The man tugged at the bindings in the chair as Talbot took up position before him. "It's no use struggling and our time is limited so, if you would, please answer honestly and completely."

"I've nothing to say to kidnappers."

"I'm sure you will once you hear what we've got to ask you." Talbot shrugged toward Anna, "Unless you want to do the honors."

"It's his case." Anna jerked her thumb toward John. "He can take point if you need a firmer hand."

"Maybe a gentler one, if that's the case." Talbot pivoted to John. "Want a turn or should I continue?"

"You've only just started, I'd hate to rush you." John made a show of checking his watch. "Although I would warn you, our aged gentleman probably has places he needs to be and people who'll miss him."

"I can you out." Green sneered at them, jerking his head toward Talbot. "You think you intimidate me?"

"Not really." Talbot sat on the edge of the bed next to Anna. "But that's not why we're here."

"Because I'm tied to this chair for my health?" Green struggled before settling. "What do you want from me anyway?"

"I thought you had nothing to say to us." Anna blinked, turning to Talbot and John, "I did hear him correctly, yes, he said he had nothing to say to us."

"Sounded like that to me." John shrugged, "Maybe a man at his age is suffering dementia. Or he's just bored."

"I'll take dementia." Talbot gave Green a smile. "And the clock, by the way, is for you, not us."

"Why? Going to threaten to kill me?" Green snorted at them, "I've had governments more terrifying than the three of you could dig from your deepest nightmares stick me in cages with depraved psychos and try to get me to talk. I never broke from them. I'm not going to break for you."

"We're not digging for state secrets so you can relax Mr. Bond." Anna gave her own derisive snort. "I forgot how self-absorbed these government assholes can be. Thinking it's all about him or the precious state secrets."

"It would explain how he might've let other things slip in his life if all he's worried about are the secrets of Her Majesty's Service." Talbot feigned a full-body shiver. "Getting a little too distracted to worry about… the family."

"Oh," Anna turned to Talbot, nodding in agreement, before leaning toward John. "What do you think?"

"He doesn't strike me as the type who made sure to be home for dinner." John made a show of studying Green. "More of the kind that used his money to spoil his children so they'd forget they wanted him in their life before using that same money to get them out of trouble. It's what usually happens. He creates the problems he then sweeps under the rug later."

"It's a shame." Talbot drummed his fingers on his knee when he crossed his legs. "The power and the responsibility wasted on something like him."

"And to think, all the ways he could've saved so many people if he didn't think his career mattered more." Anna shook her head, "Pity."

Green's eyes narrowed as he moved between the three faces before him. "If this is an odd interrogation technique, it's not working."

"Piqued your interest enough for you to talk." Anna snorted, "Dumbass."

"It's not so surprising, thinking about the way authority fails upward, that someone like him ended up in charge of things." Talbot sighed, "But I would what all those people who read his reports and authorize his budget, would say when they find out about his alternative activities."

"You mean his son's alternative activities." John opened the folder, holding up a photo at a time before Green's face. "Do you think your superiors'll admire your son's handiwork as much as he does? Do you think they'll see the artistry or recoil in horror at the monster they paid to create under your care?"

"I think they'd like to know how you manipulated a Guard both into his position to avoid retaliatory action at the Met and also into keeping your deranged son in his flat." Anna paused, cringing. "Except for the part where he lost track of your son and now he's made a mess of things here in Dublin."

"I wouldn't be surprised if that's why he actually attended the conference here." Talbot pointed at Green. "Trying to clean up his mess."

"He probably flew a privately chartered plane he'll use to sneak his son back to the UK and then keep him in hiding until one of two things happens." Anna ticked off on her fingers, "Either A, he miraculously cures himself and can be released into society, or B, he has to keep him under house arrest until one of them dies."

"You're forgetting option C," Talbot held up his finger but did not break eye-contact with Green. "He realizes he has to put a bullet through his son's brain because he's too far gone to save and the only humane thing to do, at this point, is put him down like a rabid animal."

"Or your favorite, but unfortunately infected, dog." John let the last photograph rest before Green's eyes a moment longer. "Clock's ticking, Mr. Green, on which option you'll choose."

"Because we're," Talbot drew his finger along the trio, "Very fond of Option C and, should you prove unhelpful, we'll proceed with it."

Green shuffled in his seat, the creak of the ropes against the wooden chair signaling his motions. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Not the answer we're looking for." Anna pulled out her phone and took a moment selecting the correct app before playing out the part of Vyner's confession where he admitted to knowing and helping Green. She stopped it after a moment. "Now I don't know about you, but when he's offered the chance to toss you under the bus, I can't see him taking the fall for you."

"In fact," John gathered the evidence, "Given everything else we've got against him at the moment, he'll sell out his own mother to stop the years adding onto his prison time. Helping to stuff you into the metaphorical woodchipper is just the first step in that process."

"So," Talbot uncrossed his legs and slapped his hands on his knees to lean over toward Green. "Will you be the one the bus trundles over or are you finally going to make a correct decision in your shitty life and tell us where your son is?"

Green held their gazes before shaking his head. "I'll not be coerced by terrorists for information."

"I didn't think we warranted that kind of response but I'll raise you this," Talbot stood up, walking over to Green's chair to grip the arms and tip the man backward. "If you don't tell us where he is, we'll find him anyway. And, when I do, I'll put a bullet in his brain. And that's after it all comes out about what he's done, who he is, the record he has, and how related you two are."

"And if you think we can't prove any of those things, I'll remind you that we found and kidnapped you so it wouldn't be very difficult." Anna spoke from the side as Talbot lowered the chair to the floor, "In case you were about to call a bluff."

"I don't have to work with any of you because, in less than forty minutes, my security detail'll be in my room, find me missing, and then tear this hotel apart trying to find me."

"We won't make it difficult for them, if that's your worry." John stood, stretching, "In fact, we'll tell them where you are."

Green's face contorted with suspicion. "You think you'll play 'good cop' on this and I'll tell you what you want to know?"

"I'd be pretty dumb to try that with the other two in the same room." John pointed at Anna and Talbot. "But I understand, this must be pretty difficult for you to handle. Usually you're the one turning this table on others, right?"

John shrugged, "I don't care either way. I'm here for the justice of taking your son into custody and making sure the people he's hurt find the catharsis they're hoping to find."

"Only fools look for catharsis and closure." Green scoffed, "No one ever finds it and only idiots keep looking for it."

"Is that what you tell yourself at night when you're occasionally haunted by the laundry list of horrible things your son's done?" Anna waited but Green did not meet her eyes. She moved Talbot out of the way and removed the balaclava from her face. "The things he did to me?"

"I don't even know who you are."

In a second Anna's hands wrapped over Green's throat and it took both Talbot and John to pull her away as she immediately targeted Green's larynx.

"He's no good to us if he can't talk." Talbot uncurled Anna's fingers as John wrapped his arms around her waist to list her bodily backward. It took a few moments for him to get her into a secure grip as Talbot examined the torn and bloody skin of Green's neck. "And we'll definitely see repercussions from this."

"Cage your cat, gentlemen." Green tried to exude smugness but when Anna clawed toward him, trying to escape John's tightening grip, he almost scooted the chair back over the carpet.

"I'd take great care what you say next." Talbot drew Green's attention back to him with a finger before the man's nose. "Because while your help will make our search easier, it's not necessary. That being the case, should you prove insulting or continue in your unhelpful attitude, you'll find that my barely-restrained friend there is more than capable of leaving a corpse for your security detail to find."

"We did promise," John huffed as he finally got Anna to stop struggling, "We'll not make it difficult for your team to find your body."

Green measured them all anew and John felt Anna's breath contract in the seconds as they awaited his response. The older man took a breath, the barest hint of a tremble to his body sending the blood on his neck changing tracks. "All you want is my son?"

"That's right." Talbot sat, bringing all of Green's focus to him. "We don't care about you or what you're doing here. You're the means to an end and, if you help us, we'll see what we can do about making sure no one knows you were even involved."

"Not even my name?"

"He's your son," John released Anna and she walked toward the door, shoulders heaving as she tried to collect herself. "I'd say your name's on him already but you've got people for scrubbing that sort of thing, don't you?"

"Of course."

John made a face in disgust, "I can't imagine what growing up with you as a father was like but I'm sure I can understand why he must hate you so much."

"You know nothing about it."

"I know you shunted off the results of your poor decisions and he's the result." John looked at Talbot, "More money than brains this one."

"Money's the new blue-blood, as it were." Talbot snapped his fingers to get Green's attention back. "About his location… Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"Then why in the hell did we-"

"I know where he'll be." Green hurried to fill in, speaking more quickly as Talbot raised his eyebrow. "I set the meeting for this evening. I'm scheduled for the whole conference but I managed to orchestrate it so I could fly him back to England tonight and get him somewhere safe before I came back for the conference. Everyone would think it was an emergency at the office and not even bat an eye."

"You can't just hide someone on a plane." John shook his head, "What about the extra body on the manifest? The extra weight for which your pilots would have to account?"

"It'd be negligible and no one who's smart would even ask." Green made a snuffling sound. "I know how to run my business."

"I have some doubts in that arena." John turned to Talbot. "We could stake out the hangar, grab him there."

"Fine by me." Talbot pulled out his phone, "What time were you planning on meeting your wayward child? We don't want to blow a lead if he sees us coming."

"I told him-"

A muffled phfft noise sounded a half second after the tinkling of cracking glass and just before half of John's body splattered with half of Green's head. The small weight of Anna tackled into his side and John hit the ground, blinking past the shock of wearing the biological evidence of Nigel Green on him while also catching the macabre view of the man from below. The view that painted the side of the man's head in line with the barely opened curtain as having no more than a small hole now bored into the man's temple while the other half of his head was missing… Or, more accurately, fragmented all over John, the walls, and the carpet.

Three similar sounding shots left a perfect diamond pattern in the glass of the window and the curtains as they fluttered from the force. Another hit Green again, this time spearing through his neck to leave it dangling at an odd angle. Another hit the lamp in the corner, sending it sparking as the glass shattered, while the last one thudded into the far wall. That one, however, came a half second after a muffled grunt from Talbot.

"Damn it."

"Henry?" Anna crawled from John's body to the other man's side and took up his bloody hand with hers to wrap her discard balaclava over it.

"Bastard got me in the hand. My phone, it's-"

"Buggered." John put himself on his forearms, knocking the cracked and thoroughly shattered phone with his elbow as he maneuvered along the bed to reach the window. "By an impossible shot."

"The next buildling's not as far away from this one as you might think." Talbot grunted as Anna tied the fabric tightly around his hand to try and stop the bleeding. "And given that he didn't move Green, he was a stationary target."

"Middle of the room, tied up," Anna nodded, dragging Talbot with her to join John under the window. "He was easy. Especially if they were using thermal cameras or any kind of spotting technology."

"Still impressive shots." John tipped his head up but he could see nothing. "What now?"

"We get the hell out of here." Talbot groaned as his hand moved. "The detail had to've heard that and we're sitting ducks here."

"Literally." Anna took a breath, "if we check out early then we're the top suspects for this. They'll find us through our… think covers."

"If you can give me enough space I'll take care of that." Talbot nodding them toward the door. "Draw the shooter off me and I can make sure this blows in the right direction."

"The minute we leave this room our chance at finding Green's skunked." John insisted, trying to ease his breathing as his hand quivered against the carpet. "He'll hear his father's dead and he won't be at the meet tonight. We've lost him."

"Maybe we already did." Anna pointed at Nigel Green's body. "The shots went for him, not any of us."

"Was Green a good shot in the service?"

Talbot shrugged at John's question. "I never served with him so I never saw him shoot. He'd have to have some skill but I don't know what it was."

"But he knew his father would be here." Anna's focus shifted, as if she did not see the room before her. "He knew his father was in town and…"

"And what?" Talbot shifted and nudged Anna when she did not recover from trailing off. "And what, Anna?"

"And he knew his father was one of the last links to getting him." Anna faced the other two men. "He took down Vera's crew, he threatened Vyner with Jane Moorsum… He's tying up loose ends."

"Burning his bridges." Talbot nodded, "He's preparing to go dark."

"No," Anna shook her head, "It's not an operational thing. This is psychological. He's doing this because he's evolving."

"Evolving to what?"

"Whatever his endgame is." Anna looked at John, "Leave this to Talbot."

"You're sure?"

"We've got other issues on our hands now. This," Anna waved her hand at the fresh corpse of Nigel Green, "This is someone else's nightmare now."

"If you say so." John ducked down and nodded at Talbot, "Good luck."

"Don't forget, I'm owed a bullet in the still-living Green." Talbot urged them both away, "Let me handle the security team. They won't have enough brains between them to argue with me, I promise."

"Alright." John looked at Anna. "We'll have to time this perfectly and you'll need to follow me closely. Can you do that?"

"You've got the experience with this."

"Then let's go." John took a breath, "Now."

They sprinted for the door, throwing it open and dodging to the side just as three more bullets lodged in the wall opposite them. Only giving time to exchange a single look, they hurried to the lifts and John's finger slipped when he stabbed too hard at the button to close the doors and take them to the parking garage.

His body knocked against the side of the lift, leaving him to slide until he wedged himself against the wall. "I think my adrenaline's spiking."

"Haven't you been in a firefight before?" Anna sagged against the other wall, forcing her breaths to even.

"Not in a long time." John cringed, "There was the time I found out my wife was a drug dealer. It ended about like this."

Anna made a snorting noise before pausing. "Drug dealers."

"What about them?"

"Would they have anyone with the skills to make shots like those?"

John took a breath, blowing out as the numbers ticked down on the lift's panel. "Could be. It's a business that attracts a crowd of versatile people."

"Any of them ex-military?"

"Some, probably. I can't say I've kept up on the jackets of all the active members but I know Vera had a couple who were ex-something or other."

"The same people who are probably looking for someone to blame for their boss's death and, maybe, looking to grab at the power vacuum she left?"

"So not only do we get shot at in a hotel but it's not even by the nutter we're chasing?" John banged his fist against the wall, shaking it out as the pain lanced through his hand. "Sod it all."

"It's not the end of the world." The lift doors opened and John and Anna barely heard them close behind them as the ding of bullets against metal rang out.

John grabbed Anna around the waist and spun them behind a car. Shoving her toward the other wheel, he crouched behind one and risked a second over the boot to try and get a look at their attackers. Shots buried themselves in the boot and John hunched back over while touching at where he was sure one or two of the stray bullets singed his hair as they grazed his scalp.

"Anyone you know?" Anna called toward him, ducking and flinching down as the glass from the windows shattered and tinkled around them.

"Vera's second," John nodded. "Angela Bartlett."

"Not a fan of yours?"

"Not really."

"Any chance she'd ceasefire for us?"

"No." John hunched his shoulders, wiping the blood off his fingers from his still-stinging scalp. "She probably thinks I killed Vera."

"And strung up ten of her men?"

"I don't credit Angela Bartlett with an overabundance of brains." John leaned over and nodded at a point just over Anna's shoulder. "You think you could fit through there?"

Anna frowned before pivoting in her crouch to measure the space between their level and the one below it. Thin cables stretched over the gaps in the concrete but the tops of the cars in the level below were visible. After a moment she nodded and John tossed her the keys from his pocket.

"If you can get around them then you could bring the car here."

"Do I get to run them over if they don't move out of the way?"

"That's up to you." John took a breath before pointing. "I'll make a run for that side, draw their fire, and you get down and come back behind them."

"They'll hit you."

"No," John waved off her concern before flinching at another hail of bullets, this one closer. "They shoot like Stormtroopers."

"You realize that's a series fallacy, right? They're actually good shots and-"

They both flinched as two of the tires on the other side of the car they used for cover popped, forcing the car to sag. John pointed at the gap in the concrete. "Just get going and bring the car around."

Anna nodded and rolled to the gap, slipping between the wire cables to drop onto the car below as John got to his toes. He forced a few breaths and timed for the split-second pause between the hail of wasted bullets. In that instance he darted across the open space to reach the other section of cars.

As he did, however, John's foot caught and he skidded over the concrete. It ripped through his trousers, leaving him hissing against the road rash now burning against the skin of his thigh. Skin that proved a hazard as John tried to stand and his leg stumbled to send him bumping into the side of the car.

The alarm blared and John had barely a moment trying to move to a better spot when two bodies hit him. One tackled him around the waist as the other impacted his side. The second body knocked John's newly developed injury and sent them down into a heap as John's leg buckled under the shock.

Their position, however, only worsened. John managed to wrap the first of his attackers in a headlock, given the height advantage, but the other punched his fist twice into John's ripped open leg. Primal reaction sent John twitching away from the blows and loosening his arms. The half-second of instinct allowed the first attacker to skitter away as John tried to fend off attacks from the other. But he could do no more than curl into the fetal position when two sets of boots kicked at him.

His arms raised to protect his head and he tried to roll away from the motions but the movements ground his injured leg into the concrete. Again his body betrayed him and stretched out to try and lift his leg away from the pain. Two hits drove the breath from his lungs and just when John debated rolling under the car for safety, a voice called out.

"Don't waste your time on this rubbish boys."

John did not lower his arms until he glimpsed two sets of boots moving away from him. Even then his arms only lowered slow to take in the scene. A woman roughly his age stepped toward him, the crags in her face leaving no mistakes about her opinions of him.

"He's not worth the polish you'll need for your boots."

"Nice to see you again too Mrs. Bartlett." John went to stand but a kick sent him into the side of the car. He barely stopped himself landing hard on the concrete again as he caught himself roughly on his knee. Gritting his teeth, John turned to the man. "Not even going to let me stand?"

"After all the trouble you've caused?" Mrs. Bartlett scoffed, "We should kill you right here."

"What a mess."

"Like what you left of Vera?"

"I had nothing to do with what happened to Vera." John put a hand on the car, hoisting himself up and reacted fast enough to dodge another attempt at a kick to keep him down. He caught the man's leg and drove his elbow down just above the man's knee while wrenching the wrong way on his ankle. The man went down with a howl of pain as he hit the ground sideways with his leg bent at an awkward angle.

Turning back to Mrs. Bartlett, John hissed through his teeth, "I had no interest in her and what happened wasn't my doing."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I'd expect you to believe that I wanted her behind bars, not murdered in my backyard." John took a breath, "Besides, I want to catch the man who did it."

"What man is that?"

"Alex Green, the serial killer." Mrs. Bartlett blanched at the name and John paused, "What do you know about him?"

"Only periphery stuff. Nothing concrete except Mason's got him on his radar too." Mrs. Bartlett sniffed, "Heard he gave you some information about it that helped you get Vyner put away."

"Not soon enough." John paused, "Did Green tell you we'd be here?"

"Why'd you ask?"

"Because it'd be convenient if the two biggest groups trying to nail him to the wall for what he's done just happened to rub each other out before they could return the favor for him." John twitched at the squeal of tires that brought the rumbling engine of Anna's car to him.

"As convenient as your girlfriend the getaway driver?"

"She's…" John shook his head. "Do you know where he is?"

"I know where he might've been when Vera was meeting with him." Mrs. Bartlett shrugged, "There were some old warehouses by the old docks Vera used awhile back. They're empty now, since we moved to our… Well, our soon-to-be former location. She might've mentioned them to him."

"Thank you." John moved around Mrs. Bartlett toward the open door of Anna's car. "Temporary truce until the psycho's caught?"

Mrs. Bartlett shrugged, "No promises."

John just rolled his eyes and shut the door.