Any Means Necessary (a Luke Stone Thriller-Book #1)

Chapter Twelve

 "You can't be in here!" the man shouted. "Out! Get out of my home!"

They were standing in a wide open living area. There was a white baby grand piano in the far corner, near floor to ceiling windows with more spectacular views. Morning light streamed in. Nearby was a modern white sofa and table set, with accent chairs, clustered around a giant flat-panel TV mounted on the wall. On the opposite wall was a massive canvas, ten feet high, with crazy splotches and drips of bright color. Luke knew something about art. He guessed it was a Jackson Pollock.

"Yeah, we've been all through that with the guys out in the hall," Luke said. "We can't be here, and yet... here we are."

The man was not tall. He was thick and stubby, and wearing a white plush robe. He was holding a large rifle and sighting down the barrel at them. It looked to Luke like an old Browning safari gun, probably loading .270 Winchester rounds. That thing would take down a moose at four hundred yards.

Luke moved to the right side of the room, Ed to the left. The man swung the rifle back and forth, unsure who to target.

"Ali Nassar?"

"Who is asking?"

"I'm Luke Stone. That's Ed Newsam. We're federal agents."

Luke and Ed circled the man, moving in closer.

"I am a diplomat attached to the United Nations. You have no jurisdiction here."

"We just want to ask you a couple of questions."

"I've called the police. They will arrive in a few moments."

"In that case, why don't you put the gun down? Listen, it's an old gun. You've got a bolt action on that thing. If you fire it once, you'll never have time to chamber the next round."

"Then I will kill you and let the other one live."

He spun toward Luke. Luke kept moving along the wall. He put his hands up to show he was no threat. He'd had so many guns pointed at him in his life that he had long ago lost track of them all. Still, he didn't feel good about this one. Ali Nassar didn't look like much of a marksman, but if he did manage to get a shot off, it was going to put a big hole in something.

"If I were you, I'd kill that big man over there. Because if you kill me, there's no telling what that guy's gonna do. He likes me."

Nassar didn't waver. "No. I will kill you."

Ed was already behind the man and within ten feet. He crossed the distance in a split second. He knocked the barrel of the gun upward, just as Nassar pulled the trigger.

BOOM!

The report was loud in the confines of the apartment. The shot tore a hole through the white plaster of the ceiling.

In one move, Ed snatched the gun away, punched Nassar in the jaw, and guided him to a seat in one of the accent chairs.

"Okay, sit down. Careful, please."

Nassar was jolted by the punch. It took several seconds for his eyes to come back to center. He held a chubby hand to the red welt that was already rising on his jaw.

Ed showed Luke the rifle. "How about this thing?" It was ornate, with a pearl inlaid stock and polished barrel. It had probably been hanging on a wall somewhere a few minutes before.

Luke turned his attention to the man in the chair. He started from the beginning again.

"Ali Nassar?"