Chapter 7
Tristan swallowed hard. "Are you sure they're not watching?" He gripped the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles were white.
"They can't be," Caradoc said. "This is one of the most secure places in the country."
"That's what we thought of the ship."
"What happened, Tristan?"
The Swedish man coughed twice into his fist, before looking up with wide eyes. "It was Geraint."
"Geraint? Your boss?"
"He killed everyone."
Sagramore frowned. "He wouldn't do that. I know the guy; he's as docile as a farm animal."
"Farm animals aren't docile," Tristan whispered.
Caradoc looked at Gawain, and then at Oberon. "Can you get Geraint's medical records? See if he was depressed or something?"
"Give me a moment." Oberon left Sagramore's office, typing on his PDA.
"Can you describe what you saw?" Gawain asked.
Tristan shook his head.
"Come on. It's the only lead we have now. Something must have gone wrong with him. He can't just...shoot everyone."
"He just did," Caradoc said. "Tristan, what did you see?"
Tristan took a deep breath, and exhaled sharply. "I was about to board the ship when I heard someone shooting. Next thing I knew, fucking Geraint was trying to kill me. So I ran."
"What happened to the ship?"
"I don't know. It drifted off."
Sagramore sighed loudly. "If someone finds that ship, they find us. All of us. Where was it last?"
"Just off Langholmen. South east."
Sagramore pulled a rolled-up map of Europe from under his desk and spread it out. "Point."
Tristan reached out with a trembling finger and place it in the small gap between the islands of Langholmen and Gamla Stan, Stockholm. Sagramore looked up. "Dirk, Valerie, you're up. Go with Tristan and destroy or recover all the hard drives on that ship."
"Now, sir?" Caradoc asked.
"No, tomorrow. Tristan needs some rest, and you need at least two agents' codes to wipe the database anyway. Gawain, you're no longer suspended."
She beamed.
"No, she's injured," Caradoc said. "You can't jus-"
Sagramore slammed a palm onto the tabletop. "Today, agent Izaks has proven herself capable enough, Dirk. And you'll need the extra help."
"I'm not putting her in danger."
"And I'm not asking you to. I'm ordering you to."
Caradoc said nothing, blowing hair out of his nose.
"Dirk."
"Fine, I'll take her. But she's not doing anything that might get her killed."
"Fair enough."
"What?" Gawain exclaimed. "You think I can't fight?"
Caradoc turned to her. "I know you can. But not today. This morning you said everything hurts."
"Not anymore."
"Jesus, Val, you'll tear the stitches!"
"Fuck that. I want to know what the hell happened to Geraint. I'm going, and that's final."
Sagramore nodded.
Caradoc said nothing.
"Any questions?" Sagramore asked.
Tristan slowly put his hand up. "What if the ship's sunk?"
"Then we use a submarine," Caradoc said. "You can pilot one, right?"
"Yes."
"Good. You're definitely coming. Val, I…"
"Save it. I'll go schedule the jet." She walked out the door, her shoes clicking down the stairs.
Caradoc looked back at Sagramore. "Are you insane? This morning she could hardly move!"
"And I trust you to protect her."
"She doesn't want me to protect her. She thinks she's fine on her own. How am I supposed to make sure she's safe?" He paced around the room. "One blow to that area and she's going to die. There aren't any hospitals in the middle of a river."
"With Tristan down in the sub, you'll need another pair of eyes, Dirk. She can spot while you defend."
Caradoc's hand instinctively went to the scar below his glass eye, tracing down to where it ended just below his left cheek. "With all due respect, sir, I think I'm functioning just fine. Valerie isn't necessary."
"Try and tell her that." Sagramore took pushed a map pin into the area Tristan had pointed out. "Now you two go and get some rest; you're leaving early tomorrow."
Tristan stood up, but Caradoc put one hand on his shoulder and put him back in the chair. "Sir, I beg you to-"
"Nothing more, Dirk. You heard her, it's final. Now get out of my office."
Oberon and Gawain were looking at the face scan when Caradoc came in. He pulled a stool up to them and watched as a face was slowly rendered in three dimensions on the screen. "Is this Quinn?"
"Closest representation I can get from the photos you got. It'll help us look for pictures of him at every angle."
"He looks military," Gawain said.
"Probably. Wait a moment…" Oberon tapped a bunch of keys, bringing up a long list of names. "Military. How didn't I think of that?"
Caradoc watched him type in a few keywords, and then up popped a picture of Quinn. "That's him. Well done."
"His name is Jonas. Ex-USMC sniper. Left when he got shot in the leg in Afghanistan." He brought up another file. "Currently working...he's the chief of security for Phoenix."
"I knew it." Caradoc leaned in to read the file. "At their American branch?"
"No. Here in Amsterdam."
"Can you trace him?"
"Give me a minute."
Caradoc looked at Gawain, and pointed to a lab table. She sat opposite him, her cin resting on the back of her hand.
"If this is about Sweden, you can't stop me."
"It's not about Sweden. It's about you. You dying is the last thing I want right now." He scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't go this save you from the sni- Jonas just to have you killed again."
"Stop worrying! I can handle myself. Like that time in-"
"Baghdad, yes, I know. But in Baghdad you didn't have a healing bullet wound and a defunct rib."
"It's the same thing."
Caradoc opened his mouth to protest, but Gawain's finger was laid across his lips. "I'll be fine. Oberon, you done?"
"Almost...got it! Okay, the last time Jonas used his credit card was...buying a dress. Probably for his girlfriend."
"Where does he live?" Caradoc asked.
"Downtown. Camera feed says his car isn't there."
"So do we have enough evidence against Phoenix?"
"I'm afraid not. Jonas could be acting on his own."
"Well, we attacked his compound. He could be retaliating."
"Then we'd have to tell everyone that we parachuted into a Phoenix base at night, killed half the guards and then escaped by helicopter. Which in my book isn't a good idea. It'd make us the aggressors."
"Can't we at least capture him?" Gawain asked.
"As soon as I find him I'll tell you, and you can stuff him in your trunk. But I highly doubt it'll be today. Amsterdam is way too big for that."
"Just try," Caradoc said.
"Will do."
Gawain looked at her watch. "Holly should be back by now."
"What, punchy girl? Nah, she's always a bit late."
"'Punchy girl'?"
"I told you she smacked me in the face. for asking about her age. She's lucky a gentleman never hits a lady."
"You weren't being gentlemanly when you asked for her age."
"Twenty-six," Holly said, walking in with Fischer, who was in a clean new dress shirt and black trousers. "I'm twenty-six."
"Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were going to punch me again for asking," Caradoc said.
"You sound like you want me to punch you."
"Oh, fuck off. Just get the doctor back to his cell."
"You do that. I need to talk to Oberon."
"I'll do it," Gawain said. "Come on, doctor." She left with Fischer.
Holly sat on Gawain's chair, and spun around on it. "You guys should go shopping more often."
"Sorry," Caradoc said. "We can't. Too busy saving the world."
"And bringing order to chaos," Oberon added. "When you've finished your training, you'll find that there's no time for shopping."
"I always find time," Holly said.
"That reminds me," Caradoc cut in. "Since Gawain, Tristan and I are going to Sweden, that leaves Holly as the only field agent?"
"You're going to Sweden?"
"None of your business. You think you can hold off an ex-military sniper and a bunch of hired guns, Holly?"
"Easy peasy. The umbrella helps."
"The sniper used an M82 last time. That goes straight through the umbrella and anything behind it."
"Oh, speaking of umbrellas…" Oberon picked up the one leaning against his desk and handed it to Holly. "I've finally managed to integrate a blade. Button on the handle."
Holly pressed something, and and the handle detached from the rest of the umbrella, a thin rapier sliding out of it. "Whoa. doesn't this ruin the shooting function?"
"No, I've redesigned it so you can still shoot without the hand. You just won't be able to change the projectile while it's apart."
"That's pretty smart," Caradoc said. "I bet Merlin's envious."
"Don't the shoes already have a blade?" Holly asked.
"Not these," Caradoc said. "I'm trying out the new smoke bomb shoes. Worked really well, by the way. Thanks."
Oberon gave a little bow.
"I'm hungry again," Holly said. "Can we order something?"
"Pizza?"
"No!" Caradoc and Holly said in unison.
"Where's Jonas?"
"Oh, I sent him on a little job," Garth said. "i hope you don't mind. How's your task?"
"Where's Frenchie?"
"Right behind you," the Frenchman whispered into Klaas' ear.
"The fuck is wrong with you?"
"Nothing. I just don't like to be seen. It's a kind of peace."
"Fuck off. What now?" he asked Garth.
"How many mercenaries does Mr. Harker have up for hire?"
"A hundred or so, I guess."
"Good. Hire all of them."
"For what?"
"You'll see. We'll give you the money if you need it. And another thing." He took the same piece of paper out of his pocket and displayed the young woman in the picture to Klaas.
"You're fucking kidding me."
"Your wife is currently dining at the Restaurant Bonjour, and will finish her meal in approximately twenty minutes," The Frenchman said. "it will take her twenty-five more minutes to get to your villa. It would be a shame if I was waiting there."
"You fuckers."
Garth smiled. "Get her for me and she'll be fine. Now, pip-pip."
Klaas tore the photo into pieces and threw the pieces at Garth. "You'll get what's coming for you."
"I'll be waiting, Mr. Hekkers."
He flipped Garth off just as the the elevator doors swept closed.
