by G. K. Parks
“Did the police find any helpful prints on the paper stock?”
“No, but regardless, that bloody scrap of paper indicates someone from MI5 is working with Flynn. It could be Shepherd. But if it isn’t, it’s someone else, and that means no one’s safe, not even us. Visit the shops and get their records first thing in the morning. We need to know who we can trust.”
When the blip on the screen left the bar, Bastian started the car and drove back the way they came. Colin Flynn was on the move.
Twelve
“Bas, go,” Mercer insisted. “We’ll handle this. I need you to handle the rest.”
Bastian let out a few mumbled expletives, exchanged a frustrated glance with Donovan, and headed for the car. After making a few quick stops to the three shops, Bastian would arrive at the Security Service just after nine. Hopefully, it’d be early enough to plant a listening device or two. Plus, it was a reasonable time to show up and demonstrate that he and Mercer were dedicated to their mission, even after their abrupt departure the previous day.
Donovan pointed at a map. “This is the route they took.” He pointed at the circle. “They returned to Alana’s flat. The guard hasn’t left yet.”
“Killian,” Mercer said. “Do you find it odd he hasn’t left?” Julian studied everything about Flynn, but Alana was the only weakness he found. She was the only one not directly connected to the faction, and even Mercer had trouble believing she wasn’t another of Flynn’s radicals.
“He’s probably following Flynn’s orders. Hans said the guard remained with her last night too.”
“They could be having an affair.”
“Perhaps, but Flynn’s probably afraid to leave her unguarded.”
“And you’re sure the bastard doesn’t have anyone else important in his life?”
“I don’t think so. You’ve read the dossier. Flynn doesn’t get close to anyone. He couldn’t protect his family, so I don’t believe he’d risk making the same mistake twice. He tries to keep Alana separate from his business, but his life is the faction.”
“He shouldn’t have taken her to the pub the night after the explosion.”
“Probably not, but he had to make a show of strength in front of his followers. That’s the best way to do it.”
Mercer nodded sullenly. He knew exactly how to convince Flynn to trust him, but he had to be careful not to internalize any of it. It’s the reason Bas was being particularly insufferable; he feared Julian would start to empathize with the terrorist. But Mercer wouldn’t. This was a job, and he’d never been one to socialize with mass murderers. The thought sickened him. He’d have to take care to separate what little remained of his sanity from their objectives, or else he’d kill Flynn just as easily as look at him.
Mercer loathed men like Colin Flynn. Despite Flynn’s motivation, the tools and methods the terrorist used were deplorable. His acts weren’t about justice or even revenge. They were about anger and destruction. Flynn was a firebomb, destroying everyone and everything in his path. Mercer was a scalpel, only excising the malignancy while doing his best to leave the healthy tissue alone.
“Donovan, stay on her. Don’t be seen. Lose the car afterward. Take every precaution,” Mercer instructed. “I’ll let you know when to make a move. And when you do, make it obvious.”
“You realize, if this backfires, Flynn will assume you’re responsible. He’ll do his worst.”
“Should that happen, we’ll at least have a fighting chance of determining what happened to Owen Shepherd. But I have no intention of tipping Flynn. He doesn’t trust anyone, not even his own people. All we need to do is cultivate his suspicions and point them in the direction we need.”
“Still, you’re an outsider and a Brit. As a rule, he hates both.”
“It doesn’t matter how much he hates me, just as long as he believes he needs me.” Julian checked the time. “Give me ninety minutes to arrive at the inn and get settled. I’ll need the alibi. We’re fortunate he followed the crumbs I left and put eyes on the inn. If not, things would be a lot more complicated.”
Donovan hit the timer on his watch. “Make contact when you want me to move in.”
“Will do.”
“And if I don’t hear from you, we’ll come get you,” Donovan insisted.
“And to think, Hans is missing all the fun.”
Mercer climbed into yet another dark sedan and drove down the street toward the inn. He knew Flynn controlled most of the village outside Belfast, so his presence would be noted and reported back to the faction leader. After all, that was the point.
Taking the room key, Mercer went up the steps. At this early hour, the inn felt abandoned. Mercer let himself into the room, checked for surveillance devices, and stretched out on the bed. He cleaned his handgun and screwed on the silencer, just in case he had any uninvited guests with which he could not reason.
“Have they left yet?” Mercer asked.
“Twenty minutes ago,” Donovan replied.
“All right. Move in.”
Mercer was just starting to doze when he heard a burst of static followed by Donovan’s voice. “It’s done.”
“Good. Get out of there. The chopper’s waiting at the heliport. See what you and Hans can dig up.”
“Best of British.”
Mercer removed the radio from his ear and tucked it into his pocket. His gaze fell on his phone, but Flynn wasn’t calling yet. Mercer wondered how long it would take for him to discover someone had broken into Alana’s flat. The security system should have sent out the alert by now. Mercer checked the location of the red blip on the screen. Flynn hadn’t left his house, or he’d changed clothes. Realizing there was nothing else that could be done, Mercer rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, keeping the gun tucked beside him.
A few hours later, Flynn kicked in the door to find Mercer’s silenced weapon pointed at his face. “You should have called first,” Julian said. He sat up slowly, keeping his gun aimed at Flynn’s head. “I thought you weren’t interested in what I had to say.”
Flynn glanced into the hallway before pulling the door closed behind him. He held up his palms to show he wasn’t armed and took a seat at the small round table. “Put that down, unless you plan on using it.”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Mercer said.
Flynn scowled. “Should anything happen to me, my mates will find you. Eventually, they’ll kill you, but before that happens, they’ll kill everyone you’ve ever loved.”
Mercer holstered the gun. “It’s a little late for that.”
“Is it, Julian? I’m sure if they look hard enough, they’ll find someone you still give a shit about.”
“Does this make us even, since you know who I am? That must mean you also know my capabilities.”
Colin smiled. “Frankly, I’m surprised someone hasn’t put you down like the rabid dog you are. Doesn’t the Queen have a kill squad to deal with renegades?”
“Who says they haven’t tried?”
“Is that why you left merry old England?” Flynn turned and spat, as if the word was an affront to his existence. “So you’re a soldier of fortune now, but instead of moving on after your latest contract, you decided to what? Hunt for a new job?”
“You’re the biggest arms dealer in the region. I needed gear. I told you that.”
“You also told me someone wants me dead, but you didn’t accept the assignment. I want to know who tried to hire you.”
Mercer shook his head. “I don’t know. I have an online dropbox. It’s anonymous. I received the offer and declined.”
Flynn smirked. “Let me see it.”
“Fine.” With his free hand, Mercer grabbed his phone and tapped a few keys. He held it out, watching as Flynn read the message. “Now you understand my dilemma.”
“Whoever this is threatened to kill you if you didn’t perform. Why should I believe this isn’t a ruse to follow through on the hit?” Flynn asked.
“I’m not daft. And I don’
t appreciate threats. You are an enemy I do not wish to have. Even if I ended you, the men who are loyal to you would hunt me to the ends of the earth. And I have no intention of looking over my shoulder the rest of my life.” Mercer considered his words. “More than I already do.”
“Aye.” Flynn smiled.
“Instead, I figured you might want to take care of this yourself. Or we could work together.”
“So you want revenge?” Flynn asked.
Julian took a seat across from Flynn. “That’s not how this works. That’s not how I work. This is a business. Emotions do not factor into it.”
“You’re a negotiator by trade, eh?” Flynn reached into his pocket. “How much do you want?”
“$100,000.”
“Pounds Sterling?”
Mercer practically let out a hiss. “Since you know who I am, you should know I hate the empire as much as you do, possibly more. I have no desire to remain here. My fees are in U.S. dollars. It makes it easier to travel, to disappear.”
“Tell me what you know,” Flynn insisted.
“Your faction’s been infiltrated. Someone wants to take the weapons and armaments you’ve acquired and use them to wage their own war.”
“Sure,” Flynn said skeptically.
“That’s why one of your rivals wants you dead. It’s cheaper and easier to obtain cases of Russian assault rifles and the necessary materials for a dozen or so pressure cooker bombs when you don’t have to worry about being caught or flagged. Your black market connections are stronger and better than those of the other faction leaders. Everyone knows you’re the real power in Northern Ireland. The only real power left since the accords.” Mercer knew men like Flynn. They were driven by power. They liked having their egos stroked, particularly by other formidable men. “Interpol and MI5 have cracked down on the black market arms trade. It’s getting harder and harder to find reliable sources. Buying or stealing from you is the only option. And I doubt they want to pay for something they plan to take.”
Flynn didn’t speak. He let the words and implications sink in while he studied Mercer, unsure if he should trust someone who’d once been valued by the British government before being cast aside like toxic refuse. Finally, he said, “Another faction. It must be Mathias Murphy. He’s been making threats to dismantle my faction and take total control of my empire. I squeezed him out years ago. I should have killed him when I had the chance.”
Mercer played it cool. “Probably.”
“That fucker.”
“Mr. Flynn, you’re missing the point. Someone close to you has other loyalties. How else would they have gotten close enough to blow your car sky high?”
“Someone in my crew is working with Mathias.” Flynn had gotten this thought stuck in his head, and Mercer hadn’t expected that level of animosity. “Who betrayed me?” Flynn’s eyes were wild. “Answer me.”
“I don’t know.”
“You will find out.”
Mercer nodded. “When I discover the traitor’s identity, I’ll hand him over to you, but I have to get paid first.”
Flynn raised a skeptical eyebrow, sensing this might be a trap since the security specialist hadn’t given him any details, just mere speculation. “Working for me won’t be so cut and dry. You’ll do what I say. Follow my orders, and whatever job I need you to perform, you will.”
“In that case, my fee will be much greater. I have little desire to get involved in a blood feud.”
“You’ll take what I give you.” Flynn narrowed his eyes. “And I want the names of your associates.” It wasn’t a question, and Flynn waited for Mercer to volunteer additional information.
“I hired a shooter to accompany me last night. It was a one-time deal. The fact that I’m not dead means I’m not stupid. I know how to survive, Mr. Flynn. Being alone forces one to rely on nothing but himself and his instincts. When necessary, I hire the best and pay them a substantial amount for their time with the guarantee of their anonymity. It’s not the same as loyalty, but it does guarantee a certain degree of trust. You’ve grown complacent. Your guards are fat and drunk. And at least one of them is selling you out to your enemies. I’d wager its more than one. You know you need me, and because of that, you’ll agree to my terms.”
“Bloody hell.” Flynn rubbed a hand through his hair. “That’s your hard sell, eh? I pay you enough, and you’ll be my lapdog?”
Mercer’s eyes narrowed. “I prefer guard dog, but that’s how this business works.”
A devious smile curled the corners of Flynn’s lips. “I need something solid. Some piece of proof. I have no reason to take you at your word, and frankly, your word isn’t worth shit. Bring me something concrete.”
“I already have.” Mercer clicked a few more keys, opening one of the files he’d taken from Flynn’s computer. “This was circulating on the dark web. I don’t know where it originated, but I doubt you’d broadcast this to the world.”
He held out the device, watching as the color drained from Flynn’s face. He hit delete and handed back the device. “Someone will pay dearly.”
Mercer entered a few details before sliding the device across the table. “My services don’t come cheaply.”
Flynn stared at the waiting account transfer form. “Fifty thousand now, and if I find out your intel’s unreliable, you know what will happen.”
“And the rest?”
“That will come later, when we work out final payment.” Flynn entered his bank account information and passed the phone back to Mercer. “It looks like you’re serving a new master.”
Mercer forced his face to remain neutral as he said, “Yes, sir.”
Thirteen
Mercer remained at the inn for the rest of the day. He knew to avoid contact with his team for now. Flynn would be expecting that. Frankly, despite the money transfer, Julian knew Colin Flynn did not trust him. And until he gave Flynn a reason to, he’d have to be cautious.
The only suspicious item Julian had with him was his radio. It was a means of contacting the team, but it could be a noose. And Mercer knew the moment he stepped foot outside the room, Colin would have it searched. So Julian stepped into the bathroom, crushed the earbud beneath his boot, and flushed the tiny device down the toilet. Bastian would not be pleased to lose another piece of equipment, but the team knew to expect radio silence. Someone, Bastian, most likely, would scout Flynn’s known locations to make sure Julian was safe. And as soon as Colin Flynn became a bit more trusting, Julian would leave some intel at one of their predetermined dead drops. But that wouldn’t be for a while. It was best to assume he was in this for the long haul.
Around nightfall, Mercer ventured out of his room. He planned to grab a bite and check out Flynn’s pub, but when he exited the inn, Colin was waiting outside. The terrorist sat in the rear of a new, stark white SUV. The window slowly rolled down, and Colin called to Mercer, “Get in.”
Julian nodded tightly and opened the back door. From the weight of the door and the thickness of the windows, Mercer knew the SUV was meant to withstand a fair amount of firepower. Its construction seemed sturdier than the last SUV Flynn used, but Mercer didn’t think it’d be much more difficult to blow this one up if necessary.
“Give me your gun,” Flynn ordered.
Mercer hesitated for just a moment, noting Killian watching him intently from the passenger seat. If Mercer didn’t comply, he wouldn’t make it out of the SUV alive, so he removed the Sig Sauer from its holster and held it out to Flynn by the muzzle.
Flynn took it, checked to see if it was loaded, examined the sights, and aimed at Mercer, smiling at the turn of events. “I’m going to hold on to this for a while.” Flynn wore a double-shoulder holster and tucked it into the empty slot on his right side.
“Where are we going?” Mercer glanced out the tinted window.
“You wanted a job, so I have a job for you.”
Julian remained silent. Flynn would tell him what he needed to know when he needed to know it.
There was no reason to ask additional questions or show any real interest. The drive was quiet. No one spoke. Mercer paid attention to every turn and street they took. Despite spending hours studying maps and scouting Belfast, Julian was unsure of their destination.
When the SUV came to an abrupt halt, Mercer turned to Flynn. “You need a dock worker?”
“Something like that.” Colin opened his door and stepped out. “Let’s go.”
Mercer obediently followed, finding it odd Killian and Flynn’s driver remained in the vehicle. Perhaps Flynn didn’t want them to overhear what he and Mercer had to discuss. Julian followed Flynn, keeping an eye on the periphery. As they headed into a shipping warehouse, Mercer couldn’t help but feel he was walking into a trap. No one from his team had checked this location. It wasn’t on their radar. Flynn didn’t have it marked on the map in his office, and public records didn’t indicate he controlled anything near the port. Either the intel was wrong, or Flynn’s associates in the import/export business were letting him borrow the warehouse.
“Don’t be shy.” Flynn hit the light switch, and several of the overheads illuminated the expansive room. “You mentioned someone wanted access to my guns. Only a few people know where I keep them, so it stands to reason one of them must have betrayed me.”
“Possibly.”
Mercer eyed the freight containers. Most of the shipping labels were in Russian or some other Cyrillic language. He read a few of the crates from Serbia and Russia, but according to the labels, the boxes contained foodstuffs. Since imported food was highly regulated, it didn’t make sense to use those containers to import illegal arms, unless Flynn had people in customs.
“This way,” Flynn instructed, an amused glint in his eye.
Mercer found it disconcerting, but he followed Flynn through a doorway into a separate, walled-in office. A man was shackled to the desk bolted to the floor. A piece of duct tape covered his mouth. He knelt on the ground, his head shooting up the moment the lights came on. Mercer recognized him from MI5’s files – Kevin Aglin, suspected of terrorist activities across Europe and at least half a dozen murders.