Marlene shrugged. 'It'll do. Are you sure we can't be seen or heard in here?'
Aragorn raised his hand and dragged it across the wall in answer. Where his fingers touched, the plush draperies and maple wainscoting faded away, replaced with an endless string of numbers and computer commands. She could read the code that swirled and ran in endless lines along the walls.
'Neat, huh? It's a shifting 128-bit encryption code, with a few tweaks inserted by yours truly, of course.' His pixelated expression turned grave, as if he had actually noticed her demeanor, even in here. 'Hey, Katt, what's up?'
'Ray's dead.' She hadn't meant to blurt it out like that — indeed, her hands resisted typing out the words, fingers unwilling to press the keys, as if by not telling it to someone else, she could somehow will him back to life. But that's not an option — keeping myself alive now is.
'OMG! Really? What happened?'
She gave him an overview of the deal gone wrong and the carnage that had followed. 'After I escaped, I holed up, then got in touch with you. I need somewhere safe to hide for a while, until I can figure out my plan.'
'What's in it for me?'
'Since I still have what they hired us to get, I still want to complete the deal — the original payment in exchange for the program.'
'That doesn't sound like the brightest idea you've ever had.'
'Maybe not, but the money to be gained will set me up for a while, and I need it. Ten percent is yours if you help me out.'
'Thirty-five.'
'Fifteen.'
'Thirty.'
'Twenty.'
He paused, and she knew she had him.
'Twenty-five, not one percent less.'
Marlene knew she could have dickered him down a percent or two, but decided not to bother. She'd still call the shots, and once she was safe, there were plenty of ways to give him the slip, too. He was nothing compared to the people on her trail. 'Deal,' she offered.
'So, who'd you cross?' he asked.
'I'd rather not say at the moment.'
Aragorn didn't like that. 'Not a good way to begin our business arrangement, dear.'
'Just bear with me for now. I have a pretty good idea who's behind this, but I'm not one hundred percent sure at the moment. I can tell you it's no one you've ever messed with — they deal with security in a more direct fashion.'
'Kiss, kiss, bang, bang, eh? Hmm, all right, fair enough. You're near the station for the Chunnel — what a nasty name, sounds like some kind of venereal disease — so all aboard, my dear, and head to the City of Lights.'
'All right, what happens there?' Marlene asked.
'It's best if you don't know. That way they can't get it out of you,' Aragon replied.
'Oh, please. You don't have anything lined up yet, do you?'
'Give me a break! I don't have rescuers standing by at a moment's notice, ready to spring into action. Once you're out of the country, I'll contact you with more details, but until then, you're on your own. Suffice it to say that I will have a safe place for you prepared by the time you arrive. Now get going.'
'I'm there. Thank you, Aragorn.'
The avatar seemed to swell a bit at the mention of his name. 'You're welcome — anything for Ray's sister. Now get going.'
Marlene logged off, packed up her computer and hit the street. The city was waking up around her, and soon the sidewalk would be packed with people heading into or out of the train station. She strode toward it, as well, trying her best to be just another ordinary commuter in London.
10
Anthony sat in the passenger's seat of the dark gray SUV, dividing his attention between the morning London traffic and the open case in his lap. Every few seconds the LCD screen sent out its quiet, steady beep as it searched for the one signal that would lead them to their quarry.
As Liam wove through the narrow streets, maneuvering up and down car-and-truck-choked lanes, Anthony resisted the urge to glance back at their two replacement men. Headquarters had informed him that he would have to make do with the pair, as there were no other available personnel at the moment. The voice in his ear had silkily informed him that when additional personnel were available, they would do their best to send some along. Anthony read between the lines well enough. You fucked up, so make do with what you've got.
Fortunately, the replacements looked to be more than adequate. Right behind him, his knees pressing into the back of Anthony's seat and the top of his head brushing the SUV's ceiling was a giant of a man. He wasn't overly muscled, but solid from feet to his broad shoulders, with every economical movement combining the best of both agility and strength. His face was narrow, framed by black hair cut high and tight, a jutting beak of a nose and expressionless gray eyes. He was also the quietest team member Anthony had ever worked with, limiting his replies to nods and shakes of his head. The two original team members had thought the menacing man was mute, until he had given his name in an accented deep voice — Gregor Petrov.
The other one was a lanky American named Carl Teppen, with a New Jersey accent that Anthony hadn't heard in several years. Shorter than the Russian, he was leaner, too, almost rawboned. Despite his lanky, almost country-boy appearance, he knew the business. His light blue eyes roved the streets constantly, always checking to their left and behind them for possible trouble. Next to him, the hard-edged Petrov did the same on the right. Both men's hands were always near their waists, ready to draw whatever was necessary to accomplish their job.
Anthony had received and reviewed both their files, and was generally pleased with what he'd seen. Petrov was a former senior sergeant in the Russian army, and Teppen had made lieutenant in the United States Marines before receiving an under-other-than-honorable-conditions discharge for assaulting a civilian while on duty. Anthony wasn't too worried about that; working in the private security sector gave employees a lot more leeway in that regard. Besides, the other guy might have been asking for it, he thought. God knows I run into plenty of assholes every day of my life. As long as these two could take orders and do whatever they had to do to get that girl, then everyone would get along just fine.
He kept a wary eye on Liam, who often took pride in hazing the new team members. But either he understood the importance of not screwing around at the moment, or else the big Russian had intimidated him enough not to try anything. So far, so good, he thought.
They'd been driving around town since 3:00 a.m., making a circuit between Heathrow Airport, the train station and various bus terminals, hoping to pick up the signal from the homing device the company buyer had planted on her a few days ago. Starting at the Wyvil Road location, they had driven carefully past the scattered police cars at the scene, then spent a good hour doing a spiral search pattern with the house as the center, but had come up empty so far. Now, after four hours of fruitless searching, Anthony was finding it hard to contain his impatience. 'Goddamn it, did she just vanish off the face of the fucking earth?'
'It still ain't that hard to disappear, if you know what you're doing,' Liam opined from the driver's seat.
'Just keep your eyes open. The last thing we need is any more interference.' Right as he finished speaking, he heard a faint chirp from the tracker. 'Turn left,' he said.
'Where?'
'Turn left now!'
Liam cranked the wheel over, garnering a chorus of angry honks from oncoming traffic, which he replied to in time-honored fashion by flipping them the bird. They found themselves on a narrow avenue that wound through a working-class neighborhood, with houses crowding in on both sides of them. Except for an occasional glance ahead, Anthony's gaze remained glued to the screen, with occasional directions given to his driver as the signal grew stronger.
