pros. If anyone had hacked our phone calls or bugged them, they’d know. Walsh must have sold us out.”
Hashimoto walked away and then turned back, pacing back and forth. “That means they know the location of our bunker.”
Parris turned to Hashimoto. “Yes, but if Walsh set us up, then he and his group either think I’m dead or being held hostage. We can exploit that.”
“How?” Marx asked.
Parris looked at Marx. “I can meet Walsh, give him a story that I escaped. Then I put a gun to his head and threaten to blow his brains out unless he takes me to the rest of his group.”
Hashimoto stopped pacing and faced Parris. “That’s risky. You could be killed.”
“I’ve risked my life for the sake of National Security. This wouldn’t change anything.” Parris then looked at Marx. “Let me go in alone and confront Walsh. He won’t be expecting me anyways.”
Marx looked at Hashimoto. “I don’t have a problem with that. But should you be overwhelmed, I have something special for you to use that will take care of all of them once and for all.”
Marx looked her straight in the eyes. “Hopefully you won’t have to use what I’m about to give you. But should you have to, you’ll always be remembered as a martyr.”
Parris remained silent for the next few seconds. She knew what had to be done, regardless of the outcome. It was, after all, for the greater good. “I’ll do anything that’ll benefit the cause.”
Marx smiled as she backed away from Parris and stood slightly in front of Hashimoto with her arms crossed. “Excellent. Then let’s begin.”
Chapter 28
Walsh’s Hotel Room
Walsh paced up and down in front of the television, not caring that Pyotr tried to watch the Japanese game show that was on. He was on the phone with Pyotr’s boss, getting an earful, while Pyotr shifted back and forth on the bed trying to see around him.
“Hey, stop blocking television,” said Pyotr.
Walsh ripped off his tie, threw it at Pyotr, and missed. Don’t you start with me too, asshole. “No, I haven’t heard anything from him yet. He’s been like this ever since we left Uganda. I bugged his watch, what more do you want?”
“It’s no longer transmitting,” said the October Man. “Why is it that you don’t know where your own partner is? May I remind you of the other things we’re paying you for?”
“Hey, if he wants to go rogue, there’s nothing I can do about it,” Walsh shot back. “But if you want me to get more agents over here to haul him in, hence drawing more attention to us, I’ll do it. Is that what you want?”
“Don’t get smart with me. We’re one step closer to getting back what’s ours. Our reinforcements are scheduled to arrive shortly and I won’t have this operation compromised-”
There were two beeps that interrupted him.
“Hold on a sec. I’ve got someone on the other line.” Walsh pressed the button, cutting off the October Man. “What?”
“Tsukiji Fish Market in half an hour.”
“What? Who is this?”
“Your Canadian connection cannot speak to you directly. Stop asking questions and meet him in a half hour.” The line went dead.
Canadian connection? It was Fox, no doubt. And he got someone to speak on his behalf in order to trick Japan’s own Echelon system. Clever. He pressed the swap button and all he heard was a dial done. Fuckin’ A.
He threw the phone on the bed. It bounced once and missed Pyotr, who was about to say something but Walsh cut him off by pointing a huge fat finger at him. “Don’t start with me, you and your goddamn reality shows. I’ve done enough for you people. And take your damn shoes off while you’re on the bed. Jesus Christ, you must be the only assassin on the face of the earth too damn cheap to get a decent pair of shoes.”
At least it was only Pyotr that tagged along with him back here. He couldn’t remember what he had said to convince Demyan not to come back with him, but was glad he did. Demyan’s too much of a wack job. Walsh felt safer playing tennis with a grenade than having him around. A few more days, that was all Walsh could think of. With twenty million dollars waiting for him in an offshore bank account, he could finally take the early retirement he had dreamt of and disappear to some remote island. He didn’t know where he would go yet, but it would be sunny and hot all year round. He’d watch football via satellite and drink booze all day long.
“Ain’t there anything else on TV?”
Pyotr sighed. “Poshyel k chyertu.”
“Whatever, jackass,” Walsh muttered as he waved him off without knowing that Pyotr had called a loser. Why couldn’t he watch good old American Football, like real men do? Just then there was a knock on the door. “Were you expecting someone?” Walsh whispered to Pyotr, who shrugged his shoulders as though he were telling him that he didn’t know. The knocking turned to banging. Walsh then rushed to the door. “All right, keep your shirt on. Who is it?”
“It’s me, Nita.”
Walsh paused. What the hell is she doing here? He turned to Pyotr, who gave him the, I don’t know, don’t look at me, look. Walsh quietly motioned for him to go hide in the coat closet.
“Quit stalling and hurry up,” Walsh whispered through gritted teeth. The Russian rushed past him into the coat closet, and Walsh slid the door shut. He then opened the door for Parris, who, with tears in her eyes, rushed past him so fast that he felt a slight breeze. “Jesus, Parris. Thank God you’re all right.” Walsh closed the door quickly behind her.
“Levickis and Dobbs, they’ve-”
“I know, we lost contact. I figured something happened to them. And I thought that you were a goner too when I couldn’t reach you.”
“They’re both dead, I just know it. I managed to get by one of the guards before more of them rushed downstairs to the Safe.”
Walsh moved past her so that her back faced the doorway the way he wanted. “Okay, you can calm down now. It’s all right.” Walsh steadied her by placing both hands on her forearms. She instantly pushed him away. Walsh stumbled backwards but caught his balance on the edge of the dresser. As he looked up, he stared down the barrel of a HK USP Tactical, complete with a noise suppressor. “Are you crazy? What the fuck are you doing?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know.” Parris approached Walsh. “You set us up. And now Levickis and Dobbs are dead. You didn’t expect me to make it out, did you?”
Walsh didn’t answer.
He doesn’t look too scared having a gun pointed at him. Did he just briefly look past me? That’s when she heard a slight creak in the floor behind her. Parris shot her left leg out in a back kick and struck Pyotr in the groin with the heel of her pumps. He cried out and curled over as she spun around and landed the handle of the HK to the back of his head, flooring him. She heard movement behind her. That’s when she feinted left, dodging Walsh, and then kicked him in the right kneecap. Had she contacted him a few more inches more to the outside of his knee, she could have easily shattered it. But she only wanted to floor him like his Russian counterpart, which she did.
“Damn it, Parris. You and those shoes.”
“Shut up.” She dashed around him so she had both Walsh and the Russian in her sight. “Get up, both of you, and get on the bed. And keep your hands where I can see them.”
Pyotr was slower than Walsh at obeying her instructions.
“Now!” Parris yelled.
The Russian limped his way to the bed, and Walsh sat down next to him.
“Sit on your hands and face me with your feet apart.” It was then that she noticed Pyotr’s blackened running shoes, they were damp and the stains looked recent. “So it was you, wasn’t it? You set off the alarm at Hexagon.”
