Outsourced

13

Petrenko looked dully at his Arab hosts while his jeweler sat at a table in the corner and examined the diamonds. Abbas stared intently back. There was a fourth Arab this time. Three of them made a show of the Glocks they were carrying. The one with the scowl had his right hand bandaged and was holding a gun with his left. The only noise came from the old jeweler grunting occasionally as he shifted positions.

Petrenko had brought both Yuri and Sergei with him. He also had four other men sitting in a car outside. They were listening in on an open line from a cell phone that Petrenko had slipped into his shirt pocket. If they heard a commotion, they’d be in the house in seconds. Petrenko didn’t expect any trouble. His gaze shifted to his two men. Both of them were standing like marble statues.

Petrenko, bored, winked at Abbas. “They could stand like that for hours and not move a muscle. Maybe I should make a little extra money and rent them out to guard that palace in England. What do you think?”

Abbas ignored him. Petrenko fell back into his dull stare. It was hot and stuffy in that house and these Arab bastards couldn’t even offer him a drink. No business sense whatsoever.

There were a few more grunts from the old jeweler before he pushed himself out of his chair, approached Petrenko and nodded, indicating that the diamonds were of the same quality as the others.

Petrenko considered briefly trying to squeeze a few more dollars from the price, but decided he had pushed these Arabs as far as he could. He handed Abbas the attache case he had brought with him. Abbas opened the case and counted through the stacks of hundred-dollar bills inside. When he was done counting, he closed the case and indicated to the other Arabs that the money was all there. While they all acknowledged him, none of them bothered to put their Glocks away. Or loosen their grips.

Petrenko stood up and collected the diamonds. Walking back to Abbas, he extended a hand. The Arab looked sourly down at it before reluctantly offering a weak grip in return.

“If you need to sell more diamonds you know how to reach me,” Petrenko offered.

Abbas nodded sharply and somewhat angrily.

When they were alone in their Mercedes, Yuri mentioned to Petrenko that he didn’t believe the Arabs were happy with their price.

“No, I don’t believe so either,” Petrenko agreed. “We have had a very good day. First, let us store these stones in a safe place, then we will have a small celebration.”

Yuri pulled away from the curb and drove towards the Lynn Capital Bank.