“And to you this means . . .”

“It means it’s either owned by a business with an interest in hiding its physical property, or it’s some sort of a DGSE or DGSI safe house. The fact that Voland is here leads me to the latter assumption. He’s officially retired from the government, but my assumption is he’s working with the FSEU while retaining contacts in French intelligence.”

Sauvage could see the worry in Malik’s eyes, and this relaxed him. Thank God the Syrian realized they were all in over their heads. Sauvage pressed. “That’s right. The French government might be involved. Are you guys really going to roll into that estate with your guns out, ready to make off with that woman?”

Malik did not answer. Instead he asked, “How long until the police find this place?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Eric will not like that response.”

Sauvage sighed. “Je ne sais pas.” I don’t know. “There’s no surveillance on the place by us, yet, no chatter about it around La Crim, but it’s just a matter of time before someone connects the dots. If there are other members of FSEU here, and the federal police are investigating them, then either my people at La Crim or the federal police will find their way here, sooner or later.”

Malik said, “Eric has communicated with us. He will be here tonight.”

Sauvage said, “And then what will you do?”

“I’ll do whatever Eric orders me to do. Same as you, if you are smart.”

“I was brought into this for intelligence, surveillance.”

Malik said, “And I’m sure that will remain your main role. But we will need you close by.”

Sauvage shrugged. “Just call me when he gets here and I will—”

“No.” The van stopped. The door opened. As before, the driver had gone in a circle, and they were now back at Sauvage’s car in the parking lot of the flower market. “One of my men will accompany you until Eric arrives.”

“For what purpose?”

“I see how scared you are. Your attendance this evening is required. We would not want you running off.”

“Of course I’m scared! I’m not a killer. Not an accessory to murder, either.”

“Interesting. Eric tells me you are one of his best.”

Sauvage closed his eyes. “I didn’t want any of this.”

“Did you want this?”

Sauvage opened his eyes. Malik held a rolled-up wad of euros the size of a grapefruit.

“The fuck is that? I have an account in Cyprus where I—”

“Walking-around money. From Eric. A way to show our gratitude, and perhaps an easier way to help you get out of town when this is over. Tonight.”

Sauvage took the money. He always took the money.

CHAPTER 29

Saunders and Gentry drove in the center of the small convoy to the southeast, first through zones of unquestioned regime control, rolling through checkpoints that parted for the Russians and did not close back up until the SAA truck at the rear of the procession passed. Court remained vigilant every second of the way by keeping his eyes on the sector Saunders instructed him to cover, but also by listening in to radio traffic. Saunders had a handheld radio tuned to the convoy’s channel, but most of the transmissions were between the SAA units, in Arabic, and Court only picked up words here and there. Still, he figured he would be able to tell from the tone of the other men speaking if someone saw real danger ahead.

Court spoke reasonably good Russian, though he didn’t want Saunders to know. He hoped the Russians would be the first to spot any trouble, because that way he knew he’d have more of a heads-up and better intel about any threat.

He found himself surprised by the quality of the highway they rolled along, even out here in the sticks of Syria. It was as good as most he’d seen in the United States, and although the traffic was extremely light, the vehicles that were on the road were making good speed.

Saunders wasn’t a chatty man, but neither was Court, so for the first hour barely any words were exchanged between the pair. Court just rolled with the silence, establishing his cover legend as a grizzled and stoic mercenary. But eventually he decided he needed to mine this guy for any information he could get about what he could expect after they made it down to the Desert Hawks’ base, and he wanted to feel the man out to see about options for getting off base once he got there.

While still eyeing the roadside, farmland, rural buildings, and the distant hills, Court said, “I’ve been working in Southeast Asia, mostly.”

“Heard me ask, did you?”

“No.”

“That’s right. Ya didn’t.”

“I was just mentioning it to say I don’t know much about what’s going on around here.”

“You’ll learn. Everybody learns. Or else you die.”

“Wouldn’t mind avoiding the ‘or else.’ Anything you can tell me that might help?”

“You were hired to train the Hawks. I wasn’t hired to train you.”

“I know we’re training Desert Hawks . . . but I also heard we’re deploying with them.”

Saunders glanced across the cab of the pickup at Court for an instant, then looked back to the windshield. “Where’d ya hear that?”

“From Lars Klossner himself.”

Saunders shrugged now. “Almost every bleedin’ night they send us out with Desert Hawks special forces units.”

“To do what, exactly?”

“No-knock raids, arrests, and good old-fashioned hits.”

“In Damascus?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes not.” He looked at Court again. “Does it matter?”

“No . . . just curious.” Court pressed his luck. “Who’s the oppo?”

Saunders repeated himself. “Does it matter?”

“Only to avoid blue on blue.” Court couldn’t let on that he had misgivings about targeting certain opposition groups in this conflict, but he needed information about just what, in fact, the Hawks had the KWA men involved with.

When Saunders didn’t respond to this, Court turned to the man. “Look. I’ll be a hell of a lot better at this if I get some kind of a sitrep on what we’re dealing with. You might even persuade me to watch your back in the process.”

“I didn’t ask you to watch my back.”

“No . . . but would it hurt?”

Saunders looked like he’d rather just sit and drive, to be alone with his thoughts. But after a moment he sighed. “Blimey. All right, just to shut you up, I’ll give you a two-minute lesson on who’s who around here.”

“That would be helpful.”

“But keep scanning your sector. If you get killed before we get to Damascus, I will have just wasted my breath.”

“Copy that.”

The Brit rolled down the window and spit, then rolled it back up. “All right, school’s in session. First let’s talk about our side, the regime and its loyalist supporters. Russia’s ’ere in country, they are the patrons to the regime, helping to prop it up, but Russia hates most of the militias fighting for Azzam, especially the Sunni militias. Especially the Desert Hawks Brigade. They think the Hawks are too big and too powerful now, so they figure it’s just a matter of time before the Hawks turn their guns around and start fighting the regime itself. Russia has a stake in Azzam; they are here in the country by his order and they have him by the bollocks, so any potential threat to him is seen as a threat to Russian interests here.”

“Makes sense.”

“Most of the Christians here support Azzam, because even though he’s an Alawi, which is a Shiite tribe, he belongs to a minority and runs a secular government. He doesn’t persecute other religious minorities as long as they support him. If the Sunni jihadists took over, it would be bad for the Christians, just like what’s happened everywhere else the jihadists took over. The Christians might not love the Alawites, but they know that without them in power, they’re fucked.”

“Got it.”

“It’s short-sighted, of course. Azzam will kill Christians the same as he’ll kill anyone else if they so much as complain about the weather, but that’s the way it is.”

“Right.”

“The Russians do like the Syrian Arab Army, Azzam’s regular troops, and they work with the Desert Hawks from time to time, but there isn’t any love between the groups.

“Then you’ve got your foreign Shiites. Hezbollah is fighting here, blokes from Lebanon, and they support Azzam, but they stick to themselves. Ditto Iran. They have battalions of fighters here, and they use Russian air in their attacks, but they don’t fight alongside the Syrian Arab Army or the Sunni militias like the Hawks.”

“Why are the Shiites fighting for Azzam?”

“Because he’s an Alawi, which is a Shia sect. Iran knows Shias are outnumbered in the Middle East by Sunnis, so even though Azzam isn’t much of a Shiite, he’s closer to them than any other national leader around here, so they help him out. It helps that the Iranians are in bed with the Russians, too, but that might all change soon.”