She planted her fists on her hips. “Not exactly inspiring.”
“If you want inspiring, read Martin Luther King Junior. If you want someone who gets things done, usually with punching and gunplay and the occasional explosion, call Mason Nash.”
“A little better, I guess.” Her face snapped into seriousness. “We’re on.”
The driver’s side door of the town car opened and a hulk of a man in a white skivvy stepped out. Draped in gold chains and attitude, he was the personification of a gym junkie. He opened the passenger side door and Jakub Andrysiak stepped out.
Where Jakub’s brother had an amusing plump exterior, his older sibling was diametrically the opposite. Bulked from hours in the gym and likely steroids, his thick black beard and razor-sharp designer fuckboy haircut gave him a menacing presence. The two other bodyguards who exited the car added to the aesthetic.
Jakub scanned the steps, searching for the person who’d kidnapped his brother. Nash stood, gave him a friendly wave like a Forrest Gump meme and called out, “Yoohoo!”
“Are you trying to piss him off?” Sophia asked in a low voice.
“A little, yeah.”
“Marvellous.”
Nash descended the stairs towards the crime lord and his intimidating bodyguards, with Sophia close behind.
When they reached Jakub, the big man scowled.
“What’s your name?”
“Why?”
The big man’s eye twitched; he clearly wasn’t used to people questioning him. He lowered his head menacingly. “Because I always like to know the names of those I kill.”
“You kill me and your brother won’t live past dawn.”
“I asked your name. Give it to me.”
“Skyscraper. Broccoli Skyscraper.”
Jakub’s lips parted in astonishment, as if he’d never been mocked in his life. His eyes swivelled to Sophia inquiringly.
“I’m his associate,” Sophia added, smiling wide, “Chlamydia Trenchcoat. Pleased to meet you.”
Unable to help himself, Nash laughed. The woman was whip smart and matched him perfectly. Jakub wasn’t as amused. Nash could actually see his teeth grind. His bodyguards slowly circled them, cutting off any escape.
“You claim to have my brother?”
“Correct.”
“That’s interesting.” Jakub rubbed his hand across his beard. “Because my brother washed up near the La Seine Musicale an hour ago.”
“Ah.”
Jakub and his entire crew extracted pistols and aimed them at the pair.
The crime lord shook his head with a frightening leer. “I have the best torturers in the world. We’re gonna keep you in agony for weeks, my friend. You’re going to experience pain like you’ve never…”
Jakub’s voice trailed off. Instead of recoiling in fear, Nash had simply hefted his eyebrows and rocked on his heels. His utter lack of concern about being exposed, the threat of torture and the sight of guns perplexed Jakub to the point of distraction.
The big man blinked several times. “Did… did you not hear what I said?”
“Oh, I did,” Nash replied jovially. “Now you hear to what I have to say, very closely.” He leaned in close to Jakub. “Lemongrass.”
Before the crime lord could react, every one of the many people who occupied the steps of Sacré-Cœur leapt up and aimed pistols and carbines at the bodyguards, having been concealed under blankets and in camera bags. There were seventeen in total. At the far end of the road, police cars with flashing lights cut off the only exit. Uniformed police scrambled from their hidden alcoves, service revolvers at the ready.
Distracted by the sudden movement, Jacob and his goons wheeled in surprise. Sophia leapt forward, grasping Jakub’s gun hand and forcing it down while bringing her own pistol to the side of his head.
“Drop it or your brains get blown out to Sarcelles.” She pressed the barrel hard into his temple to emphasise the point. “Now!”
The bodyguards glared at their boss until he gave a reluctant nod. The clatter of weaponry on the ground was immediately followed by running footsteps. The police quickly ushered the criminals into waiting police vans.
It had been Sophia’s idea. In the space of a few short hours she’d brought her organisation up to speed, leaving out the detail of Franciszek’s assassination, and explaining how they’d orchestrated a rendezvous with the wanted Jakub Andrysiak. Her superiors had no choice but to comply, and organise local law enforcement.
Watching the cursing criminals being carted away, Nash asked, “Why lemongrass?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why was lemongrass the codeword?”
“Ah, well, I thought it’s unlikely to come up in conversation with an arms dealing terrorist.” She beamed. “Plus, I’ve got a hankering for Thai food.” She seductively placed her chin to her shoulder. “Care to join me?”
“It’s a bit early for Thai, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I’m confident we’ll find a way to entertain ourselves until dinner,” her shoulder bumped his playfully, “or my name isn’t Chlamydia Trenchcoat.”
