by G. K. Parks
Colin Flynn sat in the corner. A few women crowded around him, but he only paid attention to the pale blonde seated beside him. She had her hand on the inside of his thigh. Obviously, she was claiming her territory. A few of Flynn’s personal bodyguards, men Mercer recognized from MI5’s files, sat at the nearby tables, keeping one eye on the boss and the other on their emptying glasses.
Two men on the other side of the room sat up a little straighter when Julian entered, so Mercer took out his phone and pretended to check for text messages. He approached the bar, placed his order, and sidestepped down the short hallway to the men’s room. It was empty.
Julian was relieving himself at the urinal when one of the two men stepped inside to join him. Mercer zipped up and went to the sink.
“Nice night,” the man said, unzipping. He had a Celtic cross tattooed on his left inner forearm.
Mercer nodded, catching a brief glimpse of the forty-five in a shoulder holster beneath the man’s jacket. Flynn’s guards weren’t as lax as they appeared. This man might cause a problem. Mercer would just have to keep an eye on him.
“I’ve never seen you before.” The man finished his business and moved to the sink beside Julian.
“I’ve never been here before.”
The English accent caught the guard’s attention. “Why are you here?”
“Work brought me to Ireland. Thirst led me to the pub.” Mercer met his eyes. “Is that a problem?”
“There are other places to drink.”
“This seems as good as any.”
Turning, Julian stepped out of the men’s room and took a seat at the bar. A few seconds later, Celtic Cross returned to his table and whispered to his friend. Obviously, they were leery of strangers. Amusedly, Mercer wondered if it had anything to do with last night’s explosion.
The bartender placed the shot glass beside the pint, giving Mercer an odd look. Julian smiled, waiting to catch Flynn’s attention before downing the shot. Normally, it would have been dropped in the glass, but Mercer detested the combination. Plus, had he ordered it forthright by the name the Americans called it, an Irish Car Bomb, he probably would have been thrown out of the pub or shot on sight. Still, he wanted to make his intentions known, and from the icy glare in Flynn’s eyes, Mercer had gotten his point across.
Eleven
“I’ve got eyes on you,” Bastian said. “Are you sure about this? You order another one of those and I might have to shoot you myself.”
Mercer smirked, gesturing to the bartender for another. Julian remained off to the side, not quite in the corner, since that area was already occupied by some of Flynn’s men, but close enough to overhear pieces of their conversation. The terrorist was nursing his fourth Guinness. The woman with the pale blonde hair hung on his arm and every word, but Flynn was growing bored with her. The other ladies had just left, and the remaining one obviously thought she and Flynn should do the same.
“Not tonight, eh?” she asked.
Flynn kissed her cheek. “Too much on my mind, love. Killian will take you home.”
“I can take myself, Colin. I don’t need to be handled by your friends. I’m not stupid. I know what you’re doing.”
“Alana, do as I say.” He signaled for Killian, the man with the Celtic cross tattoo. “This is for your own good.”
“Nothing you do is for my benefit, Colin. It’s for yours.”
Flynn grabbed both of her wrists in one of his hands and pulled her close. “That isn’t true, love.” He stared into her eyes. “Now kiss me goodbye.”
She did as he asked and allowed Killian to escort her from the bar. “Following,” Donovan said in Mercer’s ear. Their long-range tactician had finished his recon and decided to join the party.
Mercer cast a sideways glance at Flynn, who was now facing the bar, his sole focus on the glass in front of him. “Birds,” Mercer mumbled.
Flynn cocked his head to the side. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing, mate. Just an observation. They need to be kept in their place.” The words tasted sour on Mercer’s tongue, but he knew Flynn would have a response. The terrorist would either appreciate the caveman attitude, or he’d tell Julian to bugger off.
“I don’t see how my business is any of yours.” Colin put the glass down and swiveled on the stool. “And I don’t recall ever seeing you before.” Flynn’s gaze darted from the bartender to someone on the other side of the room. “Who said you could drink in my pub?”
“You own this place? It could use some work.”
“You English are all alike, staking claims to territories that aren’t yours. Telling us what to do. Why don’t you piss off while you still can?”
Mercer turned back to his empty glass and stared at the bartender who had yet to bring him a refill. “Barkeep, another shot.”
The bartender poured, doing his best to mind his business. As soon as he placed it on the bar, Mercer dropped it into his remaining Guinness, watching the surface bubble, like a bomb.
“Oi,” Flynn climbed off his stool and took a step toward Mercer, “you think that’s funny? Who sent you?”
Mercer tipped the glass back and chugged the contents before slamming it down on the counter. He caught two of Flynn’s guards moving in from the other side before Bastian’s warning sounded in his ear. Bastian was outside with a sniper rifle trained on Flynn should the situation escalate out of control.
“No one sent me,” Mercer said.
“Rubbish.” Flynn leaned in close to Julian. “Who are you?”
“No one of any importance. Just a security specialist.”
“You’re a bleeding mercenary.” Flynn laughed. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“Someone in need of better security,” Mercer slid a business card with nothing but a phone number across the bar, “and a new car.”
Flynn pulled something out of his pocket and held it down at his side. Mercer didn’t turn to see what it was. Bastian’s voice in his comm warned him it was a dagger. Flynn nodded to the men on Mercer’s other side, who remained poised to strike, but on their leader’s orders, they remained where they were.
“That was you last night? You came at me?” Flynn asked.
“No, mate. I was working in the area and heard what happened.” Mercer swiveled to the side, glancing at the twitchy bodyguards in the corner. “You’ve upset some very powerful people, Mr. Flynn. They’re coming for you. From what I hear, so is MI5.” Mercer leaned in close and whispered in Flynn’s ear. “If I can get to you this easily, I hate to see what your enemies have planned.”
Flynn’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I believe you?”
“I don’t care either way.” Mercer glanced back at the men. “But I came here for a reason. May we speak in private?”
“Speak now and fast before I slice out your tongue.”
“As you wish.” Julian didn’t turn to look at the men again. Instead, he stared into Colin Flynn’s ice blue eyes. “As I said, I just finished a job. There were unforeseen circumstances, and I lost most of my equipment. From what I hear, you have connections. Figured I’d replenish my stock before I push on. I could use a dozen semi-automatic handguns. Clean. Untraceable. A few assault rifles, and a Dragunov. I’m prepared to pay top dollar if you can deliver now. A storm’s coming, and I want to be gone before it arrives. I don’t have time to waste.”
Flynn’s expression remained unreadable. And then he laughed. “You insult me and then ask for a favor. Fucking English dog.”
“Fine.” Mercer put some quid on the bar. “Word of advice, mate, you might want to consider relocating for a while. From what I hear, your life is about to get complicated.”
Flynn put a hand on Mercer’s chest and shoved him back onto the barstool. “Are you threatening me?”
“It’s not me.”
“Who?”
Mercer shrugged. “It could be anyone. I’m sure you’ve heard the whispers. Your faction’s been infiltrated. Are you sure you can trust any of the
se lads?”
“Piss off.” But something in Flynn’s eyes told Mercer he wanted to hear more.
Julian smirked. “Surely, you must realize one of your own men planted that bomb. No one could get that close, and you know it. You’re Colin fucking Flynn. You command an army.”
“Aye.”
“I imagine that wasn’t the first close call you’ve had lately. And if I’m right, it won’t be your last.”
The wheels turned in Flynn’s head, and Mercer knew the seeds of distrust had already been sewn. Flynn knew his operation was compromised. It’s the reason he acted the way he did and why he didn’t allow his men to wander into the basement of his compound. Perhaps he’d been tipped to MI5’s infiltration, either by Shepherd or a traitor farther up the food chain. But the fear of the unknown was the only reason Mercer was still alive. Flynn wanted answers. He craved the knowledge Julian claimed to possess.
“There’ve been other strange occurrences, unexplained happenings, delays, issues arising for no real reason, haven’t there?” Mercer snorted. “You need to get your house sorted. I shouldn’t have wasted my time asking for a buy. You have bigger problems to sort through, mate.”
The insult angered Flynn, who grabbed Mercer by the collar. “No one would betray me. What have you done? Who do you work for?” Flynn pressed the blade against Julian’s neck.
“At the moment, no one. My job’s done, and I’m passing through.”
“How do you know so much about me?”
“Everyone knows about you. That isn’t to say I haven’t been approached by parties interested in your demise. However, I have no desire to enter a fight I’m not prepared to win. Instead, I thought it best to warn you, extend an olive branch.”
Flynn pressed the knife’s edge harder into Mercer’s Adam’s apple. “Who approached you?”
Mercer shook his head. “Information isn’t free.”
“Maybe I should loosen your tongue.”
“Go ahead.”
Flynn cursed. “What do you want?”
“Guns would be nice.”
Flynn grew more agitated. “Let me put it this way. If you don’t answer the question, you’re a dead man.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“I’m the one with the dagger. You don’t dictate terms.”
“This is my profession,” Mercer said. “I possess vital information crucial to your survival, and dare I say, Alana’s survival as well. You know who you’ve screwed over. It’s just a matter of time. You need protection mate, and these wankers aren’t enough, especially when one of them has already sold you out.” Mercer let out a huff. “I hope Killian’s loyal and better trained than the rest of your guards.”
“Answer the fucking question.” Flynn pressed his weight into Mercer and forced the security specialist to bend backward over the bar.
“You want answers, and I want to get paid. It’s that simple.”
“How about I cut until you start talking?”
Julian laughed. “Do you honestly believe I’m stupid enough to walk in here without hiring someone on the outside to watch my back?” Mercer tapped his thumb twice against the bar, and Bastian turned on the laser sight. The red dot danced across the dagger’s edge and Flynn’s hand until it caught the terrorist’s attention. Then Bas shifted his aim, letting the laser sight linger in the center of Flynn’s skull. “You have two seconds to drop the knife, or my man drops you.”
Bastian shot just to the left of Flynn’s ear, close enough that the bullet grazed the cartilage. One of Flynn’s men ran to the door and fired into the dark night. The crack of the sniper rifle boomed a second time, and the man let out a howl at the same moment his gun clattered to the floor.
“That was a warning shot. The next one won’t be,” Mercer said. “Unlike you, I know who I can trust, and I come prepared. If you’d be so kind, Mr. Flynn.” Mercer glanced down at the blade still pressed against his neck, and Flynn lowered the weapon. “Tell your men to sit down unless you know which one’s a traitor. In which case, I’d be glad to eliminate him for you, free of charge, as a show of good faith.”
“You’re playing a deadly game,” Flynn said.
“No,” Mercer tugged on his shirt front and freed himself from Flynn’s grip, “I’m showing you my capabilities. You need me, Mr. Flynn. You need my protection.”
“You think this is a fucking job interview?”
“Job interview, negotiation, whatever you prefer. But they’re coming. If you want my help to stop them, you’ll find me next time.”
“Why should I trust you?”
Mercer laughed bitterly. “You shouldn’t, but if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have wasted my breath or stepped inside this bar. You’d already be dead.” He glanced over at the other faction members. “And so would they.” Mercer tapped the business card he placed beside Flynn’s hand. “Consider my proposal. You have twenty-four hours, if I don’t hear from you, I’ll move on with or without new gear. We both know you need better security than some drunken fucks who can’t shoot straight. And unlike your trusted inner circle, I have a better grasp of understanding your enemies.”
Turning, Mercer walked out of the bar. One of Flynn’s guys tried to follow, and Bastian fired a warning shot a few millimeters in front of the man, halting him in his tracks. Julian continued down the street, climbed into a black sedan with rental plates, and drove past the bar.
“Bastian, get out of there,” Mercer instructed, keeping an eye out for a tail.
“Leaving now,” Bastian replied.
“Donovan,” Mercer said, adjusting the microphone on his radio, “Flynn will send someone for Alana, or he’ll go to her himself. I want to know where they go. Do not get spotted.”
“Aye.”
Mercer ditched the car beneath an overpass and waited for Bastian to pull up. Julian climbed inside before the vehicle even came to a full stop. It wasn’t safe to dawdle now that he’d angered the terrorist leader.
Bastian rubbed a hand down his face, a slight tremor hidden by the motion. “Have you gone mad? What are you going to do if he calls?”
“Answer.”
“Why do I even ask?” Bastian drove south, away from the pub and all of Flynn’s known strongholds. After forty-five minutes, they stopped at a deserted spot near the shore. No one was following them. “You do realize this is a ridiculous plan. What happens when he figures out who you really are?”
“Isn’t everything in place?”
Bastian had created a believable alternate persona for Julian based on the commander’s real-life background and history, but instead of turning to K&R and personal security, he tweaked the records to indicate Mercer was nothing more than a soldier of fortune. A mercenary for hire. And Julian now held a fake passport to match timeframes for several high-profile deaths and murders.
“Yes, but if Flynn has someone inside MI5, he’ll discover the truth. The lies won’t hold up if he has a man on the inside.”
“Should that happen, I guess I’ll have to tell him my side of things.”
“So he can put a bullet in your head?”
Mercer stared into the darkness. “He won’t.”
“After that stunt we just pulled, he will out of spite. He’ll piss on your grave just to prove his bloody point. Honestly, Jules, I’m not sure he won’t kill you anyway.”
“He won’t.” The look in Flynn’s eyes told Mercer everything he needed to know. “Colin Flynn knows it’s true. His faction isn’t secure. He doesn’t know who to trust. He needs outside help. And this is the only way we’re going to get close enough to find out what he’s planning. Unless he leads us to the weapons, we might not find them in time.”
“What about Owen Shepherd? Did you forget about him?”
Mercer scowled. “I did not. This is also the fastest way to find out what happened to Shepherd and if he’s responsible for MI5’s breach.” Mercer tapped the screen on his phone. “Odd. Flynn’s still at the pub. He hasn’t left
. I thought that’d be the first thing he’d do. He must be scared.”
“Or stubborn.” Bas gave Julian a pointed look. “You’re sure you placed the tracker securely?”
“Positive.”
Bastian reached across for a bag of crisps and tore the package open. After working off some nervous energy with his constant chewing, he put the bag down and wiped his hands on his trousers. “Let me see that. You’re probably doing it wrong.” Mercer handed him the device, and Bastian performed a quick diagnostic. “Remind me again how you talked me into this.” Bastian cast a sideways glance in Julian’s direction. “Oh, that’s right. You didn’t put the matter up for debate.”
“I didn’t see any other way.”
Bastian bit down angrily on another crisp. “No, you bloody didn’t.” He blew out a breath. “Is this really for the best?”
“We don’t have time to be cautious. The chemical weapons are unaccounted for, as are nine other bombs. And Flynn has more artillery than I care to think about. If the bastard has his way, blood will flow through the streets. I won’t allow that to happen.”
“We won’t allow that to happen,” Bastian corrected, but he gave Mercer another look and sighed. “How much of this is about Flynn, and how much is about your distrust of the Security Service?”
“They’re the reason we’re here. They started this op but couldn’t finish it. We will. And with any luck, we’ll recover Shepherd in the process. Traitor or victim, it doesn’t matter. We will bring him home.” Mercer’s thoughts went to Lara, which inevitably led back to Michelle.
Bastian knew Julian better than anyone. To the rest of the world, Mercer was unreadable, but to his teammates, he was an open book. “You have to let it go, mate. It will consume you. It did once, and I won’t stand by and see it happen again. If you let this eat at you, eventually, you’ll be no better than Flynn.”
“I won’t kill innocents.”
“Can you even tell who’s innocent anymore?”
Mercer watched the waves break and crash violently against the rocks. “I need you to go back to Palace Barracks and find out what’s going on inside the Security Service. Flynn will reach out to the traitor, and I need you to intercept the communication and flush out the arsehole.”