I don't think I ever looked more emotionless in my life.
My cold, dead eyes stared ahead of me like my life depended on it. Every ounce of field training I ever had took over my body as I sat rigidly in the wooden chair of one of the coffee shops in Dimona. After walking for two days, Ashton and I made it in time to relax in a hotel for the night. Now it was the moment I had been waiting for for months.
I could have chosen to blend in more, but I had bigger fish to fry. Everything about me was carefully constructed to portray an image that would resonate with the Minister of Foreign Affairs. From my desert colored military boots to the beige hijab on my head, I was sending a message. Though admittedly, the latter of the two was Ashton's wish; one last way to get under Mr. Dayan's skin and remind him of what he advocates; a final strike to his ego. A Palestinian and a woman in a hijab has bested him. He was at our mercy, not the other way around.
Both my hip and Ashton's had weapons tucked into our waistband, though we would never need to use them. The location of this meeting was very strategic and we all knew it. Far enough from the capital that there would be significantly less prying eyes, but public enough to ensure no one was going to get assassinated in front of the general population. That would only draw attention to two rogues and wanted criminals meeting with a high ranking government official. Dayan would be a fool to try and kill us today.
I immediately recognized Dayan when he first walked through the doors of the shop. The bald Israeli was wearing normal street clothes but the buffer man right behind him was dressed in a long-sleeve black shirt and tan pants similarly to Ashton and me. He was clearly a bodyguard.
The Minister's eyes locked on the two of us immediately. I could have stood to shake his hand when he approached us in the near-empty shop but I didn't. I simply held out my hand to him and shook it from my seat. Ashton did the same, his strong hand gripping the politicians firmly. "We're a long way from Jerusalem, Mr. Dayan," Ashton mused in Hebrew while referencing the lack of formality as the Israeli sat across the wooden table, his bodyguard at a separate table near the door.
"That we are, Mr. Naifeh. Don't think I don't know who you are," he responded crisply in English to the former Israeli soldier. He wouldn't be caught dead speaking about national security in the common tongue. I doubt English offered much security, though. "You took a big risk to set foot in this country again."
His icy gaze shifted to me, taking in my appearance. "Ms. Zelin," he greeted coolly. "You too are tempting fate. Quite a patronizing stance you are taking."
"If I was threatening you, you would know it," I told him in a diplomatic tone, leaving no room for negotiation. "Respectfully, we aren't here to trade loosely veiled threats, Mr. Minister. We are here for business and business only. I think it's in both of our best interests to move this along."
"And how do I know I can trust you?" He questioned with a slightly raised eyebrow like we would outright tell him if we planned to murder him.
"How can we trust you?" Ashton quipped back. He was sitting at his full height with a pin-straight posture, shoulders squared like he was at attention. We meant business and our body language showed it. "We are in a public place, Mr. Dayan. Killing each other would be very consequential for both parties. Besides, we just want our money, not your life."
The tense silence froze as one of the waitresses placed a pitcher of water on the rectangular wooden table with a polite smile. The Minister and Ashton offered one back when she placed three glasses down, but I did no such thing. The fifty-year-old smiled mirthfully as an idea popped into his mind. "Care for some water then? A show of trust if you will?"
He didn't wait for a response as he poured three inches of water into each of the three glasses. I watched analytically as he swirled them poshly before pouring them into one glass, then splitting the drink and offering me one while he kept the other in front of him. "Take a sip Ms. Zelin. This way we all get poisoned if you're playing a little game."
"Gladly," I quipped back. My hand gripped the cold glass as Ashton's bright blue eyes burned holes into the side of my head. Was he trying to poison me? I doubted it.
I watched Mr. Dayan raise his glass to his lips and take a sip at the same time I did, both of us drinking a noticeable amount to prove a point. The cold water rushed down my throat, soothing my tense muscles. "Shall we begin now?" Ashton asked in all seriousness like this was a waste of time.
"Of course. Let me see the files and I will make the wire transfer to the secure account," the government official replied in a pleased tone.
Like we would kill him; that's funny. Sure, Ashton and I were known for being ruthless, but not reckless. That's what killing David Dayan would accomplish; a shity mess that was guaranteed to backfire on us.
I removed the coin from my front pocket, the metal warmed from my body heat, while Ashton produced a computer which we had recently purchased in Tel Aviv. My thumbnail slid between the two faces, prying apart the coin and handing the microchip to Ashton as be popped it into the computer. He turned it around, showing Dayan exactly how he was pulling up the files to ensure there was no scam.
"Skim through the data, make sure it is all there; validate it however you want. Then, you will transfer the ten billion US dollars into the account provided. When we confirm the transfer, we will hand over the files," Ashton gave the rundown while the intelligence expert shuffled through the computer.
I wasn't surprised it took the man less than two minutes to confirm what he needed to before pushing the laptop back across the table with an approving look. He was an expert after all. People like him spent years studying forgeries and computer code in order to be able to certify files and documents. "You appear to have a large amount of confidence for two fugitives in a foreign country," Dayan drawled while Ashton types on the computer, pulling up a secure network for possibly one of the biggest wire transfers in history. There were so many cybersecurity precautions taken in addition to the layers and layers of shell corporations to hide this money, that it was completely mind-boggling to even an experienced fraud analyst. Hell, it tripped me up sometimes and I was responsible for a good portion of it. The other parts were the utter genius of Tyler Pham.
God, I hadn't seen that son of a bitch in months. I kind of missed the quiet computer nerd.
But I couldn't focus on that right now.
"Because combined we've been playing ball with the most powerful governments in the world for almost two decades and we are both still as free as ever. Arrest or kill us and the entire weight of Europe and the Americas will be all over your country. Not to mention if the two of us fail to materialize alive and well at our rendezvous point outside of this country with ten billion dollars in our accounts, the whole world will know of your governments involvement this. The Americans will hate you for dealing with us and the Russians will hate you for considering taking their baby. The rest of the world will fall in line with their respective sides. We may have many enemies, Mr. Dayan, but we also have many friends. And that is a threat," I reasoned in a scarily icy tone. I was far from robotic. In fact, I was so cold it sounded like I was murdering someone with my voice alone.
I don't play games.
The hatred filled brown eyes of David Dayan stared back at me, hard with anger and agitation. "And what proof do you even have that my government was involved?"
I couldn't help but let my stoic facade crack for a small smirk. "As I said, I have many friends. Some of them happen to be the best hackers you've ever seen. Every message we exchanged four months ago was encrypted but my friend found the loopholes in your code after weeks of analysis. We have you dead to rights; every message sent was from your personal laptop from the capital building. Not to mention the evidence from our simple background checks to make sure we weren't wasting our time. It's indisputable, Mr. Dayan."
"Then it's a good thing the three of us are playing an honest game," the Minister responded without missing a beat in an attempt to hide his fear and mortification. Being shut down by someone like me was the last thing he wanted but here we are.
"Indeed."
My attention turned back to Ashton as he handed the laptop back on the white screen, waiting for an account number and password to be input. The slightly paler man across from Ashton took the computer as my partner spoke powerfully. "Make the transfer now and I will verify it."
"Your skills have been missed, Mr. Naifeh," the Israeli brought up without taking his eyes from the computer as he typed.
"There's more money in independent work."
"You could have been an Israeli legend. They could have named military bases after you for your work and your loyalty. Nothing says good media like a Palestinian turned Israeli militant," Dayan drawled back before handing the laptop over. Ashton's laser eyes cut through the elderly man like a katana, ripping him apart without even having to say anything.
If I thought my words were harsh, Ashton's tone was like an atomic bomb. "I'd rather stick a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger before I fought under your flag again," he snarled.
The Minister was wise to keep his mouth shut. It didn't matter how many reassurances he had that we wouldn't kill him, or that his bodyguard was only a few feet away. There were few things in this world more terrifying then Ashton Naifeh. David Dayan would be a fool to have not done his research, so I'm sure he knew plenty about Ashton's reputation. He was probably quaking in his dress shoes at the thought of Ashton strangling him with his own intestinal lining.
After a tense staredown, Ashton handed me the laptop. Masking all of my sudden uncomfortable feelings of dread and pessimism, I looked at the computer screen and logged into my account again. There it was. Ten glorious zeros and not a cent less.
God damn, I was a billionaire.
A smirk graced my pink lips as I looked up at the Minister and removed the microchip. "It's a pleasure doing business, Mr. Dayan. I advise you to keep this meeting under wraps. It would be a shame if this got out."
My hand firmly pressed the chip into his palm. Ten billion dollars for a weapons system that could kill millions. I was a fucking psychopath but I didn't even care. This was survival. This was power and that's all I ever wanted.
The man stood, ignoring my thinly veiled threat.
"I hope you both make it to your rendezvous without a hitch. But, God speed should this get out," he spoke honestly with the intense will to preserve his own ass. I watched him stand as his bodyguard rose at the front of the cafe. His wide hand picketed the chip worth more than most people's lives, ready to advance his governments weaponry by decades.
"We're burning after this, Dayan."
"All politicians burn. You two get the lucky state of somehow being even worse."
And I watched that man walk away, leaving behind two of the richest people in his country.
I'd be dead in an hour, and that was a fact.
At least fifteen more chapters left, and shit is about to go down. Everything you thought you knew is about to get flipped over, and characters will lose more than they ever dreamed possible.
I can't wait.