“Maggie.”
“Grace.”
Baldy returned to his seat up front, and the driver, who Maggie noted was the female agent she’d also met at the penthouse, took off into the busy London traffic.
“I’m glad you decided to come.”
The certainty in Grace’s voice, like she knew all along Maggie would agree to her request, irked her more than she cared to admit. “I’m only doing this because my name is on that list. I’m not back.”
Helmsley arched an eyebrow. “Who said anything about wanting you back?”
The MI6 agent driving sniggered, but Maggie smiled, too. Grace’s notorious reputation for cutting remarks wasn’t exaggerated. She was sharper than any knife Maggie had come across, and she liked the older woman all the more for it.
“Where are we going?”
“Belmarsh.”
“Ah,” Maggie said. They were going to meet Ivan Dalca.
It took thirty minutes to reach Her Majesty’s Prison Belmarsh. The category A men’s prison was situated in London’s southeast, over the river in Thamesmead, adjacent to the Woolwich Crown Court. Maggie eyed the facility—a fortress of brick buildings encompassed by thick gray walls. Inside, the prison housed some of the most high-profile criminals in the country, some of which were in residence thanks to Maggie’s own hands.
Serial killers, terrorists, pedophiles, major drug traffickers. Belmarsh had them all and more within its walls and was known for containing those who posed a considerable threat to national security. Including Ivan Dalca.
“What can you tell me before going in?” Maggie asked as they pulled close to the barrier up front and announced their arrival through the intercom. Security must have been warned they were coming as they were allowed straight through to the carpark.
“He’s a raving lunatic,” Helmsley spat. “Completely bonkers, thinking he could ever stand a chance of getting out.”
“Noted, though I was thinking more along the lines of things we can use to learn as much as we can from him.” Men like Dalca liked to brag. It was the Achilles’ heel to his kind, the need to crow about their achievements like little school boys looking for a gold star. Or, to instill fear and dominance. It was all one big pissing match.
Female criminals weren’t as stupid. They tended to revel in the secrecy of their accomplishments with nothing but a victorious gleam in their eyes and the tug of a grin at their lips.
“He’s a chauvinist pig, for one.”
“I figured as much.” Maggie had met his kind before. Pimps and sex traffickers tended to have a warped view on women, even the ones who supplied men and children. They viewed them like a farmer would his cattle, like a piece of meat to sell for a price. Over and over again until they eventually broke. They weren’t humans to people like Ivan. They were stock.
“Smart, too. Unfortunately,” Grace continued as they parked and got out of the SUV, the two agents trailing close behind in vigilant silence. “The only reason we apprehended him was through sheer coincidence. He was visiting a drug dealer friend right as we raided the house on a bust. Quite the catch that day, let me tell you.”
“And now he’s causing just as much trouble from his cell.” Maybe even more, at least as far as the Unit was concerned.
Grace’s heels clicked along the concrete to the front door. “Bastard.”
Maggie stopped before they went inside. “Have his people released any more names?”
“Not yet, but I fear it’s only a matter of time. We need to end this quickly, and by any means necessary.”
Maggie opened the door and held it open for the Director General, more out of habit than politeness. Helmsley was no longer her superior. Not that she didn’t respect the woman. Like Maggie, she too would do anything she could to protect her country. Even if it meant torture tactics toward a threat.
A man, Maggie guessed the prison governor, stood by the front desk awaiting their arrival. His ill-fitting suit clashed with his loosely knotted tie. Graying hair crowned a stern face with a strong jaw and thick neck.
“How long has he held out?” Helmsley asked him, forgoing introductions. She marched right past him and headed for the secured doors, forcing him into a jog to catch up.
“The whole night, ma’am.” His meaty hands turned a key in the lock, and the door whined open, echoing off the cold, bare walls. The beginnings of bruises surrounded his knuckles, the skin red and slightly swollen. Though he may be the one in charge at Belmarsh, it was clear he liked to get his hands dirty.
Helmsley’s mood darkened at the news. “Has he said anything?”
“Nothing of importance.” The governor led them through a labyrinth of narrow halls and steel-barred doors, avoiding the signs for the general population areas where most of the inmates were kept.
Whistling and catcalling met them when they passed through solitary confinement, prisoners pressing their faces to the small glass windows of their cell doors. Maggie and the others were likely the only people they’d seen for a long time, other than the guards. Their eyes held a glazed, defeated stare like wild lions confined to the small, domestic enclosures of a zoo.
Humans weren’t meant to live in such conditions. Maggie shuddered, glad she wasn’t on the other side of those doors, a fate that would have been her own had Bishop not saved her all those years ago. She balled her fists at the thought of Brice and avoided the prisoners’ faces. Some people were monsters and deserved the cages they were in.
The next door led them down to the depths of Belmarsh’s basement. It was damp, and an aged scent lingered through the stale air. A guard stood sentry by an enclosed room, and the governor welcomed him with a firm nod.
“I warn you, ma’am, he’s violent,” he said.
Grace patted Maggie’s shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll be quite safe, Harold.”
Harold sized Maggie up with resignation, all five feet six of her curved, feminine body. To most, she hardly radiated danger, but that was just the way she liked it. Being underestimated had a wealth of advantages, and Maggie exploited them all to the fullest when needed.
“Ready?” Helmsley asked her.
“What if his people find out?” Given the lengths Ivan’s people had gone to in order to try and secure his release, torture seemed a rash move to Maggie. Not that she was worried about Ivan’s well-being. It was his people’s reaction to the news that concerned her.
“We’ve cut all of his communication,” Helmsley assured. “Including his snake of a lawyer.”
While it was clear Grace refused to negotiate with Ivan and his people, it seemed she was not beyond bending the rules on the man’s rights as a prisoner.
“What if the lawyer tells them he’s not allowed to see Ivan?” Anything that could infuriate Dalca’s people could result in more names being released in punishment. Given the power they held over the government, Grace was playing a dangerous game by antagonizing them.
“He’s no longer a problem.”
Maggie knew what that meant. Grace was nothing if not efficient. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
The guard stepped aside, and Maggie and Grace entered the dark room. The sharp smells of sweat, blood, and piss assaulted her senses as soon as Maggie passed the threshold.
They’d seated Ivan Dalca on a cold, straight-backed metal chair to ensure optimum discomfort. His bare back was to them, his body positioned to face nothing but a blank wall. Even in the dim light, Maggie could see the welts and trickles of blood across his shoulders and upper arms.
The governor had kept on Ivan’s underwear, most likely to protect their delicate feminine sensibilities. Not that Maggie was complaining. The trafficker’s arms and legs were bound with thick rope around the chair legs, coiling tight around his weathered skin.
“Ivan,” Helmsley practically growled.
The man spat out a glob of blood at their feet and raised a defiant chin at their presence. “You again.”
His dark, thinning hair was damp, and no
t just from sweat. A bucket and rag lay off to the side, causing Maggie to relive her training days when she and the rest of the candidates were subjected to torture methods. Waterboarding had been particularly traumatizing.
Ivan’s gaze moved to Maggie, and his sneer changed to something more predatory. “Changed tactics, have you?” he asked Helmsley, licking his lips while he surveyed Maggie up and down. “Is this a peace offering? I must admit it’s been a while since I had a nice piece of ass.”
Grace lurched forward and thrashed her hand across Ivan’s face with a slap that echoed through the dimly lit room.
Ivan’s face snapped to one side, but he released a moan in mock pleasure. “I like it when you play rough.”
Maggie kept her cool and watched the Romanian closely. Whatever had been done to him over the last twenty-four hours hadn’t removed the fight in him. While his body may be in pain, his mind was fully intact, the iron will behind his eyes still present, unlike the prisoners they’d passed on the way down. He had a nose that had suffered at least three breaks in his lifetime, along with a ragged scar that ran up from his chest to under his right ear. This was not a man who would break without a real fight. A fight Maggie and the Unit didn’t have time for.
Helmsley brushed nonexistent dust from her suit, her temper having simmered down to normal. “This is futile, Dalca. You know as well as I do there is no way this will work. We do not negotiate with terrorists.”
“Terrorist, am I?” Ivan laughed. “Well, that’s too bad. For your agents, that is.”
“How did you manage to infiltrate our database?”
“Me? From my cell? It doesn’t have a toilet seat, never mind a computer.”
Helmsley’s lips thinned. “Your people.”
“Perhaps your ‘Unit’ is not as secure as you think.” Blood coating Dalca’s teeth gleamed as a wide grin spread in a slash across his face. He was enjoying himself, relishing their anger and breathing it in like fresh air.
Maggie shared a look with Grace. No one ever suspected Bishop’s betrayal. Was there someone else just as corrupt within the ranks? Information such as the list would fetch a handsome price on the black market. More than enough to make someone very rich indeed.
Helmsley broke Maggie’s knowing gaze and cleared her throat. “Where are your people stationed?”
“How should I know?” Ivan shrugged but wasn’t quick enough to mask the pain in his face the movement caused him.
“You can end all this if you give us a location,” Maggie added, her limited patience running dry. Ivan was toying with them like a cat would mice.
“We move around.”
“Names, then,” Grace snapped, her own tolerance for the Romanian wearing thin. “Whose puppet strings are you pulling?”
“You may be prepared to allow the names of your own to leak, but I am not. I’d rather die.”
“You might if you don’t start talking. I can’t keep an eye on your guards 24-7.”
“They might lose control,” added Maggie, pacing in front of him. “Take it a bit too far. Accidents happen.”
Ivan gave another bloody grin. “I’ll take my chances.”
Maggie moved before she realized it. Lashing out with her foot, she kicked Ivan back and sent him and the chair crashing to the floor with a clang. “Listen, you piece of shit,” she said, standing over him and pressing her boot down on his head so his face scraped the rough floor. “People I care about are on that list. If anything happens to them, I swear you will pay for it. All this will feel like a trip to the spa compared to what I’ll do to you.”
“Then arrange for my freedom,” Ivan said through the pained grit of his teeth. “It’s a simple trade for the lives of those you claim to hold so dear.”
“Maggie,” Grace said in warning.
Maggie pinned him there for a moment longer before releasing him. She then stepped back to the Director General’s side.
It was no use. Ivan would hold on for as long as he could. He had too much to gain from his silence. If he even knew anything at all. If he were as conniving as Maggie suspected, he wouldn’t know enough about his people’s plans to ruin the operation. The more in the dark he was, the less the Unit could get out of him. He knew they wouldn’t risk merely killing him, either, thanks to the list hanging over their heads. Even strapped to a chair, Ivan knew he held the power here.
“Well, I can see this conversation is at an impasse. The sooner you decide to talk, the better.” Without so much as a second glance, Grace walked off and left the room like she had better things to do than deal with Ivan.
Maggie leaned down and whispered in his ear. “She might not be prepared to kill you yet, but if my friends suffer, I will gladly come back and slit your throat while you sleep. I’m going to take down your people and burn your seedy empire to ruin. I promise you that.”
Ivan turned to her, his unwashed smell and sour breath turning her stomach. “Do stop by again soon. I’ll see about arranging a conjugal visit.”
Maggie ignored him and turned to leave.
“Oh, and if things don’t work out with the Unit, you can always come and work with me. A woman like you would look nice on my arm.”
Maggie stopped at the threshold. “I’d sooner rip your arms off. Among other appendages.”
Gathering herself, Maggie returned to Helmsley and the governor who waited outside. There was nothing else she could do here.
“Keep at him, Harold,” Grace ordered, leaving the man and his guard to it.
Maggie walked by her side, nails digging in her palms. “He won’t fold.”
“I know.”
Back in the car, they both sat in silence as the extremity of the situation settled in. Even if he knew anything useful, Ivan wasn’t going to talk. They were at square one with very little to go on.
“What now?” Maggie asked eventually.
“We go at them, full force.”
“What about what Dalca said?”
Grace shifted in her seat. “You think I have another traitor in my midst?”
“Before Bishop, I would’ve said not a chance. Now, I’d say just about anything goes.”
Bishop had died and taken any trust Maggie had for the Unit with him. If he was capable of betraying them, anyone was. What made it so much worse was the fact she didn’t see it. Not until it was far too late. For someone who had taken down so many criminals, who had grown an instinct for sniffing out vile people, she never once suspected Brice of any wrongdoing. She’d idolized him, and her blind faith in the man had cost many their lives while leaving a trail of destruction Maggie couldn’t begin to think about.
How many lives had been altered by her actions? How many wrongful deaths had tallied up over the years on Bishop’s orders? How many times had Maggie been the one to strike the killing blow to an innocent target that some high-paying crook wanted out of the way? And what kind of person did that make her?
All these questions and more had plagued her since Bishop’s revelation on that rooftop, mere moments before he toppled to his death. It niggled at her like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She had been Bishop’s favorite, the one he sent out on the most classified and challenging missions. It had been a source of great pride for Maggie during her time as an agent, but now the burden that came with such an accolade was almost too much to bear.
“Not full force, then?” Helmsley asked, breaking Maggie from her troubled thoughts.
“Unless you believe you can fully trust everyone in the Unit.”
“What would you suggest?”
Maggie considered this for a moment, falling back into her old ways as if she’d never left it all behind. “Agents’ lives are at stake, so let them know what they need to know to stay safe. Anything else should be on a need-to-know basis. That way, if information leaks, the pool of potential double agents will be a narrow one.”
Grace nodded her agreement. “And you?”
“I’ll find them. A syndicate as big as Ivan’s will le
ave a trail of breadcrumbs for me to track.” Maggie would fight her way to the heart of Dalca’s operation with her bare hands if she had to. While she may not deserve a second chance, she sure as hell wasn’t going to let a piece of scum like Dalca ruin the only chance she had. She’d fought too long and too hard to reach that point, and nothing, not even Ivan’s stolen hit list, would take it from her. She’d already given too much.
A phone rang from somewhere on Grace’s person. “I have to take this,” she said, slipping the device out from inside her jacket. “Helmsley,” she answered.
After a moment, Grace’s whole body tensed.
“Affirmative. I’ll be back at HQ within the hour.” She hung up and blinked.
“What is it?” Maggie asked. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
“A new name has been leaked.”
Maggie stopped dead, her heart thundering in her chest. “Who?”
Helmsley held back, not meeting Maggie’s eyes.
“Who, Grace?”
“Leon.”
Chapter 6
Outside of Mogadishu, Somalia
* * *
Secret Agent Leon Frost had been on a few missions to Somalia, but this was by far the most dangerous.
Despite being pushed out of the country’s capital some years ago, Al-Shabab had never lost sight of regaining control of it. Countless attempts to return to their level of power in the city had failed, their influence and ideals a shadow of what they once were across the plains of the African country. Slowly but surely, and with a lot of bloodshed throughout, the splinter cell of the now-defunct Islamic Courts Union had lost the vast majority of its territorial gains established when Ethiopia stormed Mogadishu.
While dominance over land held its own source of power, the true power of such groups, Leon knew, lay in the minds of the people. It didn’t take much to turn a civilian into a new recruit. Questionable foreign policy and botched air strikes did most of the work for the terrorists, allowing them to slither into the hearts and minds of the impressionable and the young, all of their new recruits no stranger to suffering. Leon couldn’t help but think of himself at that age, angry and eager to belong. To be a part of something bigger than himself. In another life, in another place, he could have fallen for it all, too.
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