The Ares Decision

33

This time the crowd parted easily as their cab approached the elaborate archway. Of course, they still got a lot of stares, but by and large, weapons remained shouldered.

“Here is fine,” Peter Howell said, reaching over the seat and holding out the two hundred euros they’d negotiated. “We won’t need a ride back.”

The three of them piled out of the vehicle and dumped their packs on the dusty road before removing Sarie’s scientific equipment from the roof. A few of Janani’s men came out to help carry it inside, where their boss was sitting on a low stool drinking tea.

“Peter!” he said, rising and shaking the Brit’s hand. “You have once again returned safely to me.”

“Barely. Did you know that Sabastiaan was in town?”

“I heard rumors. But now it is my understanding that he is no longer alive. No great loss to the world, in my humble opinion.”

They followed Janani back to the outdoor range, where a table had been laid out with two custom handguns and two Belgian-made assault rifles that looked stock but probably weren’t.

Smith picked up the pistol with a tag bearing his name and sighted along it. The grip felt like it had been molded to his fingers and the balance was dead-on.

“Will it be adequate?” Janani said.

“It’s a work of art, my friend.”

The African smiled and turned to Sarie. “You think I forgot you, but like all beautiful women, you jump to conclusions.”

He put a hand on her back and escorted her to another table, where a scaled-down bolt-action rifle rested in an aluminum case. It was another beautiful specimen, with a Swarovski scope and gleaming black barrel. Those qualities, though, were overshadowed by a stock painted with colorful flowering vines. The artistry was undeniable, but a little out of place.

Janani offered the weapon to Sarie with both hands, frowning as he looked down at the pink and yellow blossoms. “I told my youngest wife about you, and she insisted that I allow her to do these decorations. She’s only sixteen, and I am embarrassed to say that I find it impossible to deny her anything. Of course, I can have one of my men replace the stock before you leave.”

Sarie accepted the gun, examining the lifelike images winding around the smooth wood. “Absolutely not. Tell her it’s beautiful.”

The African smiled broadly, obviously pleased that he wasn’t the only one who appreciated his wife’s work. “So everyone is happy, then? Our transaction is on the path to being a good one?”

“Didn’t we also talk about a vehicle?” Smith said.

“Of course! How could I forget?”

They followed him into a small warehouse, threading through an extensive inventory of steel and exotic hardwoods on their way to a Toyota Land Cruiser parked at the back. It was a deep maroon with oversized tires and a crowded light bar across the top.

Smith stopped a few feet away, appraising his reflection in the chrome bumper. “I don’t suppose you’d have anything that would blend in a bit better?”

“Blend in?” Janani said, sounding a little insulted. “If you want a twenty-five-year-old pickup that drags on the ground, go to a used-car dealer. I trade only in top-of-the line merchandise.”

Sarie dropped to her knees next to the vehicle and flipped onto her back, wriggling under it for a look. A moment later a low whistle escaped her. “The frame’s been reinforced, it’s got protective plating that looks like it would take a direct hit from an atomic bomb, aftermarket shocks, locking differential…”

She scooted out and reached through the open driver’s-side window to pop the hood, which she promptly disappeared beneath. Her legs left the ground for a few moments, dangling over the brush guard while she fished around in the engine bay. “Chevy small block with a snorkel: simple, classic, easy to repair and get parts for. Exactly what you want.”

Janani leaned in close to Smith. “What an extraordinarily useful woman. Would you consider parting with her?”

“Excuse me?”

“I was thinking that I could probably be persuaded to make an even trade. The car and the weapons for her.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Of course not. I apologize. I’ve insulted you. The car, the weapons, and fifty thousand euros.”

Smith grinned. “A generous offer, Janani. The problem is, she’s not mine.”

“Pity.”

Sarie jumped into the driver’s seat and started pressing buttons on the dash.

“So what do you think?” Smith called. “Should we take it?”

“Are you kidding? It’s got leather and a place to plug in your iPod!”