“There’s another option.”
“Yeah, I know. Not so fond of that one.”
“I shoot you and start over.”
“You know it won’t play out like that.” Peyton shrugged a shoulder. “Well, probably not… What’s the likelihood you’ll get someone else to help you after word gets out you killed the last information specialist? We tend to be a sensitive lot and bullets that penetrate our skull piss us off.” Every muscle in his body ached from tension.
“You do have balls.”
“Ever since birth.” Peyton slowly sat down in the chair behind him, never taking his eyes off Shay. “Look, I’ve played my hand. Out in the open, somewhat at least. I mean, I told you what I knew. I didn’t make you find out. I had to know you’d have some feelings about it. Time to choose. Killer or tomb raider. We work together and become fucking rich or you shoot me, blow this place up and start running.”
Shay shifted her jaw side to side. “I underestimated you. That doesn’t happen to me very often.”
“Thank goodness it happened with a somewhat friendly.”
“Tomb raider…” Shay blinked hard, sliding her gun back into the holster.
Peyton blew out a breath, puffing out his cheeks. “That was close. That was the worst job interview, ever. Only thing that could have made it worse was if I didn’t get the job.”
“You live for today. You’re right, there are no guarantees. Might as well let that idea go and work with you till the day I can’t.”
“Yeah, this is going to stay awkward.”
Shay picked up her purse and started walking away, shouting to Peyton without turning around. “Well, get up. You’re coming with me to Warehouse Three. You can start familiarizing yourself with the equipment and layout.”
“When do I get to see what’s inside the other warehouses.”
“When you find them, and if you remain in one non-congealed piece. You know there’s a unique security system on each one, right?” She didn’t bother to correct his count of warehouses. Let him find out for himself.
Shay turned and headed toward the Spider, trying to hide her relief. End of my perfect record. First time I ignored my gut and didn’t pull the trigger. I choose tomb raider.
“Congealed? Are there magical traps on the warehouses?” Peyton scooped up his laptop gripping it hard to hide his shaking hands. He ran to the far side of the Spider and got inside, shutting the door. “New word for our hitman dictionary. Job security. Noun. A temporary and fleeting experience.”
“How about trust? Noun. Intangible and necessary item that will get you killed one day and save your ass on another.” Shay turned the key in the ignition, feeling the engine come to life as she pushed the button to lift the roll top door.
“Yeah, this book could be a real moneymaker. If I manage to live long enough to finish it.”
“I suppose we’ll find out eventually.” Never been wrong before and felt relieved at the same time. Unknown territory. Peyton has real skills. If he could pull something like that on her, then eventually he might be ready to face down his brother and sister, even without her help.
Nice, Peyton.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A relaxed atmosphere hung over the Parisian café even though a few drones buzzed in the area. Shay found an outside table hugging the wall and sat back, watching the crowd from behind a pair of oversized Versace sunglasses.
No obvious hitman strolled by taking quick glances as they passed. No one sat down at any of the nearby tables with their backs to the wall, making a point of looking casual as they sipped coffee. That could mean that French killers were just better on the job than the man Shay followed in Munich, or it might be that for once, the universe was cutting her a break, and she could concentrate on her coffee and roll.
Strange things are happening all the time these days.
Shay scrutinized the other patrons at the outdoor café as she took a sip of her strong black coffee.
As far as anyone looking at her could tell, Shay was just another upscale tourist, dressed for the occasion. Her athletic body looked good in the vintage St. Laurent poppy print dress she’d purchased from a local shop.
She had studied the background extensively on the plane, occasionally distracted from replaying the confrontation with Peyton. She put it out of her mind as best she could and focused on the material. Her goal was to get it memorized, second nature by the time the plane landed.
It was her usual protocol, giving her time to sit peacefully and take in the locals, overhear interesting information that sometimes proved to be useful. At the very least, relax for an hour.
The first half of the decoded clues all pointed to the owl being in Paris. Another suggested a general part of town. The last of the ciphers the client had only recently found the key to translate them. The client didn’t volunteer any information on how they had decoded the last ciphers, and Shay wasn’t inclined to ask. Not necessary for the completion of the job.
Peyton had been right. Everything about the job was surprisingly straightforward. It was just this side of mundane. But given everything she went through on recent assignments, she wasn’t about to complain about the lack of a gunfight, deadly logs, flying ice, or Nazi accessories. This job was about finding the owl quickly with the application of her brain rather than her trigger finger, so far.
The information in the decoded cipher clues led Shay on her little café jaunt. She went over the relevant clues in her mind, at least in their translated form. Her French was decent enough, but if there were some subtle hints encoded in the language usage itself, she was missing it.
Look from the old café, and you’ll see the first point. It serves the heart’s needs.
The second point is at the oldest that serves the body’s needs.
The last point is
