69 |

Portoroz Airport
Secovlje, Slovenia

 

Tankov watched as the last of the crates were loaded onto the C-130H Hercules. The two trucks that had served them so faithfully, their high-tech equipment removed, were driven away by two local hires who knew nothing, the vehicles to be stripped for parts and spread across Europe before dawn.

He boarded the plane with his men, the diplomatic status of the transport aircraft allowing them to escape the hassles normally associated with an international flight, and minutes later, they were in the air, the men with smiles on their faces, the payday huge.

Utkin lit a cigar, sending rings into the cabin. “I’d say that went off about as perfectly as could have been expected.”

Tankov agreed. The fact they had taken off, meant their pursuers had fallen for the decoy. The trucks they had were capable of being loaded from the sides, one advantage of fabric siding. Both trucks had already been loaded with black decoy crates matching the shape and size of those in the photograph from the idiot who had leaked the find on social media, and while all witnesses were inside the mine, his men had loaded the Amber Room in the front half of their transports, painting them to match. At the dock in Slovenia, they had unloaded from the rear, so any footage captured would look as if the trucks had been emptied, the cargo loaded on the ship. The genuine cargo, still aboard the transports, was then brought here to the waiting Hercules sent by their employer, whose diplomatic ties assured a clean departure.

Tankov lit his own cigar. “One hundred million Euros for two days work including planning. Not bad, boys! Split eight ways, well, who the hell knows what that is? I’ll hire a human calculator to figure it out!”

His men roared with laughter and he checked his watch. “Okay, let’s get some rack time. We’ll be there in two hours, then I want to be back in civilization as soon as possible.”

The job wasn’t over yet. A healthy down payment had already been made to the tune of fifty million, but the remainder wouldn’t be transferred until they delivered the goods, and convinced their buyer that the item was genuine.

He just hoped that part went as smoothly as the rest of the plan.

He glanced over at the female professor whose husband had proven such a challenge. Unfortunately for her, he had planned on the possibility of an escape, and Team Three had been in position, just in case. She had been recovered quickly before she could make her phone call, sedated, and hadn’t been a problem since.

But he needed her awake to confirm to the buyer that their cargo was genuine, then he had to decide what to do with her. Killing her would be the simplest thing, though she had done nothing wrong, and he wasn’t a fan of killing women. If it were Acton he still had, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, but not a woman.

He’d still do it, though he would have reservations.

Yet this was no ordinary woman. They had pulled her files using some deep contacts from his former Spetsnaz days, and it turned out not only was she extremely wealthy, she was very well connected.

Which meant if they killed her, those contacts might never stop hunting them.

He sighed as he stared at her.

What to do with you, Professor Palmer?