The African Contract Read Online Free Page A

room wearing a khaki safari jacket, sitting with his back to the wall.
    Jacob looked hard at Stone, then shot a glance out the dirty window toward the street.
    â€œYou came alone.” Jacob said, not so much a question than a statement.
    â€œNo.”
    Jacob looked older than the last time Stone had seen him. Thinner, and with a sallow complexion. Stone figured that during Jacob’s travels in Africa he had caught a dose of malaria, or maybe dengue fever. Nevertheless, he still broadcasted a defiant look.
    He pushed out a wooden chair with his foot. “Have a seat.”
    â€œYou look good, Jacob.” Stone didn’t bother to offer a handshake, knowing it wouldn’t be returned.
    â€œCut the bullshit. You have any idea why I wanted to talk with you?”
    Stone considered giving him a New York City smart-ass response, but instead answered straight. “My boss said to come here and find out.”
    â€œI believe you.” Jacob hunched his shoulders and waved to the old man standing by the counter. “A Club beer for my friend.”
    â€œIt’s a bit early for me. I usually wait ’till five. I’ll have a glass of water.” Stone tried to sense whether Jacob believed he didn’t know the reason behind the meet. Knowing this old operative, Stone withheld judgment for the time being.
    â€œThey refill plastic water bottles from the town sewer. Hold them up to the light and you can see the bacteria swimming. Beer’s the only safe drink in town.”
    Stone nodded. When the Club beer came, he told the old man to forget the glass. He’d drink from the bottle. “So, what’s up?”
    â€œBefore we start, who do you work for? I heard you retired.”
    â€œI was at home gardening when a friend called. He asked me to take a short trip for him and write a travel story.” Stone smiled. “I understand you’re here dealing in diamonds.”
    Jacob’s face, his whole countenance, remained motionless. As if on cue, a slight smile appeared. “Diamonds. Yes, I understand you may need one for an engagement ring.” He gave his head a little shake. “Since your recent divorce and, of course, your friendship with that contessa in Villefranche.”
    Stone took a long swig of beer, smiled, and took another swallow. The bastard was good. Jacob’s people had made some serious inquiries about him and learned about his marital status—a train wreck—and about his dalliance three months ago with Contessa Lucinda Avoscani. Mossad and Jacob may or may not know about Stone’s involvement in the deaths of a number of terrorists along the Côte d’Azur. Chances were they did.
    Stone asked, “Why are we here?”
    â€œYou’re here because the last time I had dealings with your new masters, I met with an unfortunate circumstance.” He turned his head and brushed back his hair. Most of his right ear was missing. “With your veterans assigned to Afghanistan, you have some very inexperienced officers working the backwater countries. Mistakes are not forgiven in this region.”
    Stone stared at the ear and knew Jacob had reason to be pissed at the CIA. He would be, but was Jacob’s tradecraft up to snuff? Had he let his guard down?
    Remembering Sandra’s words about not lingering, he looked at his watch. “We should get to the point.”
    They looked out the window. Birds, black with white blotches on their breasts, waddled on piles of garbage. The gloom from an overcast sky blended with the deteriorating setting.
    Jacob spoke. “There are some disturbing rumors. As you know, many people from the Middle East ply this region. For years, they have come, lived here, and traded goods. Some of these people now trade weapons.”
    Stone nodded, thinking what he had just heard sounded like some factoid from a news documentary. Anyone who flew on the regional airlines in Africa recognized the Lebanese,