The Freedom Broker (Thea Paris #1)(71)
She half smiled. “Our kind of work doesn’t exactly lend itself to regular hours.”
“Our kind of work does not leave much room for a life,” he said.
“And yet we still do it.” She took in his Cartier watch and signet ring. “Why even be an inspector for the Hellenic Police, when your family has more money than olives?”
“Justice. Everyone deserves it, rich or poor.”
“Agreed.” She wondered if his sister’s accident was part of what drove him so hard. She’d like to ask more about what had happened but didn’t want to pry.
“You understand me, Gabrielle.” He stepped closer, his right hand stroking her cheek.
Her cell phone beeped, disrupting the moment. Part of her was relieved.
Two messages arrived from her analyst, Ernest.
Max reached for the bright blue box of Gitanes. “You mind?”
“I thought you’d quit.”
“I just started again.” He lit a cigarette, breathed in a lungful of smoke, and reviewed the messages on his phone while she did the same on hers.
Her first message detailed an intercepted conversation between the prime minister of Kanzi and his brother-in-law, Bini Salam. According to the information, Salam wanted to oust General Ita Jemwa from his position as head of security, but Kimweri refused. African leaders often appointed family members to prominent positions. With the promise of great wealth on the horizon, the prime minister’s relatives would be jockeying for position. If Bini Salam went head-to-head with the general, she’d bet on the military man.
The second message kick-started her heart. The plane tail number Konstantin Philippoussis had given them had been traced back to a Belgian shell corporation, which had been the holder of an end-user certificate, or EUC—an internationally accepted document that allowed for the shipping of arms to legitimate recipients. And that EUC was linked to an Ares weapons deal in Syria.
It had taken several analysts to sift through many layers of ownership and link the shell corporation to an automotive manufacturing company, which had been sold two years ago to none other than Quan Chi, one of the lead negotiators in the Kanzi oil deal. Was this the link she’d been searching for?
She typed a brief response, pushing her team to follow the money trail to other shell corporations. Was it possible that the Quans had arranged an under-the-table arms deal with Ares? Had Ares kidnapped Christos Paris to help influence the negotiations?
It would make sense. The Stockholm International Peace Research Institute stated that while data on Chinese arms deals were difficult to confirm, it was common knowledge that China was one of the top suppliers of arms to sub-Saharan African countries. It was buying up minerals, oil, and natural gas, offering military aid or other assistance in exchange for the resources.
Or was one of the Quans actually Ares, working both ends?
Goose bumps ran down her arms.
China was especially influential in the murky world of small-arms sales—such as AK-47s and grenades—as they were easier to buy, sell, and use and were considered far more destructive, because of their ubiquity, than heavy weapons. Small arms played a powerful role in fueling bloody rebellions and encouraging civil unrest in Africa. Could Ares be working to supply arms to the Kanzi government in exchange for control over the oil rights?
She’d need to investigate further, collating the details in her mind. She glanced at her watch. “We’d better go; it’s time for the negotiations to start.”
Chapter Fifty
Thea finished her shower with a blast of cold water to revitalize herself, dressing in a navy suit, a crisp ivory blouse, and black pumps she’d purchased in town. She slipped her extra insulin into her jacket pocket. The two extra-large coffees she’d ordered with breakfast should give her the kick in the pants she’d need.
She’d conferred with Ahmed, Nikos, and six Paris Industries corporate lawyers in a private meeting earlier in the morning. Though Ahmed had agreed to have Nikos join them at the table, she was going to represent the family, handling the opening remarks on behalf of Paris Industries.
After her speech, she’d hand over the details to the experts. Ahmed had had a speechwriter send over a statement for her, and they’d reviewed the fine points. She was no oil executive, but she certainly had a lot of experience keeping calm in dicey situations. Kidnap negotiations required intense discipline and often unfolded over endless days. She wasn’t worried about even a high-stakes business deal.
Thea entered the conference room where the summit would take place. Cathedral windows let in the piercing morning sunlight, the deep burgundy drapes pulled wide open. Two tables sat near the front, and ten chairs perched on a small stage, ready for the Kanzi dignitaries. The venue held the same opulent grace and elegance as the rest of the hotel. She greeted Ahmed Khali and the team of lawyers. The COO’s demeanor was intense, his eyes studying the proposal like the nose of a pig hunting for the finest truffles. This was his big moment, his chance to shine.
The empty chair beside him should have been Peter Kennedy’s.
They still had no idea who’d poisoned the CFO, but the local authorities were interviewing everyone who’d been at the hotel. With tourism the main source of income in Zimbabwe, having a foreigner murdered on its soil was very bad for business. Gabrielle had promised to communicate with the State Department regarding the details surrounding Peter’s death. Quantum International would also do everything they could to discover who’d poisoned him. Just not now.