Traitor Games

by Sidney Bristol

  “First, Irene?” Lillian turned her head toward where Irene and Mitch were seated together. Andy had set up their remote member with access and a mission. “Was Rand successful in finding the children?”

  “He said he thinks he knows where they are,” Irene said.

  “Our assets in D.C. are en route to scope out the location,” Mitch said.

  Good.

  If this was going to work, they were probably going to need Demetrius again.

  “I propose we stay the course with the divide and conquer attack. If we discredit SICA, if we make their intel and resources worthless, we destroy them.” Lillian spread her hands. Her gaze landed on Noah. He nodded, as though he approved of her assessment. Without intel, an intel broker had nothing. Remove that, and SICA had no power.

  She gestured at three of the pins on the map. “Warsaw, Tel Aviv, and Taipei. Those are the three most valuable sites that give them access to Europe, the Middle East, and Asia. If we knock those legs out from under them, we concentrate their power in North America and bring the fight home to either their Canada location or D.C. Our experiences last year prove that they have a highly mobile office in the area.”

  “Three-prong attack?” Brandon asked.

  “Four, actually,” Lillian said. They hadn’t fully discussed this idea, but it made sense. “We’ve got access to their servers, but their security is too good. They know we’re in there and eventually they’ll end our access. But, we could weaken them. If we could organize a group, pay them if we have to, and target them.”

  “The journalist,” Mitch blurted.

  “What?” Lillian frowned.

  “The journalist Mitch and I have been keeping tabs on?” Irene gave Mitch a rather epic dose of side eye. “He keeps breaking these stories. Secrets too confidential for him to find out about. Mitch and I have a theory that he’s not just a journalist. We think he’s working with a group of hacktivists. And—he just ran a story this morning about Lillian being framed. I think he’s a fan.”

  “I saw that.” Lillian still wasn’t sure how she felt about the story. “How confident are you his sources are hackers?”

  “Even if they’re not, we could craft the perfect story.” Mitch shrugged. “Hack bait.”

  “It could work, if we have the people.” Noah glanced at Brandon.

  Brandon kept staring at Lillian.

  She knew he wanted blood and their covert methods weren’t going to offer the righteous redemption he wanted, but they had a job to do. A goal. And to do it, they needed him. She prayed Brandon understood that he’d still get blood, just not the blood he wanted.

  “Who gets what job?” Brandon asked.

  Lillian blew out a breath.

  He was listening.

  “You, Noah, and Andy divide the men we have between the Warsaw and Tel Aviv site. We’ll need to hire backup for Rand to get to Taipei—”

  “I’ve got some guys cooling their heels in Hong Kong,” Brandon said.

  “Get them on a plane,” Lillian said. Was this actually falling into place? “While we have access to their systems, we can turn off surveillance, see what their manpower is—we’ve got an insider’s view on what they know. That means we have a window. Andy, how long?”

  “At the rate they’re going, twenty-four hours?” He shrugged.

  “That means we have to act fast.” Lillian focused on Mitch and Irene. “The four of us can handle the journalist and run backup on the go.”

  “It sounds like we need to have started moving yesterday,” Brandon said.

  “Yeah. Pretty much.” Lillian nodded.

  “Well, are we taking a vote on this plan, or what?” he asked.

  “I think we just did.” Noah stood, his gaze on her. She could tell he didn’t like this plan, but the truth was she’d slow him down in a tactical situation. What services she had to offer were better used elsewhere.

  …

  Noah shut the suite door. Lillian’s bag was packed and sitting ready to go. He stared at the black duffle and grit his teeth.

  He hadn’t expected her to stay with him even if that was what he wanted. And yet, he’d thought they would have more time. This was for the best.

  “Hey, there you are. You disappeared on me.” Lillian emerged from the bedroom. She’d changed clothes, put on makeup, and even done her hair. The glasses were in place, giving her a whole new kind of hipster look she pulled off rather well.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  She stopped abruptly a few feet away, the corners of her mouth curved into a frown.

  “In a little bit. We’re going to take the train to Berlin.” She slid her hands into her back pockets. “I kind of wish I was going with you, but I’d only slow you down…”

  “I doubt that.” He remained where he was, a chasm of space between them in all of four feet.

  “Don’t do that.” She took another step closer and smacked his arm. “Hug me now.”

  “I wasn’t doing anything.” He still wrapped his arms around her. Lillian’s nearness soothed his frayed edges.

  “You’re doing that guy thing.” Lillian laid her head on his shoulder.

  “What guy thing?”

  “You’re being all cool about this when you don’t want to be apart any more than I do.” She peered up at him.

  Busted.

  Who was the spy here?

  “I’ll be back. It’s just for a few days.”

  “I know that.” A lot could happen in a few days. If they somehow ended this, he’d be the one doing the disappearing. He was burned with the CIA. Too many people wanted him dead.

  She leaned back and looked at him. “You’re going to be wherever we agree to meet up after this, aren’t you?”

  He just needed to say yes.

  A lump lodged in his throat.

  The lie was stuck, he couldn’t get it out.

  She jabbed at his chest with a finger. “Don’t.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Whatever you think you’re going to do, don’t do it. Meet me when we regroup. It’s that or I’m going with you to Poland.”

  “You can’t go with us to Poland.” Even knowing the numbers they were up against, he still thought this was a suicide mission.

  “Then promise me you’ll come back.” She squeezed his waist.

  “Lily—”

  “Don’t Lily me.”

  Noah had withstood torture, interrogation, and worse. But he was no match for her. Lillian Matthews had a direct line past his defenses to the core of him and he could no more deny her than he could tell his heart to stop beating.

  She lifted up on tiptoes and kissed him, a gentle meeting of lips that sealed his fate.

  When this op was done, he would find her. He couldn’t stay. But he’d return to her because she demanded it. He pressed his forehead to hers.

  “I’ll see you after this?” she asked.

  “Damn it. Yes.”

  She let go of him, the frown gone. “Don’t sound so happy about it.”

  Her eyes twinkled and her smile belied the weight she carried.

  “What’s your plan for when you get to Berlin?” he asked.

  “We’ll convince the journalist to listen to us. Run the story. Tomorrow night, we’ll do it.”

  Do it.

  Two small words that didn’t encompass the whole of what they were about to attempt. Cutting off the legs of an international spy organization would not be that easy, but if she wanted to believe it was he wouldn’t burst her bubble.

  “What happens if things go wrong?” he asked.

  “Carol has a place we’ll go.”

  “What if Carol is captured? What’ll you do then?”

  “I…”

  Fuck.

  Their plans had so many holes.

  “I know a guy who can help you if you’re in trouble, but he’ll only help one person at a time. He doesn’t do groups, couples, families. Says it’s too risky. I need you to memorize a number. Yo
u can’t write it down.”

  She nodded. “Okay.” No argument or push back. She had to know this was bad.

  Noah finished helping her pack her small bag while drilling the number into her head. He would have liked to have spent the time talking—or doing—other things, but if she had to run and her life depended on it, this number could save her life. It was the only thing he could do to protect her from a distance.

  “I think I’ve got it forward and backward,” she finally said.

  “One more time?” he asked.

  “Noah.” She groaned and sat on the sofa.

  “Just one more time?” He circled to stand in front of her.

  She took his hand in hers and tugged.

  He remained standing.

  “If you sit I will,” she said.

  Lillian drove a hard bargain.

  He perched on the cushion next to her and she leaned against his shoulder, reciting the number again.

  Neither of them spoke after that. They sat there, in silence, holding hands.

  He had to believe that she’d survive this. That if no one else made it, Lillian would. He had to have faith.

  “Noah?” She turned toward him.

  “Hmm?”

  A sharp knock cut off whatever she was going to say.

  “Lillian? We need to leave,” Carol said through the door.

  It was time.

  He had to let go, and all he wanted to do was hold on tighter.

  …

  Wednesday. Berlin, Germany.

  Lillian had knots in her neck and shoulders. Holding her head up made her muscles ache. She shouldn’t have passed out on the train like she had, but there was no fixing that now. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Her boots were the one saving grace about this whole circus. They were comfortable, had held up to everything, and kept her warm. She couldn’t imagine what she’d do if she hadn’t had the presence of mind to grab them. Any other shoe and she’d be hobbling, barely able to take a step after so much walking.

  “How you holding up?” Carol asked, her voice pitched low.

  They were just about the only pedestrians on the street at this hour. It was so late it was early.

  “Okay. You?” Lillian kept her gaze on the corner ahead where Irene and Mitch had disappeared earlier.

  “Good. Nervous, I guess. I don’t spend a lot of time away from Andy.”

  “You’re newlyweds. Isn’t that normal?”

  Carol chuckled.

  They slowed their stride as they approached the corner.

  The sidewalk was barren, not a soul in sight.

  Lillian glanced at Carol.

  Irene and Mitch must have made it inside.

  Lillian and Carol kept their easy pace. The buildings here were old, but not ancient. Shops lined the street, while the upper floors were no doubt apartments. Most windows were open, taking advantage of the warm spell, no doubt.

  They crossed an alley and Carol turned toward a frosted glass door. A crushed soda can wedged it open. She pulled it and Lillian ducked in.

  She still thought she and Carol should have gone first. People might remember Irene or Mitch, but the two senior agents had insisted based on the breaking and entering nature of what they were doing. Lillian couldn’t argue. Those weren’t her skills and Carol couldn’t do everything on her own.

  “Oh, stairs.” Carol sighed. “I miss elevators everywhere.”

  “Modern conveniences, how spoiled they make us.”

  “Noah seemed sad you were going.” Carol dropped that statement as casually as if she’d commented on the weather.

  Lillian peered behind them, doing her part of watching their rear. “Yeah, well, he’s grown on me, too.”

  “Like a fungus?” Carol hugged the wall, her eyes fixed on the upper floors.

  “Ha-ha, Ms. I Married My Kidnapper.”

  “He did give me flowers.”

  “Oh, and that makes it okay?” Lillian paused on the landing and listened.

  “He was persuasive,” Carol whispered.

  They lapsed into silence, slowly climbing to the fourth-floor landing. Lillian remained a few stairs below, peering down.

  “They’re in,” Carol said over her shoulder.

  Lillian nodded and followed Carol down the hall to an apartment door standing open. The interior was dim, the curtains drawn.

  Mitch knelt on a sofa, his arms around another man, one hand over his mouth while Irene had her gun trained on him.

  “Ladies, meet Mr. Jonas Weber. He’s going to help us,” Irene said.

  Jonas held up his hands. He must have been dozing on the sofa in his boxers when the others broke in. He was of medium build, younger than Lillian had expected, and definitely not a fighter.

  “Jonas?” Lillian took a step forward and pulled her glasses off her face. “Do you know who I am?”

  The man stared at her for several moments. The fear was giving way to something else.

  They had him.

  After what he’d written about her following the London disaster she’d been fairly certain he’d take the bait. It was just a matter of seeing him face to face.

  “Take your hand off his mouth,” she said to Mitch.

  “You’re Lillian Matthews,” the man said. His English was good, though heavily accented.

  “I am.” Lillian wiped her palms on her jeans. Her identity was now part of this. There was no out now. “I saw your article. That one got hidden, didn’t it? You were right, though. I was framed, and now you have two options. You can listen to what my friends and I have to propose to you. Or, one of these two will kill you. The people who framed me are dangerous.”

  Jonas held up a single finger. “Option one.”

  “That’s nice.” Lillian smiled. “My friend is going to let you go now. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

  Mitch released the man and stood, putting Jonas at a height disadvantage. Not to mention he was the only person in the room unarmed.

  Jonas glanced at Irene, then Mitch. Jonas blinked a few times, kind of like an owl just waking up.

  “What do you want?” Jonas asked.

  “Eyes this way, please,” Lillian snapped. Carol was as of yet out of the limelight. They needed her to stay that way for as long as possible if this plan didn’t work out. “I want to give you a story to run tomorrow.”

  “About what? Who really killed all those people?” Jonas sat forward.

  “Yes. I know who was behind the attack.” She grabbed the rolling desk chair and sat across from Jonas. The others had faded from this conversation. It might as well just be her and Jonas. “What if I were to tell you there is a group using secrets for profit?”

  “You mean, SICA? You aren’t part of them, are you?”

  Lillian struggled to control her reaction.

  He knew?

  How?

  “Who is your source? How do you know about them?” Irene’s questions and gun carried a demand for answers.

  Jonas flinched. “I don’t have a source.”

  “Who?” Irene demanded.

  “Irene.” Lillian held up her hand, her gaze still on Jonas. “What is your source, Jonas?”

  “Dubster,” he blurted.

  Now Lillian gaped at the man, unable to control her surprise.

  No one else spoke.

  She sat back in her chair and shook her head.

  No wonder Jonas hadn’t needed time to research her.

  “For the peanut gallery, what is Dubster?” Carol asked.

  “They’re a hacktivist group who ruined the lives of one of my clients,” Lillian answered. “They accused him of all kinds of salacious things. Turns out, it wasn’t our client who did those things. It was his brother, but after the shit storm Dubster created, the court of public opinion hanged him, and six months later he was divorced, jobless, and committed suicide.” She glared at Jonas when he opened his mouth. She didn’t want to hear his excuses. “Dubster does out a
lot of bad people, but they don’t have anyone checking their intel. They aren’t held accountable for the mistakes they make when innocent people get hurt.”

  Jonas was visibly sweating now. “We tried to fix it.”

  “We?” Irene said.

  Jonas’s eyes went wide.

  Lillian couldn’t look at Jonas without wanting to do something. And here she’d worried they were putting a good man at risk. She clearly needn’t have been concerned. “He doesn’t have a credible source. He’s a hacker. He’s part of Dubster. Everything he reports is based on stolen intel. You can’t verify any of it. What do you want to bet he only gets half the damn story sometimes?” she fumed. “You know, that makes a whole lot of sense. You find a crumb, decide you know the truth and run with it. You don’t care if you ruin people’s lives, do you?”

  “There are checks in place now,” Jonas said.

  She glared at him. “Will those bring an innocent man back from death?”

  “No… We—all of us—we’re sorry.”

  “That’s not good enough.” Lillian grit her teeth and tried to settle her emotions. She could be angry later. Right now she had to think about the living. “I’m going to give you intel. You’re going to write a story. And tomorrow you’ll ensure it’s run first thing on the digital edition, understand?”

  One right wouldn’t fix the wrong, but at least it was a right.

  …

  Thursday. SICA Site, Warsaw, Poland.

  Noah stared at the old stone church bathed in golden light. How many people passed by on a daily basis appreciating the beauty without looking deeper?

  His gaze went to the cameras mounted on the surrounding buildings, all of which were aimed at the church. He multiplied those by three for the ones he couldn’t see. The windows were equipped with sensors. All of the entry points would set off an alarm if not properly opened.

  They weren’t going to have as easy of an entry this time around, that was for sure.

  “What time is it in Berlin?” Brandon asked. They’d divided their men up into teams of two around the site and put each in a rental to sit and watch. Noah had opted to stick with Brandon to keep him from fucking things up.

  “Seriously?” Noah glanced at the other man.

  “I walked into that one, didn’t I?” Brandon winced.