“Will the CIA take Gentry in or kill him?”
“Irrelevant. If they kill him, they’ll cover their tracks. The body won’t turn up for weeks, if ever. Abubaker won’t sign just because wetellhim Gentry’s on ice. You’ll kill my family just the same as if Gentry survived.”
“Then we have less than an hour to get killers to Szabo’s location and do the job before the agency boys get there.”
—
Gentry’s neck was sore from staring up at the plastic ceiling above him. He heard noises near the opening, so he yelled out, “How are you going to get me out of here before the agency assets come to kill us both?”
Szabo’s wrinkled face appeared above. “Once I have Sir Donald’s money, the only one leaving here will be me.”
“Fitzroy will kill you for double-crossing him.”
“Ha. I still have friends in the East. I have been looking for a way out. A half-million euros will be just about enough for a new start.”
“Look,” Court implored, “there’s more at stake here than you know. A family has been kidnapped. Two little girls have been taken, eight-year-old twins. They will be murdered if I don’t get to France in time to stop it. You let me out of here, and I swear you’ll get your money. You’ll get whatever you—”
“Two little girls?”
“Yes.”
“Murdered?”
“Not if I can get—”
Laszlo laughed cruelly. “You’ve obviously mistaken me for a man with a soul. The Russians had it surgically removed thirty-five years ago. I really could not possibly care less.” He disappeared from Gentry’s view.
—
Lloyd called Riegel, reached him in his teak-paneled Paris office. The German answered before the first ring ended. The American asked, “Do you have assets in Budapest?”
“I have assets everywhere.”
“Tier-one assassins?”
“No. Just a few pavement artists. I could arrange some low-class triggermen, I suppose, but why? Haven’t I provided you with enough alpha killers in the past twelve hours? Surely the Gray Man hasn’t chewed through them all yet!” His tone mocked the young lawyer.
“We sent the teams to the west. Gentry went south, to Hungary, apparently to get a passport to use to flee Europe after he’s finished in Normandy.”
“Prudent. Optimistic, but prudent.”
“Yeah, well, it didn’t work out so well for him. The forger in Budapest double-crossed him. Locked him up. He just called Sir Donald to demand ransom.”
“Let me guess. Laszlo Szabo?”
“How did you know?”
“Let’s just say you can’t mention ‘Budapest’ and ‘double-cross’ in the same sentence without Szabo’s name coming up.”
“Can you get some men to his address in Pest?”
“Of course. Is it just Laszlo or does he have security?”
“It’s more complicated than that. Szabo also turned Court in to the CIA. They have a team racing to the location now. Supposedly they are an hour out.”
Riegel sighed, resignation now in his voice. “He falls into CIA hands, and the Lagos contract is history. If they take him, we won’t be able to prove to Abubaker if he’s dead or alive by Sunday.”
“Then we can’t let that happen. Right?”
