Deception Game (13 page)

‘I understand what you’re trying to do,’ he said at last, taking a tentative step towards her. ‘But listen to me, Jess. Really listen. I can protect you, keep you out of this fight, but you have to promise not to get involved. If you try to take these people on, if you go too far into their world or they begin to see you as a threat, I guarantee this will only end one way. So I’m asking you, please, forget whatever you’re thinking before you get yourself killed.’

His sister said nothing for several moments. She just stood there staring at him, as if failing to comprehend what he’d said.

But she did understand it. That much soon became obvious as the shock gave way to anger and indignation. And something else. Disappointment. The same look of disappointment she’d given him yesterday.

‘You understand, do you? If that were true, if you really did understand me, you’d never ask me to do that.’

‘Jess—’

He reached out to her, but she batted his hand away.

‘I thought I could rely on you. I thought you of all people would know what I was trying to do. Maybe I was wrong, about a lot of things. About you,’ she said, her voice icy calm now. ‘I’m going to walk away now. Don’t follow me, don’t try to stop me. I don’t want to speak to you. I don’t want or need your protection any more. I can take care of that myself.’

Her harsh, bitter warning thus delivered, she turned and strode away. Drake watched her go in silence, reluctant to let her leave but unwilling to risk another confrontation in such a public place.

So he did nothing. He just stood there and watched her leave, his mind consumed by the dark past harboured by his mother, and the even darker future that his sister seemed to be rushing headlong into.

As if echoing his own thoughts, a voice spoke up from behind him.

‘She’s walking a dangerous path. The kind you do not come back from.’

Drake knew that voice all too well. Whirling around, he found himself facing a tall, blonde-haired woman. She was dressed in jeans and a tan leather jacket, seated on one of the swings in the play park, idly allowing it to move back and forth with gentle movements of her legs.

He could scarcely have imagined a more uncharacteristic setting for someone like Anya than a children’s play park.

‘You were there the whole time,’ Drake said, mystified that she’d somehow managed to approach unheard and unseen. That always seemed to be the way of it, he reflected.

‘Close enough to hear what was said,’ she confirmed.

He should have been angry at her for eavesdropping on such an intense, private conversation, but he knew there was no malice in her intentions. She had been curious – nothing more.

‘She talks like she’s going to war.’

Anya thought about that for a moment. ‘Your sister has a right to be angry, and frightened,’ she decided. ‘But anger and fear are poor reasons for getting involved in someone else’s fight. For her sake, make her understand that.’

Fine words, but they were undermined by her ignorance of the situation. Anya didn’t know Jessica like he did, hadn’t seen her grow into the capable, utterly determined woman she’d become. When she set her sights on something, she just kept going until she got it.

‘I’ve interfered in her life before,’ he reminded her. ‘Everything I’ve done has made things worse.’

Anya’s pale, intense blue eyes focussed on him. ‘Then do better, Ryan.’

Drake wasn’t amused, and it showed in his face. ‘I presume you didn’t come all the way here just to play Jeremy Kyle with me.’

Clearly the reference was lost on her.

‘What do you want, Anya?’ he asked instead, deciding to be blunt.

The look in her eyes softened a little. It wasn’t exactly compassion, but it was about as close as someone like her was going to get. ‘I know what happened to your mother,’ she said, her voice unusually quiet and subdued. ‘I’m sorry...for your loss.’

She might not have been good at talking about emotions – hers or anyone else’s – but he sensed that her awkwardly delivered condolences were sincere nonetheless.

‘We weren’t close,’ Drake said, feeling no need of her pity or her sympathies. ‘And you didn’t come to London just to tell me that.’

‘I have...business here.’ Anya, true to form, saw no reason to lie to him. As a general rule she despised liars, and rarely indulged in lying herself unless her survival depended on it. However, that didn’t necessarily mean she was always forthcoming with information. Quite the opposite, in fact.

‘What kind of business?’

She gave him a sharp look. ‘The kind that doesn’t concern you.’

‘Remember that little talk we had last year?’ he said, referring to their meeting in Washington DC after his return from Russia. ‘The one where we promised to cooperate and not keep things from each other? Because generally when we’re not upfront, it leads to a whole lot of pain and problems for one of us – usually me.’

Rising from the swing, Anya drew herself up to her full height – she was almost as tall as Drake himself in her heeled boots – and took a step towards him.

‘I agreed to be truthful about anything that affects you, and I will abide by that. But if you expect me to tell you every detail of what I do and what I’m planning, you’re very wrong. For both of our sakes, it’s best that neither of us knows too much about the other.’

He should have expected as much. He and Anya had come to blows last year, both of their lives almost ended because of her refusal to explain the complex subterfuge in which she’d been involved. Since then, they had agreed that an element of mutual trust and good faith was needed if they were to take down Marcus Cain.

But that trust, it seemed, was slow in developing.

Those thoughts must have been plain to see on his face, because Anya let out a faint sigh before carrying on. ‘I have made contact with a man living in this country; an expert in computers and technology. I will say no more about him, but if he can do what he promises, he may be able to discover who betrayed me to the Russians six years ago.’

Despite himself, he was intrigued by her revelation. ‘Do you trust him?’

‘I haven’t made up my mind,’ she answered, honest as always. ‘But he has served me well in the past. Maybe he will again.’

Drake wasn’t sure he understood the merits of her plan. Even if he was successful, Anya’s mysterious contact could do little more than fill in gaps in her own history. Drake was less concerned about the past than he was about the future.

‘Is this really worth it?’ he asked. ‘Worth the risk?’

The look in her pale blue eyes would have made another man step back a pace. ‘I spent four years of my life in a Russian prison cell. Four years without speaking to another human being. Because of them, I forgot what it was like to walk on grass or feel wind and sun on my skin. I thought I would die without ever seeing the sky again. Yes, Ryan – it’s worth it.’

He should have known better than to question that, having seen for himself the deplorable conditions she’d been forced to live in during her captivity. If it had been him, he knew he would have wanted to find those responsible as well.

But he had his own problems now.

‘Well, then...I hope it works out for you,’ he said, his tone stiff and formal. In light of his confrontation with Jessica, he’d already made up his mind what he was going to do. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ve got...business of my own to attend to.’

He had nothing else to say to her. Not now, at least. Perhaps later, if things worked out as he hoped they would, they would speak again.

Turning away, he made to leave the park.

‘Think about what I said, Ryan,’ she called after him. ‘Your sister needs you now. Give her what she needs.’

I intend to, Drake thought as he fished out his cell phone. Faulkner’s card was in his jacket pocket, slightly crumpled but still legible. By the time he’d left the park and crossed the road that bounded it, he’d punched in the number and was listening to it ring out.

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take long to be answered. ‘Yes?’

Faulkner’s phone manner was as smooth and polished as his appearance. Drake could almost imagine him running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair as he spoke.

‘It’s Drake,’ he said, in no mood for pleasantries. ‘I’m in.’

‘Glad to hear it, Ryan.’

You won’t be when I’m through, Drake thought as he headed towards his rental car.

Drake had seen a lot of strange things in the course of his career, a lot of surreal moments that would forever be imprinted on his memory. However, none of them quite measured up to the sight of his three Shepherd teammates sitting around a table in a traditional London pub. It was like seeing Arnold Schwarzenegger walk onto the set of
East
E
nders
– his mind just couldn’t reconcile it.

He’d chosen the Nag’s Head as their meeting place for two reasons: it was right around the corner from Covent Garden station, and the name reminded him of his favourite TV show as a kid. In any case, the bar area was about half filled with patrons starting to drift in for the midday rush, their chatter providing enough ambient noise to make conversation easier. He’d also made sure to select a secluded booth near the back of the room where he and his companions could talk freely without fear of eavesdroppers.

‘Okay, Ryan, spill it,’ Frost said, unzipping her jacket and tossing it on the table before sliding into the booth. ‘And it had better be good, because I’ve just spent the past hour sandwiched between a mom with the baby from hell, and a guy who made Jabba the Hutt look like Skeletor.’

He hadn’t expected someone like Frost to take well to the intimate nature of the London Underground.

‘Yeah, but at least leg room wasn’t a problem for you,’ Mason quipped, taking a sip of his pint. Drake had ordered a round of drinks from the bar before sitting down, hoping to placate his restless team mates. In Mason's case at least, it seemed to be working.

Still, the look that Frost shot him was almost enough to put him off his drink. The volatile young woman didn’t take kindly to his jokes about her diminutive height at the best of times, and times were far from their best.

‘Just be real thankful we weren’t allowed to bring our sidearms with us, Cole,’ she said, her tone dangerously cold. Then, turning her attention back to Drake, she added, ‘I take it you didn’t summon us to London to go sightseeing.’

‘Not exactly, unless you’re really into sand dunes,’ Drake said.

A dark brow arched in silent question.

‘I brought you all here because what I’m about to tell you isn’t the sort of conversation to be had over the phone. In fact, if you value your careers then you should probably walk away now and pretend none of this ever happened.’

That was enough to get their attention, which was just as well because Drake had a lot to say. For the next few minutes, the group listened in silence while he related his encounter with Faulkner, the revelations about the man they had extracted from Paris, and the Libyan intelligence officer who had been lurking on the rendition flight.

‘If what Faulkner says about him is true, this guy Sowan holds the key to bringing Cain down,’ Drake concluded. ‘He’s in charge of the Libyan end of the extradition programme. He can tell us everything we need – names, dates, details of exchanges. If it came out that Cain had brokered a deal to extradite innocent civilians to Libya for interrogation and torture, it would be enough to fuck him over permanently.’

However, the one thing he’d been careful to leave out was Sowan’s connection to his mother’s death. It went against his nature to keep things from his teammates, but in this case he didn’t want emotion clouding the issue. As far as the rest of the team were concerned, Sowan was a resource to be secured. That was all.

If only he could make himself believe it too.

Frost regarded him dubiously. ‘That sounds great, but how do we get all this information from Sowan?’

The look in Drake’s eyes told her everything she needed to know. She’d suspected that was why he’d called them all together, why he’d gone to such pains to explain the value of this man, but she had to ask the question. She had to know for sure that was what he was planning, what he was asking of them.

‘Should have seen it coming.’ Frost glanced down at the pint of bitter sitting untouched in front of her. ‘You only buy me a drink when you want something.’

‘He’s a bad person who does worse things to others,’ Drake said, knowing all too well how true that was. ‘We’ll do what we have to to get answers from him. As for the op itself, the only way we can get to Sowan is where he thinks he’s safe – his home. We pull everything we can find on the place – blueprints, alarm systems, security measures – so we know exactly what we’re up against, and how to beat it. We make entry in the middle of the night, take out the security, snatch Sowan and get him to a safe zone for extraction. Standard procedure. We’ve run a dozen ops just like this.’

‘You can’t be serious, Ryan,’ McKnight protested. ‘You’re talking about launching an unsanctioned snatch-and-grab operation in a foreign country.’

He shrugged. ‘Isn’t that our day job?’

‘Yeah, with unlimited logistical support, all the equipment and weapons we need, and the full backing of the Agency.’ She was keeping her voice down with some difficulty. ‘You might as well be talking about running a covert op out of your living room.’

‘I didn’t say it would be easy,’ Drake admitted.

‘You didn’t say it would be suicidal either. That doesn’t mean it’s not.’

Mason however was taking a more pragmatic stance on the matter. ‘Say for the sake of argument you do manage to get him out. What then? You plan to hand him over to the Brits and—’

‘I’m not handing him over to anyone,’ Drake interrupted.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Faulkner might be telling the truth, or he might be full of shit,’ Drake explained. ‘Either way, I’m not trusting him with Sowan’s life, or mine. Once I get him out, he’s going to tell me everything he knows, and I’ll make the decision on whether it’s enough to move against Cain.’

McKnight was watching him carefully. ‘And what if he doesn’t want to talk?’

When Drake looked at her, there was a light in his vivid green eyes that made her pause. ‘He’ll talk. Believe me.’

His implied threat wasn’t lost on her.

‘Is that who we are now, Ryan?’

‘None of us are angels.’ Least of all me, he thought. ‘Right now, we are what we have to be. That’s all there is to say about it.’

McKnight glanced at Mason, hoping for a show of support. ‘You’ve usually got something to say for yourself, Cole. What about now?’

The big specialist chewed his lip and shrugged, perhaps recognizing that trying to change Drake’s mind in matters like this was futility itself. ‘If what Ryan learned about him is true, Sowan’s done far worse in his life than what we’re proposing. And we helped bring this guy another innocent victim. Can’t say that sits well with me.’

‘Me neither. But we know dick-all about this guy, apart from what Ryan’s new best friend told him. We sure as hell aren’t fit to judge him for crimes he might not have committed.’ McKnight shook her head in exasperation. ‘What you’re suggesting isn’t much different from what you’re accusing Sowan of.’

‘Are you finished?’ Drake asked, his stare challenging. ‘Because I didn’t bring you here for a lesson in morality, Sam.’

McKnight said nothing for several moments, clearly weighing up her next words carefully. ‘Could we have a few minutes?’ she finally said, glancing at Frost and Mason.

‘Stay where you are, both of you,’ Drake countered. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

‘
Could we have
a few minutes
?
’ McKnight repeated, putting emphasis on every word. She didn’t look at either of them, keeping her eyes fixed on the man sitting opposite her.

Mason glanced at his younger companion, eager to escape what seemed like a rapidly brewing confrontation. ‘Pretty sure I saw a Burger King about two blocks away,’ he suggested, rising from the seat. ‘Little taste of home.’

Frost was quick to take the hint, and reached for her jacket with some reluctance. Unlike Mason, she relished a good fight and was disappointed to miss this one. ‘Fine, but you’re buying.’

Drake had the good grace to wait until his two companions were out of earshot before speaking his mind. ‘What’s going on, Sam?’

‘I could ask the same thing,’ the woman countered. ‘Have you got a death-wish or something? This plan of yours is just giving Cain exactly what he wants – an excuse to take you down.’

‘You’re assuming it’s going to fail.’

‘You’re assuming it won’t.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ he remarked sarcastically, taking a sip of his pint.

‘Don’t be a smartass. You and I both know there are about a million ways this could go wrong—’

He’d heard enough of this. ‘This is what we do, Sam. This is what we
have
to do to survive. If you’re afraid to take risks, then run home and hide under the bed.’

McKnight stared at him for a long moment. ‘Is that you talking, or Anya?’

He felt himself flush. ‘This has got nothing to do with Anya.’

‘Bullshit. It’s got everything to do with her. She’s the reason we’re in this mess in the first place. She’s the reason you put your life on the line time and time again, the reason we have to watch you tearing yourself apart, and for what? You think she’ll be grateful for this? You think you’re anything but a means to an end, a disposable asset, for her?’

Drake slammed his pint down with such force that he half expected the glass to shatter. Mercifully it remained intact, though his outburst attracted more than a few curious glances from the other patrons.

Far from being daunted by his open display of aggression, McKnight regarded him with something akin to pity. ‘What are you going to do, Ryan? Hit me? Is that what
she
would do?’

Drake let out a breath, his anger dissipating in the face of her cold accusation. Straightaway he regretted his outburst, and most of all the fact it had been directed at Samantha. Worse still, she didn’t truly understand why Sowan meant so much to him.

‘Look, you’ve been through a tough time lately. I know you’re hurting, even if you won’t admit it,’ she went on, her tone softening a little. ‘I’m sorry for what’s happened, I really am. But please take a second to think about this. You’re risking everything on a crap-shoot.’ She shook her head. ’I’ve seen guys double down on a losing streak before, thinking they’re going to turn it all around. Believe me, it didn’t work for them and it won’t work for you now. I’m asking you not to go for this, Ryan. Please.’

Even Drake was taken aback by the sheer emotion behind her plea, the compassion and sadness in her eyes. There was no denying that what he was proposing was a move born from desperation, that there were a hundred different ways for it to go wrong, and that the odds weren’t in his favour. But he had faced bad odds before and come out on top. All he needed was for it to play out one more time for him.

‘It’s not just about me now,’ he said, letting out a sigh as he thought about the weapon that Jessica now carried with her at all times, the dangerous path she was walking. ‘My sister...Jessica. She’s not safe any more, Sam. This world you and I live in, all this shit that I tried to keep her away from, it’s pulling her in. She’s started carrying a weapon, training like she’s going to war. I can’t keep her out of it. And if I don’t do something to stop it soon, it’ll be too late.’

‘Then help her, Ryan,’ she implored him. ‘But not like this. She doesn’t need you on the other side of the world trying to fight impossible battles. She needs you with her now. Just be there.’

‘It’s not enough,’ Drake said. ‘I can’t protect her all the time. And if Cain decides to come for her, it won’t matter if I’m there or not. I won’t be able to stop him.’ He shook his head. ‘One way or another, this has to end.’

McKnight said nothing to this, though it was obvious from the look in her eyes that she wasn’t unmoved by his revelation.

‘I know this is going to be dangerous,’ he admitted. ‘It always is. But we’re running out of time and I can’t see a better option. I have to do this.’

Her shoulders slumped a little, and she let out a faint sigh of resignation. ‘You won’t change your mind.’

Drake shook his head.

The woman swallowed and looked at him, raising her chin a little. ‘Then I’m in, too.’

‘You said yourself how dangerous it was,’ he reminded her.

‘It is. But you stand a better chance with someone watching your back.’

‘Couldn’t have put it better myself,’ another voice chipped in from behind him.

Turning around, Drake watched Frost’s head pop up from the booth next to theirs, with Mason close by. They couldn’t have come back in through the bar area or he would have seen them in his peripheral vision. They must have circled around the side of the building and made their way in through the kitchen, whose door lay directly behind him, though he had no idea how they had bluffed their way past the staff. Such things didn’t seem to faze his companions however.

‘You listened in,’ he said, not sure whether to be amused or angry at their resourcefulness.

Mason shrugged apologetically. ‘I never would have heard the end of it if Keira had missed that. How’s your beer, by the way?’

Drake said nothing, though he could feel a blush rising to his face as Mason and Frost slipped back into their booth. His confrontation with McKnight was something he’d rather none of them had witnessed.

‘You’re probably concocting some noble speech in your head right now about how we don’t owe you anything, how you can’t ask us to go through with this and that you’d never forgive yourself if something happened to one of us, so let me save your breath,’ Mason advised him. ‘The fact is, you’re right. We
don
’
t
owe you anything. We
could
walk away right now and not have to feel guilty about it. But we all know we’re not going to do that. We’ve stuck with you this far because we
want
to, because we’re a team and we know you’d do the same for us. And whether you like it or not, we’re all involved in this. We’ve all been part of it since the beginning. That being the case, let’s finish it once and for all, and put that son of a bitch out of business.’

‘What he said,’ Frost added, flashing one of her grins that fell somewhere between mockery and fierce, enduring loyalty.