Chapter five
By the time they made their way out of the shrubbery, they could hear sirens wailing and blue lights were flashing along the opposite bank. Still, they had no effort making it to their safe-house undetected, which was luckily not far away.
While de la Vega organized sweepers to take care of the car and the busted up suits they had left scattered over the city center, Benji headed straight for the bathroom. He was still fighting with his wet shirt when Brandt brought him a stack of fresh clothes he had found in the wardrobes.
"You ok?" the analyst asked again.
"Yeah," Benji replied, then quickly told him of his encounter with Ethan.
Brandt's already perpetual frown deepened for a moment, then he sighed. "Alright," he replied and headed back out of the bathroom.
When Benji emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, everyone else was sitting around the large table in what in a regular apartment would be the living room, perched behind various computer screens. Leandre just put down her phone.
"Good news," she said. "Sort of. The sweepers got Hauenstein and eleven of his guys, although we don't know that there aren't more. Most of them got beaten up, but all are still alive. Only Hauenstein is seriously injured, skull fracture. He's in a coma now and the doctors say if he walks away from that it will probably be with some brain damage."
Benji flinched as she said it. While he knew that in his work it was sometimes unavoidable, he still didn't want to kill anyone. Even someone like van Hauenstein.
"One less leak to pluck," de la Vega muttered darkly.
"Also from the preliminary interviews it seems like the suits were just hired muscle," Adrienne continued. "They can't tell us where he had that kind of sensitive information from, but at least if there are still others out there they don't have any information they can pass on to anyone."
Brandt sighed and got up. "Good work," he said, pocketing his own phone. "I have a contact in town, I'll take Luther and Benji to meet him."
Luther raised on questioning eyebrow but Brandt's gaze silenced him before he could ask.
"Alright," de la Vega said flatly. Only Adrienne seemed visibly miffed.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
"So, this contact of yours," Luther started as soon as they were out of the door, then left the sentence hanging as a question.
Benji exchanged a look with Brandt, then repeated his report as they followed their earlier route back into the city center. He hesitated momentarily when they reached the bridge, casting a quick glance at the shrubbery, but then swallowed down his feeling of foreboding and continued.
Although the bridge was still busy, the crowds had thinned when the sky had clouded over earlier, driving tourists into cafés for warm drinks. The emergency vehicles were gone, too, and the only reminders of what had happened were black tire marks on the asphalt.
The Corinthian was a tall sandstone building with statues decorating the front, giving it a regal atmosphere. Still, among the similar buildings that lined the streets in this part of the city it wasn't very outstanding, from the outside at least.
The inside was more remarkable, wealth displayed openly yet without being overly obnoxious, every room a different setting, but always with a feeling of luxury. The casino was decorated in black leather and dark wood with gold detailing but didn't feel oppressive. When they entered there were only a few early players at the slot machines and a lonely croupier skillfully shuffling cards at a table.
They crossed the room towards the bar, which was equally empty, and Brandt would have missed the single man sitting in a booth by the large window front if Benji hadn't pointed him out. Only as they came closer he recognized Ethan under the shock of hazelnut-brown hair that framed his face.
A bartender appeared out of nowhere when they slid into the opposite bench and took their orders, reappearing only moments later with their drinks.
"Are you alright?" Ethan asked, looking at each of them in turn, then finally resting his gaze on Benji.
Dunn nodded. "I'm fine," he replied. "And thanks."
Ethan just nodded back, then looked at all of them. "What happened?"
"We had intel Hauenstein was selling the virus to the highest bidder," Brandt explained. "It was a setup."
"He had information on me," Benji added. "Tried to make me get him IMF files."
"Had?" Ethan interrupted, stressing the past tense.
"Hauenstein is not a problem anymore," Brandt said diplomatically.
Hunt raised an eyebrow but didn't ask further.
"What do we do now?" Luther asked.
Ethan looked down into his glass. "I'm trying to track the virus. I've got a lead, but I don't know where it's going yet," he said, sounding unsatisfied. "Still, now we know Hauenstein is – was – involved, maybe that's going to get us somewhere."
"You know, Ethan," Brandt put in, "if I could tell what's really going on to the rest of my team?"
Ethan shook his had. "Think," he said. "Who knew about your mission? Who knew Benji was going in? Where did you get your intel from?"
Benji blinked at him. "You think it's one of them?"
"I think it's possible," Ethan qualified and got up. "Go back to the safe house, see if you can follow up on Hauenstein."
No one questioned his decision, although they didn't look very happy either. Just as he turned around, Luther called after him. "And you?"
Ethan looked back. His eyes seemed to make contact with Benji a moment longer than with the others. "I'll be in touch," he replied. Then he walked away.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
They walked the way back to the safe-house in silence, each caught up in their own thoughts. The bad feeling Brandt had picked up in Brussels had been steadily growing since. He had seen what it could do to agents if they didn't talk to each other, yet he was keeping potentially vital information from his own team, just like he knew Ethan was keeping secrets from them.
He still trusted Ethan, and he knew why they were doing it. But this could be dangerous. And in their line of work dangerous easily turned into deadly.
With a sigh, he opened the door and almost walked into Benji who had stopped in the middle of the doorway. When he stepped aside to let the others in, Brandt could see why.
The room was a mess. The table in the center was turned over, one leg hanging off at an odd angle. One chair was sticking half inside a wall. Cups and computers were lying broken on the floor between splatters of tea and coffee.
Guns drawn the agents silently spread out in the apartment. "Leandre?" Benji called into the room. "De la Vega? Anyone?" His words echoed unanswered from the walls.
While Luther stayed downstairs to search the bathroom and kitchen, Brandt followed Benji up the winding staircase that led to the bedrooms.
He quickly established that the first room he went into was empty, with all closets ripped open there was little space for anyone to hide. The second room was in a similar shape and when Brandt returned to the hallway and Benji wasn't there he assumed the other agent might have found something in the third upstairs room. But the last bedroom was also empty.
"Benji?" Brandt called tentatively. He took another quick look into the other rooms, in case they had passed each other without noticing. But there was no reply and no Benji.
With a sense of looming dread, he headed back down the stairs. As soon as he had a view into the main room he noticed that the front door was open although he was sure they had closed it earlier. "Luther?" he called.
He looked around the room for more signs of the two agents while he descended the staircase, still hoping for an answer. He wanted to call for them again but knew better than to draw any more attention to himself. Either the intruders had still been inside or they had come back, but if they were here now, they probably already knew where he was and he had lost the moment of surprise.
Brandt turned towards the kitchen door which also stood slightly ajar, trying to make as little noise as possible. But just after he had stepped away from the stairs a feathered dart embedded itself into the plastered wall behind him.
Instinctively he lunged sideways and rolled, thereby also escaping the second shot. Coming back to his feet he could see his attacker standing in the door to the kitchen, taking aim. They were separated by about five meters of space and one thrown over chair. Too much for Brandt to get to the man before he could shoot and little enough that shot would be hard to miss.
But right next to him was the front door. Jumping sideways the dart missed him, bouncing off the door frame. Brandt didn't hesitate. As soon as he got the floor back under his feet, he threw the door shut and ran.