Bones has you covered in a telekinetic shield, Katie said into their minds to forestall any further panic.
“That doesn’t stop them from shooting,” Liam snapped as he tried to get his front passenger side door to open. It took a couple of hard kicks, but he finally got it open and started to crawl out. “Get Nova to lob one of her specialties at the bloody bastards.”
“We’re supposed to be human, remember, Knight?” Jamie said.
“Sod that! I’m going to fry the fuckers!”
“I can see now how he’s related to the royal family,” Kyle said as he twisted around in the small space to feel underneath the seat. He came up with two handguns stashed away in hidden holsters and handed one to Jamie. “Gives a royal decree, expects everyone to bow to his obviously superior field expertise.”
“You get used to him,” Jamie grunted as he reached past Kyle to punch open the car door on that side. The force of his blow sent the door flying until it slammed into the invisible barrier of Trevor’s telekinetic shield.
“I hope not. One idiotic team captain is enough for me.”
“So I don’t think your spy made any friends when he was in Northern Ireland,” Liam said from his crouched position as they crawled out, weapons in hand.
Jamie rolled his eyes and knelt down next to the SUV to better grab the front passenger seat and wrench it backward, shielding his effort from any prying eyes with his body. The extra space enabled Donovan to twist free from behind the steering wheel and crawl out.
“Spies don’t make friends.”
Liam made an impatient grabbing motion at Jamie, taking a quick look between the wheels of the upside down SUV. “Give me a gun.”
Kyle ducked back into the SUV and scrambled to get his hands on any other weapons stashed in the vehicle. He came up with one more handgun, which he passed to Jamie, before lying down flat inside the vehicle, ignoring the glass and metal edges ripping up his skin and clothes in favor of taking a prone shooting position.
“Bones, I need a firing hole,” Kyle snapped over the comms.
Jamie crouched down and put his back to the SUV, keeping his focus behind them. He could see their second SUV in the opposite lane where they were, Annabelle having braked to a hard halt halfway into the intersection. The rest of Alpha Team was outside their vehicle and crouched behind it for cover, weapons in hand as they exchanged fire with the enemy.
Cars had been abandoned in the streets around them once the Reborn IRA members started firing, most people running for cover and safety, hoping to all hell a Splice chemical bomb wouldn’t be detonated. Jamie caught sight of several unmoving bodies, and could hear someone sobbing for help. He spied a couple crouched out of the way behind a trash bin, the guy fumbling with what looked like a tablet while his girlfriend frantically tugged at his arm with a pleading look on her face.
“Viper, we need a blackout,” Jamie ordered. “Tank, give Reaper your eyes.”
“Copy that, Apollo,” Katie said.
It took less than thirty seconds for Katie to dig her portable EMP out of the SUV’s center console, set the radius, and prime the device. Jamie winced as his embedded nanotech comms went dead in his ears, along with the rest of the bioware in his body. The reset would take a minute, tops, before they came back online, helped along by the kinetic energy his body powered them with.
The half-mile radius Katie had set the EMP for wasn’t so lucky.
Lights cut out on the streets and buildings around them, plunging the area into darkness. London had some of the toughest aerial traffic laws in Europe—the megacity loathed flying vehicles—which meant the skies above were thankfully clear of any potentially deadly hazards raining down on them. In the distance, the lights of London glowed like a beacon of safety beyond the dark circle they stood in.
Jamie blinked rapidly, trying to adjust his vision to the sudden darkness. Behind him, he heard the distinctive sound of a 9mm handgun going off, Donovan’s voice a low rumble as he used the night-vision aspect of his sight power to spot for Kyle. Less than a minute later the shooting stopped.
“Hostiles eliminated,” Kyle called out.
“Leave the vehicles. The UMG will handle cleanup. We’ll get a pickup somewhere else,” Liam said.
“Underground?” Jamie said as Kyle crawled backward out of the wrecked SUV.
“Like any proper Londoner will tell you, it’s the only way to travel.”
“Then lead the way.”
7
You Make Me A Sinner
The automated black taxi turned off The Mall and into restricted space located down a short side street. It braked to a stop in front of a security gate, the meter running down the minutes of the wait time.
Liam paid the fare and got out, waving off the soldiers in their winter coats and faux-bearskin hats on duty outside Clarence House. Jamie and Kyle climbed out after him and followed Liam through the security gate one of the soldiers opened for them.
“Taxi is holding for them,” Liam said.
The soldier saluted in a quick motion. “We’ll keep an eye on it, Your Highness.”
Lamp posts lit their way up to the building, its pale exterior bright against the darkness. It was a welcome sight after fleeing the scene of the car crash and shootout for the Camden Town Underground station, splitting up into two groups once they were on the platform. The Northern Line branched out in two directions going south, so they’d taken two different trains, all of them agreeing to pair up and get off at different stops before catching black taxis home.
Jamie and Kyle’s route home required a detour. Once their comms had come back online, the UMG had agreed to Jamie’s request through Liam for the Reborn IRA intel since Alpha Team was keeping their own communications with the MDF dark while in London. Liam had orders to bring Jamie with him to Clarence House for a pickup under the pretense of going home with a friend for a visit after a night on the town.
Which was how they came to be here, walking up the flat pebbled drive to the overhang that covered the entrance, bypassing the rose garden taking up the front yard. Liam scanned them into the royal residence, holding the door open for them with a firm hand.
The place hadn’t really changed since the last time Jamie had dropped by. Still as much a museum as a home, the history in its walls was overshadowed by the slim, dark-haired woman of Indian descent coming down the hall with a purposeful stride.
“Gentlemen,” Royal Naval Captain Samaira Bhasin said in a crisp voice. “I’m glad to see you managed to make it home without burning down half of London after that cock-up in Camden.”
“If I said it wasn’t my fault, would you believe me?” Liam asked her.
Samaira rolled her eyes. “No.”
“I am absolutely gutted by your lack of faith in me.”
“Hardly.”
The easy companionship between Liam and his second-in-command came from years of stepping on each other’s toes in order to find a comfortable working relationship. Samaira, at twenty-seven, had been assigned as Liam’s second-in-command five years ago to be a stabilizing influence on him. Liam, as SAS and a lifetime member of the orders are guidelines club while in the field, had clashed with Samaira’s straitlaced order and precision background instilled in her by the Royal Navy until they learned to work with each other instead of against each other. As officers, Liam outranked her as a lieutenant colonel, but in the field as leaders of the Royal Legion, the UMG’s top metahuman field team, they shared responsibilities almost equally.
Samaira pointedly turned away from Liam and graced Jamie with a pleasant smile. “Hello, Jamie. It’s lovely to see you again, though I wish it was under better circumstances. I have the file with the information you requested.”
“Let’s put the kettle on for them before we make their night worse, Samaira, really,” Liam said.
“Tea would be great. So would the file,” Jamie replied.
Samaira nodded before leading the way to the morning room, where one of the hous
e servants had left a tray of tea. The room was cluttered in a homey way, the design more than a little dated. For all that Clarence House was home to Liam, his brother, and two of their unmarried male cousins, none of them were about to turn the place into a bachelor pad.
Jamie and Kyle took a seat on an antique sofa that was hard as a rock, but the tea Liam poured made up for that. Before sitting down, Samaira pulled a small solid state drive out of her pocket and passed it over to Jamie.
“Encrypted six ways to Sunday I’m told. No biometrics, and I have the password whenever you’re ready,” she said.
Kyle plucked it out of Jamie’s hand and shoved it into his pocket. “Go.” Samaira rattled off the alphanumeric code that Kyle committed to memory. “Thanks. Glad she’ll have something to take her anger out on rather than on us.”
“Do either of you know why she was so pissed off back at the club?” Liam asked.
“No, but we’ll find out soon enough once we get home,” Jamie said.
“I’ll drop by tomorrow for lunch to hear your report if that’s all right, since meeting at UMG headquarters isn’t allowed right now. Your place will have fewer tourists about taking photos.”
“It’s fine. We’re in a holding pattern until Jansen contacts us anyway. We’ll meet at the house then go out for lunch. We need to be seen.”
Kyle made a face he didn’t bother to hide at the idea of putting themselves out there as a target once again. Liam chuckled. “I know. Being out like this in public is bollocks.”
“It’s like he forgets he’s a royal and that’s his duty,” Samaira said to Jamie on an aside.
“I do right by queen and country every day. I don’t need to be paraded about and glad-hand with strangers to get the job done,” Liam protested.
“You’re just angry that we didn’t get lead on this mission.”
Liam rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it.
“Why didn’t you?” Kyle asked.
“I argued for it. Gran expressed herself very strongly that the UMG should not give it to the Royal Legion when it came up that my team was every agency’s first choice. Said I’d risked enough already and that the Americans could be in charge. She hasn’t quite come to terms with the fact that I’ve chosen to be career military. I’m never going to sit on the throne, so the risk is acceptable in my mind, and I’m good at what I do. But there’s still the issue of who I am related to. This whole fighting as a metahuman is a bit more complicated for me than for Jamie.” Liam paused. “For now, at least. Your father may well win the election next year and that will be a right mess for you.”
“Thanks,” Jamie said wryly.
“Been through it all before with a family that theoretically heads up a country. You need advice, you know how to reach me.”
Jamie swallowed the last of the tea in his delicate cup and set it on the tray, being very careful not to shatter the porcelain. “I will. Thanks for the tea, but we should get going.”
Samaira nodded goodbye at them, staying put while Liam showed them to the door. Kyle headed outside, giving them some privacy to say goodbye. Liam tipped his head to the side as he studied Jamie in the light of the foyer, his eyes searching.
“I thought about asking you and your fellow to stay, but watching you tonight tells me the answer would be no,” Liam finally said.
Jamie couldn’t help but look at where Kyle was milling around at the edge of the rose garden outside, patiently waiting for Jamie to finish up. “It’s a cover.”
Liam threw back his head and laughed. Jamie eyed him in exasperation as the other man reached out to smack a hand against Jamie’s chest.
“Bollocks,” Liam gasped out, mouth curved in a genuine smile. “Bollocks. That wasn’t some cover tonight. That’s you and him having a go at it. I’m glad you found someone, Jamie. Honestly, I am. And that’s why I didn’t ask you to stay the night.”
They’d done it a few times before, shared a willing body between them because it was fun, and they got off on it with someone else in bed between them. The risk of being found out was as much a rush as the sex. They’d been young and stupid before they learned to be discreet about it. Their friends-with-benefits situation had made rare occurrences over the years around their duty to country and the short-term relationships they’d attempted to form. No one in the past had lasted long for either of them, but Jamie liked to believe Kyle would.
Liam seemed to believe that, too.
Liam patted him on the shoulder, still smiling. It wasn’t a breakup between them, because there was nothing romantically there to break up. But it was an acknowledgment that they were older, hopefully wiser, and the way they used to live their lives was no longer possible. Because Liam was right, Jamie could grudgingly admit, though he’d never say so to Liam’s face.
Jamie wasn’t willing to share Kyle with anyone.
“We’ll do lunch,” Jamie promised.
“Yeah, we will. Put on a proper show for the spies out there. Now go home and shag your man.”
Jamie smirked as he left Clarence House. “I plan on it.”
He headed down the pebbled drive, where Kyle was waiting for him. They fell into step together, neither speaking until they were back in the black taxi and on the move. They didn’t talk, well aware that the taxi was monitored by the company for safety and security purposes. It took them down The Mall, veering around Buckingham Palace on the way back to the house in Kensington, the GPS map up front showing them the route to the very end.
They were the last to arrive, which wasn’t surprising considering their side trip. The sound of the television greeted them upon arrival, a newscast reporting live at the scene of the shootout from earlier. Jamie glanced at the flatscreen, eyeing the projected chyrons of breaking news updates.
“Computer, television off,” he said.
The computer system that ran the home, like in Jamie’s condo, wasn’t a true AI, but it still obeyed his order. The screen turned off and seven pairs of eyes looked their way. Everyone was still in their clothes from the evening, though Katie had kicked off her high heels. Donovan sat on the long couch, shirtless, cold packs strapped to his shoulder and side over quick-heal patches to help ease the bruising sustained in the crash.
“You all right?” Jamie asked him.
Donovan nodded. “Nothing broken, nothing strained. Just sore as all fuck. Trevor fixed me right up.”
“Good.”
Kyle handed Katie the solid state drive on his way to claim a seat on the couch Alexei had chosen. “UMG files on the Reborn IRA. It’s encrypted and I have the password.”
Kyle easily rattled off the alphanumeric code. Katie, curled up in the comfiest armchair, placed the solid state drive on top of her tablet where it rested on the side table. “I’ll get to it after we debrief.”
Jamie loosened his tie as he took a seat on the only other empty armchair. He leaned forward and braced his elbows against his thighs, gaze sweeping over his team.
“Tonight could’ve gone better,” he said, letting his gaze come to a rest on Sean. “The Reborn IRA wasn’t in our briefing for this mission.”
The corner of Sean’s mouth twitched a little, but he didn’t seem cowed by Jamie’s laser-like attention. “The Reborn IRA wasn’t in the briefing because the MDF didn’t know they were in contact with the Russians or Jansen.”
“You played it well in the heat of the moment, I’ll give you that. But I’m still not hearing an answer.”
Sean’s shoulders tightened, but he didn’t rail against Jamie’s demand about giving up what could technically be considered state secrets. “I was recruited by the CIA when I was eighteen during my freshman year in college. I was trained for deep cover work, but it took a few years before I was sent into the field. My last mission with the CIA had me working in Northern Ireland, trying to establish ties with the Reborn IRA while impersonating an arm of the Irish mob out of New York City. The CIA wasn’t looking into drugs, but for information on Cillian Halloran.”
<
br /> “You mentioned him at the club. You also mentioned Emmet. Who are they?”
“Emmet Doyle led a faction within the Reborn IRA who wanted to steer away from the violence for a bit, brush up on their image. Cillian and his people were very much not for that. They wanted more attacks, more violence, in the hopes it would get the British Parliament to give Northern Ireland’s devolved government more autonomy. The majority of Northern Ireland wants to remain part of the United Kingdom, so it’s really a losing battle on that front. Cillian and his people weren’t earning any sympathies for their position, but he caught the eye of the CIA. He was my last mission.”
“Why?”
Sean blinked, his hands curling into fists over his knees, but his gaze was steady even if his breathing came a fraction faster. “Cillian is a chemist. He was the one who made the Reborn IRA Splice chemical bombs used in all their attacks, at least within this decade. During my time in Belfast, the CIA’s goal was to figure out the source of who was supplying the chemicals to him and other terrorists. I don’t know if they ever discovered it. If they did, I don’t know if they would’ve shared the intel with the MDF.”
Jamie heard what Sean wasn’t saying, and as much as he didn’t want the other man to run headfirst into triggering memories, he needed information. “When did the CIA pull you out?”
“The Belfast Market Blast that Cillian orchestrated three years ago lists zero survivors. The count is wrong, because I walked away from it. The CIA extracted me with the help of the MDF. Emmet sold Cillian out to the authorities, and Cillian took the fall for that blast and all the others they’d detonated over the years.”
“The CIA really needs to get its fucking act together,” Kyle said angrily.
Sean pressed his lips in a thin line, but didn’t come to his former agency’s defense.
In the Ruins (Metahuman Files Book 2) Page 14