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A door at the far end of the room opened. Abel turned to see an older man dressed in traditional fashion come striding in. There was a look of tension on his face. Abel met him halfway, by the sneering feline.
"I am Saeed Ahmed Abdullah." The right hand was extended.
Abel was not surprised to hear the man speak English. It was the language of business in the Kingdom. "I am Erich Abel." The German took Saeed's hand. "Prince Muhammad asked me to come see you. He tells me the two of you are very dear old friends."
"We have known each other since the age of nine." Saeed gestured for his guest to sit. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Coffee would be fine, please." Abel sat on one of the long couches.
Saeed pressed a button on the nearby phone, rattled off instructions in Arabic, and then sat on a different couch. Almost immediately, a service cart was wheeled into the room by two Indonesian men in crisp white jackets. They served coffee and left small plates of delicious-looking pastries in front of each man, then vanished as silently as they'd entered.
"Prince Muhammad has been a very good friend to me." Saeed took a sip of coffee. "I think he has been treated unfairly by his brother the king."
Abel immediately thought the man a bit reckless for offering such a frank opinion to a stranger. Always cautious he replied, "I have great respect for Prince Muhammad."
Saeed reached for a pastry and then decided against it. "Did he explain to you my tragedy?"
It was obvious to Abel that his host was very anxious. "No, he merely told me that you were a dear friend, and he would consider it a favor if I would see you."
Saeed clasped his hands together and looked up at the painting of the landscape.
Abel took a sip of his coffee and then set it down. "Mr. Abdullah, let me be blunt. I am not a squeamish man. I doubt that you could shock me. Tell me why you seek my services, and I'm sure we'll be able to come to an agreement."
Saeed looked the German in the eyes and said, "I want a man killed."
Abel nodded casually, signaling that the request did not surprise him. "And who is this man that you would like eliminated?" he asked as he reached for his coffee.
"He is an American."
Abel took a sip of the rich coffee as his interest increased. "Continue."
"He works for their government."
The plot thickens, Abel thought to himself. "His name?"
Abel noted sweat on Abdullah's forehead as he waited for the answer.
"Mitch Rapp is his name."
Abel stopped in mid-sip, and carefully placed his cup back on its saucer lest his host notice his hand begi
"Have you heard of him?"
"I'm afraid so. I doubt there is anyone in my line of work who hasn't."
Impatient and nervous, Abdullah gave him no time to think. "So will you take the job?"
Abel could feel the pace of his heart begin to race. He held up a hand. "Slow down, Mr. Abdullah. To kill a man like Mitch Rapp is no small undertaking. There are many things to discuss. Many details to work out, and even then I am not so sure I would be willing to take the job."
"Is it your fee? Tell me what you would demand for such a job. Let us begin to negotiate."
Abel dug his right thumb into his left palm in an attempt at self-acupuncture. A man was a man after all, and with enough preparation anyone could be killed. "It would be very expensive."
Saeed leaned over and pressed the intercom button. He said something quickly in Arabic and a moment later two unusually large Saudis entered the room carrying large black briefcases. The men set four cases on the table facing the German, opened them, and left the room.
"Five million dollars cash upon accepting the job. Five million more when you complete it."
Abel stared at the money, increased the pressure on his palm, and began ru
He knew there was no turning back from something like this, and as crazy as it sounded he had no desire to. To kill a man like Mitch Rapp would be the ultimate statement of tradecraft. Suddenly almost euphoric with excitement over the prospect of such notoriety, Abel decided he would take the job, but first he would work on the already ample fee.
"Contract kills in America are a very difficult thing these days, and to go after someone like Mitch Rapp presents an entirely unique set of problems."
"Name your fee, Mr. Abel," the Arab said calmly.
"Twenty million dollars. Ten now…ten on completion."
Abdullah stuck out his hand. "Twenty million dollars."
Abel shook the man's hand. "We have a deal."
"How long will it take?"
"I will get to work on it immediately, but I wouldn't expect any results for at least a month."
"As soon as possible, Mr. Abel," the Arab said in a dire voice.
His hatred of Mitch Rapp was palpable. "Do you mind my asking, Mr. Abdullah, what Mr. Rapp has done to cause you such obvious pain?"
"He killed my son."
Of course he did, the German thought. Of course he did.
6
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