Fatal by Arno Joubert Read Free Book Online Page B

looked familiar. She fished Laiveaux’s report from the envelope on her desk, flipped through the pages, and found the right one, then she scanned the contents with her finger to the detail she was searching for.
    She compared the two numbers, shaking her head in disbelief. It belonged to Owen Callahan. Why would he be calling Neil?  
    The cell phone record indicated the calls had been made from a roaming location, outside of the normal network’s coverage area. It had a cellular provider code next to the number. Alexa typed a quick search into her browser and found the cellular provider the code was referring to.
    Both men were in Israel. At the same time, on the same day. Her face heated as the anger surged through her body. She sucked in angry breaths through her nose.  
    The bastard . Neil Allen was going down.
     

Alexa glanced at the message on her cell. It contained Perreira's updated location. He was back in Maputo. Good. She needed him to be home. She deleted the message and slipped the phone back into her pocket.
    Alexa looked up, tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear, and smiled an apology. “Sorry about that, Mr. Lobera. I’m expecting an urgent message regarding my shipment.”
    Ebbe Lobera nodded conspiratorially. “Business is business.” He was a short, dark guy with moles on his cheeks, probably in his mid-forties. He wore a brown suit and had a solid gold chain around his neck.  
    Alexa shift din her chair. “How much would your services cost?" she asked sitting back. “You have come highly recommended.”
    Lobera shrugged his shoulders, his palms facing upwards and out to his side. He looked like a Bollywood dancer. ”It depends on what you need done.” He sat back, contemplating his answer for a second, doing the math in his head. “The basic service costs two thousand meticais,” he said with a lisp, an expensive-looking watch dangling from his wrist as he spoke.
    He had doubled the price. He was getting greedy.  
    “And the car won't be searched at all?"  
    “Coming in, no. Going out is more; I need to pay the South Africans in rands."
    “How much?”
    He swiveled back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, thumb-sucking another price. “Five thousand rand,” he said.  
    He was bullshitting. He had added two hundred dollars to the standard fare. That was OK; she needed him for a couple more days.
    “OK, that’s fine,” Alexa said. “I pay you directly?”  
    Lobera beamed and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over an ample stomach. “Yes, I'll take care of the rest.”
    Alexa smiled and stuck out her hand. “Deal.”  
    Lobera leaned forward and shook her hand with vigour, a wide grin on his face. “Good. Very good.”
    He probably thinks I’m a pushover.
    Alexa looked around his compact office. “How does a girl get something to drink around here? We should celebrate.”
    “Coffee?” he asked. “Unfortunately, I don’t have anything stronger.”
    Alexa nodded. “Perfect. Black, no sugar, thanks.”  
    He trotted out of the room.
    She grabbed her chair and pushed it against his table, climbed on top, and inspected the ceiling board. It had been stained green and brown by years of rain damage. She removed a short nail from her pocket and punched a hole through the board, then she pushed a wireless receiver through the hole and attached a tiny camera to the receiver. She covered the opening with a blob of window putty, and rubbed the camera lens clean with her thumb.
    She jumped down, cleaned her boot marks from the table, and dusted her seat. She inspected her work. The camera looked like a coffee stain on a dirty page. Satisfied, she sauntered through the office, inspecting photographs and certificates on Lobera’s wall.  
    He had rubbed shoulders with high-ranking officials from both the Mozambican and South African governments. The wall contained more than a dozen pictures of him shaking hands with generals, politicians, and even a South African