Finally! The sequel to Death and Taxes is written and ready for posting. Thanks for your patience and sorry it took so long, it was more of a challenge to write than I'd initially anticipated.
A few brief notes:
If you haven't read Death and Taxes, this will make a lot more sense if you read that first.
As with that fic, this one is complete. I will be posting 1-2 chapters per week.
I do not own anything related to Red Eye. I'm merely taking the characters out for a spin.
Rated M for language, canon-typical violence, and brief scenes of a sexual nature.
"Okay, so is this personal now?"
"Just finishing the job."
-Lisa Reisert & Jackson Rippner
Wednesday, May 25. London.
It was a cold, dreary day in London, and the rain pattered against the windows of the cozy café. The two men were seated at a table in the back, words exchanged quietly over their respective beverages. One drank his customary Irish Breakfast Tea, with a bit of milk; the other, a steaming cup of coffee.
"So what can I do for you?" The tea-drinker inquired.
"We have a situation," the other began, with just a hint of an accent. "One that requires going outside of the…usual channels." He grimaced slightly. "I realize this is highly irregular, but my sources tell me that you are the man to ask."
"Go on."
"Does the name René Lutz mean anything to you?"
The tea-drinker's eyes widened, though his expression remained otherwise neutral. "Yes."
"I presume you know of his reputation?" At his companion's nod, the coffee-drinker continued. "He has just arrived in Berlin. Which would not be particular cause for concern, except that a new military attaché has recently been posted to our embassy there. One who has history with Lutz."
"What kind of history?"
"They served in our military together as young men. They were both excellent soldiers, but also competitors. An unfortunate incident occurred between them that effectively ended Lutz's military career."
"You believe Lutz is holding a grudge," the tea-drinker realized. "And that he may try something in Berlin?"
"Yes," his companion agreed.
"But why now? This…incident must have occurred many years ago, and they have presumably both been in Switzerland for at least some of the time since then. If Lutz was going to act, why wait?"
The coffee-drinker sighed. "That is a good question, but there is one more piece to the puzzle. There is a German by the name of Tobias Kohler who has worked in our Berlin embassy for a number of years. Prior to that, he lived for several years in Bern, where he worked for a company that also employed René Lutz."
The other considered this. "So Lutz has arrived in Berlin, on the heels of the new military attaché, and there is the possibility that he has a contact inside the embassy."
"A contact that has direct access to Major General Häberlin."
The tea-drinker frowned. "It could be a coincidence."
"It could be," his companion allowed. "But I would like to make absolute certain."
The other nodded. "I assume you have already dismissed the idea of questioning this Mr. Kohler, for fear that – should he be involved – he might tip off Lutz."
"Precisely."
"So what is it you are asking me to do?"
The Swiss man took a long sip of coffee. "Find out if Lutz and Kohler are in communication and what – if anything – Lutz is planning. If you find anything, we'll then handle it through official channels." He gave off another sigh. "As you said, we are wary of questioning Kohler before we have something concrete, but it would be inappropriate for the Swiss government to investigate a private German citizen on German soil without opening an official enquiry. So that is where you come in."
"For an off-the-books investigation."
"Yes. Will that be a problem?"
"No." The tea-drinker gave a wry smile. "Off-the-books is my M.O. I assume I'd be appropriately compensated?"
"Of course. I'd be happy to discuss the details. Though I feel I should warn you, this may be a challenging endeavor."
"Ah, but I have just the man in mind," the other explained with a smirk.
"Rippner."
The tea-drinker looked impressed. "You have done your research."
The Swiss man smiled. "Yes. His reputation precedes him, not unlike yours."
"Jackson is very good at what he does, and he's always liked a bit of a challenge." Alex smiled. "I'll phone him tonight and let you know if he agrees?" He extended a hand, which the other firmly grasped.
"I'll look forward to hearing from you."
Thursday, June 2. New York.
Jackson leaned back in his chair, skimming the pages spread across his desk. There was a brief profile of Major General Daniel Häberlin, the recently appointed military attaché to the Swiss embassy in Berlin. Next to that was an investigation report from the Swiss Armed Forces concerning a violent incident that had occurred between two of its soldiers – the now decorated Häberlin and the disgraced René Lutz - nearly two decades ago. Then there was the Berlin embassy's dossier on Tobias Kohler, an unassuming man who had been nothing but excellent at his job in the seven years he had held it. And, finally, a collection of notes on the recent activities and whereabouts of Lutz, the included details provided by a few of Alex and Jackson's many contacts.
Jackson knew René Lutz by reputation, though the two men had never met. His ungraceful exit from the military establishment aside, Lutz had been an impressive soldier and – over the past decade – had put those skills to use in a rather-less-government-sanctioned manner. He had built a reputation as a reliable killer-for-hire, not quite as invisible to the authorities as, say, Jackson, but nonetheless very good at not getting caught. The Swiss government clearly knew about Lutz, even if they hadn't managed to obtain any evidence to pin on him, whereas Jackson knew for certain that his and Alex's names were not floating around in any Interpol files. No, in order to find them, Alex's Swiss contact had gone down a dark, unofficial, rabbit hole indeed.
Jackson's phone vibrated against the desk, distracting him from the papers in front of him and his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and opened the incoming email, skimming the updated flight schedule that had been forwarded by his new assistant, for lack of a better word. Kaylie. The terrified teenager he'd once – twice – kidnapped out of her own house was now working for him. Well, technically she worked for Alex, but Jackson had borrowed her for the duration of this job. The tight timeline and potential need to go undercover had necessitated someone else to handle administration functions. Like booking flights.
After double-checking the departure time for his flight to London the following day, Jackson turned his attention back to the documents on his desk. René Lutz was based in his native Switzerland, though he traveled a great deal. From the information Jackson had gathered, it didn't appear that he had been to Berlin in some time prior to his current visit. There was no evidence that he was working any job there now, although that certainly didn't mean he wasn't. If he had traveled to Berlin with the intent of enacting revenge on Häberlin, he was clearly still harboring a considerable grudge, and one nearly twenty years old. It was that kind of personal, emotional involvement that led to mistakes and that made things unnecessarily messy. The kind of emotional involvement Jackson preferred to avoid. In this case, however, he hoped that Lutz was motivated by personal reasons that would undoubtedly cloud his judgment. It would make Jackson's job a hell of a lot easier.
An hour later. London.
Kaylie opened the door of the coffee shop, the bell clanking lightly overhead. She spotted him immediately, but first joined the queue at the counter. A few minutes later, coffee in hand, she crossed the room to the small table occupied by a dark haired man about ten years older than she. As she sank into the empty chair opposite his, he looked up at her and grinned.
"Alright, Kaylie?" His crisp London accent was one she had become quite familiar with after nearly five years in the city.
Kaylie smiled back. "Hey, Max. Yeah, I'm good. You?"
"Good, good. Keeping busy." He adjusted his glasses and shuffled the papers in front of him, nudging them slightly closer to Kaylie's side of the table. "How is Alex?"
"He's fine." Kaylie affirmed. "I saw him for dinner last night."
"Feels like it's been ages since I've seen him last," Max confessed. "Tell him I say hello, won't you?"
Kaylie smiled. "Of course." From the corner of her eye, she spotted the small manila envelope poking out from Max's pile of papers and deftly pulled it free and slid it into her bag without glancing down. "And thank you."
"No worries," Max nodded. "Glad to help."
"Mary will be in touch about payment-" She started, referring to the middle-aged Irish woman who managed Alex's administrative and financial affairs.
Max waved her off. "I'm not worried. I know Alex is good for it."
"He's a man of his word," Kaylie agreed.
"How has it been working for the American contingent?" Max asked then, causing Kaylie to chuckle.
"He's hardly a contingent." Kaylie had found working directly for Jackson somewhat less frustrating than she'd anticipated. Sure, he had the tendency to drive her up the wall, but he hadn't been particularly unreasonable. Maybe it helped that he was across the ocean. "But it's actually been fine."
"Give him my best."
Kaylie rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled."
Max snorted. "That'll be the day." Jackson had made no effort to disguise his dislike for the young Englishman. Kaylie suspected she liked Max for the exact reason Jackson did not – he was very chipper and extremely talkative when the mood struck. But she knew, as did Max, that Jackson's animosity was all bark and no bite, for the one simple reason that Max was a flawless forger.
Kaylie finished her coffee. "I should probably be going."
Max nodded and grinned. "Yeah, yeah. Lots to do before his highness rolls into town."
Kaylie shot him a mock glare. "Stop it. You're as bad as he is." She rolled her eyes, though it wasn't entirely effective through her laughter. "Seriously, you'd think you were both twelve, not thirty-something."
Max chuckled. "Sorry, only kidding. You should be all set, but let me know if you need anything else. And good luck."
"Thanks," Kaylie shot him a genuine smile as she hopped to her feet. "I'll see you around."
Saturday, June 4.
Sunlight streamed through her bedroom window as Kaylie opened her eyes, stretching contentedly. It was finally sunny in London, she didn't have anywhere to be until later today and there was already coffee brewing… Wait. What the fuck? She was on her feet almost before she had the thought, straining to hear any sounds from the kitchen. The gentle clink of china against counter reached her ears and, as her sleepy brain put two and two together, she groaned inwardly.
Her suspicions were confirmed when she padded into the kitchen in her pajama pants and t-shirt. Jackson was leaning against her counter, casually dressed – for once – in jeans and a button down and nursing a cup of coffee. He lifted a second mug as she came in, holding it out as a peace offering. Well, maybe it would've been a peace offering if he had wiped that damn smirk off of his face.
"Coffee?"
"How'd you get in here?" Kaylie questioned, taking the outstretched mug and plopping on to a kitchen chair.
"With a key." He settled in the chair across from her, still smirking.
"I didn't give you a key." It really was too early in the morning for verbal sparring.
"No." Jackson leaned back in his chair. "You didn't."
Kaylie glared. "And this couldn't wait until I was, oh you know, awake and dressed?"
He feigned a pout. "Kaylie, I'm hurt. I thought you would've missed me."
"Terribly," she quipped.
"I even made you coffee," he continued, flashing her a smile and lifting his mug in evidence. Kaylie took a long, fortifying drink from her own cup.
"Next time, how about you make coffee after you've knocked and been invited in?"
Jackson just shrugged. He was smirking again.
"Jackson." Kaylie waited until his eyes were on hers before continuing. "I could've had someone here." She was mildly entertained by the way his eyes momentarily widened. It was not often that she managed to surprise him and, while she hadn't said it with the express purpose of doing so, it was an excellent side effect.
"Do you?" For a second she thought he might get up and… do what exactly, she wasn't quite sure. He remained in his seat, however, staring at her intently.
"No," she laughed. "But if I did, it wouldn't be any of your business." Truth be told, Kaylie had found dating post-university a bit of a challenge. It was hard to get to know people when you had to keep your entire profession a secret. When Jackson responded only by narrowing his eyes at her, Kaylie pressed on. "You stayed with Alex last night?"
"Yep." He took another sip of coffee. "Berlin tomorrow, but then you know that."
Kaylie knew his entire flight schedule inside and out, she'd booked all of it. She got to her feet and crossed into the living room, retrieving a manila envelope from her desk. "You'll be needing this then," she said, as she stepped back into the small kitchen.
"It's what I'm here for."
"And here I thought you missed me," Kaylie retorted, passing him the envelope. "With compliments from Maxwell Andersen."
Jackson snorted. "I have no idea what you see in that guy."
"You make it sound like I'm dating him," Kaylie replied, watching as Jackson unfastened the envelope flap and dumped the contents on the table.
He scrutinized the French passport and driver's license, looking for any error or indication of the fake that it was. After a moment, he glanced up at her and nodded. "Looks good."
"So what's the plan when you get to Berlin?"
Jackson eyed her for a moment, as though debating whether or not to tell her. Kaylie stared at him expectantly. As far as she was concerned, her efforts on his behalf justified knowing at least something of what was going on. "Follow Kohler and see if he makes contact with Lutz, while also working on tracking down Lutz through separate channels."
"Do you think Kohler's really involved?" Kaylie wondered. "I mean, why would he risk his job to help a guy he worked with a decade ago?"
"He might not be," Jackson acknowledged. "But if Lutz is after Häberlin, it makes sense that he'd capitalize on his relationships with anyone in a position to help…and that means Kohler."
Kaylie considered this. "Do you and Alex often take jobs from governments?" She thought Jackson might be trying to hide a smile at her question, but it was gone before she could be certain.
"Not often," he replied. "But this isn't the first time." He tipped his head to the side, looking at her slyly. "What's most unusual about this is that we've been hired to prevent whatever Lutz is attempting. Usually we're the ones planning it."
Kaylie wrinkled her nose at that. In the five years she'd known them, she had come to like and respect both Alex and Jackson, and she had mostly made her peace what they did for a living. Enough to voluntarily agree to work for Alex when he'd put the offer on the table. However, she couldn't deny that the realities of some of their work left a bit of an uneasy feeling in her stomach.
Jackson smirked. "You asked." He fished his phone from his pocket, turning his attention away from Kaylie to something on the screen.
"I'm going to get dressed," Kaylie announced, not entirely sure if he was even listening. At the doorway, she paused and glanced back to find him still focused on his phone. "Hey, if you're going to hang out in my kitchen, you want to make me breakfast?"
Jackson looked up. She shot him an innocent grin, and he rolled his eyes. "Absolutely not."
