Hit List

by Jack McSporran

  Maggie went upstairs and knocked on the door to one of the many guest bedrooms. “Can I come in?”

  “Of course,” Leon replied, sitting up in the bed as she entered. He’d gone for a sleep, the events from earlier having tired him out. “How’s your stomach?”

  Maggie kicked off her shoes, lay down on the other side of the double bed, and ran a hand over her wound. “Sore, but I’ve had worse. You?”

  He’d taken off his shirt, and she ran her hand over his chest, memories of their reunion stirring in her mind.

  “Same,” Leon admitted, taking her in his strong arms. “Any news?”

  Maggie cuddled into him, his skin nice and warm from being under the blankets. “None. I’m starting to worry.”

  Leon kissed her head, both of them melting into each other. “Ivan gave Grigore an order. He’ll come through. They’ll be letting us stew for a while to try to throw us off.”

  “Well, it’s working,” Maggie grumbled. She was sick of the power plays. Sick of all of it.

  “It’ll be over soon,” Leon assured.

  That wasn’t what worried Maggie, though. It was the outcome.

  There was no telling what would happen. So many things could go wrong. So many variables she had no control over that could impact how everything would go down with Dalca’s syndicate. Their fate and any chance she and Leon had at a future teetered on the edge of a knife, and Maggie didn’t know which side things would slice.

  “I have to tell you something,” she said, her mouth spilling the words before she had time to think otherwise.

  “What?” Leon asked. His muscles tensed at her grave tone and a pit of dread weighed heavy in her stomach, like a sick reminder of what she’d been through. Of the secret she’d been harboring from him for months now. The secret that had caused her to shy away from him and avoid him at all costs. To refuse to let him in. To let anyone in.

  Maggie hesitated.

  “You’re starting to worry me, Maggie. You’ve gone chalk-white.” Leon sat up and released his embrace, concern mapped across his features.

  She couldn’t go back now. Not when things were so uncertain. This could be her last chance to tell him, and if things went horribly wrong and their plans failed, she didn’t want to die without admitting it to him.

  Maggie had tried so many times to tell him, but there never seemed to be a right moment. How did you broach such a subject when things between them were so strained and up in the air? When they tried their best to stay professional and ignore their feelings, knowing the Unit wouldn’t allow them to be together. Knowing their lives were too chaotic and dangerous to settle down and be in a relationship.

  Now that they’d confessed their feelings and things were different, Maggie couldn’t go on without Leon knowing everything. She couldn’t lie to him when all he’d ever done was be completely honest with her.

  “After we got back from that mission in Venice last year, I—” Maggie paused and composed herself. She needed to get this out. “I found out I was pregnant.”

  Leon’s eyes widened. “Pregnant?”

  “But I lost it. After I came back from a job in New York, I visited the doctor. There were complications with the development—she said there was nothing I could have done, and I wasn’t pregnant anymore.”

  Maggie couldn’t see Leon’s reaction from the tears spilling down her cheeks. She curled in on herself and hid her face, too ashamed to meet Leon’s gaze.

  He was quiet for a long time. So long Maggie didn’t dare break the silence.

  “You should have told me,” he finally said, and then his arms returned around Maggie’s shoulders and she completely broke in his arms.

  “I know,” she cried. “You had every right to know, and I was going to tell you.”

  “That message you left? The voicemail I asked you about when we were called in about the Charing Cross bombing?” Leon sniffed, but she couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t see him cry. It was too much. All of it.

  “I found out I’d lost my, our, baby right after I’d called. After that, I didn’t know how to tell you. It broke my heart, and I didn’t want to do that to you, too.”

  Maggie beat herself up for months over keeping it from him. It was easier not to tell him. Easier to let him stay in the dark about it and hide from him, so he didn’t need to carry the burden she did.

  “I’m sorry you went through that alone,” Leon said softly, never once letting her go. “I wish I could have been there for you.”

  “You’re not mad?” she risked asking. Maggie thought he would hate her after she told him. That’d he’d storm off and never want to see her again.

  “Mad?” Leon repeated, pulling her closer to him. “How could I be mad at you after what you’ve gone through? I’m devastated we lost it.”

  “Me, too,” she said, calming down now that she’d gotten it out. It was never something she’d get over, but not bearing the burden alone took a weight off her shoulders she wasn’t aware she’d carried until now. “I’d never given being a parent much thought until then,” she told Leon. “I think I was starting to like the idea. I was going to leave the Unit and walk away from it all for our child.”

  Maggie still walked away from the Unit, but not the way she’d planned or wanted.

  Leon wiped the tears from her eyes and gave her a gentle kiss. “For what it’s worth, you would have made a great mum.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Maggie said, glad she didn’t have any makeup on.

  “I know so. And I know things are just getting started with us, but we have all the time in the world to have children. To start a family.”

  A family. Maggie hadn’t had a family for so long she forgot what having one felt like. Even when she did, it was just her and her mother. Growing up in the system, she never allowed herself to even dream about one day having a family of her own.

  Joining the Unit only made the idea more foreign to her. Agents had families, but it wasn’t easy. Bishop was estranged from his daughters. Went through a nasty divorce. Even Grace Helmsley had her issues. Agents were married to the job first and their spouses second. Not to mention the element of danger that came with the career. Janice Harris and her entire family were just wiped out the other day.

  “Grace said to me once, ‘You enter this life, there’s no getting out of it.’ Do you believe that?” Maggie asked. Ever since the Director General said it, Maggie hadn’t been able to forget it.

  Leon mused over it for a moment. “I don’t know.”

  “I thought I’d left for good, but here we are,” Maggie said, bone tired of it all. “Just another day at the office.”

  “I guess for me, it’s more about wanting to stay. There’s still so much that needs to be done. So much to make up for after Bishop. That’s me, though. What do you want?” Leon asked her.

  It was Maggie’s turn to pause.

  “I don’t know. While I was away on vacation, I felt lost. Who am I if I’m not Maggie Black the agent? What purpose do I have? What am I supposed to do with the rest of my life? Get a nine-to-five? Pretend that none of it ever happened?”

  “You could always come back, but only if you want to, of course. You don’t have to make any decisions straight away. Take more time to consider your options. Things should be clearer once we’re through with this mess with Dalca.”

  The door knocked, and Ashton entered without waiting for them to answer.

  “They want to make the trade,” he said. “It’s showtime.”

  Chapter 33

  London, Great Britain

  * * *

  The meeting point was at an agreed location on mutual ground.

  Maggie stood with Leon and Ashton in Hampstead Heath beneath the stars, one of the few places in London such a view was possible given the thick air and widespread unnatural light that kept the city alive long into the early hours of the morning. It was approaching midnight, and darkness embraced them like a well-loved cloak.

  The
Extension at the northwestern point of the park made for a sound strategic spot to make the trade. Of the 790-acre space, the Extension was created out of old farmland, offering open expanses of flat land so anyone in the vicinity could see approaching enemies long before they arrived. Other than the woodland area off to their right, which Maggie checked as soon as they arrived for any plants Dalca’s crew may have snuck there, the area was as safe as they were going to get from unwanted surprises.

  Grigore was late, but Maggie wasn’t concerned overmuch. He would show. They had what he and the rest of the syndicate wanted. No way would he skip out on them when they were offering Ivan on a platter.

  “So, what are you doing after this?” Leon asked, trapping Maggie against the car where they’d stored Dalca to avoid having to interact with the wretched man.

  She reached on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer. “Nothing, why?”

  “I was thinking we could maybe go out for a drink or something.”

  “Or something,” Maggie teased, the thrill of the impending meet coursing through her veins in an adrenaline rush like no other. There was something about deadly situations that made her feel alive, and now that she’d come out to Leon with the truth about her miscarriage, she could focus on their future and work toward accepting the past, no matter how horrific her ordeal had been. With Leon by her side, she felt like she could do anything.

  Ashton turned back from his watch at the front of the car and shook his head at them. “Come on, guys, be serious for one moment, please. You’re supposed to be professionals.”

  He burst out laughing before even finishing the sentence.

  “What do you say, Ash?” Leon said, freeing Maggie and slapping his friend on the back. “Drink after this? Supposing we don’t die, of course.”

  “And play gooseberry to you two?” Ashton said, checking the magazine of his Glock 17. “No chance. If I don’t die, I think I’ll give Craig a wee call and see if he wants to join the mile-high club.”

  “Another flight?” Maggie would be happy if she never set foot on another plane again after all the traveling they had done. A week on the couch with Leon and some TV shows to binge sounded like heaven to her about now, and she longed to get out of her clothes and into her pajamas and housecoat.

  “Someone’s got to collect my mam and da from Belize. Might as well make the most of the trip.” Ashton was never one to stay in one place for long. He was too hyper for that, always needing something, or someone, to keep him occupied. Having too much time on his hands often resulted in him getting into trouble. Maggie of all people should know, having to come and rescue his crazy Glaswegian arse on more than a few occasions.

  “Those poor pilots.” Leon laughed, and it made Maggie’s heart soar to see him smile again. He was far from okay, the impact of Bishop’s betrayal still a very raw and open wound for them both, but they’d make it through the storm. Just like they always had.

  She ducked into the driver’s side of the car and turned on the headlights. They created a path of light along the field. As well as providing a better visual of the approaching enemy, it also concealed Maggie’s team of three, and everything around them, in a deeper shield of shadow.

  Just in time, too, because more headlights peeked through the darkness beyond like monsters on the prowl. They approached in a pack of yellow eyes and narrowed in on them as one.

  “So much for agreeing to one car,” Leon muttered.

  Maggie’s lips thinned. Four Land Rovers pulled up and stopped sixty yards away.

  “You don’t think they’ll have a sniper with them, do you?” Ashton asked, with just a hint of alarm in his voice. “I should have brought a grenade.”

  “There’s been more than enough grenades in our lives recently,” Maggie quipped. “We’ll be fine. Just play it cool, and then we can get out of here.”

  She wasn’t sure if she was saying it for Ashton’s sake, or her own. It appeared Grigore had brought his entire team along with him.

  Grigore and his men got out of the cars and stood before them with crossed arms, Ursu at the front, their shadows stretching across the field like distorted demons. “Where is my uncle?” he demanded.

  “Get him out,” Maggie said. Leon pulled Ivan out of the back of the car and brandished him before the syndicate.

  “Your turn,” Maggie called.

  Grigore clicked his fingers, and his men brought out Grace and Tamira, both women as they were in the video. Maggie prickled with anger. They might have allowed Grace to change into something warmer and more dignified than her nightgown. One final humiliation before they handed her back.

  Maggie had at least let Ivan wash and dress in fresh clothes before they left, to at least save them from inhaling his stench during the journey there.

  “I don’t suppose you want to tell me who in the Unit has been helping you?” Maggie asked Dalca while they waited to make the exchange. She was sure of it now. There was no other way Dalca and an operation like his could have infiltrated the Unit on their own. Though undoubtedly dangerous and formidable, they didn’t have the sophistication to slip past the agency’s wall, digital or otherwise.

  Ivan glanced at her from the side of his eyes and bared his teeth in a conceited leer. “I would have thought an agent as smart as you seem to think you are would have already figured it out.”

  “Well, Ivan, I can’t say I’m sad to see you go.” Her only regret was that it wasn’t in a body bag. Maggie turned her attention back to Grigore. “And the list?”

  Grigore slid a small object from his pocket and tucked it into Grace’s cleavage.

  “How can I be sure that’s the only copy?” Maggie asked, instead of shooting Grigore right there on the spot like she should have done.

  Ursu simply shrugged. “You have my word.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Maggie mumbled, then called back, “Fine. Let’s make the trade.”

  She shoved Ivan in front of her and, not needing to be told twice, he sauntered off like he owned the place. “Farewell, Maggie Black. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

  “You better hope not,” she responded, watching as Grigore’s men let the women go. They ran across the grass field, passing Dalca without a second’s glance.

  Tamira arrived first, and Ashton ushered her behind the car, assuring her she was safe now and everything would be okay.

  Grace reached them soon after and handed Maggie the flash drive containing the list of agent names and their case files. “What are you doing, Black?”

  “Trust me, Grace. It was for the best. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  “We can’t bloody well let them walk away,” Helmsley said, ignoring Maggie’s concerns and very much the Director General, even in a nightgown and bare feet.

  It seemed Dalca had similar thoughts.

  He arrived at his end of the field and spoke in rapid Romanian, his arms waving wildly in their direction.

  Leon reached for his gun and turned the safety off. “That doesn’t look good.”

  Maggie spun and watched as more men spilled from the cars, armed to the hilt with rifles, and charged across the field dressed in all black.

  “Kill them all,” Dalca yelled.

  Chapter 34

  Maggie watched and waited as Dalca’s men raced toward them, guns at the ready, waiting until they were in range to let loose and send a tirade of bullets through their flesh.

  Fifty feet away.

  “Mags?” Ashton called.

  “Wait,” she ordered.

  Forty feet.

  “Give me a gun,” Grace demanded, grim determination setting across her face.

  Thirty feet.

  “Now!” Maggie ducked and dropped to the ground, pulling Grace down with her.

  Leon and Ashton followed suit with Tamira, knowing the drill, and shielded the girl with their bodies.

  The second they touched the ground, cracks from within the trees rattled through the park like claps
of thunder.

  One by one, the approaching assailants fell backward like they’d been punched by a ghost, crumpling to the grass. Lead slugs sank into their chests with expert precision, making short work of Dalca’s shooters before any of them released a single bullet.

  The last man standing among them watched as his team went down around him; he tried to run back to the Land Rovers for cover. A bullet zipped over Maggie’s head and embedded into the man’s back, sending him flying forward to land dead at the feet of Ivan Dalca.

  Beyond, red-and-blue beacons flashed into the night, a chorus of sirens wailing in victory, as the cavalry headed their way, having been ready and waiting for the signal to join the assault.

  From the woodland behind Maggie, men and women dressed in camouflage gear slid out of the darkness with their guns pointed at the remaining members of Dalca’s crew.

  The Romanians scrambled and made to escape, diving into their cars and revving the engines as they slammed into reverse. They didn’t get six feet before the strike force of Unit agents blew out the tires and left them stranded in the middle of the field with nowhere to run.

  Maggie got up from the grass and helped Grace to her feet.

  “Not the most orthodox approach, but effective enough,” her old boss said, dusting the dirt from her bare knees with shaking hands, either from the cold or from pent-up adrenaline that no doubt surged through her frail, battered body.

  “Everyone good?” Maggie asked, scanning over her small but effective team. Her stomach pulsed under her clothes and she unzipped her jacket. A few dots of red against the white cotton of her T-shirt let her know she’d popped at least a few stitches in her slash wound. All things considered, she’d take it as a win.

  Leon helped Tamira to her feet and made sure she was unharmed. At least physically. The girl nodded, and Leon ushered her into the back of the car before walking over to his team of agents to congratulate them on a job well done.