The Spy Devils by Joe Goldberg (top rated books of all time .TXT) 📕

Cyprus, through which you negotiate your contracts and international sales. I think they are—”

In his ear, he could hear Imp stammering, “Geez, these names suck. Something like Parrrr-mesan-iki Tech. Moon-pie-ski-nov Limited. Advil-aspirin-deet Technologies…or something like that.”

Bridger sighed and dropped his hand.

“Well, you know who they are. The point is, your big three-billion-dollar bottle of Rakija comes from your new number one client—the People’s Republic of China.”

Taube sat back. He pulled a battered and tarnished silver cigarette case from his pocket, flipped it open, took out a thin brown cigarette, and placed it between his lips. He lit it with a small lighter.

“China has been a good friend to Serbia and the Balkans.”

“As I understand it,” Bridger said, as he re-filled his glass, “and correct me if I am wrong, you are about to put into motion—without the usual public procurement regulations and procedures—a state to state agreement that Serbia and China signed years ago.” Bridger plucked a sausage from the plate and ate it in two bites. “Damn, these are the best cevapi anywhere. It is why I knew you would be here.”

“Why is my business any business of yours?”

“Excellent question. Sharp as ever, Serge. Nothing is ever done for nothing, especially in governments known for corruption. Everyone needs that little extra off the top. They are making lots of secondary and sub-contractor supplier agreements, also without public oversight. Millions. Maybe billions.”

“As you say, corruption is normal. Why bother with me now?”

“Damn fine wine,” Bridger said, as he reached again for the bottle. The remaining wine filled Bridger’s glass only halfway. He shook it over the glass to get the last drops, then set it down.

“Do the people of Serbia know that their president, minister of the interior, and others are paying triple for some of the goods, so their elected officials can get just that much richer?”

Bridger reached into the pocket of his black leather jacket. He looked back over at the table with the three guards. Each was leaning forward, ready to jump on Bridger and beat him to death at the slightest threat to their boss. One looked more noticeably upset. The leader of the team, Bridger surmised.

He pulled out his phone and waved it mockingly at the man. After a few swipes of his screen, he found what he was looking for.

“Do they know that their country is selling off control of the mining and construction industries? Or that you are acting as a go-between for Ukrainian oligarchs and arms dealers, not only to procure small arms and mortar deals but in exchange for positions in Ukrainian munitions and helicopter companies?”

The lack of movement in Taube’s eyelids told Bridger he had surprised the old man with his knowledge of the deal.

“No?” Bridger continued. “How about the Russians?”

Taube leaned forward and raised a thin hand to take the phone. Bridger sat back, keeping it out of range of the man’s reach.

“A video detailing the transaction, the corruption, documents, and all the names will hit the Spy Devils' YouTube channel before I walk out the door. I just need to hit send and boom!” Bridger held his thumb over his keypad. “As you might expect, the CIA and other international entities will make certain it gets the exposure it deserves. By the morning, the president of Serbia will awake to a new reality.”

“And your world-famous Spy Devils, of course,” Taube said.

“Well, I wasn’t going to boast, but, well, yes,” Bridger said, scrunching his neck into his shoulders in faux modesty. “Transparency is such a nice evil, isn’t it?”

“If what you have is real—and I am not saying it is—so what? You want me to stop everything, just like that?”

Bridger shook his head.

“Oh, no. If it was up to me, I’d let you do this and more, after we tagged any weapons shipments, got to copy your files, and you agreed to work for me like the old days. But they want it stopped, now.”

“I am surprised the CIA is still so worried about me. Or is it just May?”

Bridger shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “They are the same, unfortunately.”

Bridger saw the man’s eyes close, and he thought he had fallen asleep—or had a heart attack. He saw Taube’s chest move, then his eyelids opened. They gleamed from the deep of the eye sockets.

“It seems you have left me with few options. I could kill you, of course, but I also suppose that would trigger the video to be released.”

Bridger smiled as he reached for some of the fresh bread on a plate. He took one bite, then stuffed the rest in his pocket.

“Hate to eat and run, but I have to eat and run.” Bridger stood and looked at Taube. The security team stood also. Bridger looked at them, then turned back to the man, who sat motionless. “So we have a deal?”

Taube blinked once and nodded his head toward Bridger. The guards closed in but stopped when he moved his head slightly back and forth.

“Fantastic. Dovidenja, prijatno! Have a nice day.”

Bridger turned and walked up a wooden staircase and out of sight.

Nikola, the lead security guard, rushed to the table. Those who could tell the difference recognized the swagger of special forces training in his movements.

"Who was that?" he asked as he stood next to the table.

Taube picked up his fork and knife and started cutting a small piece of beef.

“He is an old friend—and enemy. A man who wants something impossible.” Taube picked up the fork and ate the seasoned beef. “I need you to follow him and kill him.” He looked at Nikola once again.

“Kill him?” Nikola couldn’t contain his excitement at being given the assignment.

“Do you think you can do that?”

“I will do it right away. It should be easy.”

“Do not be so certain it will be easy, Nikola,” Taube said.

“One man? He will be dead in minutes.”

“His name is Bridger,” he said.

Nikola froze.

“Bridger? The Bridger?” Nikola asked, looking back at the stairs, then back at Taube. “The one from the Spy Devils?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Oh,”