“So, youcansay somethin’ nice.”
“I’m glad I didn’t have to bail your ass outta jail.”
“It turned into a cluster. The driver would not stop arguing. He got hauled away. I almost got arrested, but I paid off the cop. I’m bleeding money like a stuck pig over here.”
Gabriel chuckled. “I pay you good. You could hand out money to everyone in the airport and still have plenty to pissaway. Point is, you handled it, you got yourself here. All we need is the package.”
“Who is this guy anyway?”
Gabriel glanced around. The airport was packed with holiday travelers. “Dr. Misha Laskin is a leading Russian scientist. Expert on power grids. He wants to defect. In exchange, he’s helping with some top-secret project.”
“Since when are you a delivery service?” Angelo asked.
Gabriel shrugged a shoulder. “This is important and they needed the best.” After a pause, he added, “I’m the best.”
Angelo chuckled. “And humble.”
A large group of people made their way toward Customs. Gabriel scanned the group. “The mad scientist is here. Fourth in line.”
“I’ll tell the pilot.” Angelo stepped away to make the call.
Gabriel eyed the older Russian. He looked like someone from the 1940’s. Dark winter coat, black shoes, black dress hat.
He looks more like a gangster than I do.
A tall, attractive woman sauntered over, blocking his view of Laskin. “Are you here to welcome me to Italy?”
Gabriel shot her a smile, and her sigh floated in the air above him.
“Benvenuti in Italia,” he said.
“I’m not meeting my group until later,” she continued. “Can I buy you a drink? Start my vacay off with a bang… or a whimper.” Her sly smile made him chuckle.
He glanced over her shoulder as Dr. Laskin made his way through Customs.
“Not today, beautiful,” Gabriel said before making his way to the scientist.
When Laskin looked his way, hope sprang from the older man’s eyes.
Gabriel stepped close. “The gate was left open.”
“And sheep ran out of the pen.” Misha Laskin’s thick Russian accent sliced through the air.
“We’re taking a private jet,” Gabriel said.
“This is good,” Dr. Laskin said. “I am anxious for America.”
As Gabriel escorted the scientist toward the terminal for chartered flights, Angelo fell in line beside him.
“I have a car waiting to take us to the private terminal, Milano Prime,” Gabriel explained.
A flash of fear shadowed Laskin’s eyes. “Yes, yes. We hurry.”
They exited the main terminal, made their way to the waiting sedan parked at the curb. The driver exited, strode around to open the back door.
BANG-BANG-BANG!
Gabriel whipped around, extracted his pistol. Angelo did the same. The scene around them was mayhem. People were screaming, running inside the building, or ducking low.
