Hit For Hire

by David Archer

  The line went dead and Noah slipped the phone back into his pocket. “When you talk to Moose, tell him he’s being too obvious. Catherine’s people spotted him and she figured out he was with me.”

  “Good,” Sarah said. “He’s been getting pretty cocky lately, maybe it’ll take him down a notch or two. When do you want me to call them?”

  “I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

  Sarah glanced at him. “You know, it’s really weird how you can drop in and out of character so easily. Right now you sound like Adrian again, but when you were talking to Catherine Potts, you sounded like you did when we were here before.”

  Noah shrugged. “She only knows me as Alex Colson,” he said. “I thought it would be a good idea to keep that identity going for her, at least for now.”

  Sarah grinned and took out her own phone. She tapped an icon and put it on speaker so Noah could hear the conversation.

  “Roadkill Café,” they heard Neil say. “Can I take your order?”

  “Hey,” Sarah said, “it’s me, but no names, okay? Boss wanted me to check in and see if you guys have spotted anything he needs to know about.”

  “Nope. I’ve been checking off and on, and haven’t heard a peep. The lunkhead’s been prowling around for a little bit, he said he hasn’t seen anything to worry about. He saw you-know-who check in last night, but the guy hasn’t even come out for breakfast yet this morning.”

  “Yeah, we heard the quarterback was watching him pretty closely,” Sarah said. “Tell him to back it down a notch, Catherine’s people spotted him, and she knows he’s with us. Call me if anything comes up, all right?”

  “You got it, Sis. Tell the boss I said howdy.”

  Sarah turned to Noah with a grin. “Sure will,” she said, and the line went dead. “How was that?” she asked.

  “Very good. Of course, this means that we have nothing to do for the next couple of hours. Perhaps we might do a little sightseeing?”

  Her eyebrows raised slightly. “Okay,” she said. “Anything in particular you want to see?”

  Noah nodded. “Yes. Let’s go and see Westminster Cathedral. I’ve long admired the architecture there but I’ve never gotten to see it up close. It shouldn't be too far away.”

  Sarah smiled and turned back to face the road, put the car in gear and pulled out. She pushed a button on the dash and told the car’s “Intelligent GPS” to give her the best route to the Cathedral. A feminine voice with a crisp British lilt began speaking only seconds later, and Sarah had to turn around and go back the way they had come.

  NINE

  The alarm went off beside Sam’s bed and he flung out an arm to silence the horrible thing. His palm hit the reset and killed the noise, but he was already awake. He tried to lay there for a few more minutes but there was no hope of getting back to sleep, so he tossed off the blanket and rolled so that his feet hit the floor.

  Belinda stirred beside him. “Do you have to go so early?”

  Sam gave a sigh. “Afraid so,” he said. “That lot at the office can’t seem to do much without me there.” He turned and patted her rump, then got to his feet and padded into the loo. After eight years of marriage, he knew that she would be back to sleep before he even got the shower started.

  Belinda was a good wife, and Sam knew that he was a lucky man, but she had made it clear early on that she was not the kind of wife who got up and made breakfast every morning. When he considered all of the other wonderful things about her, he was able to accept that, but it meant either making his own breakfast or running through a drive-up somewhere on his way to work. He’d become rather fond of Egg McMuffins, and it was beginning to show around his middle.

  He stopped in his office when he got to Vauxhall Cross and found a note on his desk telling him to report to Mr. Simmons. Simmons was the actual head of the FEG, but Sam thought the man to be a complete idiot. Occasionally he insisted on sitting in on Sam’s interviews with Adrian, and if Sam didn’t know better he’d think the man idolized the assassin.

  It was Simmons who had agreed to provide Adrian with books to read in his cell. None of the other secret prisoners got such relief from the terminal boredom, but Simmons had authorized it. Sam wanted to take the books away and burn the bloody things, let Adrian sit in that cell with absolutely nothing to do, as was intended. That boredom was often enough to break the subject, but Simmons had thwarted him on this case.

  He sighed and made his way down the hall to Simmons’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  Simmons looked up at him and Sam realized the man’s eyes were bloodshot. “You might want to sit,” he said. “There’s been something of an event here, this morning.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes and took the chair in front of Simmons’ desk. “An event? Something to do with Adrian?”

  Simmons swallowed and looked at the top of his desk. “Yes, actually. At just after one this morning, one of the security men heard some odd sounds coming from Adrian’s cell. He opened the window and looked inside and saw Adrian hanging by a twisted bedsheet from the vent in his ceiling. His face was blue but his legs were still kicking a bit against the wall, so he opened the cell and rushed inside. He grabbed Adrian and lifted him to try to take the pressure off his throat, and that’s the last thing he remembers.”

  Sam’s eyes had grown wider as Simmons spoke, and he leaned forward to stare at his superior. “Last thing he remembers?” Suddenly he gasped. “Dear God in Heaven, are you telling me Adrian has escaped?”

  Simmons refused to raise his eyes to meet Sam’s face. “He struck our man and rendered him unconscious, then changed clothing with him and took his keys and radio. The guard in the booth saw what he thought was our man in the monitor, and the voice that came through the radio sounded right, so he buzzed the cell block door open. Adrian stepped through and rushed the booth.” He coughed. “The guard was not as lucky. Adrian snapped his neck, and then made his way to the supplies exit. By the time one of the other security men discovered the guard in the booth, he was gone. He took our supply van. It was found a few blocks away; he appears to have managed to catch a ride with someone, because there are no reports of stolen cars in that area.”

  Sam’s mind was racing. “What about cameras in the area? Traffic cameras, security cameras, anything?”

  Simmons shook his head. “As far as we can tell, there was nothing. We’ve got our own people and the Royal Police going round, trying to find any trace.”

  Sam leaned back into his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. “They’ll not find it,” he said. “I searched after him for two years, and even then I’d not have found him if it weren’t for stumbling across him.” He let his eyes meet Simmons’s own. “Why was there only one man on duty in the block? We were holding one of the most deadly assassins who ever lived, for God’s sake, normal protocol says the security guards always work in pairs.”

  Simmons nodded. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said. “Unfortunately, his shift-mate called off ill last night. Since Adrian had not caused any problems, the super on duty didn’t feel it necessary to call anyone else in. He’s been reprimanded already, for what it’s worth.”

  “It’s worth shite!” Sam shouted. “We’ve got a man dead and our biggest capture ever just waltzed out of here like he owned the bloody place! We’ll never find him again, you can bet on that. What the bloody hell is the PM going to say?”

  Simmons cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I’m being called onto that carpet this morning. Don’t suppose you’d care to go with me?”

  Sam’s head reared back and his eyes shot open. “Are you bloody daft? Take the sodding super with you, he’s the plonker that left one guard on the most dangerous prisoner we’ve ever had. Jesus bloody Christ, has everyone over me lost their bloody minds?”

  Simmons slapped the desk. “I think that’s enough,” he said. “I fully understand your position, you don’t have to keep going over it. What I need you to do right now is start putting together a team to
go after the bloke. You literally know him better than anyone else alive, so Younger wants you heading up the hunt. You’re to choose the team, anyone you want, and start planning how you’re going to catch this bastard a second time.” Alex Younger was the man in charge of MI6, and answered directly to the Foreign Minister.

  “Oh, really? Does he want me to resurrect my mates who helped me the first time? Or do some other miracle, perhaps?”

  Simmons came up out of his chair, both fists planted firmly on the desk as he glared at Sam. “That’s enough! You’ve got your orders, Agent Little, I suggest you get on with them.”

  Sam jumped to his feet, and for just a moment he thought about hanging a mouse on his boss, but common sense and years of dealing with the eejit got him through. He stood there for only a couple of seconds, then turned and walked out of the office.

  “Younger wants me to bring Adrian in again, does he?” Sam muttered to himself. “All bloody right, then, and he wants me to put together a team? That I’ll bloody do, all right!” He began going over names in his mind, trying to decide just who would be most likely to be beneficial in this new mission. By the time he got back to his office, he had a list to start with and began calling them.

  Forty minutes later, Sam made his way to the unit conference room and found all but one of them waiting for him. Terry Stamper had been number four on the team that brought Adrian in; he, along with Lloyd Bonner, Nick Stratton and Harry Wessex, was sitting at the table when Sam entered and took the lead seat.

  “In case you haven’t heard yet,” Sam said, “Adrian has escaped. Our bloody superiors have cocked up as they usually do and the result was a single guard on duty in K block last night. Adrian faked an attempted suicide, and the stupid bloke on duty tried to save him. It was a ruse, of course; he’s lucky Adrian only knocked him cold. The man in the booth wasn’t so fortunate, probably tried to put up a fight and got his neck broken.”

  “We heard,” Stamper said coldly. “Jerry Guinan was in the booth. Me and him, we was mates.”

  “Well, it’s falling to us...” Sam cut off as the fifth team member he requested walked into the room.

  “Sorry I’m late, voice,” Catherine Potts said. “What have I missed?”

  “Morning, Catherine,” Sam said, and the other men echoed him. “I imagine you’ve heard our distinguished guest decided to fly the coop last night. Younger and Simmons have ordered me to assemble a new team and try to do the impossible once again. Terry was with me on the last operation, but the rest of you will need to study up on Adrian.” He tossed file folders to each of them. “Lucky for you, I’ve compiled quite a dossier on the son-of-a-bitch.”

  Catherine opened the folder and began scanning its contents. “This says you interrupted him as he was preparing for a hit. Any idea who the target was? He may try to complete it, now that he’s loose again.”

  Sam shook his head. “No, that was one of the things I couldn’t get out of him. There were rumors floating round that he was hired to kill the PM, but nothing substantial ever came up, and he laughed when I asked about it. He did tell me, however, that he was working on a deadline, and since he didn’t get it done in time the contract probably wouldn’t happen. I would guess he’s going to have to tell someone that we had him, but I’ve no idea who.”

  “You know,” Lloyd said, “the biggest problem is that he’s always in demand. There’s always someone out there willing to pay for his level of skill, but until you got lucky, we never had anyone who could even get close to him.”

  “Yes,” Sam agreed, “but at least now we know what the bloke looks like. We took enough photos of him that I can paper my bedroom with them, and the bobbies all know who they’re looking for, now. Security on all the railways, tubes, coach lines and airports is tight, and they’ve all been given photographs, as well. Same for car rentals and taxis; every possible way he could get out of the city has been put on alert.”

  “The man’s been selling his services as a contract killer,” Catherine said, “for quite a number of years. Do you think he wouldn’t know how to change his appearance? A man’s hair color takes only a few minutes and can be applied in a public toilet. Add a pair of spectacles and any kind of uniform, you’ve got an invisible man.”

  “She’s right,” Harry said. “Cor, we’ve all done such at one time or another. Disguise is part of the toolbox of anyone involved in espionage.”

  “Nevertheless,” Sam said, “we’re going on the assumption that he’s still in London until we know differently, but I will see to it that police throughout the UK and Europe get his photos. He can change his looks, but I want the bastard to have to do it every time he rolls out of bed.”

  “What about any other leads?” Catherine asked. “You’ve been talking to him every day for nigh on a month, now. Do we have any known associates? Favorite places? Anything we can go on to give us hints of where to look?”

  Sam shook his head. “Not a lot, there, I’m afraid,” he said. “We talked a lot about his activities over the last few years, but he’s not one to give up any personal details. I know a couple of pubs that he used to visit, but there’s no doubt in my mind he’ll avoid those. I’d like to believe he’s out there with nothing, but this is one smart bloke; he’ll have cash, maybe clothes and weapons stashed somewhere, and if he hasn’t gotten to them already I’d be shocked.”

  “True,” Terry said. “He might have kept a car stored somewhere. The truth is, he could be anywhere by now, even on the continent.”

  Sam leaned back and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “All I’ve got is my gut,” he said, “but it’s telling me he’s not gone far. As I said, we’re going to operate on the assumption that he’s still within the city. Toward that end, I’m looking for suggestions. Think before you speak, please, I want the ideas that are not obvious.”

  Several ideas were tossed out, and Sam made notes of those he thought had merit. It made a short list, because he scrapped most without even discussing them.

  “All right, we’ve got some notions to start with,” he said at last. “One last thing, people: we keep this under wraps. Nobody outside this section knows who it is were looking for, not even the Royal Police. I want it to stay that way. We don’t tell anyone, not anyone at all. Understood?”

  Catherine looked at him. “You know the Yanks have some sort of interest in Adrian, right? I don’t know the details, but I saw a memo that said they were getting copies of all your interrogations. Should we notify them that he’s on the loose?”

  Sam looked at her, and his eyes were cold. “I said no one, and no one I meant. I don’t want the knowledge that Adrian is back on the streets going anywhere, is that clear?”

  Catherine met his gaze evenly. “Perfectly clear, sir,” she said.

  TEN

  Sightseeing took up the morning, and Noah took the opportunity to look over not just the Cathedral, but several other historical old buildings. “Architecture is always logical,” he said during one tour. “No matter how crazy it might look, like one of Frank Lloyd Wright’s clever designs, the limitations of materials and physics force the creation to follow rules that cannot be broken. This is undoubtedly why it appeals to me so strongly.”

  “I can see that,” Sarah said, “since you think in terms of what’s logical, what makes sense at the moment. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard for me to get used to you talking the way you’re doing now, it just doesn’t seem like you. It’s kind of creepy, to tell the truth. I listen to you talking and I expect to see someone else when I turn to look at you.”

  Noah’s face softened slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I know it must be weird. I’m just trying to stay in character, so there won’t be any problems when I meet with Broussard.”

  “So, it’s really him, then? Since he checked in like you said to, I’m guessing that means he really is the guy you’re supposed to....”

  “It’s too soon to know. Until I actually speak to him and find out what the assig
nment is the IAR wants me to take on, we can’t be sure whether he’s pulling the strings, or someone is pulling his. The only way to take down a big tree properly is from the top, cutting off a section at a time until all that’s left is the stump. That’s what we need to do with IAR, cut off the top. That may be enough to make it wither and die.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said. “You sound a lot more like yourself at the moment. I was missing you, even though you’re right here.”

  “You’re welcome. I figured you needed a break from Adrian for a few minutes. I’ll go back into character when we head for the meeting.”

  They decided to stop for lunch at a little after one, and Sarah spotted a chip shop. They pulled in and sat at one of the outdoor tables, despite the somewhat cool air. Noah held her chair for her as she sat, and an elderly couple seated nearby smiled at them.

  “You look like young lovebirds,” the old woman said, and Sarah smiled back at her. “Does my old heart good to see young love, it does.”

  “Thank you,” Sarah said. “And it does mine good to see that love can last a long time.”

  “A long time?” the old man asked. “Oh, d’ye mean Alice and me? Don’t let our old age fool you, luv, we’ve only just met two weeks past. This is but our third date, don’t you know?”

  Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I just....”

  “Ignore the old fool Willie, dear,” Alice said. “He’s only playing the jokester. We’ve been wed nigh sixty years, now. If that young man is worth your love, dear, don’t you let him get away! 'Tis a great comfort, to love one man for so many years. You’ll see.” She winked, and Sarah blushed prettily.

  “I promise you, I’m doing my best,” Sarah said. “Sometimes I just want to strangle him, but most of the time he’s a keeper.”

  “Aren’t they all that way? I think,” Alice said, dropping to a stage whisper, “it comes along with his tallywhacker!”