He didn’t try the door; even if it had been unlocked, the home alarm system was engaged, so opening it was the last thing he wanted to do. Instead he looked inside at the track the door would travel along to open, checking it for any secondary bracing or locking system. He saw nothing and decided this door would be his entry point when the time was right.

For now he retreated a few feet on the patio, tucked himself into the darkest corner of the grounds near the door, and waited, his eyes on the alarm keypad by the double doors, twenty-five feet away. He was hoping a roving guard might switch positions with a static man inside, a man inside might step out to check on his mates, or a person in the house would decide they needed some fresh air. In any of these cases someone would have to turn off the alarm, and Court told himself he’d be ready.

Court couldn’t wait all night for good luck, but he told himself he’d give it an hour before tackling the guy with a flashlight and beating the alarm code out of him.

Brute force often wasn’t the best option, but sometimes it was the only option.

CHAPTER 42

Vincent Voland had dressed for bed and lain down on the sofa in the library of the farmhouse, on the far side of the property from the activity at the back, but after taking a minute to change back into his suit and arm himself, he was brought into the kitchen by one of the Syrian guards. Here Tarek Halaby told him the man he’d been warning everyone about was sitting on a bench in the hearth room, he was unarmed, and he said he had come to prevent a tragedy.

Voland smiled at this. Drexler probably had a car full of half-drunk French cops up the road whom he’d use as a bargaining chip to get Medina handed to him without a fight. It wouldn’t work; Voland would simply take Drexler into custody and pass him over to French authorities, and if the dirty cops came up the drive, the houseful of armed Syrians and the four veteran security men would make short work of them.

Voland took an extra moment to compose himself, to steel his mind to finally meet Drexler face-to-face, and to control his hands from shaking with the excitement of finally catching this elusive quarry. To Tarek he asked, “Are all six of your men inside the house?”

“Yes. The Legionnaires are outside, but my men are inside. I have three resting and three watching the property from second-story windows.”

“Tell them all to be ready.” He stormed past Tarek without another word and disappeared into the hearth room.

Seconds after Voland left the kitchen, Rima stepped up from the wine cellar where she had been watching over Bianca. She saw the worried look on her husband’s face. “What is it?”

“They’re here,” Tarek replied.

“What do we do?”

“I have no idea.” And with this, he pulled her close and hugged her.

* * *

? ? ?

Sebastian Drexler sat on an old bench in the hearth room, eyeing Voland as he entered from the kitchen. The older Frenchman’s wavy silver hair was a little askew, telling Drexler the man had been lying down, and he saw that Voland had a pistol jammed into his waistband under his jacket.

Drexler said, “A gun in the pants? Really? I didn’t take you for a man of action.”

Voland put his hand on the grip of the Walther self-consciously. “Yes . . . well, when killers are bearing down on one’s location, one must take precautions.” He sat in a wooden chair across from the Swiss agent, looking him up and down as he did so. “I’ve seen photos of you, of course, but you’re younger-looking than I expected for a man who’s caused so much trouble for so long.”

Drexler gave a half shrug. “I got an early start on my career in mayhem, I guess.”

“I was thinking it was the plastic surgery.”

Drexler smiled. Unoffended.

“You know I have been looking for you for a long time.”

“Of course I know. You could have had me in Tripoli, in fact. You hesitated, and I got away. Indecision is a recurring theme in your career that I’ve noted over the years.”

Voland nodded. “Well, you can trust that I won’t hesitate tonight.”

“We shall see,” Drexler replied.

Voland regarded the comment, then asked, “Why did you come here like this?”

“As I told Dr. Halaby, I am here to prevent further catastrophe. Simply put, you are seriously outgunned, Vincent. A few Syrian expats and some over-the-hill mercenaries aren’t going to slow down what’s waiting out there in the trees.”

Voland chuckled. “If I thought we were in any danger I would simply contact the local police. There is a station in La Brosse; they could be here in minutes.”

Drexler shook his head. “I doubt that. You are working off book tonight, and if the police come you’ll go to prison for kidnapping Medina and causing death and chaos in the streets of Paris. No . . . you are affiliated with like-minded intelligence officials inside the French government, but you have no sanction for any of this. You are not going to reach out to the police.”

Voland didn’t seem fazed by being called out like this. “Actually, you are correct. But while I might not call the gendarmerie myself, someone else here certainly will, especially if they are in fear for their lives. I am a consultant . . . I am not in charge.”

Drexler smiled. “The landline is cut. The mobiles are jammed.”

Voland had not expected this, Drexler saw. He reached into his pocket for his phone and checked it. After confirming Drexler’s assertion, he looked up. “I’m impressed. But you’ve underestimated us. We have a satellite phone.”

“Which is nothing more than a radio that connects to a satellite network. They are jammable, too, Vincent, over a limited area.” He waved a hand in the air. “Like if you know the exact house the sat phone is located in, for example.” With a frown he added, “Technology is hard to keep up with, true, but maybe you should have tried a little harder before bringing these poor people out into the country where they could be so easily surrounded.”

Voland cleared his throat. Now the insecurity was clear, both on his face and in his voice. “What is it you are offering?”

“I want the girl. That’s all. Give her to me and you will walk out of here.”

“So you can kill her to satisfy Shakira al-Azzam?”

“It’s more complicated than that, I’m afraid. And it’s more complicated for you, too. Your original plan, I assume, was to get intel on Azzam by using his mistress. But that scheme is sunk, man, and you have to know that. Now you are just holding her for no good reason.”

Voland laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You might have us surrounded, but now we have you. Your men out there won’t dare attack us now for fear of you getting killed in the process. I could shoot you myself, in fact.”

“Of course you could, but it won’t help you. Just like you, I’m not running the show.”

Voland’s white eyebrows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Drexler did not answer immediately.

Voland’s chin jutted out a bit. Drexler wondered if it was real confidence or fictitious bluster. “And you don’t know what assets we have assembled here on the estate to protect her.”

Drexler replied, “I’m sure you’re hinting about your American. I hear he was quite good. But I do not believe he is here.”

Voland smiled now. “Attack the house, and find out.”

Drexler stared Voland down, trying to determine if he was telling the truth. “Who is he?”

Voland maintained his grin. “He is the Gray Man.”

Drexler leaned back against the wall, confident and relaxed. “I was almost ready to believe you, but then you ventured off into fantasyland.”

“Believe what you want, Drexler.”

“Matters not. We’ve been watching the house; we know who’s here. None of my people have reported any mythical uber assassin sightings.”

Voland said, “He is still part of our team. If something happens to any one of us, he’ll come for you.”

“I seriously doubt that. You aren’t as important as you think you are. Why would the world-famous Gray Man take on such a futile assignment for the Halabys?”

Voland did not answer the question. Drexler determined with certainty that the Frenchman had been lying.

Now Voland asked, “Since we’re having such a frank conversation, why don’t you tell me who is out in the trees?”

Drexler did not hesitate. “Fourteen Quds Force–trained commandos of the Syrian GIS. Their leader has worked for me in the past all over Europe. Perhaps he is not the Gray Man . . . but I can assure you, he does exist, and he is here.”

“Do you take me for an idiot? Azzam himself controls GIS paramilitary forces. You are working against Azzam, for his wife.”

“What must be going on in that head of yours right now. You calculated that Shakira would send me up here to kill Bianca, because that had been my original mission. Yes, I’ve figured out that you have somehow intercepted my communications with the ISIS cell in Belgium. You know who I am working for, so that is why you are confused as to what GIS is doing here. They work for Ahmed, after all, the unfaithful husband, not Shakira, the jilted wife. Well . . . as I said, it is more complicated. I’ve changed alliances midoperation. I only want to bring Bianca home to her child.”