Jack liked the teasing. Things had been cool between them since he’d revealed his relationship with Ethan. Lydia’s reaction had been what Jack had expected—confusion and antipathy towards both him and Ethan. He’d gone through it with his second, Harry McGill, only minutes before he was killed by terrorists in Canberra. They hadn’t been given the time to work it out. Jack still had that chance with Lydia, and maybe this meant she was starting to accept.
“And your dad?” she asked, even gentler.
His friends knew about his birthday visits to his father and never failed to be supportive of however they left him.
“Good,” he managed. “He thought I was my uncle, so family at least.”
“I’m sure somewhere deep down he knows you were there with him.” Stepping back, she waved him on. “Lewis and Fabian are still in the operations room. They’ve found information on where Omega—” She winced. “About where Ethan might be.”
She was trying, that’s all Jack could hope for. “Thanks. Where are you going?”
“Back to the official work.” She didn’t quite keep all the testiness out of her voice that time. “Lew and I aren’t assigned to look for your boyfriend, remember.”
“I’m sorry. Do you need him back?”
It took her a moment but Lydia managed a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “No. At this stage of the job, he’s more of a hindrance than a help. We’re still gathering information. When that hits critical mass, I’ll let him loose on it.” Backing off, she added, “Just don’t get him suspended over this.”
“I’ll make him back off if it gets that far,” Jack promised. She was right. Looking for Ethan wasn’t an official job. Neither had been going after Mati, but that was at least being upgraded now they’d secured the assassin.
Lydia headed towards a different operations room and Jack carried on to where he’d left the others. He found them working side by side, surrounded by a herd of coffee cups and their taller energy drink can cousins.
“Lyds found you?” Lewis asked.
“Yeah.”
Lewis nodded and simply patted Jack’s shoulder, knowing his partner had already done the sympathetic support bit. That done, he shoved Jack down in front of the computer. “It’s pretty thin but it’s a lead. Fabes found it following your car idea. Show him the footage,” he said to the younger man.
A video appeared on Jack’s screen seconds later. Taken from a security cam in a parking structure, the image was grainy but right on the edge of the vision, a Jeep roared backwards out of a park, turned sharply and came to a very abrupt stop. After a moment, it took off at a much sedater pace and left the structure.
“Do we have any images of who’s in the car?” Jack replayed it.
“Nope, which sort of indicates Ethan. We did follow the car as best we could. It went west and we lost track of it just before the mountains. Then we found the Jeep abandoned in Mudgee about 9 a.m. this morning. Fabes put the description and licence plate out to the cops state wide. There’s no CCTV cameras in the area it was found, but a silver Holden Colorado was reported stolen there this morning. We’ve already got a KLO4 out on the new car.”
“Good,” Jack said, unsure of how he felt about this. Was Ethan deliberately leaving them a path to follow? Was he expecting Jack to catch up and . . . what? Save him? Perhaps. Or was he simply working on the fly? Doing what he could in the moment and not quite reaching his usual standards.
Fabian’s computer beeped. “Got a report on the KLO4. Police car saw a silver Holden Colorado heading northwest out of Mudgee on the B55 highway. I’ll set the search parameters to follow it.”
Moments later, they got another hit. Images from a volunteer firefighter crew after they’d put out a large fire at an isolated shed twenty kilometres away from where the police saw the Colorado. And if the burnt-out hulk of a dual cab ute wasn’t the same car, the coincidence would be vastly improbable.
“Look at that.” Jack pointed to a photo of the burnt ruins. “See those tracks? That would have held a moveable platform for a helicopter.”
“Shit,” Lewis muttered. “They’re airborne. That makes it a lot trickier.”
Jack shot to his feet. “I need a closer look at the shed. Is the Kamov still on the roof?”
“Yeah. Pilot should be around somewhere.”
“Don’t need a pilot.” Jack headed for the door.
Lewis caught up to him. “Then you’ll have a spare seat for a spotter.”
Fresh from Lydia’s warnings, Jack gave his mate a searching look. “Are you sure?”
No hesitation from Lewis. “No wukkas, mate.”
Minutes later, they were strapping into the attack helicopter and Lewis was as excited as a kid at Christmas. Jack wondered if he’d witness Lewis’s O face when they were up and the Ka-52’s powerful engines were unleashed on the sky around them.
“Don’t forget you’re my spotter,” Jack said over comms.
“I know, I know. Holy shit, this is amazing. Do some fancy flying. Do some fancy flying.”
Jack smiled at his friend’s not-really-fake-over-enthusiasm. The Kamov Ka-52 was very manoeuvrable and it would be fun to take the craft through its paces now it was working at top performance. Right then, though, he just needed the speed and the bird delivered.
However, they were still barely halfway to the site of the fire when Fabian’s voice came over the comms, giving them a new destination. The sun was setting in the west when Lewis spotted it. A flare of reflected light off the tip of something metallic. Dipping the nose of the bird downward, Jack shot down towards the ground and sure enough, that was a chopper rotor, broken off and bent, lodged into disturbed dirt on the side of a rise of slope of land around a dam. The path of damage rolled down to the water, leaving debris scattered over torn up grass and sod. At its end, the tail assembly of a large chopper was just visible in the brown water.
Again, the coincidence would be astronomical.
Jack and Lewis got back to Sydney just before midnight and were welcomed by a very sour Lydia, who directed them to McIntosh’s office and stared daggers at Jack behind her partner’s back.
Great. In trouble with Lydia and on his way to a probable dressing-down from his boss as well. The pit that had opened up in Jack’s stomach at the sight of the crashed chopper gaped a little wider. He and Lewis had spent hours searching the crash site, looking for bodies—looking for Ethan—but found nothing. Once the salvage team had arrived, Lewis had convinced Jack they’d done all they could themselves and to return to the city.
Miller, sitting at his desk, looked sleep rumpled and harassed. The glare he laid on Jack and Lewis clearly said he blamed them for being dragged into work at this hour.
“She’s expecting you.” His cool tone held a hint of glee that their nuts were about to be freeze-dried and used as earrings.
“Sit,” Donna McIntosh said as they entered.
The chill in the word sent a shiver down Jack’s spine, and Lewis’s judging by the little shake of his shoulders. They sat.
The director regarded them over the top of her tortoiseshell rimmed glasses, her blue eyes glacial, then she looked back at the screen beside her, angled so they couldn’t see what was on it. “You’ve both had a rather surprisingly busy day. Especially since you, Jack, aren’t even supposed to be at work, and you, Lewis, are supposedly working on an arms smuggling case.”
“Ma’am—” they both attempted and cut off the moment she looked up from her screen.
“I don’t need excuses, gentlemen.” There was no warming of her gaze, but her tone did soften slightly. “I’m happy your family is safe, Jack, and we’re organising a more long-term residence for them right now. I’ve also authorised the use of the Kamov and Lewis’s interactions with law enforcement. I’m sure I don’t have to remind either of you that I am not fond of retroactively approving the actions of my assets.”
“No, ma’am.”
“The capture of a Cabal assassin is the on
ly thing keeping both of you from being suspended. As it is, we will all be justifying today’s events for a long time to come. Jack, since you seem well enough, I’m rescinding the remainder of your recovery leave. As of this morning, you were back on active duty. I expect you back here at 8 a.m. for a full debrief. Lewis, since Lydia assures me you’re not vital to the arms smuggling case right now, you’re reassigned to work with Jack on the assassin.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lewis didn’t look relieved because he still had to face Lydia in the privacy of their own home.
“Has anyone spoken to the assassin?” Jack asked as McIntosh waved for them to leave.
“Not yet. They only finished processing her a couple of hours ago. Designation Sigma.”
So it would be another several hours before they tried to talk to her. Enough time to let her new situation fully sink in. Time to test the security if she wanted and to learn there was no escaping.
“Will I be given access?”
“If she proves as difficult as Omega Subject, I’m sure we’ll have to try everything.”
They left, dodged Miller’s death stare and headed to the stairwell.
“Could have been worse,” Jack said.
“Could have had a few more hugs and ‘job well dones,’ too.”
Jack snorted in agreement, but they both knew how lucky they’d been.
Lydia was waiting in the garage at her car. She forced a smile when they explained how the meeting went, assured Lewis she could handle their current case, and even gave Jack a sympathetic hug.
“Do you want to come to ours tonight?” she asked.
Jack had been mostly numb since his visit with his father but Lydia’s concern threatened to thaw out feelings he wasn’t quite ready to deal with, so he shook his head, got into Victoria, and went home.
Which surprised him when he ended up at the penthouse. Ethan had always insisted it was their place but without him there, it felt a bit weird to show up in the wee small hours. That shock combined with seeing what had appeared next to his Ninja so that he almost drove the Vanquish into the wall. Stopping just in time, Jack sat for a moment and stared at the white covered shape with a huge red bow on the front.
Slowly, Jack got out and circled the new bike hesitantly. It had to be from Ethan. Jack’s birthday present. The man had been hinting at it—badly—for the past week and Jack had pretended to be annoyed by it while desperately eager to see what could make Ethan smirk and tease. This was it. It had to be. A bike, but a special one, and not just because it bulked bigger than the Ninja next to it. But because it was from Ethan. His first gift to Jack, and possibly his last.
Jack’s fingers itched to touch it, to lift the cover and see what Ethan had chosen for him. He couldn’t do it, though. Not with Ethan somewhere out there doing something Jack couldn’t fathom. Knowing would end it. Knowing would mean Ethan wouldn’t be able to surprise him again. Knowing would mean Jack accepted that Ethan had walked away from him, for good.
He left the cover on the mystery bike and went up to the penthouse, but the moment he stepped foot inside, he knew he couldn’t stay. Despite Ethan’s assurances, without him here it didn’t feel like Jack’s place anymore. Most of his junk was still at the Leichhardt apartment, but the important things had been brought over. His medals, the photo of his parents, Mati’s card from thirteen years ago . . . that was it. That didn’t feel pathetic at all.
Recognising the direction his thoughts were going in, Jack dropped Ethan’s keys in the bowl, picked up his own and, on the Ninja, went back to his old place.
He didn’t sleep well, or much at all, and in the morning encountered Rocco Cesare in the hallway. At his elderly neighbour’s feet was a subdued Short Round, looking up at Jack with huge black eyes.
“Morning, Mr. Cesare.” Jack was genuinely pleased to see him. “How have you been?”
“Good, good.” He smiled fondly down at his dog. “Better since Short Round came home.”
Jack crouched and let Shorty nuzzle his hand before scratching his head. “And how have you been, Shorty?”
“Bit quiet since . . . well, since then,” Mr. Cesare answered for his dog. “But the vet gave him a clean bill of health and his appetite has certainly recovered. Which reminds me, did you pay his vet bills?”
Looking up in surprise, Jack shook his head. “No.”
Mr. Cesare frowned. “Well, I wonder who did then. When I picked him up they explained that someone had already settled the bill.”
Shorty nudged Jack’s hand and he patted the dog while he digested that information. “Ethan.”
“Yes, of course.” His neighbour’s frown didn’t shift. “I haven’t seen either of you lately. Are things okay with you boys?”
“Well, they were.” Jack couldn’t meet his gaze, focusing instead on Shorty, who swooned under his hand. “We’re . . . um . . . he’s gone.”
Mr. Cesare squeezed his shoulder. “Son, I’m very sorry to hear that. I really liked your young man. I hope you can work it out.”
If Ethan wasn’t trapped at the bottom of a dam under a chopper, Jack hoped so, too.
They walked together to the end of the hall where Jack took the stairs down and Mr. Cesare and Shorty got into the lift. Jack was glad he’d spoken with his neighbour, to know he was okay and that Shorty had recovered. And that Ethan had reverted to his usual sneaky tactics to make sure Mr. Cesare wasn’t out of pocket for something Ethan likely blamed himself for.
When he reached the Office, it was to news that the chopper wreck had been hauled out overnight and Ethan’s body hadn’t been inside. They would dredge the dam but Jack was starting to believe Ethan had escaped and was alive. Which meant he was possibly wandering around somewhere in the vast open spaces, maybe hurt, probably alone. Trusting the organisation of search parties to Lewis, Jack went to find out whatever he could from the female assassin.
He met McIntosh in an observation room on the sublevel with the cells and as they stood before a screen showing an image of a cell interior, Jack flashed back to this almost exact same situation a year ago. Then, it had been Ethan in the cell and Jack had a mental filing cabinet full of secrets that were slowly haemorrhaging right in front of his director. This time, she knew as much as he did and yet he still felt nervous around her. Probably because the Arctic mood of the previous night hadn’t totally defrosted.
“She’s proving to be as uncommunicative as Blade was.” McIntosh watched the woman in the cell.
The assassin sat at the table, hands resting on its top, neatly folded together. Her head was slightly bowed so she appeared to be looking at her hands. The blonde hair Jack remembered being long and bouncy had been cut to just below her shoulders and curled stubbornly about the sides of her face. The light in the cell was low enough she didn’t need glasses and her eyes were large and framed in fine lashes. She had clear, smooth skin, a jaw squarer than it was narrow, and beautifully shaped lips.
“I’m hoping you can work your particular charm on her.” McIntosh turned to Jack. “Her capture might not have been as sublime as Blade walking into this building and surrendering himself, but it was remarkably easy. You were factors in both of those incidents. Let’s see if it continues.”
In the moment, Jack wouldn’t have called the assassin’s capture too easy, but afterwards, he’d been able to see how and where it could have gone much worse. If the woman had really wanted to kill Mati and her friend, then she would have found a more effective means than a car chase.
“I’ll do what I can, ma’am. What about the implant?” They hadn’t known about Ethan’s when it had been him in there and hadn’t countered it.
“The techs disabled hers during processing. After our first encounter with a Cabal assassin, we’re not taking any chances this time. Even if she had intel in the implant we could have used.”
Jack nodded. Ethan had imported several malware programs on his first visit to the Office, which had fed information out of their supposedly secure network and
right to the woman sitting in the cell. She’d been the one to actually parse it to find the evidence that sent the previous Intelligence director off to a highly secure secret prison.
“No bribes this time, Jack.” A wry hint of caution warmed McIntosh’s tone slightly.
“No, ma’am.” He managed a weak smile, then went to talk to yet another assassin.
Once inside the cell, Jack hesitated. At least with Ethan, he’d had some sort of idea how things might progress. Sure, Jack had worried that all those secrets he’d been holding tight might be exposed, but he’d had history with Ethan. Knew Ethan wouldn’t attack him. Or at least, was pretty sure he wouldn’t. His only prior interaction with this woman had been a brief one a year before, where she hadn’t been too complimentary about Jack being with Ethan.
And Ethan may have put a target on Jack but this woman had put them on two innocent kids, one of them his niece.
“Hi,” he began, tone neutral.
The woman turned around. “Good morning.”
At their first meeting, she’d used an Australian accent. Jack hadn’t paid it much attention, too surprised to find a big sister attitude in the way she spoke to Ethan, and that she too was a Sugar Baby. Now, he both was and wasn’t shocked to hear an accent very similar to Ethan’s. British, classy and mildly condescending.
Wanting this to go as smoothly as possible, Jack asked, “What would you like me to call you?”
She regarded him for a long moment, expression not changing but the intensity increasing. He’d felt that from Ethan at the start of their relationship. That predatory weight, of being sized up, assessed, and then filed away under whichever target classification he fit into. He hoped it was “not easy, approach with extreme caution,” but doubted it.
“Seven.”
Jack blinked in surprise. He’d been expecting a fake name, a shield she could hide behind. “Like Ethan was Thirteen, or One-three.”
“Yes, exactly like that.” There were definite tones of contempt this time. Jack almost flashed back to Meera when they were teenagers.
When Death Frees the Devil Page 14
