"We have a problem," Cooper told Michaels. "We've lost contact with the team following Peel."
Howard, Fernandez, and Toni had gone to the cafeteria to grab a quick bite, and Michaels was once again alone with Cooper in the conference room. "Lost contact with them?"
"More than half an hour ago. Their last report was that they had pulled off the M23 near Balcombe and were about to detain Peel. We've been unsuccessful in our attempts to reach them since."
"Do you have a way to find them?"
"Not exactly. The location transponder in their car stopped sending its signal a few minutes after their last transmission. We know where they were. We've sent a military strike team via helicopter to check it out."
"They're either taken or dead," he said flatly.
"We don't know that."
"You wouldn't have scrambled an air strike team if you didn't think it was likely."
She sighed. Put one hand on his forearm. Her touch was warm. "We do fear something has gone awry."
He stared at her hand. After a beat, she broke the contact. "No chance for us, is there?"
"I — it wouldn't be a good idea. I'm sorry."
"But you did enjoy yourself? As far as it went?"
"Ah… yes. I did."
She smiled, but it was hollow. "The good ones always get away. A pity. Your Ms. Fiorella is lucky, you know."
"I think I'm the lucky one."
She stepped back, out of his space, and glanced at her watch. "Should be hearing from the strike team shortly."
"Can we still stop Peel? If he is on his way to Goswell's estate?"
"Given the current situation, I doubt that DG Hamilton would want to risk another team. It would be safer to bottle him up at The Yews, if that's where he's going, and deal with him later.
In the MI-6 cafeteria, Fernandez swallowed a bite of what looked like Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes drenched by a half gallon of brown gravy and said, "What's with the sub-commander?"
Fiorella had come to the cafeteria with Howard and Fernandez, but had quickly excused herself and left, looking pale.
Howard glanced down at his Thai chicken salad. He wasn't a gossip, but he had known Julio all of his adult life; the two of them didn't have many secrets from each other. And from Toni's face, the nickel had dropped. She had figured out about Michaels' extracurricular activities. Howard didn't need to get that specific, though, so he said, "I think she and the commander might be having some personal problems."
Julio washed another bite down with a glass of water and nodded. "Cooper," he said. "Boss got biblical with her?"
Howard raised an eyebrow.
"She's gorgeous, smart, and she's been giving him looks," Julio went on. "And the boss stares at his shoes every time Cooper gets too close. She looks possessive and he looks guilty. And that looks like a done deal to me. Not that I'm telling you anything you don't already know. You picked it up."
Howard nodded. "Yes."
Julio took another mouthful of the brown and steaming goop. "I don't understand what all the fuss about how bad British cooking is about. Nothing wrong with it far as I can tell," he said.
"Spoken like a true meat and potatoes man."
"Yeah, well, Br'er Rabbit, why don't you have some more of that grass and twigs you got."
A young man approached the table. "Colonel Howard? Commander Michaels would like to see you, sir, as soon as possible."
Julio shoveled another mouthful in, hurrying, as Howard nodded once and got to his feet. Now what?
Chapter 38
MI-6 had sprung for a second copter, and it landed with Alex, Howard, Fernandez, Cooper, and Toni. The strike force copter was still on the ground, and a dozen soldiers in Brit camo and berets, weapons at the ready, moved around the big old barn as the Net Force team piled out of the second bird into the dusty prop wash.
Toni had tucked her personal pain away into the box of professionalism and locked it tight. Even so, she hadn't been able to look directly at Alex during the short flight.
A British captain approached and spoke with Cooper. Toni walked around, bent to examine the ground in a couple of spots, then drifted toward the barn. There was a new car parked inside, and it hadn't been there long enough to get dusty. The floor was earth, under a light layer of dry hay. She walked back out and circled the area again. The ground was soft and chalky enough in places to take footprints, but the military force had obliterated a lot of them, their combat boots leaving a distinctive tread. She thought about what might have happened here, given what she knew and what she had seen.
Alex said, "Toni?" He stood next to Cooper and the British captain.
She could do this. She could keep her feelings at bay and do her job.
"This is Captain Ward," Alex said.
Cooper said, "Why don't you bring Sub-Commander Fiorella up to speed on what you think might have happened here, Captain?"
A flash of anger enveloped Toni. Bring her up to fucking speed? Yeah, right. She wanted to smash Cooper's smug face. Instead, she tamped it down and said, "It's pretty obvious, isn't it?"
Cooper blinked. Did she hear the challenge in Toni's voice? "Oh, really? Why don't you tell us, then?" Yeah, she heard it.
"Sure. Peel had a backup man. That's his car in the barn. It will be a rental and won't have a backtrail. Probably some dummy corporation post office box and phony ID used to get it.
"Your agents must have missed the backup. Odds are it was Mikhayl Ruzhyo, who must have some kind of link to Peel. Maybe they were old college buddies or they met in some police action in Africa or SA somewhere. They have history. Otherwise, it's too coincidental.
"Peel led your men here, right into a trap. Ruzhyo sneaked up on them — no, strike that, you couldn't really sneak up on this barn from the road in a car, and it's too far from anywhere to walk, so probably he was already hiding when Peel arrived. How am I doing so far?" She looked at Alex and his face was frozen into a half-grin. He felt her anger, she knew. She nodded at him. I know, you bastard. And now you know I know.
Cooper didn't speak, nor did Alex or the captain, so Toni continued: "There are two small spots of blood on the ground, still visible, though somebody kicked dirt over them, there and over there." She pointed. "Were your men armed? And wearing body armor?"
Cooper just glared at her, and it was the captain who said, "They carried sidearms, and as for the vests, yes, they should have worn them. It's standard for this kind of operation."
"Right. So Peel or Ruzhyo shot them, most likely in the heads. That's where they fell. Then they shoved the bodies into their own car and left here driving that and Peel's. I imagine if your troops haven't stomped all over them, you'll find his tire tracks and those of your men's car leaving. By now, I'd guess they've driven the car with the bodies in it somewhere it won't be found for a while. Two missing agents are a concern, but not as high-profile as two dead ones. If I were in charge, I'd have the local constables drag any big ponds or lakes within a few miles of here. Deep water is a good place to hide a car."
The captain shook his head. "Overall, it's a bit of a stretch, isn't it? Aside from the blood, we found no other evidence. There weren't any shell casings."
"Ruzhyo would have picked his up, and I'm assuming Peel is smart enough to have done the same. By the time we catch up to them, the guns used will be long gone, anyway. I don't know much about your Major Peel, but Ruzhyo is very much a professional. He doesn't leave you much to work with."
Ward nodded, as if confirming that he wasn't as concerned with her explanation as that he wanted to hear her reasoning for it. "The scenario you postulate is not impossible. As soon as he figured out with whom he was dealing, Peel would have known about the transponder in their car and disabled it. We've set up road blocks, but we may be behind the curve here."