“The surprising thing there is that it didn’t happen sooner.”
“And Enzo Ruiz purportedly died of a heart attack.”
“Who is that?”
“A former Spanish drug smuggler.”
“Was he at risk for a heart attack?”
There was a long pause before Nasrin answered. “He was in his nineties and in a wheelchair.”
Cyrah laughed. “Nineties?”
“I’m not sure what you’re laughing about,” Nasrin shot back. “Including Marroqui, three of Claudia Gould’s former enemies have died over an improbably short period of time. Are you really willing to ignore that?”
“Yes,” Cyrah said simply. “I acknowledge the possibility you’re right but if we walk away from this, it’s the end for us. I agree that we need to be even more cautious than usual, but I’m not ready to be done. I suppose that the question now is whether I continue on my own or whether I continue with your support.”
“That isn’t the question,” Yasmin said. “Of course you have our support.”
“We’re not in danger,” Nasrin said. “Only you are. And, as you say, if we pull out, you’ll continue—something we believe will end with you either dead or captured. And if not, it’s only a short delay in your sprint toward the inevitable.”
“Very poetic.”
“You’re our sister and we don’t want harm to come to you—self-inflicted or otherwise,” Yasmin said. “But you need to understand that if we manage to bring this operation to a successful conclusion, the two of us will be exercising more discretion about what jobs we take going forward.”
Cyrah decided to ignore the threat. “Can we bring it to a successful conclusion?”
Nasrin’s sigh was audible even over the hiss of the strengthening breeze. “We may have found a way.”
“Explain.”
“There are no predictable deliveries to the house—just sporadic drop-offs of what appear to be construction materials from a wide variety of sources. An architect has been engaged, but all their communications thus far are electronic. Physical drawings and meetings about these kinds of things aren’t as frequent as they once were.”
“But?” Cyrah said. She was passing her car for the second time in their conversation and didn’t want to stay out there for any longer than necessary.
“The key may be in their diet. Based on what’s being purchased at the grocery store, it doesn’t vary at all.”
“How can we use that?”
“The opportunity is with the servant,” Yasmin said. “She’s extremely compulsive in her behavior, which makes her predictable in all things. What we’re interested in, though, is one narrow facet of that compulsiveness. Specifically, how she selects romaine lettuce.”
CHAPTER 38
FRANSCHHOEK
SOUTH AFRICA
BEBE Kincaid committed to one more loop of the parking lot. Despite the fact that the store wasn’t particularly busy, someone had taken her customary space along the eastern edge. How long would the vile parking space thief be inside? Maybe they were just getting something quick. Should she wait? Keep driving around until…
One, two, three, it doesn’t matter. Four, five, six, it’s just a parking lot.
She backed into a space that provided just as good a view of the area and pretended to look at her phone as she scanned through the windshield. There were a few customers visible, only one of whom she’d seen before—an old woman with a cane that seemed to cause more problems than it solved.
The American surveillance team had kept tabs on her for a little over a week, but now seemed to have lost interest. And why wouldn’t they? No one in this world knew or cared that she existed. No one but Mitch, Claudia, Scott, and his men.
In her younger years, she had been the FBI’s most valued surveillance asset. Later, as her mental state deteriorated, she’d become a liability. Her husband—a wonderful man—had finally been forced to leave as she began to combat her issues with ever-more-compulsive behavior. Her friends had drifted away for the same reason. Finally, the Bureau had forced her into early retirement. If Mitch Rapp hadn’t offered her the job with Coleman’s company, she didn’t know what she would have done.
After three deep breaths, Bebe finally stepped out of the vehicle and started toward the store. After selecting a cart, she pretended to browse the vegetable department, but really focused on the people around her. Whoever Legion were, they were good. Anyone she’d seen more than once on her journeys outside the walls had been confirmed as a longtime local or tourist with a background that checked out.