War Merchant by Patrick Parker

Author:Patrick Parker [Parker, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

22

Ilidža, Bosnia-Herzegovina

Dydre parked the car and walked toward the café—her Walther P5 pistol in her right cargo pants pocket and stiletto in the other—to meet Yasir Rashid Jamaal. This time she carried two extra magazines in her right rear pocket.

The sun was low in the late afternoon sky and the city was unchanged from her preceding trip there—it was a no man’s land and it stunk. Occasionally, the sound of gunfire punctuated the silence. The last time, Jamaal and his men had wanted what she was selling, but were unprepared for Sam. This time it was different. Handing over $5 million for something that didn’t work warranted no second chance, and forgiveness was a bullet. Dydre suspected she was being watched as she approached the café. Her senses strained to hear, see, smell, or touch the danger in time to react.

Just as she rounded the corner of the café, she felt a dull pain as something pressed firmly against her back. Jamaal’s welcoming committee, she thought without turning around. It’s probably the same young scraggly bearded Arab that I worked over before and that’s no doubt the muzzle of his Kalashnikov assault rifle poking me in the back. Dydre froze. “Well, cockroach,” she said. “What’ll it be, you shoot me, or you take me inside to show Jamaal how to operate Ranger?”

“Shut up! Put you hands up.”

“We went through this last time, remember? You aren’t going to feel me up.”

“Shut up! Put you hands up and lean against wall.”

At that moment another man appeared, the same taller and older Arab as before. He shoved Dydre against the wall and stepped behind her. Placing both of his arms around her, he grasped her breasts to check for weapons, then stopped. He slid his hands to her padded waist, then stopped, not feeling her P5. Reaching up, Tall Arab grabbed her hair and pulled it back. The wig came off in his hand. His face registered a combination of surprise and bewilderment as he realized she was in disguise.

Dydre, who had sensed his surprise when he felt her padded bra, took advantage of the split second when the man hesitated. She sprang, kicking up and to the rear, catching him in the groin. With a hard push off the wall, she crashed into the groaning man, knocking him into the younger one. She drew the Walther and fired twice as the two men stumbled backwards. Her first shot hit Tall Arab between the eyes and killed him instantly. Her second shot hit Short Arab in the heart. Although he would be dead by the time he hit the ground, a look of shock covered his face as he struggled to take a half step forward before collapsing.

“Well, shit! This unraveled real quick,” she said to herself. “I’ve got to get the hell out of here! There’ll be no talking done today.”

Dydre bent over to retrieve her wig as two bullets struck the wall behind her. Immediately she hit the ground and rolled into the shadow of the building.

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