The Hunters

11

There was a saying among covert ops: Who watches the watchers?

The idea was to always assume that while you were observing an activity, your own tactics and techniques were under observation. Cobb had arrived several hours early in order to learn more about his new employer. Unfortunately, since he had spotted no one in the field, Cobb had to assume that he had been the one under the microscope.

In some ways, it made him feel foolish.

In other ways, it made him feel at ease.

It was safer to work with professionals.

Cobb’s suspicion grew when he reached the parking garage and ran squarely into a white stretch limo that was just pulling up to the curb. Sarah was standing ten feet away, pretending to wait for a taxi while bopping her head to an imaginary tune. He knew there was no way she was listening to music at a time like this. Her sense of hearing was far too important to sacrifice in an employer meet-and-greet.

Or whatever the hell this was.

A muscle-bound chauffeur hustled around the back of the limo, and then opened the rear door for his boss. A few seconds later, a man in an expensive, custom-tailored suit stepped out. Made of light gray silk, the suit was accompanied by a light-yellow, open-necked shirt and handsome loafers. An expensive watch glistened in the harsh fluorescent lights of the parking garage. So did his pinkie ring.

The man smiled while sauntering forward. He had exquisitely styled gray hair and a perfectly landscaped mustache. He smelled of expensive cologne. Not the kind that peasants buy in stores, but the kind the uber-wealthy have personally designed.

Cobb sensed the man was friendly, but he wasn’t about to let down his defenses. The last week had left him with a lot of questions and a city full of enemies. He also knew the mission in New York was only the beginning.

‘Mr Cobb,’ said the man with the mustache. His French-accented voice was almost as smooth as the suit. ‘I am Jean-Marc Papineau. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I hope you had a pleasant early-morning flight from Las Vegas.’

Cobb nodded, but said nothing.

Papineau continued. ‘At this point of our relationship, I am quite confident that personal safety is still your number one concern. However, due to the private nature of our business and the smoldering temperatures in this garage, may I recommend the air-conditioned comfort of my limousine?’

Cobb shook his head. ‘Not until I frisk the guy inside.’

‘Go frisk yourself!’ said a gruff voice from the limo.

Cobb could only see the guy’s legs, but he recognized the voice at once. He crouched and peeked into the car, fully expecting to see the beach bum he had left in Brooklyn. He was shocked to see a clean-cut McNutt. Although his shoulder-length hair could still use a trim, McNutt was actually a good-looking guy — with stubble, high cheekbones, narrow blue eyes, a longer than usual nose, cleft chin, and a curving mouth.

Cobb nodded his approval. ‘Glad to see you took a shower.’

McNutt smiled. ‘Glad to see you’re wearing pants.’

Papineau nodded. ‘Yes, thank goodness for both.’

‘You guys are idiots,’ Sarah grumbled as she pushed past Papineau and climbed into the limo. ‘In case you didn’t know, the goal was to not be seen together in public. So quit chatting and get in the damn car before they charge us for an extra day of parking.’

Cobb and Papineau quickly joined her inside.

The limousine was sumptuously appointed, stocked with the best food and liquor Cobb had never consumed — from Dom Perignon to Iranian Karaburun Ossetra caviar. The ‘snack’ table separated the group into two pairs. Sarah and Papineau faced forward, while Cobb and McNutt sat with their backs to the chauffeur. The soundproof partition was currently raised, keeping the group’s conversation private.

That is, if they decided to talk.

The passengers were silent as the limo joined the afternoon traffic. The quiet lasted for several minutes as Sarah checked her e-mail, McNutt took a short nap, and Papineau regarded Cobb, who was staring out the smoky glass window at the tropical landscape.

Papineau had heard wonderful things about Cobb and his ability to pull off miracles in the field. To find out if this was true, he had given Cobb a next-to-impossible mission, a ridiculously short timeframe, and a ragtag group of specialists brought together specifically for their unique skills. Then he watched in amazement as Cobb figured out a way to make it work with people he had never dealt with before.

‘So,’ Papineau said to break the ice, ‘I’m sure you’re wondering why I invited you to Florida instead of paying for the item in New York.’

‘Not really,’ Cobb said. ‘I assume you brought us here to officially team us up and ship us out-of-country for something even bigger.’

The Frenchman smiled. ‘The team-up was obvious. Why do you assume the rest?’

‘Why? Because we’re in Fort Lauderdale, the Venice of America, a city known for its extensive system of canals. The location gives you quick access to international waters, but keeps you away from the drug cartels in Miami. Based on your car and clothes, I know you have money to burn, which means you probably took advantage of the real estate collapse and bought yourself a nice estate — or three — near the beach. Not because you like playing in the sand, but because you need water access for, um, business.’

Papineau stared at him. ‘And what business do you think that is?’

‘I’d hate to be presumptuous. That would be rude.’

‘Indeed.’

An uncomfortable silence filled the limo for the next several seconds as Sarah and McNutt waited to see Papineau’s reaction to Cobb’s analysis. Although they had spoken to him on the phone, this was the first time any of them had met Papineau, so they were anxious to see what kind of man had hired them. Was he a vicious tyrant like Vladimir Kozlov, or was he a tough-but-fair leader like Cobb himself?

Papineau continued to stare. ‘I see you’ve given this a lot of thought.’

‘More than a little, less than a lot.’

‘And what conclusions have you reached?’

‘No conclusions. Just observations.’

‘Don’t undervalue observations, Lieutenant. I learned quite a bit about you by observing you from afar. Not only did I tap into the FBI feed in New York, but I also watched you conduct countersurveillance in the airport. I didn’t want to miss a thing.’

Cobb smiled. He had been right all along.

Whoever watches the watchers was the key to everything.

He reached for the crackers, which looked like saltines but were probably baked in tandoor ovens in India somewhere. He hadn’t eaten all day. Hunger kept him alert, but he needed sustenance to keep up his strength. ‘Do me a favor. Don’t call me “Lieutenant”. It’s a bad habit to get into. You might slip up, do it around secret police in a foreign land, and earn us a set of eyes we don’t want.’

Papineau nodded. ‘Good to know.’

‘That is, if I decide to work for you.’

‘You’re already on the payroll.’

‘I am?’

‘You are,’ he assured him. ‘Unless, of course, you’re here to let me know that you don’t wish to be paid for services rendered. Is that why you’re here, Mr Cobb? To refuse my money?’

‘No,’ Cobb admitted, ‘I’m here to learn more about your plans for us. Once I know the details, I’ll let you know whether I intend to work for you ever again.’

Papineau smiled. He loved Cobb’s experience, intelligence, and directness. He had everything he was looking for and more. ‘Trust me, Mr Cobb. Once you hear my offer, I am quite certain that you and your team will sign on for more. Offers like these are rare indeed.’

Cobb studied his face. ‘Then why wait? Why not tell us now?’

‘Why?’ the Frenchman teased with a devilish smile. ‘Because you still have to meet the rest of your team.’