Alain ID’d the man they just killed. “It’s zee Nigerian.”
“Merde,”said Serge, and he depressed the button on his walkie-talkie just as the grenade on the floor by the dead man’s body exploded.
—
Lloyd and the Tech both jumped at the sound of the hand grenade two floors directly below them. The noise came not from the raging gunfight in the foyer but instead back towards the rear of the building. The sound also came through the speakers of their radios. Kurt Riegel chanced a quick look out the window again. He saw the black Eurocopter drift in and out of the morning mist as it flew off to the south. Below, near the marble fountain in the garden, two men moved low in a crouch. They were black, small, they carried machine pistols, and they wore black ski jackets.
“The kill squad from Botswana has arrived, or maybe theseare the Liberians.” Riegel said it to the room without emotion.
“It’s a virtual United Nations of assholes around here,” said Lloyd from behind.
The German watched the two Africans as they crossed the grass towards the steps up to the back door. He did not shoot at them. With the Gray Man in the building, Kurt felt there was a better chance these Botswanans would be more help than hindrance.
Riegel said, “Let’s barricade this room. The three of us will have to hold everyone off until the helicopter arrives from Paris.”
“Even if I survive this, you are going to kill me, aren’t you?” Lloyd asked.
Riegel answered as he slipped his pistol back into its shoulder holster underneath his jacket. “Gentry was right; you’ve got more to worry about than me right now. Come and help me.” He lifted a chair to put it in front of the door to the spiral staircase.
“Be that as it may,” said Lloyd, “I prefer dealing with any threat at the most advantageous opportunity.”
Riegel’s back was to Lloyd. He stopped, put the chair down, squared his shoulders, and turned slowly. The American attorney’s silver automatic was leveled at Kurt’s chest. They were twenty feet apart.
“Put down that damn gun. Come on, man! We don’t have time for this. There will be time enough for the aftermath of the operation after we get out of here.”
The Tech sat at the desk and watched the two men intently. He said not a word.
Lloyd said, “I could’ve had the bastard. I could’ve saved the contract.Youroperation failed, not mine.”
“If you say so, Lloyd.”
“No... I wantyouto say so. Take out your phone slowly. Call Mr. Laurent and tell himyourplan was fucked up. Take responsibility for this.”
“And then you will shoot me? Think, Lloyd! He’ll know I was speaking under duress.” For the first time, they heard gunshots on the third floor, far down the corridor from their position. “We need to seal off the room now! We’ll talk after that.”
“Take out your phone. Make the call. No tricks.”
Kurt sighed and slowly reached into his jacket with his right hand. His eyes narrowed on Lloyd. Instead of the phone, Riegel put his hand around the butt of his Steyr. As he began to draw the gun from its concealment, prepared to dive to the side to duck the lawyer’s inevitable gunfire, he noticed Lloyd’s eyes had turned away from him and focused on something behind. Kurt took the opportunity to pull the Steyr, and he leveled it at the American’s chest. Just as he was about to fire at the distracted Lloyd, a voice called out from behind.
“Did I come at a bad time?”
THIRTY-FIVE
“You’re bleeding bad, Court,” said Lloyd. His pistol remained pointed at Riegel, his back remained to the open doorway to the third-floor corridor, but his eyes were on the bloody man in the tactical gear. The Gray Man had appeared silently through the door from the spiral staircase, and while Lloyd had been fixated on Kurt’s hand inside his jacket, Gentry had gotten the drop on him. He held a squat, evil-looking submachine gun at eye level, its barrel centered on Lloyd’s chest.
“Drop the gun,” said Gentry.
“Who are you speaking to?” asked Kurt, his back to the Gray Man. To see Gentry, he would have to take his eyes off of Lloyd, and he was not about to do that.
Court replied, “If you have a gun in your hand, asshole, then I’m speaking to you.”
Lloyd said, “You aren’t going to make it much longer, Court, old buddy. Your face is white. You’re weak. Your blood is staining the floor.”
“I’ll live long enough to kick your ass. Drop your weapons. You, at the table. Stand up slowly.”
The Tech was the first to do as he was told. He stood with his hands high over his head, shaking from fear.
Lloyd began lowering his pistol. Kurt Riegel followed suit. The German turned his eyes from Lloyd to look at the Tech for an instant.
