Domination Bid. Don Pendleton

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“While I’m grateful for your hospitality, and I choose that word only to show my deference to your kind treatment of me, I must again politely decline to assist you.”

      Madari’s face remained passive. “I’m sorry you’ve chosen to take that position.”

      “I’m sure. You undoubtedly have scruples and were careful not to mistreat me.”

      “Mistreating you wouldn’t serve a purpose.”

      “It wouldn’t,” Dratshev said. “Any more than employing vicious means would prompt me to cooperate with you.”

      “One thing you should understand about me up front, Dr. Dratshev, is that I’m not an animal. My refraining from brutish treatment is a conscious choice—the only thing I feel separates us from the animals of today’s society. I’ve seen enough bloodshed and misery to last a couple of lifetimes. There is nothing as detestable to me as senseless violence.”

      “Yet you chose to take me by force,” Dratshev said.

      “Would you have come with me voluntarily?” Madari smiled and splayed his hands. “But the point you make is conceded. I did what I did only out of necessity, as I’ve already explained.”

      Dratshev sighed. “I don’t suppose you have any cigarettes.”

      Madari turned immediately to one of his men, who disappeared through the door, and then returned his intent gaze to Dratshev. “Might I be bold to suggest that the fact I’ve not harmed you would at least buy me an audience?”

      “Only foolish men refuse to listen,” Dratshev said.

      “My purpose for bringing you here is, quite simply, that I believe in the merits of your research. You see, Doctor, I was once a very high-ranking member of the Libyan government. My position in that government was not too dissimilar from your own—military research and development, although in an unrelated field.”

      “So you’re a scientist, too.”

      Madari laughed. “Hardly.”

      The guard returned with a pack of cigarettes and matches. Madari waited until Dratshev had lit one before continuing, “It was my job to see to the security of scientists, much as those within your own FSB were assigned to do. This is why it was I took you from them with little effort.”

      Dratshev exhaled a cloud of blue-gray smoke. “I can assure you that they will find out.”

      “In due time,” Madari admitted. “But only when I’m ready to tell them. This will be very soon provided I can pique your curiosity.”

      “I’ve already told you that I’m completely loyal to my country. I won’t cooperate with you.”

      “Fair enough, but please at least afford me the opportunity to enlighten you to a few facts. The first being that you were betrayed by your own handler.”

      “Phah! I don’t believe you.”

      “You might if I told you that the team sent to extract you was only a few minutes away.”

      Dratshev wasn’t sure he’d heard Madari correctly at first, but then he recalled the handler telling him the retrieval team had been an hour out. “That proves nothing.”

      “It does when you consider our agent was able to positively identify you just minutes after you placed the call to your people.”

      Dratshev remained silent.

      “Oh, yes,” Madari said. “The very seductive young lady who engaged you in the club… She works for me. In fact, you will see her again very soon.”

      “What does that prove, sir?”

      “It proves we had eyes on you the moment you entered Minsk. We knew your travel plans, your location and your purpose for being there. All of it. That information all came courtesy of your handler. You see, despite any faith you might have in the volition of the FSB, there’s no question everyone has a price. Your handler came rather cheaply.

      “But let’s forget that. The other more telling fact is that none of your prototypes was in Belarus. There was no secret development factory north of the city. The government of Belarus would have never permitted such activity by the Russians within your country, to say nothing of the half dozen foreign intelligence agencies with a presence there.”

      “You’ve still not provided proof. I won’t take your word alone for it.”

      “You don’t have to, Dr. Dratshev. I haven’t brought you here to tell stories. I’ve brought you here because I do have prototypes of your designs.”

      “To what end?”

      “As I explained, I was once a prominent member of the Libyan government. I was also a leader within what most of the world has dubbed the Arab Spring. But my reasons for that involvement were based solely on my desire to see the Libyan government leave behind the chains of despotism and tyranny that have so long plagued it, and enter into a new and true form of democratic government. A government elected by the people, not by sedition and fear.”

      “A noble goal, if true,” Dratshev said, inclining his head to show respect for the idea. “But somewhat naive, don’t you think?”

      Madari seemed unmoved. “Is it? You seem to forget my background. I’ve spent most of my adult life around scientists and I understand how they think.”

      “Is that right?”

      “It is. Stop and consider for a moment why you do what you do, Doctor. The mind of a genius is not motivated by something so abstract and banal as patriotism or thirst for power. Most are also not given to fame or fortune, despite their gigantic egos. No, Dr. Dratshev, I imagine you’re motivated by what most of your kind are—scientific curiosity and the thrill of discovery.”

      “And that’s what you’re counting on with me?”

      Madari produced a gentle laugh. “That’s exactly what I’m counting on. Come on, admit it. You are curious about the prototypes.”

      “Perhaps,” Dratshev said with a shrug, although he knew Madari was too clever to be fooled. “But I won’t help you perfect them.”

      “Well, I’m determined not to take no for an answer,” Madari said as he stood. “Would you be kind enough to accompany me to the range?”

      Dratshev stubbed out his cigarette, pocketed the remaining pack and matches, and rose with a shrug. “I suppose there’s no harm. And it’s not as though I have a choice, eh?”

      “Take heart, Doctor,” Madari replied. “I think you’re about to be impressed.”

      As they walked down the long corridor that terminated in an exit, Dratshev said, “I must admit you have a very nice home.”

      “Thank you.”

      “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me where we are.”

      “Of course,” Madari said. “We’re in the Greek Isles. Although you’ll understand if I’m not more

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