Page 34 of The 9th Man

“Because you’re outgunned.”

Playing poker had been a contact sport with the Rangers, serving as a mix of stress relief, entertainment, and competition. Stories of the games were legendary. He’d earned the nickname Bird Dog because of his ability to always remember a route to anywhere, no matter how convoluted the terrain. But he’d also been tagged Oscar for his command performances bluffing at poker.

“You didn’t think I came alone?” he asked. “Since you know my name you surely know my training. See that ridge behind me? Past the storage facilities?”

Persik’s eyes flicked over Luke’s shoulder. “I see it.”

“That’s what we call a superior firing position. Always secure the high ground.”

Persik chuckled. “You’re bluffing.”

“Fair enough. Let’s find out.” He retrieved the burner phone from his pocket, tapped the keyboard a few times, brought it to his right ear, and faced Persik. “Have Baldy back there draw his weapon, and let’s see what happens.”

They stared at each other for a long ten seconds.

“How about this,” Luke said. “You call the shot.”

“Pardon?”

“You choose into which of his eyes the bullet goes. Left or right. Or, since you caught me in a good mood, we could do an ear. It’s your call. And, for fun, whatever you call, the shot might come to your man back there or to you. I’m going to let my shooter decide who he plugs. Surprises are fun.”

Persik did not respond. Again, his eyes shifted from Luke’s face to the ridgeline then back again. “I don’t believe you.”

“Have it your way.” He raised his index finger, then murmured into the phone, “You heard what I said. Single shot, right eye. Send it—”

“Stop,” Persik cried out.

He raised his fist. “Hold on target.”

“I see no reason for bloodshed,” Persik said. “My orders are to take whatever you have, then kill you. However, my employer trusts my judgment. So give us what you have and I’ll convince him you’re no threat and should be left alone.”

Another lie, and not a convincing one either. Still, it was bait too good to refuse for stalling. “I have your word?”

“Soldier-to-soldier.”

“Where did you serve?”

“A major in Indonesia’s KOPASSUS Red Beret Corps.”

He feigned being impressed. “Those guys are legendary. Drinking snake blood, rolling in glass, breaking bricks with their heads, walking on fire. Is all that true?”

“Every word.”

They were also regarded as some of the most ruthless and lawless security forces in the world with a litany of human rights violations, including torture and mass murder. Good to know who he was dealing with.

Which only increased his concern.

“Okay, solider to solider, you’ve got yourself a deal. Which my sniper will make sure you keep.” He gestured with the phone. “He can hear every word we’re saying. Benjamin Stein kept a storage locker here. We were hoping there’d be something inside that’d help explain who and why someone wanted him dead.”

“What did you find?”

“A cardboard box.”

“You have it?” Persik asked. “In the car?”

“We do. It’s full of documents.” A lie, but he needed to keep this guy talking. “By the way, how did you find us?”

“We tracked your car. Obviously, you found our tag and disabled it. But we still traced the car to Bruges and learned you traded it for the Peugeot. Five hundred euros to one of the employees at the rental agency gained access to the rental car’s internal tracker. All of the companies have those today.”

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