Ekko put the phone down and gazed at Silas. She had to believe in him, and yet she didn’t want to weigh him down with the burden. But who else was there? She couldn’t do this, but he could.
A part of her fell for him there in that moment. He was picking up her baton and running with it when it hadn’t been his race to begin with.
Hang in there, Chayan. Silas is coming for you.
15.
Tuesday. Heathrow Airport, United Kingdom.
Silas peered over the top of his phone and the glasses.
No sign of the targets. Yet.
Earlier that morning he’d managed to crawl out of bed without waking Ekko when his phone had gone off. It was news he’d been hoping for.
Someone had identified their DSS operatives.
Igney and Pasley Bootur.
Despite the men sharing the same surname, they weren’t related. In fact, it was telling.
Chayan had explained while lecturing about the DSS that children taken in before the age of five were stripped of family surnames and given one of a few state names. The Bootur surname came from the Yakut people, one of many who had contributed to the Daurain population. The name had been selected for two purposes. The first Minister of Public Affairs had roots that went back to the Yakut people, and the name meant protector. Since many of the protective service members were children conscripted from the state-run orphanages, the surname was a brand setting those kids apart. Bootur was also the name given to boys that resided in the capital city.
All in all, it meant that Igney and Pasley were some of the best the DSS had to offer.
At every corner people were molded.
Silas checked the time.
If their sources were right, Igney and Pasley should have arrived. They’d be going through customs soon. With the early morning traffic they would hopefully be able to tail the two men by subway or car.
Ekko hadn’t yet sent him a message.
Was she still asleep?
She’d asked for something to help her pass out and against his better judgement Brett had forked over something. Silas just hoped she wasn’t disoriented when she woke up and that nothing happened to her. With only four of them he’d had to leave her alone.
Couldn’t keep thinking about that.
Paxton ambled past then leaned against the post running up to the ceiling overhead. “Anything?”
“No.”
“We’ll get them,” Paxton said quietly.
Silas hoped so, but he was also beginning to wonder if Chayan was mired too deep to save. What if Silas had to make the call, cut their losses and head home with just Ekko? Would she ever forgive him?
“Ekko’s something else.”
Silas glanced up at Paxton. “Got a problem with her?”
“No. Chill, nerd.” He turned and ambled away.
They’d been in close proximity too long. Apart they might not be recognized. Separate they stood better odds. Despite knowing that, Silas wanted Paxton to say more. They’d have to revisit this conversation later.
A text hit Silas’ phone from Zain.
The police weren’t changing their story. One person said Chayan didn’t exist in the system. The other claimed he’d been delivered to processing. Silas couldn’t help but wonder what kind of hell Zain was raising over this. What with the buzz about possibly opening up a European branch of the company, Zain had been to the UK several times scouting places and meeting people. This was one fuck up that wasn’t going to go away.
“I’ve got them,” Brett whispered through the ear piece. “Just left customs.”
“Are they coming to us, or Vito?” Silas slouched down a bit more. His reading glasses nearly fell off the edge of his nose.
He and Paxton were waiting on the platform for the tube opposite from where their targets would enter. But that wasn’t their only mode of transportation. Their people here could always send a car. They could hire a cab. And that was why Vito was outside waiting in the cramped car they’d rented yesterday.
“They didn’t turn toward the tube. They’re headed outside,” Brett said.
Vito’s voice was a deep rumble. “I’m in position.”
Silas got up and pocketed his phone. He pushed the glasses up to sit atop the beanie he wore covering his hair.
The trick now would be to emerge just behind the targets and tail them to their destination, which was hopefully where Chayan was. If he wasn’t, they’d end up following the two goons for days. Of course, Chayan could already be dead. That was the reality he didn’t want to tell Ekko about. However, if he were trying to keep state secrets just that—secret—the first thing he’d do would be to kill Chayan.
The very idea made Silas’ stomach roll, but he had to accept that was what made the most sense. Now, if these people wanted something from Chayan? That would be their window of opportunity.
Was it possible the Daurians would want a statement from Chayan? Some sort of accounting for his actions? Or was he too much of a liability?
Silas wished he could say.
He caught sight of the big, burly man and the more athletic one walking slightly apart from one another. They could be two men on their own, or together. It was hard to say, except Silas knew.
The two passed through the glass doors and into the sunlight.
Silas slowed his step.
“I see them,” Vito said.
Another figure darted out the doors.
Brett.
He looked funny in the too big clothes, but the pseudo disguise worked. They’d all picked up a few tricks what with working under a former Mossad operative. Spy work was a whole other level of their job that was still foreign to Silas, but it made the job easier at times.
“Someone just waved at them,” Brett said. “They’re getting into a silver hatchback. Time to load up.”
Silas lengthened his stride.
Paxton jogged past him.
Silas grit his teeth. Only one of them could go that fast.
He pressed his phone to his thigh.
Sill no message from Ekko. With any luck they’d be back before she woke up with good news and a plan to get the hell out of here. He just prayed she was still there when they returned.
So many risks.
Silas stepped into the early morning dreary day.
“Come on,” Paxton said through the headset, strain in his voice.
Silas gave in and jogged the last little distance.
The front passenger seat was vacant. He threw himself into the car and Vito took off.
“We lose them?” Silas asked.
“No,” Vito replied.
“Anyone report the license plate yet?” Silas fastened his seat belt.
Brett leaned forward and showed Silas his phone. “Just did. It’s this one.”
“The driver looks more Chinese than the others,” Vito said.
Silas filed that away for later.
The silver car in question was ahead of them by a few car lengths. He could just make out a few human forms through the tinted windows.
Silas forced himself to lean back and take a deep breath. Speed limits in the city center area were low. There would be no high-speed chase. With luck, they’d never go over thirty. The best thing would be a nice, easy car ride around the city.
No one spoke as they tailed the car, varying between three to six car lengths behind. What with the London traffic it wasn’t that hard to do. The key was never getting more than one light behind the car.
Vito eased the car to a stop as a light switched from yellow to red.
Silas clenched his hands, watching the silver car ahead of them.
It shot through a light at the last second.
“Shit,” Silas spat.
“Go,” Brett barked.
Both Paxton and Silas were out of the car in an instant. Paxton’s longer stride carried him farther.
“They turned right,” Brett said.
Silas hooked right down an alley Paxton oversh
ot. Silas slid past a delivery truck idling by a set of doors and kept going.
Ahead of Silas the alley let out onto a smaller side road. He didn’t stop, nearly barreling into a few pedestrians. He cut through the cars parked at the curb and dashed out across the street to a chorus of horns.
“Anyone have a visual?” Brett asked.
Silas reached the other side of the street and the corner, glancing behind him.
The car idled at a red light, three back.
“I see them.” Silas slowed his pace and faced forward.
Paxton chimed in a moment later. “I see them, too.”
“Pick you both up at the next red lights,” Brett said. “Got word back on the car. It’s stolen.”
“Then maybe we should help return it?” Silas’ breathing slowed though his heart was still pumping.
“Let’s see where they take us. We’re passing Chinatown now.”
Silas glanced across the street, catching a glimpse of the iconic Chinatown Gate. “Should we consider if the Chinese are helping them?”
Brett’s voice was strained. “We don’t know anything yet.”
The silver car drove past Silas. He glanced right, watching the car in the window of a building, not that there was anything to see.
How long were they going to do this? How long until something went right for them? Or horribly wrong?
TUESDAY. UNKNOWN, LONDON, United Kingdom.
Silas narrowed his gaze, every fiber focused on the car ahead of them.
Was the car actually stopping or was this another slow their roll then go?
Vito had been forced to follow at a much greater length. They were currently almost a city block away around the corner waiting at a stop sign.
“Someone’s coming up behind us,” Paxton said, drawing attention to the unsuspecting driver who was likely just trying to get somewhere.
Ahead of them the doors on the silver car opened.
Silas threw his door open.
“Down the street, around the corner and back,” Brett said to Vito, ignoring both Silas and Paxton getting out of the car.
They couldn’t follow the car and they couldn’t let the people out of sight. Which meant they had to take a risk and go on foot.
Each of them had traded jackets with the other two men. Disguises didn’t have to be elaborate. All they had to do was look slightly different to fade into the background.
Silas and Paxton fell into step, both watching the four men gathering on the sidewalk.
“What are they doing?” Brett asked through the headset.
“Standing outside what looks like a pub. It’s not open yet.”
“I’m with Vito,” Paxton said. “Those men don’t look like they’re Daurian.”
“Wait.” Silas slowed his pace even more. “They’re going inside.”
“I’ll let Zain know our theory,” Brett said. He didn’t sound happy about getting this job.
The building didn’t look very large. It was one of those tall, narrow structures with a business on the first floor and what looked like apartments above it. The lot next to it was under development, setting it a bit apart from the other buildings around it.
Paxton and Silas crossed the street without speaking or agreeing on a course of action, they were simply in tune with each other.
Silas licked his lips. “No movement in the windows. No lights on.”
“We’re pulling up on the other side,” Brett said.
Silas pressed his elbows to his sides. The feel of his guns against his ribs was a comfort.
Paxton darted into a convenience store next to the demolished building and bought two drinks while Silas remained outside under the awning, pretending to look at his phone.
“Can’t make anything out in the upper windows,” Brett said.
Silas squinted at the building. “There’s leasing information in one window. See who owns it?”
“Is it time to report the car?” Paxton asked.
“Not yet.” Silas accepted the juice Paxton handed him.
“What’s our plan?”
Silas opened his mouth to answer, but Brett beat him to it.
“Wait and see,” he said.
Silas grimaced and glanced away.
He didn’t want to wait. He wanted to act.
Paxton reached up and tapped his ear piece. Silas did the same.
“How long?” Paxton asked. He knew Silas far too well.
Silas considered the question for a moment. “What do you think? If I had my way we’d go in now, but that’s not smart.”
Paxton drew in a breath and glanced back at the building. “Fifteen minutes.”
“Is that enough time?”
“Is it too much time?”
Silas shrugged.
“Fifteen minutes,” Paxton said. “If they wanted to kill him, it’s already done. They wouldn’t have had to send people here. They want something from this guy, so he’s alive. Maybe not in the best condition, but he’s alive.”
Silas nodded. It was the same conclusion he’d come to, but it felt good hearing it from someone else.
Paxton pulled out his phone. Silas knew without asking that Pax was starting his mental timer.
“Ekko doing okay?” he asked.
Silas glanced at Paxton and frowned.
He shrugged. “You like her.”
Silas did like Ekko, though like was a rather tame word for it. From the moment he’d realized what she was really up to and he saw her for who she really was, he’d been in her orbit. Caught up in her magic. And he wasn’t sure he wanted it to stop.
That was for later, after he’d gotten Ekko and Chayan to safety. They’d agreed to sort out the more complicated stuff then. For now, they were what they were. Complicated and passionate.
“Time’s almost up,” Paxton said.
“Should we tell the others?”
“Probably.”
Silas reached up and reactivated his headset. “Anything?”
“Nothing from this angle. You two should move.”
“Good idea.” Silas tossed the now empty juice bottle into a bin. “We’re going in.”
Together Silas and Paxton strode forward.
“What? No. Both of you, stop,” Brett ordered.
“Sorry, but I don’t recall you being put in charge,” Silas drawled.
This was Silas’ job. Technically, according to procedure, that put him in charge. He didn’t relish leading. Following orders and working with a team was more his style, but in this scenario his gut was telling him to go. It was time to listen.
“Stop right now. I’m warning you,” Brett said.
“With what?” Now Silas was amused. What did Brett really think he could do?
Silas liked the former CIA operative, but Brett still had a lot to learn about his new profession. Namely, that sometimes you just had to trust your gut and go into something blind. They couldn’t afford to play it safe all the time.
As Silas and Paxton neared the bar, Silas tuned Brett’s empty threats out.
Paxton crept right, Silas left until they were on opposite sides of the corner entry. He peered inside at the darkened interior.
No one moved.
Silas caught Paxton’s eye through the window and nodded at the door. They met on the stairs, Paxton with his back to the wall peering into the bar, one hand at his hip. Silas reached for the door.
It swung open on well-greased hinges.
It wasn’t locked.
The hair on the back of Silas’ neck stood up.
He took a step inside and drew one of his firearms from under his jacket. Paxton followed and once the heavy door was shut, sealing them in, it seemed almost quiet enough for Silas to hear his own heartbeat.
There was no need for words or hand signals. Paxton and Silas spread out, Paxton using his extra height to peer behind the bar while Silas checked one bathroom then the other at the far end of the narrow bar.
Nothing.
Paxton
caught his eye and nodded at a narrow doorway tucked to one side of the bar.
It was a landing.
Silas cut behind the bar and met Paxton on the small landing.
There were stairs leading up and stairs leading down.
“Let’s split up,” Silas whispered and took a step down to the basement.
Paxton moved like a cat up the stairs with hardly a sound.
Silas proceeded downward, taking care to step on the edges of the stairs, where they might creak less.
“Locked,” Paxton said in a voice so soft it barely registered through the headset.
Silas pushed the basement door open.
A single light shone, illuminating the last of the stairs. Ahead of him was what looked like a storage area. To the right was the kitchen, walled off with a tile and steel wall. The smell of grease hung in the air, covering everything else.
Silas proceeded into the open area.
Where had they taken Chayan?
“If you haven’t found anything, get out of there,” Brett said.
Silas ignored him. Gun in hand, he ducked into the kitchen but nothing moved. He flipped on a light, the electrical hum starting up before the weary bulbs.
Again nothing.
Paxton descended the stairs and went to check out the shelves of beer, wine and liquor.
Silas turned back and froze.
He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but from this angle it was just barely visible.
“Pax?” Silas whispered as he sidestepped left to peer into what had looked like an employee locker area under the stairs.
There, tucked between the lockers and the wall, was a doorway and beyond that a hall lit by a few bulbs.
“What’s going on?” Brett asked, tension in his voice.
“Found something,” Silas replied and crept toward the opening.
Was this where they’d taken Chayan? Down a mysterious hall that went somewhere else?
It was time to find out.
TUESDAY. SAFE HOUSE, London, United Kingdom.
Igney followed the man down the cramped hall. Their driver had only introduced himself as Li, a name Igney doubted was real.
The hall was ancient. Bricks were missing in places with the holes sealed in with more concrete or plaster. It was barely wide enough to walk without his shoulders brushing. Pasley must have to walk almost sideways.
Dangerous Connections (Aegis Group Book 9) Page 20
