The Master Falconer Read Free Page A

Nate was shown into the room by Rocky.
    Al-Nura took both of Nate’s hands in his and shook and caressed them, saying, “It is so good to see you again, Mr. Romanowski. I was afraid something had happened to you. Please, let’s sit and talk. It’s time to catch up.”
    Rocky stood to the side, his false grin pasted on. Khalid slipped in through the doorway and closed the door behind him, taking the corner of the room where he could watch Nate and Al-Nura without moving his head.
    Nate sat on a plush ottoman across from Al-Nura. The fat man settled back into his chair before the cushions had fully recovered in his absence.
    “Would you like a coffee?” Al-Nura asked. “A brandy? A water? We have the whiskey you like.”
    “I’m fine.”
    Al-Nura shot a glance at Khalid. “Coffee.”
    Khalid crossed the room, opened another door, ordered. In a moment, a woman appeared with a silver tray with a samovar and two tiny cups. She was slim, blonde, stunningly beautiful, with a full red mouth and a short black dress. She looked made to order for Rocky. Nate glanced over, saw the predatory look on Rocky’s face, and guessed she served more than coffee.
    “Thank you,” Nate said as she poured him a cup.
    “You’re welcome,” she said in a whisper. East European, Nate guessed by her accent.
    “That will be all,” Al-Nura said, not looking at her.
    She swished out, leaving her scent in the cabin.
    “I have five of those on board,” Al-Nura said.
    “‘Those’ being women,” Nate said.
    Al-Nura raised his eyebrows, assessing Nate. “Yes,” he said, after a beat. “All blondes. Bosnians, Albanians. They have nice women there who need jobs. There is no struggle with them. They know why they’re here.”
    Nate shook his head, said, “We can get right to it.”
    Al-Nura looked at Rocky and Khalid, said, “See what I told you about him? He is like this.”
    “No respect,” Rocky said, nodding. Khalid didn’t respond, but stood there dark and smoldering, his black eyes never leaving Nate.
    Al-Nura laughed, a sound from deep in his chest. “All business, no sense of fun. That is Nate Romanowski, the Master Falconer.”
    “You have my birds,” Nate said.
    “Yes. But only for a while.”
    “I want them back.”
    “I can see why,” Al-Nura said. “I was admiring them. Especially the peregrine. She is a cold-blooded little bitch, isn’t she? I see why you prize her. If she were a woman, I would take her to my bed.”
    Rocky laughed at that.
    Nate said, “If she were a woman, she’d turn you into a eunuch.”
    Rocky’s laugh ended abruptly and he stepped forward. Only when Al-Nura smiled did Rocky uncoil.
    “You are right,” Al-Nura said. “What do you call her?”
    “I call her a peregrine falcon.”
    “What? You don’t give her a name?”
    “No.”
    Al-Nura shook his head. “That is interesting. I’ve never known a falconer not to name his birds.”
    “I don’t own them,” Nate said. “We have a common interest. So I don’t name them. They name themselves.”
    Al-Nura studied Nate, looking for something. His black eyes scoured Nate’s face, his neck, his hands.
    “I want a bird like that,” Al-Nura said.
    “I know.”
    “I sent you sixty thousand dollars for six young wild peregrine falcons, and the money came back without a note.”
    Nate nodded.
    “That’s not the way we do business.”
    “It is now.”
    Al-Nura sat back, his brow furrowed. “It was not enough? You’ve raised your prices?”
    Nate reached out for the tiny cup of coffee. As he did so, he noted how Khalid tensed up and leaned forward on the balls of his feet, ready to lunge forward if necessary. Nate sipped the bitter coffee.
    “Peregrines aren’t rare anymore,” Nate said. “They’re off the endangered list. You can get them through captive breeders. You don’t need to get them through me.”
    Al-Nura dismissed that with a quick wave of his hand. “No. I want wild birds. No captives.”
    “They’re good