Tuesday. Jabir al Saud's Home. Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.
ZAK STARED AT THE plume of dust rising up in the wake of the orange car.
Someday Zak was going to put a bullet in Piers Killam's head. He'd never see it coming.
"Now's our chance," Miran muttered.
Zak turned toward Yousef. It was just them now. "You said the money would be in our hands last night."
Yousef stared back at Zak with cool composure. "Who are you working for?"
Like he was going to share that information. Skilton was another breed of man, and Zak wasn't about to fuck with him.
He spread his hands. "What does it matter so long as we make them bleed?"
Yousef's expression never changed. "The money is on its way."
"Cutting it kind of short," Zak muttered.
"The Sauds move at their own pace," Yousef said with that intonation that made him sound like a clock.
"Yeah, well, some of us have bills to pay." Zak turned on his heel.