by G. K. Parks
Twenty-two
The next morning, Julian found his belongings outside his bedroom door. Flynn must have sent someone to the inn to collect his things. Mercer showered and changed, unsure if he’d be able to rendezvous with his team in a few hours. Idly, he wondered what Bastian would do if he failed to show up. Hopefully, the analyst wouldn’t send an extraction team.
Mercer stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His cheek had started to scab. His eye was black, his jaw painted with a matching bruise, and his entire body ached from being struck by a moving vehicle. But none of that compared to the internal turmoil.
Mercer killed two known terrorists the previous night. Kevin Aglin and Duffy O’Brien. They were no saints. Each was responsible for taking several lives, and Aglin enjoyed torture. Mercer experienced it firsthand. It was no secret the world was a better place without the likes of them. But for better or worse, Kevin and Duffy were Colin’s friends, his family, his teammates. Colin would want payback, and should he discover the person responsible had slept under his roof, all would not end well.
Julian had to be careful with every word he spoke and every lie he told. Deciding to play up his injuries, Mercer hobbled down the steps. It’d be best if Flynn and the others underestimated his capabilities in case their relationship soured. Mercer had no intention of dying here, but it might not be up to him.
Colin waited at the dining room table, Alana and Killian at his side. Catching sight of Mercer, Colin dismissed his breakfast companions with a flick of his wrist.
“Sit down,” Colin instructed.
Mercer pulled out a chair and filled an empty cup with tea.
“An hour ago, I received this.” Flynn slid a copy of a confidential police report across the table. “Kevin didn’t even have a chance to return fire. His gun was fully loaded.”
“I suspected as much.”
Flynn sneered at his full plate. He hadn’t so much as touched his food. “When I find who’s responsible, they’ll regret having ever crossed me.”
Mercer sipped his tea. “Do the police have any leads?”
“No.” Flynn pushed away from the table and stalked the kitchen. “The stories they heard are unreliable. I trust what you said is true.”
“It is.”
Flynn nodded. “At least Duffy fired back. Did he hit any of them?”
“I can’t be sure. I went to help Kevin, and the next time I saw Duffy, he wasn’t moving.” Mercer put the teacup down and carefully skimmed the police report. “How did you get this?”
“That doesn’t matter.” Flynn bit his lip. “Killian stayed with the Aglins last night. When he returned this morning, he said Mathias heard the news and delivered flowers along with his condolences.”
Mercer raised a confused eyebrow. “How did he know?”
More than likely, Murphy also had people planted inside the police department. The flowers were probably meant to taunt and rub salt in the open wound. Mathias had no idea just how paranoid and delusional Colin Flynn was. Or the rival faction leader didn’t care and wanted to launch the first volley while Flynn’s faction was presumably at its weakest.
“Mathias is behind this. I know it.”
“He can’t be working alone,” Mercer insisted. “He turned one of your men, and that person gave him the info on your gun deals and money drops. I’ll ask you again, Mr. Flynn, who is privy to that information?”
Flynn hesitated, and Mercer wondered if the faction leader was having second thoughts. Last night, Colin proclaimed his trust for Julian, but in the light of day, his feelings might have changed. “I know what you think. But I don’t believe Killian would do this.”
“I hope you’re right. Who else has access? Is this a routine run? Perhaps your suppliers or buyers are to blame.”
“Could be.” Colin mulled over a few things. “Look into it and get me answers. I’d do it myself, but today, I’ll be preparing to bury two of my friends.”
“As you wish.” Mercer reread the police report, but he didn’t see anything damning. His cover remained intact, at least for now. “I’ll need names or access to your records. I might be good at my job, but I’m not a mind reader. I need a starting point, and it’ll save us both time if you tell me where to look instead of forcing me to ask around. But I can do it either way.”
“Fine.”
Colin led the way upstairs, nodding to Killian, who was helping Alana pick out a dress to wear as they went past one of the smaller bedrooms. Colin hit the light switch inside the master suite, and Mercer looked around. It was the same room he’d infiltrated that first night, but the map was no longer on the wall. Instead, it was spread out on the desk with six bright red Xs.
Mercer gave it a cockeyed look. “What’s this?”
“Don’t worry about that.” Flynn went deeper into the room. He pushed a bookcase out of the way and spun the dial on a safe. He turned around to make sure Julian was preoccupied before entering the combination. “Here.”
Mercer looked up from memorizing the map and crossed the room, taking the offered folder. “What is this?”
“The schedule, including names of suppliers and buyers. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Julian chuckled. “I thought you’d just have a few names to offer. Are you sure it’s wise to have details like this just lying about?”
“This is a business. I run it as such. And it isn’t lying about.”
Mercer glanced back at the open safe. Two thin folders lined the shelves. Several stacks of cash in different currencies filled the top, along with a handful of passports and several guns. Colin Flynn had an exit strategy. He was no martyr. He had no intention of dying for his cause. Although, Mercer was sure the Irishman would argue that by escaping he’d live to fight another day.
“Do your men know about this?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about your home security system?” Mercer asked. “Any cameras or internal surveillance devices? If someone accessed this room, they might be caught on tape.”
“Even if they came up here, they wouldn’t be able to get into my safe. No one has the combination.”
“Are you certain?”
“I’m not a fucking idiot. It’s only secure as long as no one else has the combination, and they don’t.” Flynn exhaled some of his frustration. “And before you ask, no one could have gotten the combination off the security feed because I don’t have cameras in my room. I like my privacy. Alana insists on it.”
Mercer thought for a moment, realizing she wouldn’t want her brother to watch her being ravaged by the faction leader. He looked around the room but didn’t spot any of Alana’s things. Did she even share a bedroom with Colin Flynn? Or was he too paranoid to sleep with someone? Perhaps the bastard feared she’d slit his throat in the middle of the night.
“I need your word, Julian.”
“You have it. I’ll find out who betrayed you. I won’t stop looking until I have a name.” Mercer rubbed his cheek. “You could say I have skin in the game.”
“I know your suspicions, but don’t be too quick to judge. Killian’s like my brother. I don’t believe he’d do this, but I’ll put him down like a dying dog if I have to.” Flynn stared into Mercer’s eyes. “The same goes for all of them, including you. Whoever killed Kevin and Duffy will suffer.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Don’t see. Just do what I ask. And if you can’t, I’ll find someone who can.”
“Very good, sir.” Mercer took the folder, relieved to have an excuse to disappear. “I’ll get started right away.” Thankfully, Bastian wouldn’t be manning a rescue mission anytime soon.
“I want answers by tonight. Meet me at the pub.”
“Yes, sir.”
Twenty-three
“Jules,” Bastian let out a sigh of relief, “after what Lara told us, I wasn’t sure you’d make it. I half expected the note you left to be a carefully laid trap.”
“You think Flynn’s
that smart?” Mercer asked.
Bastian chuckled. “It might not have been Flynn.”
“You have intel?”
Before Bastian could say anything, Hans and Donovan entered the room.
“It’s good to see you,” Donovan said.
“What the hell happened to your face?” Hans asked.
“Lara.”
The reconnaissance expert laughed. “It’s good to have you back.” He pulled Mercer in for an unexpected one-armed hug, and Julian winced. Hans took a step back. “You sure you’re field ready?”
“Bugger off.” But Mercer couldn’t help cracking a grin, a rare occurrence for him. He had missed his team. Being surrounded by IRA members left him drained. Glancing around the room, he asked, “Speaking of, where is she?”
Bastian jerked his chin toward the rear bedroom. “She’s asleep. She’s been in and out since I found her. The doctor said that’s normal. She needs rest. We have to wake her every few hours, but she should be okay in a couple of days.”
“What doctor?” Mercer asked. “Flynn controls the whole bloody town. You can’t trust anyone.”
“Don’t worry, mate.” Hans offered a smile. “The doc’s one of mine. After some groveling, I convinced her to help. We took a helo and arrived last night.” Before Mercer could voice how dangerous such a stunt was, Hans continued, “Don’t worry. We put the doc on the ferry first thing this morning. She’s already back in England. She’s safe. Flynn won’t touch her. Hell, he won’t even know she was here. And we won’t let him get his grubby paws on Lara either.”
“You better make damn sure.” Mercer rubbed a hand over his mouth.
“You look like you could use some patching,” Donovan said from his seat at the counter. “And from what I hear, I missed quite the firefight last night.”
“Jules?” Bas’s expression softened. “Best you start at the beginning. Lara said you were shot.”
“Grazed.” Images of the previous night played through Mercer’s mind. “Is she going to be okay? When I left, I feared she might not survive.”
“She more than survived. She nearly blew my bloody head off the second I entered the flat. Why did you give her a loaded shotgun?”
“I didn’t.”
Bastian chuckled. “Obviously, she made use of our stockpiled weapons.”
For the next half hour, Mercer told his team everything that happened since he approached Flynn at the pub. It had been nearly a week since the team had been together, but it felt like a lifetime. Normal retrievals and recoveries didn’t require undercover work and only the occasional infiltration. This was something else. They handled extractions often enough, but nothing like this.
“You’re sure you got all the nearby footage?” Mercer asked. “Flynn read the police report. If they discover a camera feed you missed, this is over.”
“I handled it,” Bastian assured him.
“What about plonkers with cell phone cameras?” Mercer asked.
Bastian grabbed the computer and placed it on the countertop. “That will be harder to control, but I have spiders searching the internet. If anything gets posted online, I’ll find it and obliterate it.”
“It could be too late.”
“You should have thought about that before you shot two of Flynn’s men in the middle of the street,” Bastian chided.
Mercer glanced toward the bedroom door. “She didn’t leave me much of a choice. Kevin Aglin nearly killed her. He would have done much worse if I allowed him to remain locked in the back of the van with her. And once they made it back to Flynn’s compound, she would have been tortured and killed. I was out of options. I couldn’t let them take her. I couldn’t let her die.”
Donovan clapped Mercer on the shoulder. “We would have made the same call.”
“It sounds like it worked out for the best. Flynn finally trusts you. Look at what he gave you.” Hans lifted the folder. “This is serious shit. His supply lines. His buyers. It’s enough evidence to lock him up for the rest of his miserable life.”
“If any of it is even true,” Bastian said. He took the folder from Hans’ hand. “And that would also be assuming Flynn doesn’t have resources inside the government. My guess is he gave Jules this packet of intel as another test.”
“What have you found?” Mercer’s insides twisted. “Do you know who’s compromised?”
Bastian clicked a few keys. “I found the full, unedited recording of Owen Shepherd’s last check-in with his handler. Partridge didn’t give us this.”
“Partridge is dirty,” Mercer said.
“Just listen.” Bastian pressed play. When an unfamiliar voice sounded, Bastian said, “That’s Shepherd.”
Mercer nodded, squinting into the distance as he listened.
“I don’t have much time. Flynn’s on the warpath. His stash house was breached. I don’t know exactly what they took, but Flynn’s out for blood,” Shepherd said.
“Slow down.” The second voice belonged to Liam Partridge. “Against whom?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t know about any of this until now.”
“Any of what?”
“Flynn’s plan. He was building a dirty bomb or a biological weapon. I don’t know, but it’s a bloody WMD. And it’s gone.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense. How did he gain access to those materials without us noticing?”
“I don’t know.” Shepherd lowered his voice. “Shit. I have to go.”
“Wait. I thought Flynn trusted you. Why didn’t he tell you about this sooner?”
“He doesn’t trust anyone. According to the records I found, Flynn’s been stockpiling materials. He has a plan, a vendetta. His family’s dead. He wants everyone to pay. His enemies, the government, everyone who played a role in their deaths. He wants to kill us all. He’s planning for mass casualties, but the materials are gone. Once he finds out what happened to them, who took them, he’s going to retaliate.”
“When? Who’s the target?”
“I don’t know. Fuck. We need to act now.”
“Calm down, Owen. Take a breath. I need you to keep it together. Do you think Flynn told anyone about this?”
“I don’t know.” Owen’s tone changed. “No one would dare rip off Colin Flynn. Are you sure another agency isn’t running an op?”
“Nothing’s crossed my desk.”
“Find out. I have to go.”
“Owen, wait.” The line went dead. “Owen?”
Bastian hit a key. “That’s the part omitted from the briefing notes we were given.”
Mercer let out a derisive laugh. “So Partridge lied. He knew but acted like he had no knowledge of an impending attack. He has to be Flynn’s inside man.”
“Or he’s covering his own arse,” Bastian argued.
Mercer ignored him. “I’ve been trying to stop a terrorist plot, and the bloody terrorist doesn’t even have the weapon any longer? Bloody hell.”
“Actually,” Bastian swallowed, exchanging looks with Donovan and Hans, “it isn’t that simple.”
“Make it that simple.” Mercer waited. The calm he felt when he first entered the safe house dissipated the moment he heard Shepherd’s voice on the recording.
“As you know, soon after this communication, Shepherd disappeared. Flynn never lost the bomb materials. And if you noticed, Owen never mentioned the possibility they were chemical in nature. It was misinformation. Flynn knew Owen was spying on him, and this was a test.” Bastian grabbed a stick of beef jerky and peeled off the wrapper. “He failed, and it probably cost him his life.”
“Who tipped him?” Mercer asked. If it was Partridge, Julian might already be compromised.
“I still don’t know.” Bastian sighed. “I’ve been going over all the internal communications and outgoing messages inside Palace Barracks, but I can’t draw a line between any one agent and Colin Flynn. They aren’t using the company lines to make contact. I’ve narrowed down some potentials based on the agents involved in Sheph
erd’s op, but I haven’t flagged any of them for suspicious activity.”
“Flynn said his connection was dead. Who’s been killed?”
“No one.”
A stray thought crossed Julian’s mind. “Kevin Aglin said Flynn wanted to speak to Lara. He wanted her brought to him alive.”
“Probably so he could kill her himself,” Hans muttered.
Donovan’s brow furrowed. “You think Shepherd left something inside the slick that Flynn wants to reclaim?”
“I don’t know. The only person who can answer that question is asleep in the next room.” Mercer’s eyes went to the door. “Let’s wake her up and ask.”
Bastian grabbed Mercer’s arm. “We’ve tried, but getting her to focus is a lost cause. She needs rest. She got hit pretty hard. Her brain’s jumbled. She needs time to recover.”
“We don’t have time.” Mercer thought about his efforts to question her the previous night, but he hadn’t gotten anywhere with her. And that was when she was running on fear and adrenaline. “What do we know about her?”
“You’ve read her profile. That’s about it,” Bastian said.
Mercer rubbed the fresh scab on his cheek. “That can’t be it. How did she find me? Why would she risk everything by coming here?”
“She’s looking for her brother,” Hans said, as if that explained everything.
“But she’s been trained,” Mercer insisted. “There has to be more to the story.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it the next time we wake her,” Hans promised.
“Fine.” Mercer checked the time. “In the meantime, I found this on Flynn’s desk.” Mercer plucked the map off their vinyl sheet and added the same red Xs Flynn had drawn. “I’m guessing those are targets.”
“X marks the spot,” Donovan said.
“I need you to scout these locations and see what you can find.”
“Aye.”
“Need help?” Hans asked Donovan.
Donovan looked to Julian for approval. The commander nodded, and Donovan smiled. “Just don’t blow out that shoulder. I’m not carrying your sorry arse back to the car.”
Hans wrote down a time. “If we’re not back, make sure you wake Lara. If we forget and she slips into a coma or something, Maggie threatened to string me up by the balls.”