‘I advise you to be careful about what you say next. You messed up today, August, you don’t have a great deal of wriggle room with me. Worry about your own duty.’
‘Duty. Innovation. They have to be more than buzzwords, Ricardo.’ August couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice. ‘We’ve kept everything about the Capras quiet. What Lucy did, what we did to Sam. We control hundreds of intel assets in the world, and none of them knew to look out for leads that could have given us Daniel Capra. We turned our backs on Sam and we helped create this situation. That gets out, there’ll be investigations, there’ll be cuts in funding, there’ll be resignations.’
‘The Capras were an anomaly. Not standard operating procedure and Lucy Capra was a confirmed traitor.’ Braun nearly spit as he said traitor. ‘People will not see themselves as the Capras, it won’t happen.’ He steeled his voice. ‘I gave up my retirement to come back here, after more years of service than you’ll ever see. Don’t you dare to suggest that duty is simply a buzzword to me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ August said. ‘But there is a disconnect between what you say and what you’re proposing.’
‘I think you have too much emotional involvement, August. You were his friend. You’re relieved. I’m not going to keep taking bullets for an ingrate who can’t do his job.’
‘What does that mean, I’m fired?’
‘Of course not. But turn in your gear, your keys, your access codes. Take a week off to think about what you want to do because you’ll never be doing field work again. Then crawl back to Langley and you can beg them to keep you. I think you’ll be very good at pushing paper and,’ Braun put disgust into his voice, ‘writing long emails full of bullet points.’
‘I am going to write a long email. Mostly about you.’ August placed his phone, his gun, his passkeys on the desk, got up and left.
Braun watched him go. Then he let out a long, ragged breath. Worse and worse. Desperate times, extraordinary measures. August walked like a man who had no idea how close he’d come to dying. And he’d no doubt August would identify the sisters, if not the truth about them. And he’d already identified the redhead; every data search August made displayed on Braun’s own computer.
God only knew what was in that damned notebook.
And exposure just couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t happen. He had to shut this down, now. If Ming and Capra were dead that was the end of it.
Like most jobs, Braun thought, if you wanted it done right you had to do it yourself. He might need to return to a more private retirement, and that million dollars for Mila would be a good cushion for a new life.
He got up and left.
Sam Capra owned a bar, so August had said, and Ricardo Braun felt like a drink.
Twenty minutes later, when a pack of information arrived at Special Projects’ network via Langley, a confirmation message echoed back to Langley’s computers. Hiding inside that message was another one, and that hitchhiking bit of data dropped off along the way and snaked to its natural home. The tiny bit of computer code that allowed this action was very much like what Jack Ming had written for Nic, to spy on people. A Special Projects computer had been infected weeks ago, via a spreadsheet sent to it by one of the people in the Company later exposed as a Nine Suns operative.
The Watcher’s phone beeped with a new text message.
60
The Last Minute Bar, Manhattan
‘Hello.’ Mila closed the door behind her. ‘I haven’t heard from you, Sam.’ She glanced at the fiberglass cast on my arm. ‘I would have sent flowers.’
‘Hey, Mila,’ I said. I wish Bertrand had given me warning she had arrived but he hadn’t. Leonie looked up from her dinner and stared at Mila.
‘Who is this?’ Leonie said.
‘Mila. A friend.’
‘And I am also his boss,’ Mila said. ‘Sam. We need to talk. Alone.’
‘We’re busy right now,’ Leonie said. I could read her expression. Mila was not connected to the search for our kids. Therefore, Mila was a distraction. Leonie didn’t know about the Round Table, the private vigilante group – I honestly don’t know what else to call them – that hired me to run the bars and gave them to me as cover. First to help me find my son, and with the hope that I would do work for them in the future. To be Their Man in Havana, and a few dozen other cities. To Leonie, Milaas-boss must mean she was concerned with the running of the bar. Which paled in importance to our kids.
The realization went through my mind in a second. ‘Leonie. It’s okay. It’ll just take a minute.’
‘You could go downstairs and get a drink,’ Mila said helpfully. ‘Perhaps one with an umbrella in it.’
‘I don’t want a drink,’ Leonie said. The ice for the drink she didn’t want found its way into her voice.
‘A coffee, then. Although you seem anxious. The decaf here is excellent.’ Mila smiled.
Leonie didn’t get up.
‘Is English a second language for her?’ Mila asked me. She looked back to Leonie. ‘I want to talk to him. Alone. Please go downstairs.’
Now Leonie got up but not with grace. More with fury.
I stepped between them. ‘Leonie, please.’
‘How is she your boss if you own the bar?’
‘Just give us a minute, okay?’
‘Actually, I need a shower. I’ll take it now and you and your charming friend can talk.’ Leonie retrieved her bag and vanished into the bedroom. She slammed the door closed.
‘She thinks she is so smart,’ Mila said. ‘She runs a shower, but she tries to listen. The doors are soundproofed. We added those last year after Bertrand and I beat up a man in the bathroom to get him to tell us… ’
I didn’t need to hear about her past crimes. ‘Don’t be adversarial.’
‘I just enjoy it. Where have you been?’
‘Here.’
‘And hanging out at this bar is so dangerous you manage to break your arm. I watch the news, Sam.’ She went to the small bar in the corner, poured herself a neat Glenfiddich. ‘Maybe this man you hunt is a huge threat to Nine Suns. Maybe I could find this man useful to me. Maybe I don’t want you to kill him because I might want to have a nice, long, whisky-soaked talk with this man myself and let him tell me all his secrets.’
‘You can’t have him,’ I said. ‘No.’ Leonie would be ready to kill Mila if she interfered.
‘Your child concerns me,’ Mila said. Her voice went low. ‘Did you think I would ever let you fight this battle alone?’
‘Mila, please don’t do this.’
‘You do not want my help.’
‘I have my orders.’
‘I am so hurt. I thought only I gave you orders.’ She took a sip of the Glenfiddich.
‘Mila. Let me handle this.’
‘And this woman, this Leonie-’ she said the name as though mispronouncing leprosy, ‘she is, what? Your new assistant? I did not approve a hiring.’
‘She has her reasons for assisting me.’
‘Who is she?’
‘Someone with very good reason to help me.’
‘Do you think you can keep a secret from me? That is so cute.’ She smiled over the whisky glass.
‘Mila, go. Leave.’ There. I can slam a door with the best of them.
‘I will leave. When you tell me who is this man you kill for your child.’
‘No.’
‘The bars – which are providing you with meeting places, and staying places, and getting-your-broken-arm-set places – were given to you easily, and they can be taken from you just as easily.’
‘Take them, then.’ I stood.
‘I am not your enemy.’ She set down the whisky glass. ‘Do you think you’re the first person I’ve recruited to work for the Round Table?’
I said nothing.
She ran a finger along the rim of the glass.‘Often the second job shows more about the new person than the first job. You helped us break up the assassination plot. You worked hard, you made a great impression. Self-starter. Very tough. Resourceful. Slightly crazy in a good way. Now you are settled into the job, into working with me, now suddenly I see your secrets, your bad habits.’