Hit For Hire

by David Archer

“There is no confusion, Monsieur Broussard,” he said. “You have been duped into hiring the wrong man.”

  Broussard hesitated for a couple of seconds. “How can that be possible?” he asked. “And how do you know...”

  “I know who you are because I have been present during some of your arms negotiations, though you would not have seen me. As for your first question, it is possible because I have been held in a cellar dungeon at Vauxhall Cross for several weeks. The man you hired is almost certainly a law enforcement agent, probably from either the UK or the United States. His purpose, I am sure, was to ferret out the identities of those in your organization. Did you make such an error as to allow that to happen?”

  Henry could hear the nervousness in Broussard’s voice. “He said—he said he would not accept the employment if he did not meet with those who actually made the decisions.”

  Henry chuckled. “Then you have undoubtedly given him exactly what he wants. I am sorry for this, for I would have liked working with you, but as I am certain you know, I never meet with my employers. All transactions are completed through secure communications, but no one ever sees my face, and I do not care who is paying me.”

  “No, no,” Broussard said quickly. “If you are telling the truth, what can we do?”

  Henry smiled as he leaned back again on the bed. “Well, if you are wise, you will employ me to find and eliminate the imposter. It is even possible I can do so in time to save all of your lives, and perhaps even complete the assignment you gave to him.”

  Broussard closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me how we can do that, please, and I shall immediately attempt to arrange it.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Broussard hung up the phone and realized that he was trembling. In hindsight, he realized that they had all fallen for a ruse that should have set off alarms. Adrian’s reputation was based on the fact that no one ever met him face-to-face, nor did he ever meet with those who hired him. The entire situation was so far out of character for the legendary Adrian that they should have known there was something wrong, they should have seen it.

  He took a deep breath and picked up the handset again. He dialed in his security code, which would reroute the call through untraceable circuitry, and then entered the number for Deanna’s sat phone. It rang three times before she answered. “Yes?”

  “This is B,” he said. “We have a complication. One of our agents here in London was notified a few hours ago that an advertisement had been placed with our signal code. She called the number and found herself speaking with a man who claims to be the real gentleman that we thought we had met with earlier.”

  There was a gasp on Deanna’s end of the line. “B, are you serious?”

  “I’m afraid I am deadly serious,” Broussard said. “I called the man and spoke with him, and I believe he is telling me the truth. He suspects that the man we met is an agent of one of the major governments, and that his purpose is to identify all of us so that we can be arrested.”

  Deanna thought furiously for a few seconds, and then said, “Holy Mary, mother of God, what do we do?”

  Broussard swallowed. “He suggests that we employ him immediately to find and terminate the imposter. I have the information necessary to wire a deposit of three million dollars to his account. He says the total fee will be ten million, and for that he will even complete the assignment we awarded to the imposter. I—I took the liberty of explaining to him just what that assignment would entail.”

  “Then let us hope beyond hope that the imposter is not the one you have just spoken to,” Deanna said. “I presume he wishes to meet? Fortunately, we are still in London and I can delay our return flight.”

  “No, he does not want to meet. He reminded me that he has never met with any employer, nor ever let anyone see his face and live. If we had only been wise enough to remember that about him, we would not be in this position today.”

  Deanna was quiet for a few seconds. “The Director will be furious,” she said. “Have you told anyone else about this yet?”

  “Of course not,” Broussard said. “I never call anyone else, only you.”

  “I want you to keep it that way. All right, all right, there is only one thing to do. I shall transfer the money from my own accounts. If this is true, and he completes the other assignment, I can recover it from the final payment that would have gone to the first man. Give me the information, and I will transfer the money immediately. Do you have a way to contact him again?”

  “Yes, I have a number that will remain good for another hour. After that, I will have to wait for him to contact me.” He gave her the financial transfer instructions.

  “Ring him back immediately, and tell him that I am transferring the funds now. Give him any additional information he might need and make it clear that he can contact you at any time. I am going to have to trust you on this, B, so you can make any decision necessary from this point out. Whatever you do, do not allow the others to find out about this. If we handle it properly they will never know, and that will undoubtedly lead to longer lives for both of us.”

  Broussard swallowed again. “I completely understand,” he said. “I will ring him right now.”

  He held down the cradle on the old French-style phone for a second, then dialed his security code and the number to reach Adrian. The call was answered halfway through the first ring.

  “Do we have an agreement?” Adrian asked.

  “We do,” Broussard said. “My contact is wiring the money right now. Is there any other way I can assist you?”

  “Can you describe the imposter to me? Be as detailed as possible.”

  “He is about six-foot-two, with red hair and green eyes. He is stockily built, like an athlete. I suppose his most notable feature would be his nose, which is rather large and bulbous.”

  Adrian chuckled. “Really? That is very interesting. Do you have any idea where he might be staying?”

  “No, I am afraid we do not. Please remember that we thought we were dealing with you. Would anyone dare to try to follow you, assuming they knew who you were? We did not even attempt it.”

  “I suppose I can understand,” Adrian said. “No matter, I’m fairly sure the fellow won’t be a problem much longer.” Particularly since he is now wearing the most wanted face in all of the UK, Adrian thought. Whoever he is, his agency has gone to a great deal of difficulty to put him in place. He has apparently agreed to assassinate the Prince, though I doubt he would actually do so. Why would his superiors allow him to go to such lengths, when they could undoubtedly have simply followed him and arrested these people when he met with them?

  The answer came to him suddenly, and he almost laughed again. The imposter was not an undercover policeman; he had to be one of the special agents whose purpose was to eliminate threats to the security of nations. He had no intention of arresting anyone; at some point, he would be going back to kill them. His problem was that there was someone involved that he had not yet identified. Otherwise, Broussard and his associates would already be dead.

  Adrian’s own comment earlier about saving their lives suddenly took on new importance.

  “I suspect,” he said into the phone, “that this imposter will contact you again at some point. He will want another meeting, and I want to know when you get that call. You will schedule a meeting with him, and I want the details of that meeting, as well.”

  “You want us to meet with him again?” Broussard sounded incredulous.

  “I most certainly do not,” Adrian said. “I said I want you to schedule a meeting; when the time comes, it will not be any of you that is waiting for him. It shall be me. Naturally, I do not want any of you to be anywhere near that location at that time.”

  Broussard breathed a sign of relief. “Very well,” he said. “How shall I notify you of that meeting?”

  “I have another phone, and I shall give you its number. You and you alone will have it, so if anyone else calls me, it will be you that I shall vis
it next. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, yes, of course. I shall give it to no one.”

  “That would be wise. Do you have a pen?”

  * * * * *

  It was almost 10:30 by the time Deanna completed the transfer. The others would be ready to go to the airport, but she suddenly wondered if they might be wise to remain in London. It was highly likely that the imposter now knew who they were and where they lived, but she was doubtful that he had been able to determine where their meeting the night before had taken place, nor that they had rooms there. Staying in the building was probably safe, especially with the security team they had brought along. Their men might not be professional assassins, but every one of them had served as a commando in one military organization or another.

  The only problem was how to justify it to the others. She did not want to tell them the truth, that they had been duped by some sort of undercover agent. Far better to let them think that there was some other reason to remain.

  It was a Machiavellian idea, she thought. If the imposter were from the British Military Intelligence, they would undoubtedly expect the Council to return to Rome immediately. By staying in London, directly under the noses of those who might be hunting them, they stood a chance of making it through this. Once the imposter was dead, his identification of them would be useless in any sort of prosecution. Yes, it was a great idea.

  There was a knock on her door, and she rose from the chair to open it. James and François stood there, and she invited them inside.

  “Where is Roberto?” she asked.

  “He should be here in a moment,” James said. “Are we ready to go? I confess to being a bit famished, so looking forward to stopping for breakfast on the way.”

  “We can go out for breakfast,” Deanna said, “but I’ve been thinking. Perhaps we should remain in London for a couple of days. We need to monitor the situation, watch for progress toward the completion of the assignment. While we have people in place to do that, we can react more quickly, if necessary, if we are still here to do so.”

  James shrugged, but François scowled. “Do you believe it to be necessary? I have plans with my family this weekend. Will we be back by then?”

  Deanna forced a smile onto her face. “Oh, I certainly hope so. I just think it would be wise to keep an eye on the situation for a couple of days more.”

  Roberto knocked at that moment, and Denna let him in. She quickly explained the situation to him as well, but he had no objection.

  “Good,” she said, “that’s settled, then. Let’s gather our security and go have a bit of breakfast, shall we?”

  * * * * *

  “Has anyone but me noticed it’s getting close to lunchtime?” Neil asked. “We skipped breakfast so we could get to work, but now my belly is starting to think my throat’s been cut.”

  Noah looked over at Sarah and raised one eyebrow.

  “I’m a little hungry myself,” she said.

  “Okay, I guess we can take a break. We need to check out of here anyway. Let’s go down to the restaurant and get a bite to eat first. We can tell them we’re checking out when we finish, then get all our stuff and head out to the house.”

  The four of them walked out of Noah’s room and rode the elevator down to the lobby. The restaurant, which was just off the lobby, was relatively busy but the maître d’ found them a table for four. They placed their orders and were waiting for them when two policemen walked into the establishment.

  The two officers glanced around as they were being seated, and one of them let his gaze rest on Noah for a moment. Noah noticed, but kept his face turned so that it was facing Sarah, beside him. It gave the officers his profile, and allowed Noah to watch with his peripheral vision.

  The policeman took out a phone and punched a couple of icons. He looked at the display on his screen and then looked at Noah again, just before passing the phone to his partner. The second policeman glanced at it, then casually let his eyes roam around the room until they found Noah.

  The two of them looked at one another, and the first one got up and left the restaurant for a moment. He returned a couple of minutes later and took his seat, pointedly ignoring Noah as he did so.

  “Heads up,” Noah whispered. “The bobbies over there are paying some serious attention to me, and I suspect they’re waiting for backup. Not sure what’s going on, but let’s play it cool.”

  “You’re right,” Moose said. “A patrol car just pulled into the parking lot. No resistance?”

  “No,” Noah said. “If they run me in for something, I want you guys to just continue working on the project. I’m pretty sure I can talk my way out of anything that may be going on, and I can always call Catherine if I need help. Just play it cool.”

  A second pair of policemen entered the restaurant, and the first officer rose from his seat. His partner followed a moment later and all four of them approached Noah’s table.

  “Pardon me, sir,” the first officer said. “Might I trouble you to show us your identification?”

  Noah looked up and feigned surprise. “My ID,” he said in his own distinctly American accent. “Um, sure.” He reached carefully and slowly for his wallet, then took out his driver’s license and handed it to the policeman. While they looked that over, he looked over at Sarah. “Baby, let me have my passport, okay?”

  Sarah had put on her best “puzzled kitten” look, and wore it while she slowly picked up her purse and fished out Noah’s passport. She handed it to him, and he passed it to the second officer.

  “You’re an American, are you?” asked the first officer.

  “Yes, sir,” Noah said. “We came over on vacation, me and my girlfriend and these two moochers. Is something wrong?”

  “Not necessarily, sir,” the officer said. He was studying both the driver’s license and the passport, both of which were in the name of Michael Jamison. “May I ask what you do for a living, Mr. Jamison?”

  “Oh, sure,” Noah said. “I’m a counselor. I work with troubled youth back home, in Springfield, Illinois.” This was part of the cover story he’d been given for the ID he was using. A search of national records would find a complete history for Michael Jamison, including an office address for a licensed private clinic.

  All for the officers looked over the documents, and then looked at each other. The first one turned back to Noah. “Mr. Jamison,” he said, “are you planning to leave this restaurant in the next few minutes?”

  Noah glanced at Sarah and then back to the officer. He shrugged. “No, not really,” he said. “We just placed our orders a few minutes ago, we haven’t even gotten our food yet.”

  The officer nodded and handed back his ID and passport. “Very good, sir,” he said. “I’m afraid you strongly resemble someone we’re looking for, but as your paperwork seems to be in order, I need to call in someone who will know for sure.” He hesitated for just a moment. “I must advise you, sir, that if you attempt to leave before they arrive, we will be forced to detain you.”

  Noah grinned. “No chance of that,” he said. “If I tried to drag these guys out here without feeding them, they’d probably do worse to me than just detain me.”

  Moose and Neil chuckled, and Moose said, “Hear, hear! He laid in bed so long this morning we missed breakfast. We’re not going anywhere until I get some food in my belly.”

  The offices grinned despite themselves, and visibly relaxed. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidental resemblance, sir,” one of the other officers said. “We can get it all cleared up as soon as the others arrive.”

  “No problem, officers,” Noah said. “I promise you, we’ll be sitting right here.”

  The policemen all sat down at the table the first two had been using, and one of them made a phone call. Noah noticed that at least two of them had eyes on him all the time. He turned back to his team and they made public small talk and jokes while they continued to wait for their food to arrive.

  The waiter was coming with a tray filled with
their plates as five other people entered the restaurant. Noah glanced up at them and instantly recognized Catherine Potts. The five spotted him just as quickly, and made their way directly to his table.

  Sam Little looked at Noah directly in the eye. “You’re Mr. Jamison?” Noah noticed that the man was staring hard at his face, as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t seeing what he was. He rose slowly to his feet and extended a hand.

  “Yes, sir, that’s me,” he said. Through the corner of his eye, he saw Catherine Potts staring at Moose, but when he spoke her eyes jerked back to his own face. They narrowed for a second and then went wide.

  “Mr. Jamison,” Sam began, but then he seemed to hesitate. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to apologize. You bear a startling resemblance to someone we’re trying to locate, and I’m afraid you may run into this again during your stay here. Every policeman in the country has been provided a photograph of the man we are seeking, so it’s likely every single one of them is going to think you’re him.”

  Noah let his eyes go a little wider and smiled. “But you know I’m not, right? I mean, you checked out my ID and found out I’m for real, right?”

  Sam returned the smile. “Bit better than that, I’d say,” he said. “I actually know the blighter in question, and while the resemblance is uncanny, to my eye it’s obvious you’re not the same man. We’ll circulate an alert to let all the policemen know that you’ve already been checked out, but I’m quite certain you going to be asked to produce identification from time to time.” He stared at Noah’s face for a moment longer. “Absolutely uncanny resemblance.”

  He turned to those with him and motioned for them to follow him back to the policemen’s table, but Catherine stood her ground as they walked away. As soon as they were out of earshot, she leaned down and looked into his face. “Mr. Colson,” she whispered softly, “that’s an amazing job of makeup. You do realize I’ll be giving you a call shortly, right?” She stood straight, turned and walked away before Noah could answer.