who?”
“The evidence is overwhelming,” said London. “Hadrian Lester knew it. He decided to take the coward’s way out.”
“Lester,” said Kruger with contempt.
“You can help us stop it,” said Simon. “Where is the attack taking place? Shaka, please.”
“You’ve got it all wrong. I’m here to make sure the attack takes place. Once you and the lady are gone, it will be easy to clean up the mess.”
“Others have seen the files,” said London. “It’s all saved to the cloud. My newspaper has it all. No one can suppress the information.”
“And we will find those people and make sure we put an end to their activities. It’s what we do.” Shaka smiled inquisitively. “Riske, tell me, how did you discover my name?”
“It’s not just us. Others are involved. Governments. Intelligence agencies. They know all about Borgia and what he’s planning. There’s still time.”
“Chain of command. First thing you learn in the military. Colonel Tan forgot it. He tried to tell Borgia what to do. Me, I don’t bother with the bigger issues.”
“A loyal soldier.”
“Meine Ehre heisst Treue,”said Kruger, echoing a Nazi slogan. My honor is loyalty.
