William laughed. “They’ll think you’re some whacko, Asher.”
“I’m not concerned with what they think,” he said, surprising himself with how true that was. “My father told me that when he closed his eyes, he needed to be able to sleep with his decisions. I never fully understood the gravity of that until now. If I’m making good decisions for Santina, that should keep most of the criticism at bay.” Asher wasn’t delusional to think he would ever please everyone, but he would never make a decision he couldn’t live with.
“Smart move,” William said. “I figure you have a few weeks of praise yet until the vultures start wanting a piece of your skin.” He stood. “I have an early morning meeting, so I’ll leave you to it, but I’ll arrange for the payment to be made tomorrow. You have my word,” he said, extending his hand.
Asher stood, shaking it. “Thank you.”
He was alone again and the first thing he did was telephone James Thomas. “Is there an issue with him?” he asked quickly.
“Not at this stage, and we just verified everything he told you. He has an interest in Santina, and the wealthier Santina becomes, the wealthier he will become—but that’s not a bad thing. We will continue to monitor him; however, he’s done nothing to raise any suspicion, and we’ve done a full audit of his financials. There’s nothing unusual there,” James said.
Asher’s eyebrows lifted. “Exactly how much is William Bennett worth?”
“Sixteen billion USD,” James said. “He’s possibly the richest man in the region, and one of the least well known billionaires. Sure, he moves in influential circles, but he keeps a very low profile—he doesn’t seek fame, at least not outside Santina. We like him, even more so that he just funded your Kingdom. We were going to offer you the money, so he took care of that for us.”
Asher’s jaw fell open. “You were going to offer it?”
James chuckled. “Well, as a deal of sorts.”
“You have that much?” Asher asked, suddenly terrified of the bill that was due to come for Thomas Security services.
“I can obtain that much,” James said.
Asher paused, and then decided he didn’t want to know.
“Let’s refocus,” James said. “I’m going to show you a picture of Henry Walker.” The television on his wall activated and a photograph flashed up. “Does he look familiar?”
Asher studied the man’s face, but it was the people in the background who stole his attention. “No, but when was that photo taken?”
“Six months ago. Why?” James asked, his voice seeping with curiosity.
“Because the third person to the right, with his back to the camera, is Noah,” Asher said, his voice almost a whisper.
Judging by the slight pause, Asher knew James Thomas hadn’t worked that out.
“You can’t see his face, Asher. Are you sure?” James asked.
“I’m certain, that’s absolutely Noah,” Asher said. “Can you zoom in on the image? Noah had a mole behind his right ear. I don’t know if you’ll be able to . . .” His voice trailed off as the image magnified and the resolution adjusted. Suddenly, the mole was clear to all.
“Well, that might change things,” James said at length.
“Noah wasn’t mixed up in this,” Asher said quickly. Noah wasn’t here to defend himself, and he wasn’t going to let his late brother’s name be dragged through the mud.
“I wasn’t immediately implying that, it just gives us another angle to look at,” James said. “Do you know who the guy next to him is?”
“Yes, it’s my cousin, Troy,” Asher said. The side profile of Troy’s face could be seen and he looked to be talking to Noah. Nothing there seemed out of place, except that Asher couldn’t think of when this would’ve been taken—or where.
“Where was this taken?” Asher asked more specifically.
“At the last speech your father gave at the town hall,” James responded.
“I would’ve been standing beside Alistair,” Asher said absentmindedly as he tried to recall memories from the day.
“Asher, I’m going to show you another image—one we obtained from another angle,” James said.
The image flashed up on the screen and Asher ground his teeth together. Noah was facing the camera, and there was fury in his eyes.
“He’s not happy,” Asher said, wondering what would’ve elicited that response from Noah—the happiest guy Asher had ever known.
“And then there’s this,” James said.
The image changed again, but this time the field was wider. Asher frowned, scanning the crowd, looking for the reason James was showing him this image.
When he saw it, he knew.
Colonel Stevens was in the picture, and he seemed to be staring at Noah. He didn’t look pleased.
Suddenly Asher felt ill. Had Noah known something? Asher had always believed Noah’s murderer had thought he was Asher and had needed to tie up loose ends. It hadn’t occurred to Asher that Noah was in trouble because he knew something he shouldn’t have. But why wouldn’t Noah have told Asher?
They had told each other everything . . . or so Asher had thought.
Reed
“I have eyes on the building. No movement as yet,” Samuel said through his earpiece.
Reed kept his foot on the accelerator. He was a few minutes from his destination and he could feel the adrenaline running through his veins.
“Records show the apartment was leased three months ago to a company. A shell company,” Samuel continued.
“Which means we’re on the right track,” Reed said. Shell companies were often used to hide other companies or financial maneuvers.
“Possibly,” James said and Reed wondered at what point he’d been connected in. His voice was calm, and without a hint of urgency.
Reed on the other hand was riled up, ready for battle.
“I think you should move in straight away,” James said. “There’s a chance they’ve worked out the phone has been identified and we’re already too late. We can’t see movement on the CCTV footage, but it’s possible we’ve missed something.”
“Copy,” Reed said, pleased by the news—he had no desire to sit around and scope out a building.
His eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. Clear.
“We’ll be observing. Watch your back,” James said.
“Got it, boss,” Reed said with a hint of a smile.
He parked his car a few blocks from the apartment and strolled casually in its direction. He wore sunglasses and a baseball cap. He had a low profile in the criminal world, but every minute spent working with Thomas Security seemed to be raising that profile.
His eyes darted to the windows, looking for drawn curtains—or curtains just wide enough to peer through. He looked at the pedestrians passing him by, noticing if one of them looked a second too long. But he noticed nothing unusual, and that was either a good thing, or a very bad thing—it could mean he was too late.
“Reed, the apartment is a complex with two small courtyards. We think it’ll be best to enter the courtyard on the ground floor and then scale three levels via the rear courtyard. You’ll be much less visible and have the element of surprise,” James said.
“Sure thing,” he said dryly, hoping like hell he could scale three levels. He could do it if there were appropriate finger holds, but he wasn’t Spiderman. Nothing about working at Thomas Security was easy, though, and he hadn’t been hired to take the easy option.
He saw an elderly lady approaching the apartment complex door. He rushed forward, conveniently helping her with the door.
“Thank you so much,” she said in a frail voice. “There are very few gentlemen left in this world.”
Reed refrained from chuckling at the irony—she had the wrong idea about him. Of all things Reed had ever been called, “gentleman” wasn’t one of them.
“After you,” he said, giving his most charming smile.
He closed the door behind them.
“Strai
ght ahead, fourth door on your right,” Samuel said.
Thomas Security’s intelligence support was unparalleled.
He walked ahead with the confidence of a man who had walked these corridors many times before.
“Excuse me,” the old lady called out from behind him.
Reed paused, making a concerted effort to hide his irritation. He really hoped he wasn’t going to have to silence her.
“Yes?” Reed responded casually.
“I didn’t catch your name,” she said with a smile.
“Luca,” he replied without missing a beat.
“Nice to meet you, Luca,” she said. “Can I ask a favor? Would you mind—?”
Her cell phone rang, interrupting her—and while Reed might not be Spiderman, his Spidey senses were tingling.
“Get out of there,” James urged.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he said. As he turned he saw her wave dismissively as she concentrated on finding her cell phone in her handbag.
Reed continued to the door as instructed. He felt eyes on him and turned to see the lady talking to another man.
The man’s gaze lifted to Reed’s, and Reed didn’t like what he saw.
“Keep moving,” James said.
Reed saw the courtyard to his right through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and he exited through the door. He didn’t look over his shoulder again, but he felt eyes watching him.
In the courtyard, Reed ran to the closest column and jumped, his fingers catching the adjoining lattice. He hauled his body up with a grunt and swung his legs over the balcony as he heard the door open.
Reed flattened his back against the column as he peered down.
It was the same man who had been talking to the old woman.
Reed sucked in a breath and stayed as still as a statue. The man’s footsteps echoed through the courtyard as he moved. By the pattern of his movement, Reed deducted he was looking for something, or someone—almost certainly Reed.
Reed continued to stand tall and silent. The footsteps didn’t continue but unless the man had taken off his shoes, he hadn’t retreated into the building.
He counted the seconds, waiting until a few minutes had passed before he dared to take another look. He inched forward, doing his best to stay concealed behind the column.
He leaned over, scanning the empty courtyard.
What the fuck?
The man was gone.
Reed’s head snapped side to side, scanning the balcony, but he saw no threat. He looked down again, but the man definitely wasn’t there. Reed hadn’t heard him leave, though, so where was he hiding?
Reed didn’t know, but he knew he couldn’t stay hidden behind the column any longer.
He crouched down and crawled forward, making sure he was covered by the vine that was growing on the balcony lattice.
His spine tingled and every nerve in his body fired. His instincts told him something wasn’t right, but he didn’t know what it was.
Reed moved as fast as he could while he kept low. He was at the end of the balcony when he dared to look down again. He saw the man standing underneath the balcony, the sleeve of his shirt sticking out from behind the column.
The man was exactly underneath where Reed had been hiding.
“James, I’ve been spotted,” Reed said in a hushed voice as he saw the man draw a weapon. “He thinks I’m still behind the column.”
Reed’s call to move had been the best decision he’d made in a long time.
“Do you have a clear shot?” James asked—just as a shot fired. “Yes,” Reed said, drawing his weapon. Now that a shot had been fired, all bets were off and the element of surprise was gone. There was no point playing nice now. Reed fired three shots—hitting the man in the back twice, and once in the base of his skull. Blood sprayed over the white column and the man fell.
Reed didn’t hesitate. He scaled the lattice and jumped for the balcony railing of the higher level. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made the jump easy, and he swung his legs over, ducking behind the vine while he listened. He could hear voices in the courtyard, a scream, and then someone shouting for an ambulance.
Too late for that.
He looked left, then right. He needed to go up one more level, but with so many people in the courtyard, that was going to be impossible. He needed to go back inside the building.
“Apartment 2B is a two-story townhouse,” Samuel said, reading his mind.
Genius, he thought.
Reed stayed low as he ran toward 2B. He knocked on the door and said a silent prayer when no one answered. He pulled a round disc from his kit and placed it on the lock. He waited a few seconds and then tested the handle. The door opened, and he found himself marveling at yet another of Samuel’s inventions.
He closed the door behind him and ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time. He listened for any movement, but the house was silent.
He unlocked the window and climbed out onto the balcony. He quickly realized this was a free-standing balcony and unlike the lower levels, the balcony didn’t lap the courtyard.
He peered over the balcony to the ground below. The crowd had dispersed—likely told to leave—while paramedics were placing the man on the stretcher. They weren’t making any attempts to revive him.
“Any movement?” Reed asked as he did his own surveillance. Samuel had told him to run to 2B because it was a townhouse, and because it neighbored the apartment Reed needed to get inside.
“No movement,” Samuel said.
“Reed—go,” James ordered.
Reed
Reed drew a deep breath as he took a few steps backward. Then he sprinted the short length of the balcony and hurdled over the railing, catching the neighboring balcony. He swung hard, crashing into the balcony footings. He winced as his hip hit the concrete but he knew he didn’t have a second to waste.
With a deep breath, he hauled himself up and landed on the balcony like a cat. The doors opened and Reed stood with his pistol pointed. The man’s eyes doubled in size as he came to a halt.
Someone inside spoke a language Reed didn’t understand. The voice was calm, but Reed could tell the moment they realized they had a guest.
People inside began shouting and Reed charged forward, grabbing the man who had walked through the doors. He put up a fight and Reed narrowly missed a job to the cheek, but he was no match for Reed. Reed landed one blow to the man’s nose and a lighter one to his cheek; within seconds he had him subdued. That was his goal—Reed could kill a man with a punch, but that wasn’t his aim, not right now.
Reed brought his pistol to the man’s temple. “Now you’ll find out how loyal your friends are,” he said in the man’s ear.
He fought again, but Reed’s iron grip was relentless.
Inside the apartment, Reed’s eyes swept over the setup and straightaway knew this was a temporary control center of sorts, and he’d need to move fast if he wanted answers. The man’s friends had already proved how loyal they were—they’d run, leaving behind their friend.
Reed tightened his arm around the man’s neck, fighting against him until he went limp. He could hear voices below, and the fact that they hadn’t left the building told Reed they didn’t want to leave anything behind.
He sprinted in the direction of the voices, which were becoming more frantic by the second. A man ran out of a room directly in front of him, and Reed fired his pistol without hesitation, hitting the man in the leg. He howled as he fell and Reed delivered a lethal shot to his chest—his goal might not be to kill, but he wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t letting that guy get back up. A door behind him slammed and Reed turned, his weapon poised. He crept forward, his eyes checking the open rooms as he did. Each room was a mess, but not the kind of mess that resulted from a ransacking. It was the kind of mess that told Reed they’d been stationed there for weeks, likely months. This setup wasn’t recent. He noted the bland white walls and stained gray carpet.
He paused at t
he door he’d heard slam. He heard muffled voices, but he couldn’t make out what was being said. Something sounded like it was being dragged and Reed’s pulse hitched. He kicked the door open before whatever piece of furniture they were dragging blocked him out. Bullets greeted him and hit the hallway wall across from the door.
Reed pulled a mirror from his pocket and angled it into the open door. The apartment grew silent, and Reed knew they were waiting for him to make a move. He stayed still.
Eventually, he saw the tiniest of movements and knew where one of them was hiding—behind the bookcase. A pistol aimed in Reed’s direction and he knew he had to move. He dove across the open door, firing at the bookcase. The gunfire that returned was deafening and Reed guessed there were at least five men inside the room. And these men weren’t going to run—they were planning to fight.
“Reed?” James asked urgently.
“Copy. Just making some new friends,” he joked as he grabbed a robot from his kit.
He swore he heard James chuckle.
“I’m in,” Samuel said as the robot began to move. “Put them all down.”
Reed had four robots in his kit and he placed them all on the ground. They drove off in all directions and Reed wondered how many men Samuel had controlling the little things.
He shook his head.
Focus.
He wasn’t out of this alive yet, and he still didn’t know what they were trying to hide.
Reed stood, pressing his back against the wall.
“Four men. Two o’clock, four o’clock, six o’clock, ten o’clock,” Samuel told him.
“Do I have clear shots?” Reed asked, drawing another weapon.
A pause followed before Samuel said, “You’ve had worse odds.”
Reed took a calming breath, and then with two steady fingers on the triggers of his pistols he stepped inside, firing blind in the directions Samuel had noted.
A few bullets were returned in his direction but their aim was off, hitting the walls next to him. Reed fired again, over and over, until he was sure they were dead.
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