Chapter 25

 

Giorgio spent the next couple of weeks doing more research and preparation to implement the scheme. Under one of his fake passports, he flew to N’Djamena, Chad, and then took a charter flight to Abéché, a tiny town near the Sudanese border. There, he rented a battered Toyota pickup truck and roamed around the outskirts of the city, scoping out possible buildings to rent for the fake black site. He finally located one that fit the bill, an abandoned but solidly built brick structure owned by a farmer who lived five kilometers to the south, with a garage space where the man had once kept some of his tools and equipment. Giorgio hired a guide to draw up a six-month contract in English and the Chadian variant of Arabic, sealed the deal, took detailed measurements and flew back to Lyon.

He was enjoying working with Raj Malik, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Raj was quite relaxed now, a far cry from the depressed, overwrought man he had blackmailed at the restaurant a few months ago. Raj behaved as if he was incredibly relieved, even thankful, to have a man like Giorgio Cattoretti come along to rescue him from his financial crisis. He was happy to have Giorgio there to do the dirty work as well, to handle all the sordid details. He seemed to have great faith in Giorgio’s abilities, and that pleased The Cat—Raj was just the kind of man that Giorgio could work with over the long term.

In fact, Raj voiced no objection when Giorgio told him that he wanted to track down the Middle Eastern woman who had blown Nick LaGrange’s CIA extractor cover and put her in the fake black site. Raj knew the whole story about Isabella because he’d been briefed on it when he’d hired LaGrange to manage the flailing Sofia, Bulgaria office. As long as Giorgio paid all the bribes to spring Isabella from wherever she was now—if they could find her—it was fine with Raj.

It turned out that Isabella was being held at a black site in Afghanistan, where she had been transferred from GITMO. Her real name was Alisha Khalil. Over a period of five years, she had been milked dry of useful information and presently worked as a trustee.

Raj arranged for Giorgio to fly to Afghanistan himself and make her the offer. It took quite a bit of talk for Giorgio to convince her that the offer was real, that after five long years, she could not only get out of the black site system for good but be paid a lot of money for it.

HOW MUCH? she wrote on her little pad, her soft, seductive eyes gazing at him from behind her veil. She appeared to be mute, which Giorgio later learned was only an act to protect herself at the black site.

“Name your price,” Giorgio told her.

Isabella looked down at the paper, hesitating. She finally scribbled on the pad, then slowly turned it to him as if he would probably think the amount she was asking for was outrageous.

1 MILLION USD

“No,” Giorgio said, shaking his head. “It’s not enough.”

Isabella eyes flashed anger. She scribbled on the pad, YOU SAID NAME YOUR PRICE!

“Yes. And I told you, your price is not enough. Do you understand?”

Now she looked even more confused.

Giorgio reached for the little pencil stub. “May I?”

Isabella reluctantly let go of it.

He crossed out the 1 on the paper and lightly penciled in a 2 next to it, then handed it back to her.

She was completely taken aback.

“I don’t merely want you to sleep with Nick again,” Giorgio whispered. “I want you to seduce him as if he was the last man on earth.”