Читать книгу Final Assault - Don Pendleton - Страница 12

5

Gulf of Aden

Drenk stood in silence, his coat folded over his arms, as the mercenary called Yacoub showed him his cabin. “The drinks cabinet is full, of course, and the galley is stocked,” he said, looking at his watch, then the floor. The mercenary wouldn’t meet his eyes. Few men dared to, a thought that brought Drenk no end of amusement.

Drenk looked about and then said, “The others?”

The Moroccan twitched as if stabbed. “In—ah—in their own cabins.”

“How many?”

“I don’t see how that—”

Drenk cocked his head. He said nothing. Drenk was not one to repeat himself. Yacoub swallowed and said, “Three others.”

“Is that all?” Drenk smiled. “How fortunate. I have always preferred intimate gatherings.”

“We expected more, but no dice,” Yacoub said, stepping toward the door. Drenk did not try and stop him, nor did he say anything about the way Yacoub’s hand dipped for the gun on his hip.

“That is always the way, in these matters. Only the truly interested bother to show up,” Drenk said without turning around. He heard the door shut behind him as the mercenary made a hasty exit, and he laughed.

Others had been scheduled to arrive. A dozen or more, in fact. He had taken care of three of them himself, waylaying them at airports and harbors. One he’d fed to the sharks in the Gulf. One he’d bribed. The third...well. That had been fun. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the memory.