Miles chose to smile instead.
He doubted Harper would ever count him as a friend. They were different kinds of people. But one thing Miles could appreciate was that Diha had people in her life who cared about her. And he wanted to be part of that life. Which meant figuring out a way to coexist with Harper.
Miles’ phone rang.
He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
The number made him freeze for half a second.
“It’s time,” he said before answering. “Green.”
“We’ve got an address. Sending to you now,” his Mi5 contact said as Miles’ phone pinged.
“We’re on our way.”
Harper and Jamie had already moved into action, alerting the others and getting people moving toward the vans.
In a rush of activity, Miles and everyone else loaded up and headed out.
The two agents meeting Eros would leave five minutes later.
That didn’t give Diha long to find their target, but it would have to work.
Miles kept an eye on the back of the van where Diha and Cat were still working. They’d barely done anything besides push a few things off the desk and into their bags.
Whatever they were working on, he hoped it gave them a lead. Or something. Anything, really.
The thirty minute drive east of their starting location was uneventful. Miles said a brief thanks to the universe for that as they pulled up along the building.
With the informant’s help, they’d known to expect some sort of vacant space. The sign out front billed the brick building as Club Ibiza, though the closed and for rent signs were far more telling.
“Shit,” he muttered.
They’d hoped for a small location.
Just looking at the exterior of the club told him they had three floors to cover.
Miles picked up his radio. “Activate plan D.”
He hoped like hell this worked.
16.
Saturday. London, United Kingdom.
Diha’s skin prickled as she watched the feeds from the agents outside the vans.
Joon and Baker’s van was dressed up like a floral delivery service. Their agent on the street carried a bouquet of flowers into a neighboring shop. Concealed within the flowers was equipment that would enable him to cut into the cables supplying internet to the whole block.
The van the guys had piled into was a simple white van with a maintenance number on it. They set up cones and blocked off one lane while an agent scaled a telephone pole.
And lastly, the agent slid out of the side door of her van carrying a catering box with a logo on it that matched the one on the side of the van. But there wasn’t a meal for twenty inside. He was also going inside another shop that backed up to the club.
One by one more cameras came on-line, either from their agents setting up shop or plain clothes cops in cars parking where they found space.
There was no way they could cover every angle. Not with such a short lead time to this meet, but they were doing their best.
“How’s it coming?” Miles asked her.
Warmth swept over her at the sound of his voice, but she pushed it aside to focus on her job.
“Nothing so far, but we have visuals.” She stared at the various incoming signals.
What she needed was to find out if there was some sort of internet connection.
They might know that Eros wouldn’t attend the meeting in person, but there had to be some other way the hacker would speak to their agents.
“Any word on the internet?” she asked over her shoulder.
Miles shook his head. “Nothing so far.”
She’d opted to not listen to the agent’s feeds. Diha had a task that required focus. And the connection Eros would be using.
“Agents arriving,” Cat said.
“Where’s that signal?” Diha tried to keep her worry contained, but if she was going to find Eros, she needed something. A crumb. A trail. Anything.
She sat back and watched the four body cameras the agents were wearing as they strode to the side entrance of Club Ibiza.
If the building wasn’t wired for internet, Eros must have supplied their own devices. Which would still be at the location after the meet. Either the hacker would leave them there, or come back to get them.
There were still options.
Diha took a deep breath and slid the headset on to take in the show for herself.
The camera feeds turned dark as the two agents entered the building. Neither man spoke as they passed down a hall and entered the main area of the club. Some lights were on, but not many.
It wasn’t a bad place. Lots of vantage points. No one to disturb them. But plenty of traffic outside.
She could understand why it had been picked.
“You’re punctual,” a distorted voice crackled through her headset.
Diha winced and turned her volume down a little.
“God, damn,” one of the agents muttered.
The speakers. Eros was using the house system to talk to them.
She leaned forward and let her mind wander, probing the situation from all sides.
SATURDAY. CLUB IBIZA. London, United Kingdom.
Scene break.
Next paragraph here.
DAY. LOCATION, CITY, State.
Ramon stopped the bike and parked it behind a dumpster.
He was fairly certain no one had spotted him during the rush to get here.
Wherever here was.
He crept to the mouth of the alley and watched a man carrying a large bouquet get out of the van and stride into a nearby shop.
What were they doing here?
The Aegis Group mother fuckers were here somewhere. He wasn’t sure if they’d recognize him, so he had to play this safe.
Ramon pulled his hat down and popped his collar. He slung his bag across his chest, then made his first move. He jogged across the street, all the while staring into the shop.
The man with the flowers flashed a badge and pointed...through the wall at the run-down club.
What was going on there?
Was this where Valentino would be?
Ramon ducked into the alley. He stuck close to the wall with the deeper shadows, while watching the path ahead of him.
Another uniformed delivery person darted past the mouth of the alley.
Something was up.
Valentino reached an emergency exit for the club. He glanced left then right before tugging at the door.
Locked.
Well, no lock had ever kept him out.
SATURDAY. CLUB IBIZA. London, United Kingdom.
Valentino squinted at the camera pointed at the building’s entrance, watching the two men entering the club.
They were white. And male.
She’d half hoped it would be the man and woman who’d found her crash pad. While she needed the money, this job would provide, she also wanted to end those two. They’d found her once. They could find her again.
The two entered the main club area. She could see them below from her vantage point in the VIP area with its one-way black mirrors. She could have all the lights on dancing naked and they’d never know she was there.
“You’re punctual,” she said into the microphone.
The speakers on the first and second floor blared her distorted voice. The two men flinched and one covered his ears.
“There’s a microphone on the bar. Pick it up,” she ordered.
She had three microphones down there, but they wouldn’t pick up much.
The two men looked at each other and spoke. She couldn’t hear them, though she saw their mouths moving.
“Hurry it up,” she barked.
The one jumped again while the other crossed to the mic and looked around the bar before picking it up.
“We’re here. Where are you?” He had a good voice, brassy and rich. She was willing to bet he could sing.
“Where I am isn’t important,” she said.
; These weren’t the people who’d found her. That still didn’t mean they weren’t cops. But unless they gave her reason to believe otherwise, the deal had to go forward.
“Tell me more about this job.” She sat back and switched on her work brain.
Viggo was depending on her.
He was awake and ornery, no doubt. She’d only gotten to speak to him for the briefest of moments. His savior was also his captor now, at least until she could finish paying.
All she needed was a few grand more and then they could run.
The two men looked at each other again.
What were they? A couple?
It didn’t matter. They were a means to an end.
“We need a skilled individual to help us recover some data,” the man said slowly. His words were careful, measured.
“Something someone stole from you?”
The two men shared another look.
Valentino groaned and rolled her eyes. She did not have time for this. This was why Viggo handled customer facing issues and not her. She just wanted to do the God damn job and be done with it.
She clicked her mic back on. “Either you tell me everything and I help you, or leave now and stop wasting my time.”
The jumpy one said something to the other man. She wished the omnidirectional mic was on the bar. She’d assumed the two would stand further away from the bar.
Whatever. She’d make do.
The speaker lifted the microphone.
The hair on the back of Valentino’s neck rose and her stomach tightened.
It was the same sensation she’d had right before Viggo had opened the door.
Without thinking, she grabbed the gun, dropped from her rolling chair to the ground and spun.
A gunshot blasted through the monitors and glass overhead, raining shards down on her.
She saw a bit of the darkness move and fired back.
Shit.
Her would-be killer hadn’t been working alone.
This couldn’t be a cop. Cops announced themselves and made arrests. They didn’t shoot first.
This was bad. Very bad.
She threw herself sideways, rolling like Viggo had taught her.
Two more shots fired, blowing chunks of carpet and plastic into the air.
Now she had him.
Valentino fired at the point just left of where she’d seen the muzzle fire. Her target was moving, trying to stay out of range.
Something heavy crashed into the wine racks up against the far wall.
She’d hit him.
Valentino reached back and yanked the cords, plunging the club into darkness.
She knew the layout. She’d worked out of here before. She didn’t need light to see her way out.
Keeping low, she made a dash for the service entrance. Anyone who’d only seen a floorplan would assume it was a dead end, leading to various serving areas or the main bar downstairs.
Blood pumped in her ears as she burst onto the darkened stairs. She’d taken time during her set up to blow out the back-up lights.
Valentino hopped onto the railing and slid down, hurtling through the darkness at what felt like the speed of light. She hit the landing, pivoted, and dove down the next flight. Instead of continuing down, she ducked left and very carefully passed through a door into another serving area for the second floor lesser VIPs.
Someone yelled something from below.
Overhead, a door banged.
Valentino found the dumbwaiter by feel, opened the door and felt the side of the shaft for the rungs. She’d thought the ladder was funny when she’d found it the first time. Viggo had harassed her about seeing if she could fit in the dumbwaiter, but she had never humored him.
She began the descent into deeper darkness, all the while her mind raced.
How was she going to get Viggo out of the clutches of that doctor?
SATURDAY. CLUB IBIZA. London, United Kingdom.
Miles twisted, trying to watch the cameras and out the windows at the same damn time.
It was all falling apart and he was stuck in this damn van.
“What the hell is happening?” he demanded into the radio.
“We have a suspect heading out the back,” one of the agents said.
Valentino was fleeing.
Miles still wasn’t sure what the hell had happened in there, but he wasn’t going to let the hacker get away.
He pushed the van door open.
“Miles!” Diha called out, but he ignored her.
This could be over if they caught Valentino now. Diha hadn’t been wrong yet. He knew that suspect was their guy. It had to be.
He tore toward the building as a man clothed in jeans and a puffy navy coat sprinted from the alley. His face was partially covered by the shirt he had pulled up over his nose.
Only someone with something to hide did that.
“Freeze,” Miles bellowed.
The man’s gaze went straight to him and a gun came up.
Too late, Miles drew his weapon.
The man shot, and all Miles could do was brace for impact.
The bullet hit him square in the chest. His vest took the brunt of the impact, but he still staggered back and bent double while spots of white floated in his vision.
A scream and gurgled cry from the van told him that Diha had seen that. He threw up his hand to forestall her rushing to his side.
Footsteps thundered past him.
Miles coughed and sucked down air.
He had to keep going. For Diha. She wouldn’t be safe so long as that hacker was out there.
He straightened and took his first unsteady step, then another, picking up speed. He ran after the others for a block. One of the plain clothes cops jogged toward him, head swinging back and forth, frowning.
“Where’d he go?” Miles called out.
The cop stopped in the middle of the road and shrugged. “He’s just gone.”
“You fucking serious?” Miles struggled to draw in a breath. His chest muscles had knotted up from the impact and he could feel the bruise.
Just because the vest prevented bullets from puncturing his skin didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. He was going to feel that for weeks.
“I need every available officer out here canvasing every inch. He can’t have gotten away. Get CCTV. Someone saw him.” Miles turned in a circle, peering down each street, looking for a man in a blue coat.
It was believed Valentino was a white male, stocky build. But the bit of face Miles had seen was too tan to be Caucasian. Unless the hacker had a sudden tendency to tan.
Shit.
Valentino had gotten away.
“What the hell?” Miles muttered to himself. He lifted the radio. “I want the undercover officers to report to the van immediately.”
He turned and began striding back to where he’d left Diha.
They’d had Valentino. He’d been there. So what the hell had happened in there?
Logan’s voice came over the radio, issuing orders and calling officers by name to cover certain streets and buildings, taking the burden off Miles. No one hesitated at following the American, and Miles was grateful that someone else knew what the hell needed to be done.
He turned the corner and saw the back of the van standing open. Diha sat on the rolling chair just inside with the two undercover officers and one of those who’d posed as a delivery man.
“Get back inside,” Miles yelled.
Diha was too close to being exposed.
She scowled at him but rolled backward into the van. He didn’t need the light to tell him she was glaring at him.
She could glare all she wanted so long as she stayed out of Valentino’s focus.
“What the hell happened in there?” he demanded as he neared the two undercover officers who’d gone into the club.
The two men looked at each other, both wide-eyed.
The taller of the two found his words first. “We were talking to the suspect, getting to the details
of the job when the guy stopped talking back to us. Then we hear a shot. A window above us breaks. The power goes out and then more gunfire.”
“Then what?” Miles asked.
“We pulled back,” the officer said.
Miles went cold inside. It was better than showing his ass and getting angry. The officers had done the best thing in the situation. With no visibility and shots fired, they needed to do the safe thing.
“I want the electricity back on and a team inside there, now,” Miles said.
“I’m going in,” Diha announced.
“No,” Miles said.
Diha stared down her nose at him as she draped a scarf over her head. “Yes, I am.”
He grit his teeth, his need to protect her warring with the knowledge that she was just as invested in this case as he was.
“My men sweep the place first,” Miles said.
“Our people can help,” Diha reminded him.
Miles jerked his head. “Fine.”
The officers scrambled to be somewhere else.
“And Miles?”
Diha’s tone made him freeze and a chill run down his spine. He stood rooted to the spot, staring at her as she arranged the scarf just so around her hair and face.
Her words dripped menace. “If you ever do something as stupid as run at a suspect like that again, I’ll be the one to kick your ass.”
“Oh, boy. Someone just woke the monster,” Cat said in a sing-song voice.
He jerked his head in a nod. “Understood.”
Running headlong into the situation had been foolish. He could accept that while also knowing he’d do it again. Only next time he’d have his gun in hand already. Unlike Diha’s people, he didn’t draw first. It was just a different way in dealing with situations.
Within minutes someone had the breakers flipped and the power back on. Miles slid on foot coverings and gloves before stepping into the dingy club for his first look around.
He’d never been much for this kind of a social scene. Loud music and drinking had never appealed to him.
A man held out his hand. “There’s glass here.”
Miles nodded and cut toward the dance floor, peering around the space.
The officers had said glass rained down on them from above.
He tilted his head back and looked up at what appeared to be a smooth, black wall almost four stories up. Or was that part of the third floor?
Technical Risk (Aegis Group Task Force Book 3) Page 22