When Dead in Greece by L.T. Ryan Page B

mistake.”
    Esau rose, cheeks burning. He aimed a loaded finger at Alik. “I did what he asked. How was I supposed to know he’d call the loan like this? I don’t have that kind of money just laying around.”
    Alik grabbed the bag and held it in front of his chest. “You had this, you old fool. You could have bought time with it. Instead you kept it squirreled away. What were you going to do with this money? Huh? Is it more important than your niece’s life?”
    Esau stepped around his desk and bulldozed his way toward Alik. He grabbed hold of the bag and started yanking. Wads of cash fell to the floor. The old man yelled and swung and stumbled and crashed into the wall and fell to the floor.
    Footsteps echoed into the office like rumbling thunder. Five old men stood outside the door, staring in.
    “It’s all right, fellas,” I said.
    Esau sat up. Wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked at the guys and waved them off. “It’s OK.”
    The men retreated. I closed the door and stood between Esau and Alik. I held the men at arm’s length.
    “This is how this is gonna go. I’m taking this money. And Esau, if you have any more, you better let me know. I don’t care if it’s cash, stocks, bonds, a title to a house in Siberia, I want it available to negotiate with.”
    He shook his head. “That’s all I got other than the house and this place, and there’s no equity in either.”
    I glanced at Alik. He shrugged. We had to take the old man at his word, which wasn’t that solid.
    “Fair enough, I guess. We’re gonna get the call or message or carrier pigeon or whatever at seven. That’s four hours from now. I need to rest up. Esau, you do whatever you can to get me a decent weapon. One for Alik, too.”
    “They said alone,” Esau said.
    “I know,” I said.
    “Let us handle that part of it,” Alik said.

Chapter 17
    SOMEHOW I MANAGED TO SLEEP for three hours. I woke up a quarter after six as the sun dipped low behind the building, casting shadows over the terrace and the rocky beach. The wind had picked up. So had the waves. The sound of them crashing against the shore carried up the side of the building and rumbled in the apartment.
    I started a pot of coffee and pulled some cooked ground lamb out of the fridge. Poured some olive oil in a cast iron skillet. Heated it all up. By the time the coffee was ready, so was the meat.
    The muted light and sound of the rolling waves made it feel as though I was at a yoga retreat. It helped clear my cluttered mind. I isolated my thoughts and destroyed them one at a time until all I had left was the sequence of events ahead of me. Problem was, after arriving at the location they were to provide at seven, I had no idea how things would go. There were too many unknown variables.
    Sure, I could visualize the ideal scenario, at least for the situation. But what then? What if there was a wild card? That, I told myself, was my specialty. I was the guy who they sent in when the mission had no set path to reach the objective. Getting Isadora back was no different. It required the specific mix of talent that I brought to the table.
    The door opened up as I dropped my fork on the empty plate. Swirls of olive oil remained. Alik walked in. He carried a plain brown bag in one arm. The canvas money bag in the other.
    “He cleaned out his bank account,” Alik said. “Another three grand for you to use.”
    I nodded. “Weapons?”
    “Got a Beretta M9 for you.” He reached into the brown bag and pulled out the pistol and set it next to my plate, muzzle facing the wall.
    I picked up the weapon and inspected it. Ejected the magazine. Racked the slide. It felt cool against my hand. Smelled freshly oiled.
    “Good?” Alik said.
    “It’ll do,” I said. “He come up with something for you?”
    “Same weapon.”
    “Good enough, I suppose.” I stood, tucked the pistol in my waistband, grabbed my mug and my plate and carried them over to the sink and set them there. “Anything