Page 14 of What is Found

“Worthy.” Davila’s hand gripped his shoulder hard enough to hurt. When John looked up, Davila inclined his head toward the van. “Company.”

CHAPTER 4

Parviz had exchangedhis Kalashnikov for his Glock, which was...interesting. On the other hand, the distance wasn’t much. Maybe Parviz was a good shot. Actually, given how clean those new weapons were, John thought the man probably knew what he was doing.

What was also a sure bet was that the three newcomers—two on the right, one to Parviz’s left and all with rifles—probably did, too.

The guy on the left was young, maybe early twenties: narrow face, cold light blue eyes, small mouth, a sparse thatch of ginger beard. Judging from the lack of vapor, the guy was breathing through his nose. Mouth closed. Not nervous. Which was sort of a problem. The guy was less apt to panic, make a mistake. Or he might just figure the odds were in his favor…which they were.

“On the right, the big guy from the restaurant,” Davila muttered. “Same hat.”

The embroidered taqiyya, yes, and the same big guy who’d followed Parviz into the men’s room. Probably why Parviz had to pee so often.

The boy was there, too, by his master’s side, gripping a Kalashnikov.

Oh, honey.A stone formed in John’s gut. He had pegged the child for a couple of things, but not a killer.

“I no give youhand.” Parviz spat, a gesture that was not necessarily an insult in these parts, except he aimed the foamy white gobbet to the left, changing the meaning. Spit to the right, you were just spitting. But do that to the left, and you were warding off Satan and demons.

Which Parviz seemed to think they might be. Especially since the driver had let his mask of servility drop away to reveal disdain and naked hatred.

“But whatIthink is, maybe,” Parviz said, “yougiveusmoney.”

WEAPONS

NOVEMBER 2023

CHAPTER 1

John had donea lot of reading since leaving the Army. Most were thrillers; the ones Roni’s dad liked about the ex-Army guy who wandered around with only a toothbrush and did good deeds was a favorite. (After watching the series on Amazon, he agreed with Roni. Cruisewastoo short for the part.)

In the books, the guy was a bit of an oddball. Probably diagnosable. All that aside, he could fight. Size up three, four, five guys, calculate the odds, figure out his moves—and win. A little like Robert Downey, Jr. playing Sherlock Holmes: choreographing his moves and the likeliest outcomes.

The Army guy in the books also cheated. For example, he’d agree to start fighting onthreebut give his opponent a headbutt afterone. Element of surprise. Made for awfully good TV, too.

John’s problem...he wasn’t that particular brand of Army guy. Not huge, not a street fighter. Not an ex-military cop or ex-CIA agent. Which you’d think would be a disadvantage.

But not if you knew how to use what was at hand. Not if you had an uncle who’d been a Ranger in Vietnam. And not if your aim was excellent.

Even John’s college baseball pitching coach agreed:You got two terrific weapons there, son. A good right arm and a good left.

What counted as a weapon was all a matter of interpretation. Same as some politician once upon a time had said.

A country—or a man—goes to war with the weapons he has.

CHAPTER 2

“Parviz,”John said, still in his crouch over the tarp, “let’s talk this over.”

“Nothing talk over,” Parviz said.

“I bet.” Davila was so taut with unspent fury, he quivered, the muscles of his forearms and jaw twitching and jumping. “They kill us then leave. The only reason we’re still alive is because they can’t get those vaults open otherwise.”

What John thought of as an interesting choice by Ustinov now took on new meaning. Maybe Ustinov had his doubts about the hired help. Even if Parviz went rogue, Ustinov must’ve known the man wouldn’t risk killing them. Could hurt them a lot, though, or simply shoot their kneecaps then grab their thumbs while they were rolling in agony or bleeding out, open the vaults, and leave. If he did and their bodies were eventually found, though, that would open up whole other cans of diplomatic andintelligence worms. (An absurd expression based in fact. Once upon a time, bait worms, like tuna fish, used to come in aluminum cans.)

Unlikely, then, for Parviz to be all that keen on putting bullets into them. Knife wounds, maybe...His gaze ticked over the men. No knives he could see, but that didn’t mean anything. But, boy, couldheuse a knife now. Or a couple of well-balanced axes.

He remembered his one “lesson” with Roni in the wee hours of their last morning together. Working off tension, same as when she took him to Emory’s gun range. On their last morning, Roni had been impressed at how quickly he seemed to pick up just how to throw a knife, how to aim an axe, how to find center mass and hit that bull’s eye throw after throw after throw.

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