by Amity Cross
“Seven-thirty. We have to ID those douchebags that shot up that pub, too,” she reminded me. “It’d be a right pain in the ass if they came back to haunt us.”
“Lorelei gave me the pictures,” I murmured, not taking my eyes off the street.
There was movement on the footpath, and Jackson finally came into view.
“Game time,” I said, sitting up straight.
“Be gentle with him, okay?”
I grunted, not taking my gaze from him. He was bundled up in a coat and scarf, his breath vaporizing on the icy air. He strode down the street and rounded the corner without a care in the world. He was just a guy behind a desk with a soldering iron in his hand, not a field agent, so his identity was pretty safe. He lived in a world most agents had forgotten existed. Jackson was lucky.
Mercy pulled the car out of the spot and cruised at a distance, then when the coast was clear, she gunned the engine and roared up beside him. Before he could turn, I jumped out, came up from behind, and wrenched a hood over his head. A little dramatic, but we couldn’t approach the poor guy in broad daylight where anyone could see. We weren’t meant to be operating on British soil in the first place, let alone using Section Seven resources.
Mercy popped the boot, and I hauled Jackson inside and tied his hands and feet with duct tape as he flopped around like a fish out of water. God help the man if he was ever truly kidnapped.
Getting back into the passenger seat, I said, “Get us out of here.”
“You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
I rolled my eyes. “That man needs to take a self-defense class.”
“Then remind me to enlist him when all this is done,” she said with a smile.
We didn’t stop until we’d reached a quiet lane in a nearby industrial estate. Getting out of the car, I heaved Jackson out of the boot and shoved him into the backseat. Sliding back into the front, I cut off the duct tape from around his wrists and ankles, and he began to squirm. Seriously, he needed to learn how to kick a little.
With a sigh, I pulled the hood from his head, and he blinked as the light hit his eyes. For a moment, he looked totally bewildered, and then he glanced at Mercy.
“Miss Reid?” he asked, his mouth dropping open.
“Hey,” she said, throwing him a smile.
When he turned to me, his panic levels began to rise. “Mr. Cassel, I mean, Mr. Blood, I mean—”
“Settle down, Jackson,” I drawled. “You’re in no danger.”
“But you’re meant to be on a mission. Mei told me not—”
“I know what Mei said.”
“You kidnapped me!” he exclaimed.
“Sorry about the theatrics, Jackson,” Mercy said. “But you know we’re on the outs. We didn’t want to get you into trouble too.”
“But… But…” he stammered.
“I thought you wanted to help catch the bad guys,” I said, already annoyed with this floundering. “The whole point of Section Seven is to do shit that you don’t have to answer to the law for.”
“But… But…”
“But what?”
“But we’re not allowed to operate on British soil. We could get in big trouble for that.”
“You don’t work for MI6 anymore,” I stated. “Not directly. We’re Section Seven, and we don’t answer to any law unless we get caught. I’ve never been caught.”
“Unless we get caught by Mei and Moltke.”
I laughed. “You’re afraid of Mei and Moltke?”
He shrugged, his shirt dampening around his armpits with nervous perspiration. “Have you seen Mr. Moltke? That guy is like Darth Vader and James Bond combined. I don’t want to cross him on a good day. I’ve got bills to pay.”
Mercy snorted, covering up her laughter, and I shot her a warning glance.
“What?” she asked. “He’s right.”
“We’re one step away from direct contact with the target,” I said, turning back to Jackson. “But we’re dead in the water without the tech to help us get in, and get what we need.”
“But my lab is in the headquarters,” Jackson complained.
“Then you go into your lab, get what we need, and we’ll pick it up from you,” Mercy said kindly. “We’ll make it super easy. Less heat if you know what I mean.”
“What if someone sees me? What if Mei starts asking questions?” he asked, starting to panic. “I’m just a guy. I don’t know how to do any of this spy stuff… I mean, I’m sweating like a pig.”
“You’ll have to avoid her,” I said. “Go straight in, get what we need, and deliver it before she gets the chance.”
“What if I get caught? I don’t want to go to prison. My wife will kill me. It’s my kid’s birthday next week.”
“Do you want to help us bag a mean son of a bitch who kidnaps and sells women into sexual slavery or not?”
“What are the mission parameters?” he asked, his shoulders sinking.
“Type A security, no direct access to a junction box, so we’ll need to disable it remotely,” Mercy said, taking over. I let her do the rest of the talking since Jackson seemed to like her more. “We need access to his computer and network, so we’ll need something that will copy tons of data fast. Oh, and something to make any guards we run into go night night. We want to be in and out with as little noise as possible.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the USB drive that held the information of the assassins that had attacked Lorelei at The Maid and The Master.
“What’s that for?” he asked, glancing at the drive, then back at Mercy.
“There are images on here of some men we need to know the identities of. If you could cross-check them with the MI6 database for any matches, that would be brilliant.”
He frowned but nodded. “Once I get there, you’ll have to give me some time.”
“How much do you need?” I asked.
“An hour. Two tops.” He shrugged like he was apologizing. “The facial recognition database takes time to do its thing. There are a lot of bad guys out there.”
“Understood. Do what you need to do. We want this done right. We’ll only get one shot at this, so it needs to be irrefutable.”
He puffed his chest out. “I’ll do my best, Sir.”
We dropped Jackson off near his usual bus stop and let him make his own way into work. That way, it wouldn’t raise suspicions when it came time for him to smuggle out what we needed. When he was in the clear, Mercy and I made our own way into central London to wait for him to do his thing.
Section Seven was located in the subbasement levels of a nondescript office building in the City. Out the back, the loading dock was scarcely used or surveilled apart from a keycard and thumbprint entrance, which made it the perfect place for a rendezvous. Knowing that Jackson was smart enough to disable the CCTV when he exited, we laid in wait.
“Do you think he can do it?” Mercy asked, watching the rear door like a hawk.
“We’ll find out in a minute.”
There was a click and a dull boom that announced the back door had opened, and a moment later, Jackson emerged with a satchel clutched against his chest, the strap across his shoulder. He jogged down the lane, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t being followed as he approached the car.
Finally, he slipped into the backseat looking sheepish.
“Any problems?” Mercy asked, twisting around to face him.
“Mei almost got me,” he whispered. “But I told her I had explosive—”
“You don’t have to whisper,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“What have you got for us?” Mercy asked, slapping me on the arm.
He placed his satchel in his lap and opened the flap. “A pretty little box that’ll get you past the security system. You’ll need to hook it to the connector that feeds power directly to the property,” he explained. “It’ll override the feed, automatically disable the alarms and sensors, and give you wireless access if you need it.”
“We need to hook it to the power
line itself?” Mercy asked.
“That part of the city still has lines above ground. You’ll need to hook it into the transformer that directly hooks into the property. The hack works by—”
“Does it work?” I interrupted.
“Yeah…”
“Then that’s all we need to know.”
Jackson grimaced. “There’s a turbocharged USB drive in there that’ll copy whatever is on the computer network inside. Just plug it into any computer that’s hooked in, and it’ll bring up a program and boom. Done.” He smiled smugly. “It’s got like three terabytes of storage in that thing. I tried to get it to four, but three was pushing it. You can’t get these things in shops.”
“Thanks, Jackson,” Mercy said, beaming at him.
“There’s a bunch of tranquilizers, and I swiped a couple of bugs for you. And some coms. Just in case you needed them.” He shrugged. “Didn’t want you guys to go in there blind.”
I gave Mercy a look. If I wasn’t mistaken, that man had a crush on my woman.
“You’re such a sweetheart,” she exclaimed.
“Oh, and the guys you were looking for?” he said, leaning close. “Known associates of Damien Allaire and Jacques Lafayette.”
I wasn’t surprised, but I thought it would have been someone from the remains of Royal Blood going by her meeting with Gardener. Since Greggor and The Watchman were the last people who had known about Lorelei’s captivity with the traffickers, the chances of a link between the two was low. Unless Gardener had accidentally tipped someone off with his poking around on Lorelei’s behalf, and her involvement would have been an unexpected boon. Players from both sides had a lot to gain from her death.
“Associates?” Mercy asked.
“Assassins for hire,” he replied and patted the bag. “I copied some files.”
Taking the bag from him, I said, “You better get back inside before someone misses you.”
“Oh, they won’t come looking for a while, believe me.”
Mercy stifled a laugh. “Still, we’ve got lots of work to do and you’ve given us above and beyond. Thanks, Jackson, we owe you one.”
He flushed and nodded enthusiastically. “Just promise me you’ll get the bad guys.”
She reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Promise.”
Mercy made her way back to Devonshire while I ventured to Allaire’s house to stake it out.
Walking down the dark, leafy street amongst the posh houses, I spied the black sedan that housed Nathaniel Hawkes.
Knocking twice on the window, there was a click as the locks disengaged. Opening the door, I slid inside.
“Good to see you again, X,” Hawkes said as I settled into the passenger seat.
“It’s been a while,” I replied, glad for the company.
“How are they?”
I was surprised to find that his concern was touching. “As well as can be expected given the circumstances.”
“Miss Lansford?” he prodded.
“Perhaps calling her Miss Lansford isn’t such a good idea. She’s a little volatile right now.” I nodded toward the house. “Anything to report?”
“All quiet,” he replied with a sigh, giving away that he’d become attached to the assassin. Whether that happened before or after her supposed death, was anyone’s guess. “There’s not much happening. Allaire is in residence and hasn’t left since he returned yesterday afternoon.”
“He’s up to something,” I mused.
“That’s my guess. These assholes always are. After Miss—Lorelei’s encounter in Brixton, I’m sure they’re looking for her or at least, have one eye open while they sleep.”
I grunted as he handed me a pair of binoculars.
“The house is fairly standard apart from the security,” he went on as I scanned the building. “Two rotating shifts of guards. Four a piece.”
“Only four?” I scoffed.
“I would assume they think the security system has enough countermeasures to warrant it.”
Lights flashed in the corner of my eye, and I dropped the binoculars as a vehicle approached, its headlights illuminating us from behind for a split second. As it passed, I realized it was a sleek, black limousine, which could belong to a number of people who lived on this particular street, but it turned up the drive to Allaire’s house and paused at the gates.
“Who do you think this is?” Hawkes mused aloud.
“It could be any number of assholes,” I replied.
“He does have fingers in a lot of pies.”
“Been digging?” I asked, impressed at the amount of intel he’d gathered under the radar.
“Enough to know that this is a guy Mr. Vaughn would love to tangle with.”
I raised an eyebrow, but Hawkes was too busy watching the street. Vaughn was a borderline vigilante? I assumed he was when it suited him.
The gates swung inward, the limousine moved through, and then they closed seamlessly behind it. Raising the binoculars again, I watched as it rolled up the driveway and came to a stop at the front entrance to the house. When its occupants emerged, I wasn’t sure if I should count our blessings or be extremely worried.
I glanced at Hawkes uneasily and handed him the binoculars.
“I don’t believe it,” he murmured as he caught sight of the men. “Christmas was weeks ago.”
“I wouldn’t be popping the champagne just yet,” I said.
Taking the binoculars back, I peered through them at the house, finding the man everyone was making such a fuss about. Jacques Lafayette entered the house, followed by two large bodyguards, and I tracked his progress through the windows. He emerged upstairs in the study and shook hands with a man I knew to be Damien Allaire.
Why the fuck was Lafayette in the UK? He was right at the top of MI6’s most wanted list. Coming here was suicide…unless he had a score to settle. A score with Greggor’s daughter…the one who got away.
“I don’t like this, Hawkes,” I said. “I don’t like it at all.”
Whatever our target was here for, it was a score we had to settle first, or we were all dead.
Chapter 23
Mercy
Watching Lorelei and Vaughn go through the haul I brought back from Jackson was like watching two kids in a chocolate shop.
“Is this aboveboard?” Vaughn asked. “They’re not tracking us with it, are they?”
“No,” I shot back. “I checked it myself. It’s legit.”
“If you say so. Have you heard from X?”
Yeah, I had, but I wasn’t sure what to say about our conversation. On my way back to the cottage, I’d gotten a call from my one and only.
He’d met up with Hawkes, and they were on the down low, keeping an eye on Allaire’s house. Then the Frenchman had gotten a visitor that blew our entire plan out of the water. The ultimate target himself, Jacques Lafayette, was his houseguest. Motherfucker.
X had told me to keep my mouth shut until he could wrap his head around why he was there at all. It could be because of Royal Blood’s implosion and Lorelei. There was more going on than we knew, and I suspected more than even she was aware of.
Did Lafayette have some kind of score to settle with Greggor even in death? Was he here for Lorelei? Or was it just a case of putting her in the ground before she could do the same to him? Who knew.
It troubled me that X wanted to keep it under wraps, but I could definitely see why he was hesitant. Lorelei would want to rush in and kill the guy before we had our chance to question him. We still had to figure out an end to this fucked-up story that would satisfy all parties involved. Everyone would have to give a little, but I feared it would be Lorelei who would suffer the most. I knew that if I’d had to keep Sykes alive instead of painting the walls with his brains, it would’ve driven me mad, and for her? Shit, it would literally drive her into insanity. Getting her revenge was the main thing that kept her in reality.
“Mercy?” Vaughn prodded, his forehead creasing with a trouble
d frown.
“X has set up a feed,” I declared, pulling out my laptop.
“Footage from Allaire’s house?” Lorelei asked, turning her attention from the bag and sitting next to me. She didn’t seem pissed with me anymore or have that murderous glint in her eye, so I let her lean over my shoulder to watch the live feed that X had set up on the dash of Hawkes’s car.
“Hawkes hooked us up apparently,” I said, opening up the video and setting the computer on the coffee table. “I think it’s best we let them monitor the house and the comings and goings of the guards and staff until we can find a weak point in their schedule. Then we will infiltrate.”
“What’s the timeline?” Lorelei asked.
“X has given me a scope of twenty-four hours before I need to return. If we need more hands, then we’ll contact you.”
“No fucking way,” she exclaimed. “You’re pushing me out of my own revenge? I won’t allow it.”
“Calm down,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Until our surveillance is watertight, we think it’s best for you and Vaughn to lay low. When we get the green light, you’re more than welcome to take point. Hell, you can even kick the door in yourself if you really want to.”
Vaughn sighed loudly. “She’s with Intelligence now. It’s all about protocol and minimizing complications. Never thought I’d see the day when they reeled you and X in. Such a fucking shame.”
“I never wanted to be a bad guy,” I spat at him. “I was trapped by circumstance. So was X. I wouldn’t be so quick to voice your judgment, not when there’s a vested interest in your incarceration.”
Lorelei snarled at me, and I gave Vaughn a pointed look. She cared about him more than even she was aware of.
“We want the best outcome for everyone,” I said dryly. “Have a little patience.”
“So what are we meant to do?” Lorelei snapped. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. You need us, Mercy. We have the codes that’ll get us past Allaire.”
I didn’t want to be the one to tell her that stupid code words were useless, so I just shrugged.
Vaughn rolled his eyes at me and wrapped his arm around Lorelei’s waist. “Come,” he said. “Leave her be.”