by Cliff Ryder
"And I'm sure you did your usual spotless job on them, correct?" Kate asked.
"Of course."
Kate took a deep breath now that she had appealed to the French director's vanity. Louis Planchard, formerly of the French intelligence agency Direction Generale de la Securite Exterieure, or the DGSE, was a staunch believer in the goals of Room 59. However, his was a classic Gallic personality, and like most directors, he tended to be territorial, as well. He rightly believed that his operatives were the best resources to handle certain situations — like recovery of an asset on the run in Paris before another hostile team got to her. And while Kate could understand where he was coming from, at this particular moment, she didn't have time to argue the point. Of course, the fact that she had heard through the Room 59 grapevine that he had wanted her position when it had come open, and had been very disappointed when he hadn't gotten it, might have also had something to do with the conversation they were having.
"Look, if there had been time, we certainly would have run a joint op with you overseeing it. But events are happening very quickly, and this team is the best equipped to handle it at the moment, so they are in charge. Any of your people who are on-site are to defer to the Midnight Team leader, is that clear?" Kate said.
"All right, Kate, you haven't steered me wrong yet, so I trust that you know what you're doing."
"Good, I'm glad you're on board. You said there were operatives free who could get to the train station?"
"I alerted two as soon as I got the message. They should be there by now. You've sent me the photos of our team members, so they know who to expect, as well as a photo of our mystery woman who has escaped us twice before, n 'est-ce pas?"
Kate sighed. "Yes, she's proven surprisingly adept. However, now that she's on your turf, I trust that she won't be a problem to pick up. We've also sent over two Facemaker pictures of the two members of the Mercury Security team that may also be trying to apprehend her, so make sure your operatives are briefed."
"Of course. Assuming this Midnight Team doesn't do anything overreactive, I shouldn't think it would be a problem. My people will be in position to observe and assist if necessary."
"Thank you, Louis. I'll be in touch with you as things proceed. Good luck."
"And to your people, as well."
Kate waited until he had broken the connection before shaking her head. Of all the directors, he had been the most resistant to the idea of the Midnight Teams in general, saying that their use was overwhelming blunt force when the delicate touch of a scalpel was needed. Kate had created the concept of the Midnight Teams with Room 59's North American director Denny Talbot. They knew there were some situations where the application of controlled, deadly force was the only solution. And rather than leave it to the special forces units of the country where the mission occurred, she wanted Room 59 to have its own black-ops force. They'd be ready to go anywhere and do whatever was necessary to accomplish their mission. So far, it had worked well — until this last op.
Kate's phone rang again. "Yes."
"Samantha here. I've set up the meeting."
"Do you think he was suspicious at all?"
"Hardly, I just mentioned that you — as Donna — had said his company was looking for more work with government agencies, and that we at MI-6 were interested in seeing what they might be able to provide. He fairly leaped at the opportunity. I could almost hear him panting over the phone. It'll be in a public place, you understand. I suggested the Grill at the Dorchester Hotel — if I cannot enjoy the company, I will at least enjoy my dinner."
"Stop, you're making my mouth water already. When will you be meeting him?" Kate asked.
"Tonight, at seven-thirty. It seems that Mercury has a standing reservation there — again, I thought their financial numbers didn't look good?"
"What we saw indicated that they've been running their operation pretty close to the bone recently. They've been working smaller contracts — training in Third World countries, some executive-protection work, that sort of thing."
"Appearances must be maintained, hmm?" Samantha said.
"I suppose, but it's an expensive proposition. Still, enjoy yourself."
"That will be the last thing on my mind this evening."
"Well, since I'll be overseeing this recovery and stuck in my hotel suite with room service as my only consolation, I'm still going to assign Jake to provide security for you. Nothing against your own people, you understand. I'd like my own man on the scene. I haven't been out in public for so long, I'd probably forget how to act and end up stabbing my date with my shrimp fork."
Samantha chuckled. "Of course you wouldn't. However, I will take you up on that, particularly since his face won't be immediately recognizable. In fact, we might as well provide him with a suitable companion for his own meal, as well. I have just the operative in mind, too. Someone might as well have a pleasant evening out of all this."
"Samantha, remember — it is your duty, after all."
"Yes, yes, you may need to keep reminding me of that tonight."
"I'll send Jake out to recon the hotel and set up a time to meet with you beforehand to run through how things will be set up."
"Thanks, Kate. I'll talk to you soon."
Kate broke the connection and stretched her arms over her head, beginning a set of isometric exercises to maintain her physique during the long hours in the chair, especially since it didn't look as if she was going to be getting out of it anytime soon.
As if on cue, her computer chimed again. It was Autom8. "You'd asked to be patched in when the team touched down in Paris?"
"You got it."
"All right, here comes the feed. They just set down on the roof of the hospital."
"Thanks, I've got it." Patched in to all five of the Midnight Team's specialized sunglasses, each with a miniature camera built-in, Kate settled in for yet another round of high-stakes television watching, where the bullets and blood were all very real. She could only observe as men and women fought and died when she gave the command, like a puppeteer with invisible strings that stretched around the world.
24
The Agusta helicopter touched down lightly on the helipad above the French trauma center. Located on the southwest corner of the facility, it was right next to the train station, so close that they could easily see the large yard where the high-speed engines arrived and left.
As soon as the chopper hit the tarmac, a man ran toward it, reflexively bending over to put a little more distance between himself and the whirling rotor. He opened the door and extended his hand to Cody. "Dr. Wesson, it's a pleasure to meet you."
"Thank you, let's get inside, shall we?"
David and the rest of the team took their small overnight bags with them and trotted to the stairwell. Once inside, the man handed out red-and-white badges with their cover names on them. Tara and David looked at theirs with odd expressions on their faces as they walked behind the others.
"Dr. Ladysmith?" Tara frowned.
David examined his badge and shook his head. "Yeah, and I'm Dr. Browning. Hey, Robert, what'd you get?"
"They made me Dr. Barrett."
Cory frowned them all into silence as they followed their host into the building. "Who says the French don't have a sense of humor? All right, it's showtime — let's keep our eyes on the prize here." He switched over to another channel. "M-Flight, keep those engines hot. We won't be here long."
"Affirmative." The pilot kept the helicopter's rotors moving, although he powered down his engine to what passed for idling, David supposed.
Once inside, the heavy fire door closed, cutting off most of the outside noise. A stairwell stretched down in front of them, and next to it were the doors of a large elevator for transporting crash carts and hospital beds. They all walked into the elevator, which sank into the hospital proper.
Their guide kept talking as they descended. "I must say it's a pleasure to have such a distinguished assembly of doctors to review t
he progress of our fellowship. While we were a bit surprised to discover that you were coming, our staff has been able to put together a presentation that we think will impress you."
Behind the man's back, David exchanged worried glances with Cody and his other team members.
Cody took the lead. "We're looking forward to seeing their current lines of work. If you don't mind, why don't you give us a little sample?"
"Well, I don't want to give anything away…"
"Don't worry, we won't tell anyone you briefed us ahead of time," Cody assured him.
"Very well. Of course you know that the fellowship is to explore alternatives to sclerotherapy on prolapsed hemorrhoids."
Tara and Kanelo glanced at each other, and the woman covered her smile with her hand. Robert almost didn't stifle his chuckle in time, but managed to turn it into a strangled cough. Only Cody and David didn't change their expressions. "Ah, I see. You know, on second thought, perhaps we would rather wait until the presentation. I'm sure it will be very enlightening. If we could just have a few minutes to freshen up, we'd appreciate it," Cody said.
"Of course. We'll be ready to begin the presentation at your convenience. We'll take you to a room on the third floor and begin in say, twenty minutes?"
"That would be fine. We're looking forward to it. Thanks very much for setting this up on such short notice."
"Not at all — it's our pleasure." Their guide's pager beeped and he checked it with a glance. "Your room is down this hall, third door on the right. I'll be back up here to collect you in fifteen minutes." With that, he hustled off in the other direction, disappearing around the corner.
As soon as he was gone, Robert guffawed, the sound echoing down the corridor, and causing more than one nurse to frown at them and hold her finger up in the universal "quiet" sign. "Well, what say we world-famous team of ass doctors get to work?" he said.
"I didn't even know there was a fellowship for hemorrhoids." Tara shook her head. "I wonder how long the French have been working on this."
Robert snorted. "Given their general attitude, not long enough."
"All right, can it, all of you." Cody sighed. "At least he didn't stick around to wait for us." He nodded toward the stairwell door. "Let's go, people, we're running out of time."
25
So far, so good, Anthony thought. This time, they were in control from the start.
He had established a surveillance position with an excellent view of the entire first half of the high-speed train. Sitting on the shoe-shine booth, above the constantly changing heads of the crowd, he had given the shoe shiner fifty Euros and told him to take an early lunch, which the man had quickly agreed to, his protest at losing out on the midmorning rush silenced by the look in Anthony's cold eyes.
He pretended to read that day's newspaper, using the time as he flipped pages to scan the crowd for his target. Liam was farther down on the platform, watching the rear half of the train. Between them they had almost the entire train covered, with Gregor and Carl covering the other side, just in case she exited the train in a more unusual way. Once she appeared, Anthony and Liam would close in until they had her between them, at which time they would escort her off the premises, with Carl and Gregor following as the backup team in case someone else was lying in wait.
After several minutes of watching the steady stream of people flowing out from the train to join the already crowded throng on the platform, Anthony spotted her, doing her best to blend in with the rest of the disembarking passengers. Gotcha — and you're damn sure not getting away this time, he vowed.
"Target exiting the sixth car. Moving to apprehend. Close in behind." Anthony folded his newspaper under his arm, slipped off the shoe-shine booth, and blended in with the masses, just another faceless traveler. He paralleled her, walking a few yards behind and to the left, dodging clusters of reuniting families and groups of friends greeting each other. He was about to move in when his cell phone vibrated. With a silent curse, he checked the caller ID, then answered. "Yes?"
"I was just wondering why your vehicle is sitting outside the Gare du Nord train station?"
Anthony risked being seen by standing on his tiptoes to keep her in sight. She had been stopped by two men, and was producing her passport. He'd bet her life they weren't French customs officials, either. "Just a minute." He switched to his walkie-talkie mode. "Liam, get up here immediately. Carl, Gregor, assume trailing position at head of train. Wait until you see us to move." He switched back to his caller. "You said the rest of the afternoon was mine, so I decided to take a drive through the French countryside. Why, has something come up?"
"You always were a smart one. We're having — trouble contacting Aleix." The pause was slight, but definitely audible.
Anthony grinned. "Do tell. As it so happens, I'm standing in the train station right now, about three meters from our missing lassie, and Aleix is nowhere in sight. Why don't you let me handle this — as you should have done in the first place — and I'll be in touch once I've got her." He cut his connection just as Liam came up on his right side, not looking at Anthony as he spoke into his wireless earpiece.
"I'm in position. Target is with two hostiles, confirm?"
"Confirmed. Incapacitate only. On my mark." Anthony walked through the crowd, approaching the trio, getting close enough to hear the woman's rising voice.
"I don't know what your problem is, I've just gotten here, and already I'm being hassled…"
She does have guts, to try and brazen this out like that, Anthony thought. He heard one man reply as he edged even closer. "Mademoiselle, I'm sure if you will come with us, we can clear all of this up. If you would be so kind…"
Anthony caught Liam's eye and nodded.
He and Liam stepped up, one on either side of the woman, and each brought up small aerosol sprayers, which they aimed at each man's face. A small cloud of concentrated, atomized sedative puffed out into the men's faces. Coughing and spitting, they reached under their suit coats, but the fast-acting mist was already taking hold, and both men slumped to the floor, out cold. The strange event engendered a few puzzled looks from passersby, but Anthony and Liam were already moving, each taking one of their target's arms and firmly propelling her away from the scene. She made a token attempt to twist away, and Anthony took great pleasure in jabbing the pistol in his left hand, hidden under the newspaper, into her ribs hard enough to make her groan.
"Ms. Britaine, I would appreciate it if you would just keep walking and not make any kind of disturbance or attempt to draw attention to us. It's been a long day already, and I am most certainly not in the mood."
She looked over at him, and nearly sagged off her feet in fear, held upright only by his strong grip on her. "You're the man from London — you're with Mercury, aren't you?"
"Correct, and if you do exactly as I say from now on, you're going to be just fine." Of course, Anthony was lying through his even teeth — he planned to extract a vengeance from this bitch that would brand his face in her memory for all time, assuming she survived it in the first place. But first he had to complete his mission, and that meant getting her back to HQ in one relatively undamaged piece. When they were through with her, then it would be his turn.
"Carl, Gregor, we are heading to the main entrance. Follow at distance."
Although a crowd had gathered around the two fallen men, Anthony, Maggie and Liam had almost made it to the main doors when they hissed open, and five people walked in that Anthony hadn't expected to see. They were led by that grinning bastard who had stopped him from getting her back in London.
26
David's reaction, along with the rest of his team, was immediate. His right hand darted into his open bag to grab the butt of his pistol and casually aim it at the two men. Around him, Robert, Tara and Kanelo also reached into their bags, the four of them looking like a group of salesmen interrupted in the middle of their sales pitch. David heard Robert muttering into his earpiece, and knew he had alerted Cody, who had
taken his customary position high above everything, and was observing events through his rifle scope.
David only had eyes for the brown-haired man, who had immediately moved behind the woman, one hand on her shoulder, and his other one obviously holding some sort of weapon hidden behind her back. The other man stood a few feet away from his partner, hands at his side, his gaze boring a hole in the Midnight Team members. For a moment, all eight of them stood in the entryway, oblivious to the stream of people flowing around them, many throwing dirty looks their way as they passed.
"Hold up, gentlemen." David raised his bag slightly, making sure both men saw it. "I'm afraid we can't let you take her out of here. Let her go, however, and you can walk away, no questions asked."
The brown-haired man had the temerity to grin in reply. "That is just as impossible, since we have just met. We are leaving, and since we have her, you will not be stopping us, unless you want to be taking just her body back."
David shook his head. "Ah, that's where you're wrong, since we don't need her alive — but apparently you do. So I already know you're bluffing. And since we outnumber you, that really takes the decision out of your hands."
"You're a confident little arse, aren't you?"
"Runs in my family. This is your last chance. Release her and walk away, or we're going to take her from you," David said.
The man gripped her shoulder even tighter, making the woman gasp in pain. "Looks like you're caught between two big fucking rocks, lass. And since things have a way of changing ever so quickly…"
His head darted behind the woman's for a moment, while David tried to figure out what he meant. Dropping his left hand behind his back, he signaled Tara and Kanelo to watch for flankers.
As he did that, Robert's head snapped to one side, and a spray of pink-and-gray matter splattered over David. It was followed by the cough of a silenced pistol, and the wiry Welshman fell to the floor, his normally nonstop mouth still hanging open in surprise.