Mickey waited until they had exited the parking lot of Wayne County Airport before opening the file. As McCall piloted the vehicle out of the airport complex Mickey studied the picture in the dossier. Andro Bosjan looked about his own age, maybe a little younger, the dark stubble covering his chin made it difficult to tell. His date of birth didn't appear in the file.
Mickey hadn't worked with McCall for long, just about for three years, yet it was long enough to read his moods. When Control had called them into his office to assign them this job, he had seen the way McCall's smile had tightened and how his stance had become that little bit more rigid when the target and the nature of their mission was outlined.
Because the flight from La Guardia to Detroit had been full, they didn't have any chance to discuss the operation and now Mickey was biding his time before opening up the subject of Andro Bosjan and what exactly it was about him that had McCall so bent out of shape. Mickey hadn't come across the Croatian before but, from his reaction, he guessed McCall had. Also since McCall seemed to already have a bug up his – well, a bee in his bonnet, Mickey didn't fight with him about who'd drive. He let the senior agent take the wheel without a peep.
Once they hit the expressway Mickey began, "So, McCall, when did you meet Bosjan before?"
McCall pursed his lips before replying, his eyes steady on the road ahead of them, his voice lacking in any heat, "I haven't had anything to do with him personally, Mickey. Let's just say that I've seen the fallout from some of his rather nastier deals. The man is completely immoral; he sells weapons to the highest bidder no matter what damage they can inflict on the non-combatants in a situation."
Mickey thought for a moment, "Sorry McCall, but I don't think that's the whole answer. We've come up against a lot of arms dealers before and you weren't this uptight about it."
"I know, Mickey, but there have been unsavoury rumours about this person for a long time and something about him raises my hackles."
"Did Control say anything to you about how far we should trust him?"
McCall snorted, "We both know that Control would make a deal with the devil himself if it would give him an edge."
Mickey grinned, "I know that, but why did Bosjan come to Control? Even arms dealers have got to know that the Company's not supposed to operate within the continental US. But I'd guess that's why Control gave you and me this job. He knows we'd be willing to break the rules."
"Control wants the information Bosjan is offering. As it says in the file, he's willing to share details of all his clients and their transactions in illegal weaponry over the past ten years. We both know how valuable that information will be to Control and the Company. It will give him a sizeable advantage over both the NSA and the FBI."
"Okay, that explains why Control wants him, it still doesn’t explain your attitude. Come on, McCall, once we have him and he's handed over his records, his ass is grass if he double crosses us. There's no way back from that."
"That is all well and good, but I am still cautious. We weren't selected because of our propensity for rule breaking. Bosjan asked for us by name. We are part of his deal."
"We were?" Mickey glanced down at the picture on his lap and for a moment his attention was captured by Bosjan's stare into the camera. The guy's eyes were dark and no humanity showed in them. He shuddered slightly, feeling like someone had just walked over his grave. His ideas about the mission changed there and then. "You know? I think I'm with you on this one, McCall. I'm going to be real happy when this is over." Mickey looked up through the windshield, trying to get his bearings as raindrops began to splatter against the glass. "You know how to get to the restaurant and bar where we're meeting him?"
"Yes, it's only about three blocks from here. The deal is that once we contact Bosjan, he will direct us to a stop at a place in the city and then we drive him to one more location, then we're to take him back to Control. After that I wash my hands of him."
Mickey nodded and sub-consciously checked that his automatic was snugly in its holster under his jacket, "Sounds good to me. Let’s just get this done."