"I thought you closed down Hydra seven years ago," Logan said, looking pointedly at the emblem Warren had clutched in his hand.
"So did I," Warren said shortly. "Where did you say you got this?" He moved to his desk and sank into the high-backed leather chair behind it.
"I was doing a job up in Finland - a retrieval mission. When I got to the drop off point they tried to kill me instead of paying me. I found this on the uniforms of the dead soldiers."
Warren shook his head. "I haven't had anything to do with Hydra for the past seven years, though there were some people who didn't transfer across to legitimate enterprises. Could be the people who attacked you were just a group of old Hydra members who kept their uniforms."
"Don't you have any contacts who can find out if Hydra's still active anywhere? No one I know has heard anything about them. Either they're hiding themselves extremely well or, as you said, it could just be coincidence."
Warren paused for thought before answering. "I do know someone who can probably tell you what you need to know. He lives in Paris though, and only does business face-to-face."
"Tell me where to find him." Logan demanded.
"I'm coming with you," Warren said, standing up. "If Hydra is involved, then I want to find out who has taken over my organisation."
Logan looked like he was going to argue but then thought better of it. "Fine. When can we leave?"
"We'll take my private jet. We should be leaving in about an hour and a half." As Warren spoke, Betsy's eyes opened slowly and she put a hand to her forehead before dragging herself up. Warren moved to her side to assist her and soon she was face-to-face with Logan. She stared at him for a second before going to retrieve her gun. Warren meanwhile had told his secretary to organize his private jet to be ready for takeoff and had called the lift. "Let's go," he said as the lift arrived. Logan and Betsy took one final look at each other before brushing past Warren into the lift. Smiling slightly, Warren followed them.
The news of the bombing in Paris had reached London mere minutes after it had occurred and so it was that Charles Xavier found himself studying a report of the bombing approximately twenty minutes after it had occurred. The first thing that struck Charles as he read was the fact that the security at the Louvre had been dangerously lax, it had been far too easy for the bombers to enter and plant their explosives. As he continued reading the report it jogged something in the back of his memory.
There had been two other incidents like this, albeit on a smaller scale, in the past month. One had been the bombing of a small art gallery in Scotland, the other the bombing of a mansion in Australia. Both incidents had been small - only a handful people had been injured and one person had died. Yet they had been conducted in a similar manner, and Charles Xavier didn't believe in coincidence. You didn't get to his position by believing in coincidence.
Pressing the intercom button on his desk Xavier asked Jean Grey to send Lance Alvers up to see him. He would have liked to put Pietro Maximoff on this case, but he had been killed two months ago in that terrible incident in Genoa. It had taken him a long time to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D. after that event - Charles was not impressed by the way that they had handled the situation, but he could see what their thinking had been. But it had resulted in his best operative being killed, so now he would have to use Lance.
Not that Lance was a bad operative; on the contrary he had an excellent service record and had distinguished himself on many occasions. It was just that he was taking Pietro's death very hard, he blamed himself for not being able to save his friend, and he had been working almost non-stop since then. Charles would have liked to give him some time off, but right now they had a shortage of available operatives due to the World Environmental Summit in Kyoto - Excalibur had provided almost half its agents to provide security - so Charles needed Lance.
Warren Worthington's private jet touched down at Charles de Gaulle airport at nine-thirty p.m. Warren had brought Betsy and another security guard, a tall man named Ray Sparks, with him and he swiftly led Logan through the airport terminal and out into the streets of Paris. Even at the late time the city still thronged with life and the streets were crowded. Betsy and Ray stood on either side of Warren, their eyes constantly scanning the crowds for any sign of danger.
"So Warren, where's your contact?" Logan asked as they entered a small cul-de-sac off the main streets.
"He lives just down here." Warren pointed to a rickety looking building made of wood, which looked almost derelict. Logan could just detect light leaking out from under the door and hear the sound of quiet voices inside.
"He's got company," Logan whispered as they approached the building. "Does he normally work this late?" As he spoke, Betsy shot him an annoyed look that he ignored.
"Normally no, but he makes exceptions for old friends." Warren smiled as if at some private joke as he said this, when they heard a shout from inside and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Warren turned and looked at his bodyguards who nodded back to him. Logan pulled a curved, long-bladed knife from his boot and drew his katana from its scabbard that was strapped to his back. With all his experience it had been simple for him to get the weapons through the security checks at the airport.
Warren moved aside and Ray pushed the door open, gun in his hand. The room they entered was as battered and old as the front of the building - it contained an old, stained wooden table, a chair with only three legs and a pile of smashed crockery. It also contained three men in familiar black uniforms - two of them holding a man up by his arms, whilst the third knelt down in front of him. The man the two were holding was short, with a pockmarked face and dirty brown hair that was cut in a haphazard fashion, as if the man had tried to cut his hair himself. His face was covered in his own blood, as were his clothes.
Seeing the new arrivals the men dropped their prisoner. The soldier who had been kneeling down in front of him was in the process of drawing his weapon when he was hurled back by two shots from Betsy's gun. Seeing their leader go down in front of their eyes the other two men fumbled for their guns but Ray shot one and Logan leapt on the other, easily disarming him. Warren walked over to the struggling soldier and looked down at him. The Hydra insignia was emblazoned on his shoulder.
Warren was about to speak when Betsy tackled him to the floor. Bullets suddenly ripped through the front wall of the house, punching holes in the wooden walls. Logan and Ray managed to shelter behind the upturned table, but the contact they had come to see wasn't so lucky. He had barely got to his feet when he jerked and spasmed before collapsing, blood pooling around his body. Angered, Logan was about to get out of his hiding place and make a dash for the machine gunner, he could probably take care of them before they realised where he was, when the gun fell silent. A tinny sound, like someone dropping a can on the floor, suddenly reached Logan's ears. He covered his head and crouched down behind the table when the grenade suddenly exploded.
Luckily it was a tear gas grenade and not a fragmentation grenade, which could well have killed everyone in the room. A thick white cloud filled the room and Logan could hear the others coughing as they inhaled the gas. Logan knew that the only way to get out of the tear gas's area of effect was out the front door, which was where the machine gun would be waiting for them.
Eyes watering, Logan got unsteadily to his feet and slowly made his way towards the door, before practically walking into a black clad soldier wearing a gas mask. The soldier seemed as startled to see Logan, as Logan was to see him, presumably he'd expected everyone inside to be paralysed by the tear gas. Logan however, had built up quite a strong resistance to tear gas, after being subjected to it many times but by now it was starting to take effect on him. He swiftly punched his knife into the soldier's chest then ripped off his gas mask and put it over his own face.
The oxygen that Logan breathed in helped to clear his head significantly, but he couldn't do anything to clear his eyes. Logan picked the soldier's weapon up - a powerful Remington M32 shotgun, deadly at close range and ideal for situations such as this - and made his way through the gas. Glancing outside, Logan could see where the machine gun was - across the street set up behind a makeshift metal barricade. The shotgun was too far out of range to be of any use, but as one of the gunners stood up to take a look at the building, Logan threw his knife with unerring accuracy and the man toppled backwards with the knife embedded in his forehead.
There was a smattering of return fire as he sprinted towards the machine gun but the machine gun didn't fire - the operator must have been too shocked by his comrade's death. As Logan leapt over the barricade he fired his shotgun, hurling the other machine gunner several feet backwards. Two other soldiers charged at him, firing wildly from the hip, but one blast from the shotgun brought them both down. One of them was dead, the other in agony after having taken a direct hit to his stomach. Logan couldn't leave him to slowly bleed to death, so he swiftly cut his throat.
Breathing heavily Logan suddenly realised that all the firing had stopped and looked around. Ray and Betsy were emerging from the wooden house, dragging a soldier with them, Warren trailing after them. All three were still coughing and their eyes were watering, but apart from that they were fine.
Logan went over to join them, pulling off his gas mask as he did so. Betsy and Ray dropped the soldier on the floor and pulled off his gas mask. Logan saw that he was young and looked very scared - his blue eyes darted to each person in turn and his brow was covered in sweat.
"I believe that you are wearing the insignia of my organisation," Warren said quietly. "You are going to tell me everything you know about Hydra."
"Madam director, the results of the medical and physical examinations are here." The director took them and scanned them quickly, her lips twisting into a cruel smile that made a shiver of fear run up the doctor's spine.
"Excellent. I am most pleased with your work."
"Thank you madam director, you are too kind," the doctor said, unable to hide the nervous tremor in his voice. The smile on the director's face widened.
"There were no adverse effects?" she pressed.
"No visible ones. However, his brain waves did seem to have quite an erratic pattern. Nothing to be worried about, although this may become a problem in the future."
"How much of a problem?"
"Nothing that we cannot handle, I have been assured. And we have ascertained that the likelihood of anything adverse occuring is almost zero. This is most likely just a side effect of the operation. He'll be used to it in a few days, and his brain waves should return to normal."
"Excellent. It is time to implement phase two of our plan."
Thank you for your kind reviews DaemonRogue 13 and Karakin - you're going to have to wait a couple more chapters to find out what's happened to Pietro.