Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

NILS AND LUCAS Olsson were having the night of their lives. Qatar was a long way from Solberg, the tiny Swedish hamlet where the two brothers grew up. After a couple of years together in the army and another with a UN peacekeeping force in Sudan, their international connections had finally paid off.

Still in their twenties, they were newly minted moguls in the underground weapons business, and they had just filled a huge order for Stinger missiles from an offshoot of Hamas. It meant more money than either of them had ever imagined, and they were spending a small chunk of their advance tonight.

Dinner had been broiled lobster and Kobe steaks, complemented with a very expensive Veuve Clicquot. Their brains were swimming by the time they got to the club, and now they were indulging in yet another luxury—the attentions of four very beautiful young women, wearing very few clothes. The glow in the private upstairs lounge came from dozens of scented candles. Electronic music pulsed from concealed speakers. The chairs were covered in full-grain leather, the pillows in pure satin. Nils and Lucas had paid in cash for the privilege of being the only customers here.

Worth every riyal.

The men sat side by side in lush recliners as the girls took turns dancing for them, kissing them, stroking them, straddling them. From time to time, the siblings turned their heads to grin at each other, as if to say "Can you believe this?"

The curtain to the small alcove parted. Another young woman walked in, even prettier than the others. She carried a silver tray with two thick crystal tumblers. "Your cocktails," she said in perfect Swedish. "With our compliments." She bent forward, displaying an elaborate butterfly brooch clipped to her sheer blouse.

"Do you speak English?" Nils asked. One of the other girls had her tongue in his ear. He pushed her aside.

"Of course," said the hostess, switching effortlessly.

"Good," said Lucas. "None of these girls do. And we need to practice."

"For business," added Nils. The girl on his lap was grinding her hips slowly against his crotch.

"Excellent language to know," the hostess said. "For business." She gave him a charming smile. "But you both need to work on your accents if you want to be taken seriously."

"Is that so?" said Nils. "Maybe you'll be our…" He fumbled for the right word. "Instructor?"

Both men took their drinks from the tray, then clinked the glasses and toasted "To English!" They tipped their heads back and gulped, ice cubes rattling against their teeth.

The hostess glanced at the other four women and made an almost imperceptible flick with her hand. They immediately disengaged and disappeared behind a thick curtain at the rear of the room.

"Lovely," said the hostess, taking a seat on an ottoman across from the two men. "Now it's just us. Let's start our first lesson."

"What's your name?" asked Nils.

The hostess did not answer right away. Instead, she tapped a finger against her lips, as if counting seconds.

Nils twitched once as blood began to spill from his nose and mouth. A second later, the same thing happened to his brother. They didn't flail or cry out. They couldn't. Their motor muscles were already paralyzed. But their minds remained totally alert, and their hearing had become even more acute.

The hostess leaned in. "My name is Lial," she said. "I don't mind telling you that, because there's nothing you can do with the information. I also need to tell you that it was a huge mistake to undercut my price on the Stingers. Very bad business." She leaned back. "I think you realize that now."

Both men just stared at her, frozen in terror. There was nothing else they could do.

"You don't have to say it," said Lial. She reached forward to pat their rigid hands. "It won't happen again."

Then she crossed her legs, folded her arms, and watched the brothers die.