Tag Archives: Alex

Girl out of Jersey

Juliana knew more about her husband’s past than he thought she did, although not as much as she believed. She’d grown up with cousins and uncles that had experienced the revolving door of the prison system: out just long enough to realize that cons didn’t have options other than falling back into the game again. In college, she’d personally suffered through a two year long cocaine binge and only barely kept that addiction from ruining her life. Alcohol and peer pressure had pushed her into more than a few inebriated shoplifting experiences. She knew the signs of a guilty conscience,of a man trying to pretend his way into being better, of someone trying to cut off a part of their past.

What she couldn’t know, she guessed at or crowd-sourced. Many conference calls had been spent tossing ideas around, discussing “hypothetical” scenarios with her girlfriends and trying to piece together the parts of her husband’s life that he refused to discuss. Her family thought she was writing a screenplay, as if she could possibly commit any more to the role of “dedicated, but ultimately bored housewife.” But the truth – that Alex was lying to her, possibly lying to her quite a lot – would invite too many questions, too many unasked for opinions, and too much scrutiny of her relationship.

The simple truth was this: she loved Alex and he loved her. Hell, Jules even loved Ally, his daughter from another marriage…most of the time. Sure, Alex sometimes seemed to drift away mid-conversation, as if his thoughts had suddenly become unmoored. And sure, there were other times when he looked at her with such intensity that it was like being looked through. And sure, sometimes he wept in his sleep and murmured the name Johannah like a mantra.

But they were happy, most of the time. Everyone, even Johannah herself, had a little darkness in their past. No one lived like a saint forever. If Alex wanted to keep those secrets to himself…if that was the price she had to pay for nine good days out of ten…well, it was hardly a choice at all.

That was how she comforted herself and soothed her own concerns in the past. Now, however, it had been a full week since Alex’s abrupt departure and it wasn’t love she felt rising up into her throat like lava. It wasn’t affection that gripped her heart like a vise. Alex was gone and, for no reason she could name, Jules wasn’t sure if he was coming back.

On the morning of the eighth day, she realized that she could no longer keep her emotions safely contained behind the stormwalls. Instead of collapsing into a heap of tears and sobs, Jules did the next best thing: she called her mother.

Sofia Bianchi, matriarch and undisputed ruler of the Jersey Bianchis, answered the video call on the third ring. Despite the distance, the connection was rock solid. Jules could see that Sofia was trying something new with her makeup, that her steel gray hair was shorter now than it had been, and that she’d lost a worrying amount of weight.

That last bit was more concerning than anything else, but she kept the thought to herself. If there was anything that would set Sofia off, it would have to be anything that could possibly be construed as pity. She’d been a strong enough woman to make her way to America from the Old Country and to tame the wild stallion who had fathered her children. A little weight loss wouldn’t even have factored into her mind as something to be concerned about.

“Honey!” Sofia puckered her lips and blew an air kiss across the airwaves. “What are you doing? I thought we weren’t scheduled for another one of these video chats until…uh…”

“Next Friday,” Jules said. “Yeah, Ma, I know. But I just needed to clear my head about some things. You aren’t busy, are ya?” It didn’t take long for the Jersey to creep back into her voice.

‘Someone threw a football at full speed from off-camera. The projectile came within an inch of some precariously placed glassware before Sofia snatched it from the air with the speed of someone half her age.

“Aldo!” Sofia shrieked. The tone of voice brought back painful memories of wooden spoons. “You better get your little friends out of here, or there’s gonna be hell to pay, ya hear me?”

Jules shuddered. She remembered being on the receiving end of similar tongue lashings and was all too familiar with the “hell” that might follow after it. “I can call you later,” she began, “if you’re busy.” Even as she said the words, Jules felt like her chest would explode or cave in if she didn’t unburden herself twenty minutes ago.

Sofia dismissed the suggestion with a wave of her hand. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Nothing more going on here that I can’t take care of by myself. Not like I’m not used to doing everything around this house, after all. You go on, tell me what’s on your mind.”

Now that the opportunity had gone, Jules found that she couldn’t quite figure out how to start. Years of half-truths and misdirection, deflected questions, and late nights spent wondering what her husband might possibly be hiding after so many years…it was just too much to dump on one person. Especially if it turned out that Alex had a perfectly legitimate reason for keeping his cards so close to his chest. It wouldn’t take much for Sofia to turn against the German; she hadn’t liked Alex to begin with, simply because he’d taken Jules away from Jersey and her family.

She decided to approach the problem from an oblique angle. “How’s Dad? He can’t help you out with the boys?”

Sofia rolled her eyes, deliberately exaggerating the action for effect. “Your father left for work about an hour ago, allegedly.” She made very large air quotes around the last word.

“Where do you think he really is?”

“The bar,” Sofia said. “He’s been working at the docks for about a year today, so the boss probably took him out to get good and drunk. Bet he’ll come stumbling back in here around midnight, smelling up the whole house and stumbling into anything not smart enough to move out of his way.”

“You aren’t mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Sofia glanced at something off-screen for an instant and, without a single word, managed to convey an entire world’s worth of danger. Whoever had been the target of the look fled the scene, judging from the slamming door that Jules heard a moment later. “He works hard to put a roof over my head and he damn sure didn’t have to take in Donna’s kids when she split. If he wants to take some time to blow off his steam, I’m sure as hell not going to get in his way.”

Jules pondered that for a moment. In the beginning, she had asked Alex where his money came from. He wasn’t wealthy, in the sense of private jets and yachts, but they lived extremely comfortably. He had explained that he’d come into quite a bit of money and made several wise investments. From those investments, he’d made others and, eventually, developed a healthy nest egg.

She hadn’t believed a word of that, but she’d smiled politely and resolved to find out the truth of the matter eventually. Only she’d fallen in love and, after the marriage, the matter ceased to be as important to her as it had once been.

Was Alex just tired of working so hard to take care of a family? Had he just needed some time to blow off steam?

Or was he simply tired of taking care of this family?

The insecurities made no sense, of course. He’d been willing to give up his entire life to be with her, save his daughter. The fact that they’d moved to Germany had been her decision. But knowing that she was being irrational didn’t actually make her feel any better.

“Is something going on with Alex?” Sofia asked.

Jules’ surprise jolted her out of her darkening thoughts. “What? What makes you say that?”

“Three things,” Sofia said, raising a corresponding number of fingers. She lowered them as she made her points. “One, you got that thousand-yard, wistful stare as soon as we started talking about your father who I know isn’t your favorite person. Two, I normally can’t get you to stop talking about how wonderful your German is, but you haven’t said a thing about him since we started talking. And three…well, I know my girl. So why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you? What’d he do?”

“He didn’t do anything, ma, it’s just…” Jules struggled momentarily to put her thoughts into words. “You ever think that there might be more to dad than you know about? Like, maybe he lived a whole ‘nother life before you two met?”

Sofia snorted. “Mario Bianchi never did anything except drink too much and knock up yours truly one night. I’ve known him since I came over here on a boat and he’s never changed.” She paused. “Why, do you think Alex is keeping something from you?”

“Ma, I know he’s got his own secrets. He’s got a nineteen year old daughter that grew up without a mother, but no one ever talks about what happened to her? Of course he’s not telling me everything. That’s not the problem.”

“What is the problem, then? What’s got you so bothered?”

This was going to be delicate work. If she said too much or even implied too much, Sofia would almost certainly demand that Jules come home. As vulnerable as she felt, Jules would probably go. “Do you think people can change, ma? Like, really change?”

“Your father only drinks two or three times a year now,” Sofia said. “That was a hell of a change from his weekly binges. And I never would’ve thought that you’d leave us all to go overseas with someone you met at the market. Seem like pretty damn big changes to me.”

“Not like that,” Jules said. “Something bigger than that. Like…not just change what you do, but change who you are.”

To her credit, Sofia didn’t rush to an answer. She gave the question a good bit of thought before replying. “I think they can,” she said, “but only if they really want to. It’s always easier to keep doing the same things than it is to really look at yourself in the mirror.”

“But if you had…something worth changing for? Then it might be possible?”

“I guess so.” Sofia lowered her voice. “This is about Alex’s past? Whatever it was that he won’t talk about? You think it’s got something to do with how his first wife died?”

Jules hesitated before nodding, just once. She could feel the tears building and she tried to keep them from falling onto her cheeks.

“You don’t think he did it, do you?”

“No! Ma, of course I don’t think that!” Jules shook her head, glad that the action gave her an excuse to look away from the screen for a few heartbeats. ‘That’s crazy, ma, you’ve gotta know that. Alex is a good man.”

“Then what?”

“I think that…I think that maybe he used to run with a bad crowd,” Jules managed to say. “A dangerous crowd. Not by choice or anything like that. But it feels like he might have been involved in some stuff that might…it might not have gone away. It might not be over.”

Jules didn’t say anything for several long seconds.

When it became clear that her daughter wasn’t going to answer the question on her own, Sofia gave her some gentle prompting. “Do you think he didn’t let that part of his past go?”

“I don’t think his past has let go of him,” Jules said in a whisper. “I don’t know if it’s ever going to.”

Sofia lit a cigarette. “Let me tell you something, honey,” she began, “and you listen good.”

Jules nodded.

“Now, you know I never liked that Alex with his fancy clothes and his accent and all that. Man comes to Jersey just long enough to sweep my baby girl off her feet, then he flies across the world with you in tow?”

“Ma, I told you that’s not what -”

Sofia raised her hand to cut off any further explanation. “And you know I wish you came home more. Lord knows your father misses you. Hell, you haven’t found the time to visit with the boys since they started school and you know how much they look up to you. I’d love it if you came back here, set down roots with your family instead of going so far away. But I’m gonna put all that aside, because I know when my girl needs her ma, okay?”

Jules pushed back the tears for the second time as she prepared herself for whatever rebuke Sofia was preparing for the absent Alex.

“Do you still love him?” Sofia asked.

Jules blinked. “Do I…what kinda question is that, ma?”

“Well? Do you?”

“Of course I do!”

“Good. Because I’ll tell you this much. No matter how I feel about him personally, I can promise you one thing: Alex for damn sure loves you. Now, I don’t know what he might’ve been into in the past. Hell, he might have been a whole different person back in the day. But the man I met? That man would walk over broken glass if it’d make you smile. If he’s got to choose between his past and coming home to you, it wouldn’t even be a question.”

It was the longest string of praise Sofia had ever spoken about Alex. It might well have been the only nice thing she’d ever said about him at all.

Jules felt the tears coming for the third time. She would’ve let them fall, and been glad to do so, if the front door hadn’t opened downstairs.

Sofia Bianchi needed reading glasses to help the kids with their homework and she used a cane to go up the three steps to her front porch, but her hearing was as keen as it had ever been. “Were you expecting someone?”

Before Jules could answer, she heard the voices. A booming male voice, cheerful and boisterous came first, saying something in German; a moment later, a voice with a much higher pitch responded in the same language. She would’ve known the voices anywhere.

“Ma, I think that’s him. I…I gotta go, alright?”

“You sure, honey? You gonna be alright?”

“I think so,” Jules said. She nodded twice; once for her mother and once for herself. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks, ma.”

“You want to thank me?” Sofia asked. “Find the time in your busy schedule to visit your aging mother. You know I won’t be around to dispense the wisdom forever.”

Jules smiled. This, too, was familiar: the patented Bianchi guilt trip. “Yes, ma, I hear you. I love you, you know that?”

“You wouldn’t know it from how you act,” Sofia said. She smiled a little, softening the rebuke into something more like gentle needling. “I love you too, baby. Give Ally my love.”

“Not Alex?”

One corner of Sofia’s mouth turned down slightly. “I know what I said. Now get out of here!”

Jules terminated the connection and sat in the room for a few seconds. She didn’t head downstairs until she was certain that she wasn’t going to burst into tears at a moment’s notice.

She saw Ally first. Alex’s daughter had entered the pubescent phase of “you’re not my real mother” at twelve and decided to stay there for the next seven years. The relationship between stepmother and stepdaughter was supposed to be difficult, according to the self-help books Jules had read, but the animosity Ally threw her way hadn’t appreciably weakened in almost a decade. She readied herself for some veiled insult or disrespect.

Ally practically chirped when she saw Jules at the top of the staircase. “Ah! We thought that you might have been out on the town.”

“I was just using the computer,” Jules said. “Your father told me that you went out on vacation with your friends. You’re back already?”

“The trip was…not as much fun as you would think,” Ally said. Jules heard the hesitation in her voice and almost asked for more information. The memory of her own activities at nineteen stopped her from poking that particular bear. “So Papa came to get me.”

“Oh? Well, it’s good to have you back home.”

“It is good to be home.” Ally opened her mouth to speak, closed it after a second, then opened it again. “I realized something while I was, uh…away.”

“What’s that?”

“I have not been fair to you, have I?”

Jules stared at Ally for a long time. “What?”

“You have been nothing but good to my father and me. And I have been…” She paused and considered her words. “I have been a bitch. And I am sorry for that.”

First, Sofia had praised Alex’s dedication to his family; now, Ally was apologizing for years of teenage angst?

“It’s, uh…it’s okay,” Jules said, even as she privately wondered whether or not she was in a dream.

“It is not okay,” Ally said. “But I will try to be better.”

Before Jules could say anything else, Ally bounded up the stairs and planted a kiss on her cheek. Then, she ran off to her room and closed the door behind her.

Jules remained where she stood for about thirty seconds before she shook her head and filed the incident away for later examination. Something must have happened on Ally’s “trip” to account for such a drastic change in personality, but Jules wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She headed downstairs to find her husband.

She found him in the kitchen, tying his favorite apron on and checking the fridge at the same time. He was so engrossed in the search that he didn’t hear her enter.

Jules cleared her throat. “I just had the weirdest talk with Ally. Did she tell you what happened wherever she -”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence. Alex jerked his head out of the fridge, blinked, and then bulldozed across the room to sweep her up into a tight bear hug. Alex was a big man and he hadn’t let the passage of years rob him of his strength. He lifted her as easily as if she didn’t weigh anything and spun her in a tight circle.

“Jules! Oh, it is good to see you again!”

Jules tried to wriggle her way out of the hug without any success. Failing at that, she tried another tack and managed to extricate herself enough to speak. “It’s only been a week,” she said, between gasps for oxygen. “You have business trips that last longer.”

“Ah, but it felt like so much longer,” Alex said. “And I missed you, my love. I missed you so much.”

He lowered her to the floor again. Jules smoothed an invisible wrinkle out of her shirt before speaking again. “What brought that on?”

Alex looked like he might pick her up again, although he restrained himself. “I saw a few old business partners when I went to pick up Ally,” he said. “And I learned some things that reminded me how lucky I am to have you.”

He wasn’t telling the whole truth. That much was obvious. Jules didn’t know everything about Alex, but she knew enough to tell when he was evading.

Instead of letting the deception pass without comment, she stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. “Is it over?”

Alex went completely still. His smile withered and died on his face. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. But whatever it is…whatever it was…is it over now? Finally?”

For a second, Jules was certain that he was going to lie again or that he’d tell a half-truth. He surprised her by taking a deep breath and visibly steeling himself. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, it is over.”

She didn’t bother to stop the relief from flooding into her expression. “Will you ever tell me about it?”

“One day,” Alex said. “Maybe, if you really want to know. But not today.”

“Why not today?” Jules asked. She didn’t really care about the answer anymore. Alex had come home and, if he was to be believed, the ghosts of his past hadn’t come home with him. She loved him and he loved her. That wasn’t the only thing that mattered, but it did count for a lot. The rest, she was willing to give him on faith.

Alex clapped his hands together. “Because today we celebrate!”

This time, when he picked her up, Jules squealed in delight and allowed herself to enjoy the moment.


Part 6: Recap (1/2)

At the eleventh hour, with every possible disadvantage stacked against them, Devlin, Sarah, and their team of misfits and malcontents approach an impossible job: breaking into a mansion owned by the elusive and dangerous Hill to save the girl Avis, her companion Neal, their erstwhile associate Billy, and the golden Book responsible for the chaos and madness that has plagued them during their struggles in London. Every asset is tapped, every ally contacted, and every potential plan checked and re-checked, in hopes of mining even the remotest opportunity at success, in the face of almost certain failure.

It begins with the Russian mafioso Stanislav and his Ukrainian cohort/ex-paramour Anton. An explosion specifically designed to create more fear than damage, crafted with the aid of Anton’s bombmaking expertise, creates an atmosphere of uncertainity and doubt in Hill’s poorly trained men. That window of confusion is then capitalized on by the native Brits, Chester and James, to waylay a single vehicle in the elaborate shell game perpetrated by their opponent. With that piece taken out of play and replaced by one of their own – namely, an identical car driven by the Frenchman Michel – the team is able to find their way past the first layer of Hill’s defenses, by relying on the natural propensity of frightened people to close ranks and rely on trusted security whenever possible.

Devlin and his bodyguard, Emilia, emerge from the trunk of their Trojan horse on the other side of Hill’s cameras and security systems. Together, they infiltrate into the mansion itself, keeping to the shadows to avoid detection, and searching for any sort of security hub that Sarah might be able to subvert to their own ends. Instead of locating that, however, it doesn’t take them long before they stumble upon a secret corridor leading down, beneath the mansion. There, they find Neal, beaten and bloodied.

Despite enduring considerable abuse, Hill’s former employee maintained the presence of mind to track his surroundings. As a result, he alone is able to lead Devlin and Emilia straight to the room where Avis is being kept. After a brief conversation, and a heartfelt reunion between the girl and her unlikely friend, Devlin makes a judgment call: Emilia is to go with Avis and Neal, protecting them as they make their way back out of the mansion and into Michel’s waiting getaway car. Emilia protests, asserting that her primary job is the protection of Devlin and Sarah, but he convinces her that this plan, more than any other, has the highest chance of success. Reluctantly, she agrees, and the three slip away to find their own way out of the mansion.

At the same time, Devlin’s former partner turned bitter rival, Asher Knight, enters the building with a retinue of armed men intent of hunting down the man he once called ‘friend.’ With Sarah guiding him, Devlin desperately hides himself within Hill’s master bedroom. Within that very bedroom, concealed behind a false dresser, he finds a safe; within that safe, he hopes, he might find the Book that has catalyzed so much trouble for so many people.

His time behind bars and the advances in technology aren’t enough to keep him from cracking the state-of-the-art vault and retrieving the item of his search. However, just as he readies himself to secret the Book away from Hill’s custody, an ominous click sounds behind him and his comms, as well as the miniature camera he wears to give Sarah eyes on the scene, go dark.

At first concerned, then gradually growing panicked, Sarah opens a line of communication with Michel. The Frenchman isn’t at an angle where he can truly see into the building, although he does remember seeing the silhouette of two men in Hill’s bedroom, just before the radios went quiet. With a rapidly diminishing pool of options – the Russians are on the outside of the estate, Michel’s contribution to the plan will only work so long as he remains unobtrusive, and the Brits are notoriously difficult to keep in line – Sarah goes with her gut, fumbles the connections momentarily, and calls for Mila to return to the building and save her ex-husband.

Mila, however, has issues of her own. Only a few yards away from freedom, she is stopped and forced to confront Aiden, the man who trained her, mentored her…and, ultimately, broke her.

Aiden tries firs to seduce Mila away from her wards, promising a return to glory and an inevitable promotion to his place at the head of their mercenary outfit, when his illness finally takes his life. When delicacy and charm do not work, something snaps in the man’s demeanor and he attacks her like a wild animal. The battle between the two trained fighters is more than simply physical and, at a critical moment, Mila realizes that she cannot kill Aiden without proving his philosophically correct. She hesitates to pull the trigger and Aiden, sensing blood in the water, attempts to provoke her by shooting Avis instead.

Michel, listening in due to the mishandled transfer of open lines, interrupts Aiden’s attempt at murder with the back end of his car. The mercenary, already wounded, is knocked through a window and into the mansion proper. Without waiting to see whether he will emerge again, Avis, Neal, and Emilia all pile into the getaway vehicle and prepare to escape the mansion for good.

Sarah accelerates the timeline for their escape, funneling their enemies in specific directions, and activates the Russians and Brits outside of the estate to provide even more misdirection. At that exact moment, Devlin’s comms come back online. He explains that the signal was jammed and that revelation lays bare exactly how stark their situation has become…how stark, in fact, it had always been. If Hill knew to have a signal jammer, then he already knew their frequency. If he knew that, then it was possible he had been listening to them in real time, all from the very start.

With nothing left to do but improvise, Devlin tells Sarah to activate Plan B, which she is reluctant to do. Only after he explains his reasoning, correctly pointing out that the alternatives involve their grisly deaths, she relents and sets things into motion.

Plan B, as it turns out, begins with a phone call to the London Metropolitan Police Department.


After dealing with the unexpected arrival of someone specifically equipped to block his communications, Devlin decides to make moves. He retrieves a suitcase – the very same one contained within Hill’s personal safe – and leaves the room. With Sarah in his ear and helped by a generous helping of luck, he manages to avoid encountering any of Hill’s or Asher’s men as he makes his way downstairs.

A little too well, perhaps.

He realizes, just before walking into a trap, that the path is almost too clear. If Hill was capable of intercepting their communications, it would only be reasonable to assume that he knew exactly where Devlin was and how he would plan to make his escape. Therefore, if Devlin’s route is clear, then it is probably clear for a reason. What reason that might be eludes the intrepid thief and, with no other real option, he takes a deep breath…and walks straight into the noose that Hill had laid out for him.

Inside the dining room, the grand table where Hill revealed himself to be the seemingly weak nobleman Fairfax is gone. In its place, there is only Hill and his bastard older brother, William Fairfax, literally chained into his wheelchair, with a gun pressed to his temple. Reflexively, Devlin pulls out his own weapon, borrowed from Emilia, and the two men stare each other down for seconds that feel like an eternity.

For only the second time since meeting, and the first time without outside interruption, Hill speaks to Devlin in his true persona: ruthless, sadistic, and solely focused on increasing his power no matter the cost to anyone around him. Hill reveals the truth behind his agenda, explains why he effectively challenged Devlin and his team to come after him, their friends, and the Book.

First: by using a known enemy, especially one who has proven so frighteningly proficient at improvisation in the face of the certain doom, to stress test his defenses, Hill plans to make his home into an impenetrable fortress so secure that no other thief would be able to steal from in the future.

Second, and more importantly: antagonizing Devlin’s team into increasingly spectacular displays runs the risk of attracting the attention of Hill’s mysterious masters, the Magi. When the Magi inevitably take notice of the chaos in London, the manner in which their finances in the area have been disrupted, Hill will be able to use Devlin and company as scapegoats, to ensure that no suspicion falls on him. If the Book should happen to go missing at the same time by, say, pure happenstance, then no blame could fall on him.

Of course, both of those outcomes depend on retrieving the Book from Devlin in the first place. Hill demands that Devlin sacrifice the suitcase and its contents. If not, Hill promises to kill not just Devlin…he will give the order to his men to execute Sarah and Devlin’s entire team. In that moment, to illustrate his point, Hill unveils the full depth of his surveillance. Cameras, pointed at Sarah’s supposedly safe staging area, well away from the estate; ears, in the form of the communications system that Sarah worked so tirelessly to protect; live-streaming video as Devlin’s friends struggle to find a way out of Hill’s death trap.

While Devlin listens to the enumerations of his problems, a burst of intuition warns him of an incoming attack. He barely manages to avoid the butler Coleman’s initial assault. It doesn’t take Devlin long to realize that Coleman is being forced to assist Hill, but that knowledge doesn’t help him in the ensuing scuffle. He loses the suitcase, first, and ultimately even his own gun. It’s only through a last minute attack, throwing caution to the wind, that Billy manages to disarm his older brother, although not before Devlin suffers a wound to his upper thigh that removes any chance of evading further attacks. Spitefully, Hill disdains the use of his own weapon and retrieves the gun that Devlin entered the room with before throwing open the suitcase, triumphantly and pompously revealing that he has obtained…

…nothing at all. The suitcase is completely, utterly, impossibly empty.

Infuriated by this sudden, unexpected turn of events, Hill rails impotently at Devlin, who is content to merely laugh at the latest development. When Hill turns Devlin’s own gun on the thief and attempts to execute him, he is stymied once more. The gun has been unloaded. After speeding through the stages of grief, Hill attempts to pressure Coleman – the butler, now armed with Hill’s original weapon – to kill Devlin. Just before the butler works up the nerve to squeeze the trigger, Sarah speaks into Devlin’s ear and the thief plays his final card: he knocks five times on the floor and makes eye contact with Coleman.

The butler taps one finger against the side of his gun twice, completing the signal. Then, he turns his gun to point at Hill, instead.

Forcing himself upright, Devlin explains to the dumbfounded Hill that Coleman’s family has been rescued from his clutches. Furthermore, the forces he’d planned on using to murder Devlin’s team have mysteriously all disappeared. The live-feed was actually a fabrication, masterminded by Sarah from her mobile command center; the comms chatter, faked for Hill’s benefit. Every weapon that Hill believed he had against Devlin and his team has been disarmed, removed, or otherwise proven to be false. And the final insult? Coleman, loyal butler for most of Hill’s life, has been working with the police in order to bring down the drug lord, once and for all.

Enraged beyond belief, Hill rushes at Devlin and tries to kill him with his bare hands. It’s only through the timely arrival of the police, phoned not too long ago by Sarah herself, that Hill is stopped from committing at least one murder. Unfortunately, the police arrest Devlin for breaking and entering, at the same time that they put Hill in handcuffs for his litany of crimes.

At the hospital, during a brief stop where the worst of his injuries can be treated, Devlin receives an unexpected visitor. Hill’s lawyer, a slimy man who practically reeks of corruption, sidles into the room and informs Devlin that Hill has every intention of dodging any and all charges thrown at him. His tendrils extend to the highest levels of the Metropolitan Police. And, as soon as Hill gets out of police custody, he intends to make Devlin’s suffering his highest priority.

When the lawyer leaves, Devlin tells the police that he’s ready to talk, but only if he can do so at Scotland Yard. The request is granted and, after a quick discussion with an inspector, Devlin finds himself alone in the interrogation room.

And then, exactly as Devlin had known, Asher enters the room.


Through all the madness and the mayhem, Devlin and Asher have found themselves face-to-face several times. Via Skype in Ukraine, just before a hired sniper perforated the trailer by the docks; in the warehouse outside of London, after Devlin had been drugged and kidnapped; at the Green Light Gala, where they’d fenced with words and wit, immersed within the most elite criminals in Europe; and, most recently, in an abandoned subway station, where Asher had threatened the life of Devlin’s oldest friend. But it is only here, seated across from each other in the heart of the London police system, that Devlin O’Brien and Asher Knight finally have the opportunity to talk.

After an opening salvo between the two men, the conversation turns deathly serious when Devlin finally asks Asher why, of all things, the genius mastermind blames his friend and former partner for the abuse suffered at the hands of the Magi. Without an audience to bluster for, caught off guard by the blunt simplicity of the question, Asher finally admits the truth. He doesn’t blame Devlin for the mistakes that led to his capture and torture; he is, however, jealous of how quickly Devlin and Sarah met, fell in love, and married each other. In his mind, it seems, Devlin replaced his friend without a second thought and that, more than anything else, pushed Asher into his vengeful vendetta.

In exchange for an honest answer, Asher asks Devlin how, exactly, he managed to remove the Book from Hill’s estate, directly under the man’s nose. Devlin plays coy, only dropping the scantest hints, and Asher guesses at the rest on his own. With the anarchy at the estate – stolen cars, fistfights between trained mercenaries, the arrival of the armed wing of the police – every eye was squarely on Devlin and his known team of associates. Therefore, it was child’s play for Alex to slip in, disguised as one of the guards. Alex’s connections among all walks of life put him contact with Coleman and, through the butler, he discovered the truth about the police’s inside man and about Hill’s ultimate plan. During the comms blackout, Alex had met and warned Devlin. Together, they had formed a last ditch plan and, by necessity, kept it entirely off of comms until such time as Sarah was able to circumvent Hill’s techniques. While Hill faced down Devlin, Alex had been free to leave the building with the real prize.

In awe of how effective this simple act of misdirection was, and temporarily less guarded than normal, Asher lets slip a nugget of information that turns Devlin’s blood cold: years ago, when the Magi felt comfortable allowing their newest plaything a bit of free rein, Asher used his first hit squad in an attempt to kill Sarah. Instead of accomplishing that goal, however, that squad was responsible for the death of Alex’s wife, Johannah.

Even when confronted by a furious Devlin, Asher shows no remorse for his actions. The failure of the squad to kill Sarah, he says, only motivated him to become more creative in his twisted pursuit of ‘justice.’

Stunned by the cavalier attitude of the man he once considered a friend, Devlin can just barely find the words to point out that Asher has admitted to a capital crime while inside of a police station. Asher shows no concern at this. He informs Devlin that, during the theft of the Book, Asher pulled off his own coup: every bit of blackmail and leverage that Hill had amassed during his time as London’s premier crime lord changed owners. With those secrets safely in his pocket, Asher knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that no London police officer would dare arrest him.

Devlin, despite the rage pumping in his vein, allows himself a thin smile and unveils his last trick. Where the London police would falter to arrest someone with so many connections, Interpol would not. Almost as if summoned, Agent Neetipal Adlai enters the room, having listened to the entire conversation with his own ears and immediately arrests Asher for murder in the first degree.

In an eerie echo of the tense conversation that preceded it, Devlin and Adlai end up on opposite sides of the interrogation table once more. This time, however, Adlai surprises the intrepid thief. According to Coleman, their man on the inside of Hill’s operation, Devlin’s assistance was instrumental in bringing down the drug lord. What’s more, there has been no official report of anything having been stolen. As far as the police are concerned, Devlin isn’t guilty of a single crime with regards to the events at Hill’s estate.

“You are a criminal,” Adlai tells his enemy, rival, unexpected comrade-in-arms, “but you are not the bad guy today.”

With those words, Adlai leaves Devlin alone in the interrogation room to consider how dramatically things are changing. Then, with no one stopping him anymore, he leaves the police station as well. There is still one final piece of business that demands his attention.

Chapter 139

After downing some food from room service, Sarah and I told Alex to take his daughter and leave the country.  His involvement in the chaos over the last weeks was minimal but I didn’t even want to chance anything else going wrong before they were safely back in Germany.  He conceded to the request with only a token amount of resistance.  He had a lot to think about, I knew, and a lot of unresolved anger to process.

I wondered whether he thought life in prison was a suitable punishment for Asher, after what he’d done.  I wasn’t sure if a suitable punishment even existed.  Still, confinement would have to do for the moment.

Sarah suggested that I take a shower before confronting our personal Benedict Arnold.  Mila agreed with that assessment and Michel, in his own subtle way, made it clear that bathing wouldn’t be a terrible idea.  So, I washed off as quickly as possible, and changed out of my custom suit into a pair of comfortable jeans and a polo shirt.  Then, feeling more like myself, I led us all into the elevator and down to the conference room where our new allies waited.

We paused at the door.  “Are you ready for this?” I asked Sarah.

She sighed.  “Not really, but what other choice do we have?”

“Should we…I don’t know, practice?”

“What good would that do?  You don’t know what’s going to happen any more than I do.”

“Fair enough.  So…play it by ear?”

Sarah nodded.

Michel opened his mouth to say something.  Mila stopped him with a raised hand.  “No, they aren’t going to tell us what they’re talking about.  No, they didn’t have a chance to discuss any of this yet.”  She grinned.  “Yes, this is all somehow going to work out.”

Immediately upon entering the conference room, I saw that Sophie had taken Alex’s simple directive and gone completely overboard with it.  The long table running down the center of the room was overflowing with food and drink.  There were cooked hams and turkeys, more bottles of liquor than I could count at a glance, and an assortment of finger foods available for the taking.  Billy’s men were voraciously attacking the fare, focusing mostly on the liquor.  The scene reminded me of a nature documentary I’d once been forced to watch about piranhas and their feeding habits.

That was good, though.  Sophie’s typically overblown zeal ensured that my quarry would be in an amenable mood and, therefore, unlikely to realize what we had in mind until too late.

Billy sat at the distant point of the table.  He wasn’t partaking of the food or drink as we entered.  Instead, he seemed withdrawn and uncharacteristically moody.  The effect of his sulk was only magnified by the bruises visible on his skin like spots on a leopard.

He looked up and the gloom surrounding him lightened a little.  “Well, look who it is!”  He forced exuberance into his voice, but very little of that emotion found its way onto his face.  “Boys, take a good long look at our conquering hero.  In just a few weeks, he managed to do what we’ve been trying to do for years.  Give ‘em three cheers, eh?”

The horde of men tore themselves away from the feast in front of them and, raising whatever glasses were close at hand, roared out three cheers for me.  I accepted them with a slight nod.  “How’re you feeling?” I asked Billy, when the noise died down and the men returned to their drinks.

“My brother kidnapped and threatened to kill me,” Billy said, “just before he went completely off the deep end and tried to kill you with his bare hands in front of me.  So I’m feeling bloody lovely, of course.”

His accent sharpened and slipped, seemingly at random.  He was either more emotional than he was letting on or he’d had more than his fair share of liquor before we’d made our way downstairs.  Probably both.

“Physically, I mean,” I said.

He shrugged one shoulder and winced in pain.  “I’ll live.  I’ve had worse beatings from schoolboys.  Charlie always did hit like a girl.”  Pause.  “Present company excluded, I mean.”

Mila raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms underneath her breasts, but she didn’t say a word.

“There are some things we need to talk about,” I said.

“Can it wait?” Billy asked.  “I think my boys need a little bit of time to celebrate before we get down to the business of figuring out what to do with that whole empire my brother was so intent on ruling.”

“No,” I said, “it really can’t.  It’s about what happened at the estate today.  The longer we wait to have this discussion, the worse it’s going to be.”

Billy accepted that enigmatic statement with ease.  “Alright, then.  Chester, James; leave that mess alone and get over here.  The rest of you, take a bottle for the road, and take a walk!”

The two men, chief lieutenants in Billy’s organization and local heroes in their own right, detached themselves from the mass of drunks with some difficulty and headed in our direction.  They took up seats on either side of Billy: Chester seated on his right while James deposited himself to Billy’s left.  Then, all three men looked expectantly at me.

I turned my gaze to the table’s setup while the lower ranked men followed Billy’s order and slowly filed out.  There was a seat at the head of the table, opposite Billy, and more than enough chairs to accommodate my team.  There was only a single problem with the arrangement.  I took one of the surprisingly heavy chairs and dragged it across the floor, until it was directly next to me, then gestured to Sarah.  “After you.”

She seemed delighted by the gesture and made a curtsy in response.  “Such a gentleman,” she said.  “If prison taught you manners like this, you should go more often.”

“It’s called jail before conviction,” I countered.  “And I didn’t even go to lockup tonight, so let’s not be premature.”

Mila and Michel exchanged a look before taking seats of their own.

“What’s so important that you needed to talk about it right now, then?” Billy asked, when we were all settled in place.

I decided to dispense with as much formality, pomp, and circumstance as I could get away with.  These accusations required a certain amount of delicacy, I knew, but that didn’t mean I had to waste time before making them.  “This isn’t the first time a plan of ours has gone sideways,” I said.  “I mean, certainly not the first time in my life, but it isn’t even the first time it’s happened in London.  It’s the second time, in fact, that Hill caught us flat-footed and unawares.”

Using the nickname for Billy’s brother came naturally.  I’d only known him by that moniker for the vast majority of my time in conflict with him, so it was difficult to reprogram my brain.  Billy graciously didn’t correct me.  “I was thinking about that myself,” he said.

“Let’s go over both of those situations, then.  Just so we’re all perfectly clear.”  I took a deep breath.  Presentation was key, here.  “The processing plant was a trap.  The whole thing was just an excuse to get us in one place, so that Hill could have his hit squad pour bullets into the building.”

“I remember,” Billy said.  “I’m not that old.”

“The problem, though, is that he couldn’t have known when you were going to find out about the plant.  Without that knowledge, he couldn’t have anticipated when you’d attack.  And he obviously didn’t have time to adjust his plan for our intervention.”

“What’s that mean to you?”

“That he has a mole in your organization,” I said, “but that said mole didn’t have an opportunity to warn Hill that you’d changed plans.  Agreed?”


Chester cleared his throat with a great deal more noise than was strictly necessary.  “What’re you getting’ at?”

“I’m painting a picture,” I replied, through gritted teeth.  “It’s all going to make sense in a little bit.  I promise.”

He looked as though he had something else to say, but he lapsed into sulky silence instead.

I gestured for Sarah to pick up where I’d left off.  “Then there’s this whole business with Hill’s estate. There was absolutely no way for someone to intercept my communications without hiring someone as good or better than me, and giving that person days to take apart my encryption protocols.  The only way, then, that Hill and his men would be able to listen in on our conversations was if they had an exact copy of an earbud or receiver already using those protocols.”

“You said something about that before the police came crashing in,” Billy said.  “And your friend’s the one who found about the mole, yeah?”

Chester leaned forward in his chair, eager to hear what I had to say next.  Even James, normally stoic to the point of muteness, seemed interested.

“Yes and no,” I said.  “My friend learned that there was a mole, from Coleman.  But Coleman didn’t actually meet the guy, so he couldn’t give us a name.”

Chester let out an explosive breath.  “What’s the point of all this, then?  We already know all of this.”

Billy nodded his agreement.  “Soon as we get a second to catch our breaths, I’ve got plans to go through the organization from top to bottom until I find out who was playing both sides.  Can’t run the business with that kind of a leak.”

“About that,” I said.  “There can’t really be a business, Billy.  Hill’s going down and Asher’s going to see to it that the infrastructure is unusable, at least in the recent future.  Even after Interpol leaves town, trying to run anything as big as Hill’s enterprise is just going to be asking for trouble.”

If Billy could have used his legs, he would have stood up in sudden outrage.  As it was, he slapped his palms down on the table.  “You could’ve said something about that before!”

“I didn’t know about it before,” I said.  “Asher’s being vindictive, which I could probably have predicted, but even I didn’t know that he’d be willing to burn everything to the ground rather than let anyone else have it.”

“And the people I’m looking out for?”  Billy asked.  “What am I supposed to do to help them?”

“Hill went to a lot of trouble to make his businesses seem legitimate,” Sarah said.  “My guess is that he expected a lot of attention on how he ran things.”

Privately, I thought that the scrupulous and overzealous attention to detail was a result of his employment by the Magi, but I kept that thought to myself.  The less Billy, Chester, and James knew about the Magi, the better it would be for everyone involved.

“It wouldn’t take much to use those shell companies,” Sarah continued, “and to turn them into something that actually made money.”

Billy tilted his head.  “How?”

“You’d have to launder all of the liquid cash he’s had stashed away,” she said.  “That’s not going to be easy, but it is doable.  There’ll be a scandal when it comes out that he was the head of the drug ring, which hurts your reputation, but there’s another story that can be spun out this that could turn things your way.”

“Which is?”

“Think about it,” I interjected.  “One brother, born to privilege, falls into a life of crime; the other, the product of an illicit love affair, rises to restore his family’s honor.  It’s got potential.”

Billy thought about that for several seconds.  “I never wanted to be a Fairfax,” he said finally.

“What you want has very little to do with what you are,” I countered.  “But it’s just something to think about.  You could help your people – give them jobs, rebuild the devastated areas where your Halfway House is, clean up some of the brute crime – and you wouldn’t have to run the risk of police intervention.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Billy said, but there wasn’t any malice in his voice.  “A thief telling me to go straight?”

“I’m full of contradictions.  Some would say it’s my best trait.”

I could feel Sarah roll her eyes.

“Anyway.  That’s not what I wanted to talk about.  Coleman couldn’t get a name, true.”  I paused for dramatic effect.  “But we figured one out on our own.”

Silence, deep and profound, fell over the room.  Sarah and I hadn’t rehearsed this bit – there hadn’t been any time – so Michel and Mila were both in the dark, as well.  Michel looked rapt with curiosity and Mila appeared slightly more interested than usual.

James was the first person to speak, surprisingly.  “Well?  Who is it?”

I didn’t answer him.  This was Sarah’s show, now.

She started her speech by tapping a few keys on her cell phone.  I was in a position to see that she’d been pressing random buttons, but Billy, Chester, and James were not.  “I make a habit of not bothering to reveal every single technical detail of my equipment to anyone,” Sarah said.  “Devlin doesn’t care about the specifics, for one thing, and he’s really the only partner I’ve had.”

A tremor of pleasure went through my body at her use of the word ‘partner.’

She continued speaking.  “The technology I used to construct the earbuds is proprietary.  A lot of it is guesswork, honestly.  And I’ve had plans to sell some of it legitimately, just to shore up my own profile.  Anyway, the point is this: each earbud is marked.”

Two truths and a lie.  Maybe two lies.  It was possible that Sarah intended to market some of her technology.  We hadn’t really talked about anything financial in years, even before our divorce.

“Marked?” Chester asked.  “What’s that mean?”

“It means that every transmission coming from a given earbud has a certain signature, so that I could make sure that one earbud wasn’t transmitting as another,” Sarah said.  “If someone let Hill use one of my earbuds to copy the protocols, they’d also copy the signature.  When I realized that Hill was listening in our communications, I immediately went back through every transmission, so that I could find out who the mole was.”

She fell silent and allowed the tension in the room to build to an almost painful level.  I could barely keep from grinning, personally.  Unlike the rest of her family, Sarah had never been one for long speeches.  Despite her relative inexperience, however, she was doing a masterful job of bullshitting.

Despite my enjoyment, I had my own job to do.  I looked across the table, reading micro expressions on the faces of all three men, searching for some sort of sign.

Sarah kept right on vamping.  “It wasn’t easy.  All of the transmissions coming out of Hill’s estate made it difficult to find the exact frequency.  That’s why I didn’t say anything at first: I wasn’t sure yet.  While Devlin was somehow contriving a way out of Scotland Yard, I had programs running to filter and identify.”

“Oh, come on!” Chester said.  “Don’t make us bloody wait forever!  Who the hell is it?  Who’s the mole?”

One of the men across from me moved, lowering their chin and tucking it in maybe a half of a millimeter.  It was such a minute gesture that most people would have missed it.  To me, searching their faces with something approaching desperation, it was as obvious as a lighthouse on a clear night.  I made a subtle gesture with two fingers where Sarah could see it.

Sarah turned her head a millimeter in my direction and raised an eyebrow.  I nodded.  “Alright then,” she said, shifting her attention back to the three men at the other end of the table.  “I’ll get to the point.  James…why’d you do it?”


Chapter 138

After I retrieved my personal effects and made my way out of Scotland Yard, I decided that calling Sarah or Michel for a ride would probably not be the best idea.  Adlai’s bemusing amiability aside, it wasn’t insane to think that someone was probably tracking my movements.  Hill might have been dethroned, but every member of his organization might not have received notice of that.  Had I been in the former drug lord’s position, I would’ve taken steps to make certain that the architect of his downfall paid dearly for his or her presumption, regardless of what happened to me in the interim.

Since I was said architect – or, at least as far as Hill knew, the primary instigator – it seemed prudent to take a few steps to ensure my safety.

By the time I finally reached the Brooklands, after switching modes and methods of transportation enough times that even I was starting to feel irrationally paranoid, I was both hungry and exhausted.  Sophie wasn’t at the front desk when I entered, but that wasn’t surprising.  We weren’t her only clients and I suspected that at least one of the Brooklands’ less ‘legally challenged’ guests had requests or demands of their own to make.  I gave the front desk clerk a vague sort of wave, walked past him without saying anything, and went straight to the penthouse elevator.  Then I stopped, walked back to the front desk, and plucked a banana from a dish of fruit.

“Long day,” I said to the clerk.

He blinked at me, but said nothing.

The elevator shot straight up through the Brooklands’ floors and stopped after only a few seconds.  I took a bite of my banana and straightened my suit jacket as the elevator doors slid open.

I was greeted with a gaping gun barrel, leveled at a point just between my eyes.  I blinked with excruciating caution and, just as slowly, took another bite of my banana.

“I’m going to have to teach you how to fight, aren’t I?”

“Might be useful,” I said.  “Although, judging from what I heard before, you might not be up to a teaching lesson for a couple of weeks.  Or months.”

“Please.  I could be unconscious and still kick your ass.”

“And, on that note, it’s good to see you too,” I said to the gun barrel.  “Although I think I would have been a little more welcoming, had I been in your shoes.”

The barrel stayed there, rock steady, for another second or two.  Then, it lowered slightly and I saw Mila’s bruised face at the other end of the gun.  “That’s because you’re a softie,” she said.  “If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t have waited for the doors to open before I drew.”

We held eye contact for another handful of seconds before Mila returned the gun to a shoulder holster, dangling free underneath her bad arm.  “So,” I said, “are we supposed to hug now or…?”

She snorted, cutting me off mid-sentence.  “There’s still some liquor here, I think.  Or you can just ask Sophie to get some for us.”

“Yeah.  Either way, celebrating with an awe-inspiring hangover is always an option.”

She smiled then.  The expression crept across her face, growing by millimeters, until she wore a smile from one ear to the other.  She moved out of the way, allowing me to move deeper into the room and then returned to a position where her diminutive frame more or less blocked the elevator from sight.

“You’re an idiot,” Mila said.  “An absolute idiot.  Do you know how worried everyone was about you?”

“Even you?”

Mila rolled her eyes.  “Everyone else. What was there to be worried about?  If you didn’t come out of Scotland Yard on your own, then I would just have gone in there to get you.”

There was every possibility that she was being entirely serious.  In a pitched battle between the forces of law enforcement in the great city of London and a pissed off Mila who wanted to honor the terms of her contract, I wasn’t sure which side I’d want to put my money on.

“Good thing I got out of there on my own,” I said.  “Before you had to go starting World War III on my account.”

“Good thing,” she agreed.  The smile dimmed slightly, then faded away.  “Did she know what you were going to do?  Using yourself as bait like that, making sure that all of the bad guys were too busy looking at you to watch what we were doing?”

Mila didn’t have to clarify who she was.  “Part of it,” I said.  “Not everything.  Hell, I didn’t know everything that was going to happen.”

“You were guessing?”  There was more shock and surprise in Mila’s voice now than I’d ever heard before.  “That was a risk you took on a whim?”

“More than a whim,” I said.  “There were signs.  But, uh…yeah, kind of.”

She whistled.  “She’s going to be furious with you.  You do know that, right?”

“I’d sort of figured as much.  I’m just hoping she’ll give me a chance to explain before she – “

I noticed, in a detached way, the exact instant when Mila took a half-step back and turned slightly.  The elevator dinged and a tiny red light above it flickered to life.  Mila’s eyes widened and her lips parted, as though she were going to say something.

All of these details dawned on me in slow motion, but I wasn’t quite able to grasp their importance immediately.  So, when it came, the thunderous slap that filled my sight with a field of exploding red stars of pain caught me entirely off guard.

When my vision cleared, Sarah stood in front of me.

Tears were streaming down her face in tiny rivers.  Her eyes were red and the skin around them puffed out.  An invisible tie held her frizzy brown hair back and corralled it into an approximation of a ponytail.

“You…you…”  Her voice failed her, but her mouth continued to open and close as if she’d been suddenly rendered incapable of producing sound.

“Hello to you, too,” I said, massaging my cheek.  “And ow.”

“You knew what was going to happen!”  Her voice came out sharp and shrill.

“I didn’t know that Hill had an inside man,” I countered.  “Not until it was too late to actually tell you about it.  I thought Alex would’ve explained that.”

“Oh, he explained it, all right.  Just before he told me that you planned to get arrested again.  That you’d never even intended to leave the estate in one piece.”

Ah.  That explained the slap.

“Did you honestly think there was any other way that was going to work out?” I asked.  “Even if we hadn’t been compromised from the very beginning, Hill had more men, more money, and more to lose.  The only way to keep him from issuing the kill order was letting him think that he was winning, until the very last second.  So…”  I trailed off.

“So you kept that from me?  So you decided to throw yourself in the line of fire, without stopping to ask anyone else what they thought?”

I opened my mouth, realized that I didn’t have anything to say that would constitute even a modicum of an acceptable excuse, and closed my mouth again.

“I thought we’d already talked about this, Devlin,” she said.  “But you’re apparently too damned noble and suicidally stupid to understand exactly what I meant before.  So, let me make this excruciatingly clear.”

Sarah took a step forward.  She was only an inch or two shorter than me and her nose hovered just a hair beneath mine.  I prepared myself for another thunderous slap.

She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a fierce hug before, almost without making a sound, she started to sob into my chest.  “I am not,” she said, between heaving sobs, “going to let you get yourself killed.  If you’re in trouble, I am always going to come get you.  Do you get that?”

My mouth was suddenly dry.  My mental gears stuttered over this new complication and ground painfully to a halt.  Without any active input or a conscious desire to do so, I pulled Sarah into an even tighter embrace.  Despite the low temperature outside and her natural tendency towards a subzero body temperature, her skin felt warm against mine.  I wasn’t sure if my heart was beating faster, or hers, or both, but I wanted to savor the sensation regardless of the truth.

The moment ended too soon for my taste.  Michel stepped around Sarah, followed by Alex and Ally.  Michel and Alex looked vaguely embarrassed at the display of affection between my ex-wife and me.  Ally, on the other hand, looked equally thrilled and disappointed.  We separated, mumbling nonsense to each other.  Sarah looked away and wiped furiously at her eyes.

“Let me get one thing clear,” Alex said, “before we discuss any of the details.”

“And that is?” I asked.

“I cannot believe that worked.”

“Well, if someone hadn’t decided to go off on their own, it probably wouldn’t have gone so well.”

Alex laid a hand over his heart and assumed a saintly posture.  “I do not know what you are talking about.”

Everyone chuckled at that and I gave us all a few seconds to enjoy the moment before moving onto the next order of business.  We weren’t quite finished.  There were still a few details that needed to be dealt with before we could truly relax.  “Where’s everyone else?”

“Anton and the Russians disappeared,” Sarah said.  “Somewhere between you calling for Plan B and the police actually showing up.  After they lost them, the Russians jumped into a getaway vehicle of their own and ditched the comms.”

“And Anton went with them?”

“From the way I heard it, it didn’t seem like the other guys gave him a lot of choice in the matter.”

“The Book?”

Alex stepped forward.  “I gave it to Sarah as soon as I made contact with her.”

“And I gave it to Avis, as soon as we got back to the hotel.  She’s in her room downstairs, working on translating it as fast as possible,” Sarah said.  “Sophie’s doctor gave Neal some pretty powerful pain killers.  It doesn’t look like Hill had a chance to inflict any permanent damage before we got there.”

I nodded.  So far, so good.  “What about Chester and James?”

Alex made a disgusted face.  “Downstairs, in the conference room where we met before.  They brought some of their other men with them, as well as Billy.  He is not in good health, but he insisted on being here with them.  I asked Sophie to keep them satisfied until we figured out what to do about…well, your situation.”

My mood darkened as I thought about the betrayal, and the damage it had almost allowed Hill to inflict on me and my friends.

“Speaking of your, uh, situation,” Michel said, “what happened?  How did you get out of custody so quickly?  Did the Lady intervene again?”

I thought over the entire series of events, starting from my conversation with Hill’s lawyer and ending in the confrontation with Adlai.  My eyes went to Alex and Ally, standing side by side.  “You might want to sit down for this,” I said to them.

Alex’s eyebrow raised, but it was his daughter who spoke.  “What is wrong?”

“It’s about your mother,” I said.

“What are you…”  Alex began, then stopped.  The color drained from his face and, in that instant, I realized that he knew.  A quick glance at Sarah told me that she was on the verge of making that same intuitive leap.

But neither Michel or Mila knew enough context to figure out what I was talking about, so I was forced to start right after I’d lost consciousness at the estate and tell them the entire story of the day I’d spent in police custody.  When I reached the conclusion, every jaw in the room – except for Mila’s, of course – hung open in shock.

“It was him?”  Alex asked finally.  “This whole time, it was him?”

I nodded.  “We thought he was dead.  That’s why we weren’t able to find any evidence.  It would’ve all gone to a dead end.  Or so we believed at the time.”

“And he…it wasn’t even about…”  Alex started a few more sentences and found himself incapable of completing any of them.

I reached out a hand and gripped his shoulder.  “I got him for you,” I said.  “We got him.”

Alex looked as though he still couldn’t quite believe it, although he seemed to be making a solid effort to keep himself from bursting into tears.  Ally made no such pretense.  She was openly weeping, her shoulders rising and falling in oddly rhythmic patterns.  Alex took his daughter in his arms and hugged her tight.  After a moment, she returned the affection with an equally fierce embrace.

Michel cleared his throat.  I noticed tears glistening at the corners of his own eyes, but he wiped them away before speaking.  “So, Adlai let you go?  Just like that?”

“I’m still not entirely sure I believe it myself,” I said, “but it looks like that’s what happened.  Maybe something about our amazing civic responsibility has convinced him to turn a blind eye to some lesser acts of civil disobedience.”

“Or,” Sarah chimed in, “he knows that you won’t be able to stop yourself from stealing again and he’ll just get another shot at you later on, when you aren’t on the side of the angels.”

“It’s just like you to be such a pessimist.”  I stuck my tongue out at her.

She flashed me a wicked, knowing grin in response and my heartbeat quickened again.

“That is…” Michel struggled to find the right word for a second or two.  “…remarkably lucky, isn’t it?”

“Well, we didn’t jinx things,” I said, affecting an older, wiser intonation.  “That’s probably what did it for us.  Besides, all I did was let everybody beat themselves.  You’re the one who hit a hardened, probably crazy, and definitely homicidal mercenary with a car, Michel.”

He couldn’t really blush, considering his skin tone, but I was certain that his cheeks grew warmer at the praise.  “It was, uh…it was nothing, really.  I only did what I could to help Mila.”

“It was nothing?” Sarah repeated.  “Is that really what you’re going with?”

He shrugged and looked away.  His eyes caught Mila’s for an instant before he found something interesting to examine on the completely normal kitchen wall.

“I just want to make sure I’ve got all of this straight,” Mila said.  She shifted her weight and grimaced as one of her injuries decided to make itself temporarily known.  “We went through all of that so that Hill would reveal his contacts, allowing Asher to steal those contacts, and then you walked Asher into getting himself arrested?  Meanwhile, all we had to do to steal the Book, the girl who can translate it, and her personal Kato was just to drive away with them?”

I considered that for a moment, and then nodded.  “First: yes, pretty much.  Second: Kato?  Really?”

Mila grinned.  “I’m not completely out of touch.”

Alex cleared his throat, drawing all of our attention back to him and his daughter.  Any lingering laughter in the room died away.  “I think that we are finished here,” he said.  “Ally and I, we…we need some time to really think about what you’ve told us.  To make some sort of peace with it.”

“Oh.  Yeah, that makes sense.  Do you, uh…do you know what you’re going to tell Jules?”

Alex shook his head.  “Nothing?  Everything?  It is…complicated.  I am not sure what would be best.  I did not tell Ally about my past and look where that has led us.”

“Papa,” Ally said, “you cannot tell Jules.  You can’t.”

He gave her a skeptical look.  “This, coming from you?  I would have expected you to have the opposite opinion.”

Ally’s lips twisted up as she picked her next words carefully.  “You lived two lives when I was a child and only told me about one.  But you have been with Jules entirely.  Telling her about who you used to be would not help; she does not have any questions about that time in your life.  Does that make sense?”

“But you always wondered what I was keeping from you,” Alex said back.  “Yes.  Yes, I think that does make sense.  But still, it is a decision I will need to think about.  And, of course, I want your input on the matter.”

Ally looked surprised at that.

“You are my daughter,” Alex continued.  “Who else could I trust to give me the best advice?”

There were still tears drying on her cheeks when she smiled.  Somehow, the juxtaposition of the two conflicting emotions made the smile that much brighter.

Alex turned to me.  “You saved my life many years ago,” he said.  “And now you have gotten justice for my wife’s murder.  I do not know that I will ever be able to repay you.”

“You can live a long happy life away from all of this,” I said, immediately.

Sarah rummaged around in her pocket for a few seconds before producing a pair of tickets.  “I’ve got your tickets home, routed through a few different shell companies.”  She looked momentarily abashed.  “Old habits die hard, I guess.  Anyway, your flight leaves in two hours.  Just enough time for you to get through all of the preliminaries and security and whatnot.”

Alex nodded.  “Do you need me to stay a little longer?  To deal with…”  He made a vague gesture, presumably indicating the conference room where Billy’s gang waited.

I shook my head.  My fingers balled into a tight fist, entirely of their own volition, and I squeezed them so tight that it started to hurt.  “No.  You can get out of here.  This is something I really want to take care of myself.”


Part 5: Recap

When Asher Knight – Devlin O’Brien’s former partner, ex-friend, and the brains behind all of our hero’s most recent difficulties – kidnaps Alexander Jaeger’s daughter, the team of thieves and criminals find themselves pushed to a new breaking point.  Prisoner exchange terms are offered, rules are dictated, and a seven-day long timer is set into place.  Within a week, Devlin, Sarah, and their team must come up with a way to spirit the young Ally away from her captors or face terrible consequences for their failure.

They are joined in their planning by Alex himself, frantic after a red-eye flight across Europe in pursuit of his daughter.  Joining forces with Devlin and company, the entire group decides to ask their newest ally Billy for his insight on the situation.  Where their knowledge of London is fairly limited, Devlin hopes that a native Londoner might be able to provide a clue as to where Ally is being held.  That hope pays off when Billy instantly recognizes subtle details in Asher’s “proof of life” video and is able to identify where the video was made: an abandoned Tube station turned bomb shelter, far enough away from prying eyes that secrecy is a given.

Starting with that tidbit of information, the team is able to cobble together a plan that relies more on luck than foresight – involving the Ukrainian bomb-maker Anton, a thorough grasp of the train schedule, and a stolen subway engine – just in time to meet Asher’s deadline.

At the abandoned train station, Devlin and Asher face off with each other.  Barbs are exchanged, insults are offered, and the tension rises to a dangerous level when Asher reveals his remote controlled device, specifically to kill Ally if he doesn’t get what he wants.  Sarah, anticipating such a move, activates a signal jammer to block Asher’s move and Devlin ends up in a position where he can hold Asher hostage against his will.

Still, Devlin can’t bring himself to kill his old friend, no matter how much that move would help him, his cause, and the people working beside him.  Instead of pulling the trigger, Devlin and his team use an expertly timed explosion to drop through the floor of the train station and down to a waiting subway engine, “borrowed” from a station a ways out of London proper.  Alex and his daughter are reunited, the veritable horde of hired goons are temporarily neutralized, and yet another of Asher’s power plays has been intercepted before it was able to grow any worse.

It isn’t until the team returns to their penthouse suite at the Brooklands that they find the young theoretical mathematician and her Man Friday – the girl, Avis, and her friend Neal – have been stolen from underneath their noses.  In addition, Billy – the proprietor of the Halfway house and a thorn in Hill’s side – has also been taken

Using some of the information left in the wake of Avis’ kidnapping, Sarah points the team towards one of Hill’s primary supporters and a possible link in the chain leading to their friends.  With that scant clue in mind, Devlin, Sarah, Michel, and Mila all head to a tense dinner with Lord Charles Fairfax, who has repeatedly appeared in their lives since first setting foot on English soil.

Things at Hill’s palatial estate go well enough.  Devlin, under the false identity of a German business magnate, engages in a verbal sparring match with Hill regarding their different philosophies and Sarah, using her own name and all of the prestige that it comes with, provides a counterpoint.  However, things take a decidedly sinister turn when Fairfax reveals a surprise guest: Billy, beaten and held captive by the psychopathic mercenary Aiden, with whom Mila shares a dark past.

Things begin to fall into place for Devlin rapidly.  Fairfax – the arrogant nobleman, the foppish ladies man, the ever-present irritant – is none other than the mysterious “Hill” himself.

Fairfax – or Hill – informs the team that he has taken steps to consolidate his power, in preparation for a move away from the stranglehold of the Magi.  To that end, he has used Asher to facilitate matters on a ground level, but Devlin and company’s impressive record against him in the past few weeks has caused him to reconsider things.  Instead of using Asher for as long as possible before eventually discarding him, Hill offers Devlin an opportunity: if the Irishman will work for Hill, then Hill will deliver his nemesis to him on a silver platter.  If the team chooses to work against Hill’s designs, he will simply have them exterminated at his earliest convenience.

Hill gives the team one week to consider his terms.  It takes them only a few minutes to agree that working for Hill is a non-starter.  He is a mad dog, hungry for more power, and heedless of the cost that pursuit might take upon the innocent.

Back at the Brooklands, Devlin, Sarah, and the rest of their group finally bring in every person potentially affected by Hill’s final move – not just Billy’s men, Chester and James; but also Anton, Stani, and the Russian pair Leonid and Iosif – so that, together, they can come up with a plan to dethrone London’s reigning drug kingpin at the height of his power, before his plans can come to fruition.

They are thieves, getaway drivers, and hackers.  Taking on a madman fully capable of murder is well beyond anything they have ever done.  But Devlin and Sarah know that no one else is in a position to do anything to stop Hill – except for the mysterious Lady, who has chosen not to involve herself directly – which means that the mantle of responsibility falls to them.  If they have the skills to potentially stop the death of an innocent child, then they owe it to Avis to give their all.

Noblesse oblige: those with the power to help have the responsibility to do so.  It’s apparent that the power-mad Lord Fairfax, in his guise as the kingpin Hill, has forgotten this simple principle.  Whether or not Devlin, Sarah, and the crew of international misfits will be able to remind him of that fact remains to be seen.


Chapter 112

Everyone went their separate ways to handle their separate tasks about an hour later.  We spent the time sipping idly at some alcoholic drinks that appeared at the door and discussing various problems as they came up.  Nothing concrete was decided but I felt that the time was still well-spent.  Most of the people on my growing team knew Sarah and me well enough to trust out judgment when it came to jobs…although those jobs hadn’t been performed under the threat of death, so much as temporary imprisonment.  I preferred to work with familiar associates, whenever possible, and to stack my team with tested talents if I couldn’t have friends.

I wasn’t being afforded that privilege this time.

Stani and the Russians took their marching orders from overseas, and he made certain that I knew where his loyalties lay.  If the higher-ups in the Bratva decided to pull the plug on his operations in London, I wasn’t sure what he’d do.  My instincts told me that he’d toe the line, pack up his equipment, and leave for Russia with Iosif and Leonid as soon as possible.  He might even go so far as to take Anton with him, whether the Ukrainian wanted to go or not.

If that was going to happen, I preferred that it happen now, as opposed to later when we were too deep into the plan to start covering unplanned-for absences.  I could adapt like few others I’d worked with, and Sarah knew me well enough to leave room in her plans for some improvisation, but if we lost two potential heavy hitters and our bomb-maker, things were going to go very badly for all of us remaining.

And then there was Chester.  I trusted that he cared about Billy.  Sarah had said something about his family a few days ago – medical bills, maybe? – but I couldn’t remember the details.  Whatever tied him to Billy was strong enough that I trusted Chester to do whatever he thought best to retrieve Billy before Hill could kill him.  Problem was, Chester’s idea of “what’s best” varied wildly from my own.  If we could have spared the time and resources, I would have asked Sarah to keep an eye on him whenever possible, just to ensure that he didn’t get impatient and decide to go off-script at a particularly vulnerable moment.  Of course, we didn’t have the time or the resources, so I was left crossing my fingers and hoping that Chester didn’t suddenly decide to handle things on his own.

So, the hour we spent drinking and talking was essential, in that it began to glue us together as a team, instead of a group of individuals with our own reasons for going after Hill and Asher.  The connection wasn’t as solid as I would have liked – I doubted that Chester had a particularly strong connection with anyone, for instance, and Stani was still too wary about even looking in Anton’s direction for too long – but it was something.  In lieu of a convenient team-building cruise for all of us to take, that little spark would have to do.

After the Russians, Anton, Chester, and James left the conference room, Sarah took Ally upstairs to start combing through the files from Hill’s estate.  Michel left, at Sophie’s direction, to retrieve the BMW from the parking garage with one of her bellboys.  Mila lingered for a few more minutes before she went upstairs as well, ostensibly to catalog her available weaponry and to find something suitable for me, a relative neophyte, to start carrying on my person.

Alex and I were alone in the room, then.  We sat in…well, it wasn’t entirely a comfortable silence, but it wasn’t unfamiliar.  He reached across the table and pulled the last two beers out of a bucket.  He opened both of them with quick, deft movements, and then offered one to me.  I accepted it and took a long pull at the bottle.  Alex did the same.

“I have known you a long time,” he said, in a solemn tone.

I nodded.  “Years.  I think you might have been one of my first partners, actually.”

Alex chuckled and downed more of the beer.  “What is it that we were trying to steal, again?”

“Some jewels, I think.  There was a Brazilian model who’d got her hands on a Harry Winston.”

“Ah!”  He leaned back in his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face.  “Yes, I remember now.  You were so young, then.”

I mirrored his posture.  “I wasn’t that young.”

“Oh, you were,” Alex said.  “But you would not think so.  You thought you knew more than anyone else on that job and you were not shy about letting people know that.  It was endearing…like watching a little puppy bark at a Great Dane.”

My pride sufficiently stung, I struggled to keep my cheeks from filling with color.  The effort was only moderately successful.  “You must be thinking of a different job, Alex.  The one I’m thinking about was about to fall apart because the mastermind didn’t take Carnival into account.”

“Oh no,” Alex said, “do not misunderstand me.  You did know more than anyone else on that team.  There were mostly older people, like me, who either did not know enough about the modern age to do our jobs or who chose not to adapt.  That is a problem with much of our…community?”

“Community works.”  It was rare for Alex to not know the right word, but I had no problem providing a little assistance if necessary.  “What do you mean, though?”

“We get stuck in our ways.  It is easier to continue doing what has always worked than it is to change with the times.  You have never had a problem with that.  It is, perhaps, one of your best traits.”

“Only one of them?”

Alex smirked for a moment, before his expression smoothed into sober seriousness again.  “You are also a little too sure of yourself and you take on more than you should.  First, this thing with Asher, even though you knew he had made powerful friends.  Then, you found yourself in bed with this Lady of yours, going after someone on his home territory, where he is all of the advantages.  You are a thief, Devlin, and yet you went into a trap to rescue my daughter.”

“I’ve known Ally since she was a kid,” I said quickly.  “I wasn’t about to let Asher use her as bait and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her hurt her.”

“And I will owe you for that, as long as I live,” Alex said.  “But that is not my point.  What you have been doing here is impressive beyond all measure.  Without any time to plan or to even catch your breath, you have nearly hamstrung a kingpin in the center of his power.  That is nothing to be ashamed of.”

I took a small drink of beer and swished the liquid in my mouth for a few seconds before swallowing.  “What are you trying to say, Alex?”

He didn’t speak for a few seconds and I could feel him sifting through the English language for the right words.  “You are taking on too much responsibility,” he said carefully.

“It isn’t like I’m asking for this, Alex.  Most of this is being put on my shoulders for me.  I can’t just walk away from something that’s this obviously wrong.”

He nodded.  “That does not change the facts.  You are taking on too much and, so far, you have been able to find a way to pull off these impossible jobs.  But your luck will not last forever, Devlin.”

Silence.  I cleared my throat after a moment or two.  “I know that’s a possibility.”

“It is not a possibility,” Alex said, stressing the word to its breaking point.  “It will happen.  At best, you will end up back in jail again for…I do not even know how many laws you have broken or what the charges would be.  At worst, this Hill might simply kill you, Sarah, and everyone you know.  Or perhaps Asher would get his hands on you.  I cannot imagine what tortures he has in store for you.”

I could.  The files I’d received from the Lady were still fresh in my mind’s eye.  “So what do you think I should do, then?”

He threw his hands up in defeat.  “I do not know,” he admitted.  “You have always been better at that than me.”

“Well, thanks for pointing out all the various ways this could go horribly wrong, Alex.  Certainly perked me right up.”

There weren’t any more beers to partake of, but Stani had graciously left the bottle of vodka in the center of the conference room table.  Alex plucked it off of the table with two fingers and lifted an eyebrow in my direction.  I gave him a vague gesture of assent – fully aware that I’d eventually regret drinking whatever rotgut vodka the Russians preferred – and Alex filled the only remaining glass on the table with the clear liquid.

“You’re not drinking?” I asked, reaching out for the glass.

Alex scooped the glass back in his direction and replaced it with the remaining bottle of liquor.  “I am not driving anywhere tonight and neither are you.  You will have too much to do in the next few days to really relax.  I cannot help you figure out the best plan, but I can still be a friend.”

“By giving me the worst hangover known to man?” I asked, but I couldn’t hide the smile stretching across my face.  I lifted the bottle and Alex touched its side gently with his own glass.  We both took a long swig and I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Stani hadn’t ordered paint thinner.  Well, it was either that or Sophie had elected to provide him with something more suitable for the Brooklands.  Either way, it felt like swallowing a soothing stream of slow-burning fire, instead of pouring broken glass down my throat.

Alex noticed the pleased expression on my face.  “Surprised?”

“We’ve both had drinks with Russians before,” I said.  “Let’s not pretend you weren’t ready for this to knock you on your ass.”

“I am a German,” Alex replied, affecting a lofty bearing and thickening his accent noticeably.  “You Americans have no tolerance at all.”

I scowled at that and took another swig of liquor.  Alex followed suit.  “How’s Ally doing?” I asked, after we’d had a moment to enjoy each other’s company.

“She is…doing better than I would have thought,” Alex replied.  He rose from the table and started to pace, sipping from his drink sporadically.  “I think that I am more unsettled by what Asher did than she is.”

“Shock, maybe?”

“Maybe.  But she is her mother’s daughter, down to the soles of her feet.  You were not there when she found out what I do…what I did, that is.”

“You never told me about how that happened, no.”  I waited until he settled back into his seat to continue.  “I figured you’d tell me about that whenever you were ready.”

“It is no great story,” Alex said.  “I made a stupid mistake and she managed to pull the whole story out of me after a few hours.  But do you know what I thought was most interesting?  She was not mad…well, she was very angry that I had lied to her, of course.  But she was not mad about what it is that I did for money.  She was worried for me, but she accepted my line of work almost too easily.”  He paused, finished his drink, and poured himself another.  “Sometimes, I wish she had not been so accepting.”

Even with my limited understanding of normal familial relationships, it wasn’t hard to see what was really scaring Alex.  He was a stalwart and steadfast friend, no doubt about that, but his greater concern was his daughter.  Ally was his last living reminder of his first wife and she was in the line of fire through no fault of her own.  The similarities to the disaster in Venice – a loved one who stumbled into our line of work and, unprepared, found themselves cut down by bullets meant for those of us who’d chosen to do the work we did – had to be terrifying for him.

A fresh swell of rage and hate rose up in me.  Of course Asher would have chosen this angle to attack me.  He must have learned about the attack that had killed Alex’s wife at some point.  It wouldn’t have been difficult information to uncover, even for someone without his enhanced resources.  The Underworld communities of a half dozen cities had been humming with the news for months afterward.  So, he must have decided that the best way to completely derail Alex would be to put him in the same state of mind, hoping that my friend would respond irrationally.

Honestly, I was more than a little impressed that Alex was holding it together as well as he was.

“And Ally seems more than a little interested in this business,” I said.  “It might just be a passing thing.  She finds it interesting because this is a very immediate in-your-face situation, but it’ll pass when she really has a chance to think about it, you know?”

“She has been digging into my past since her mother died.  I do not think this is the sort of thing that will pass.”

“Well…I don’t know, man.  Is there something I can say to her?  Something I can do to make her understand that this isn’t a life of glamour and excitement?”

“She has been kidnapped, nearly blown up, and she is now helping Sarah to find a stolen child.  If she does not understand that things can get dangerous in this field, then she never will.”

Again, I found myself with no idea what I could say.  Most people who worked in the Underworld made a point not to form any connections that could be used against us.  My relationship with Sarah – at least, the purely physical component – hadn’t been unheard of, but even that was rare.  Emotions complicated the gears of even the most finely tuned crew.  It only took one person who held a grudge and a second of delay to make up the difference between capture and escape.  It took even less time than that for a crush to endanger the entire team.  A marriage?  That was pure insanity.  We’d only survived through the years by being smarter, better prepared, and luckier than anyone else.

Alex had been married and fathered a child.  That was a level of familial involvement that simply baffled me.  After his wife’s death, I’d assumed he’d retreat entirely from the various Underworlds, but here he was, dragged back into the game.  And there now the added threat – near certainity, if I was being honest with myself – that his daughter would follow in his footsteps.

“Another?” I asked, offering to fill his half-empty glass.

Alex gave me a weak smile and nodded.

“If she’s with Sarah, she’ll be fine,” I said.  A moment passed.  “She should be safe.”

“And if she isn’t?”

“She will be,” I said, with a great deal more confidence than I actually felt.

Alex apparently knew me well enough to slice directly through that half-hearted line of BS.  “You cannot make that promise, Devlin.”

“Okay.  Fair enough.  But I promise to do everything in my power to keep her as far out of the line of fire as possible.  Can I make that promise?”

He searched my face.  I could have smoothed my expression into something stern and believable, but I elected to leave my real emotions there in plain sight.  I couldn’t know how much Alex wanted to keep his daughter safe, but I felt a keen need to protect Sarah.  Voicing that sentiment in front of her would probably result in her giving a shoulder as cold as an Ice Age, but I could privately admit that to myself.  No matter what she said and no matter what she believed, Asher’s vendetta against her was simply an extension of his anger to me.

I’d brought her into this and I’d be damned if I couldn’t get her back out of it alive.  Her, and Michel, and Mila…all of them.  Each and every single person who’d thrown their lot in me with me on this doomed job were here only because of my relationship with Asher.  It was my responsibility to fix this.  I intended to do exactly that.

Eventually, Alex nodded, satisfied with what he saw in my face.  “And I will do my best to help you.”

“From here,” I said immediately.  “Or from wherever Sarah decides to set up her mobile station.”

Alex looked back at me, his gaze even and almost serene.

“We already talked about this, Alex.  You stay out of the field.  Whatever we end up doing, Mila’s going to insist on staying with me.  That would leave Ally and Sarah undefended.  That’s what I need you to do.  Sure, help with the planning, but you have to stay physically out of this.  Agreed?”

The serenity on his face dimmed.  “I understand,” he said slowly.

“Good.  That’s at least one thing I don’t have to worry about.”



Alex cleared his throat.  “If you do not finish things with Asher,” he said in a deliberate voice, “I will.  You understand that?”

I blinked.  “Have you ever…you know?”

“There is a first time for everything.”

I added another item to my growing list of impossible tasks: handle Asher, before Alex could do anything to him that would take him away from his family.  How I would handle that was a complete mystery, but if I was going to create a string of miracles in the next week, adding one more wasn’t the worst thing.

There was little else to say between Alex and me.  We sat in the conference room until we finished the bottle of vodka, the remainder of Sarah’s wine, and the last dregs of some sweet liquor that Michel had seemed to particularly enjoy.  Then, feeling tipsy and rapidly approaching drunk, we left the conference room and went to our separate suites.  Alex, I assumed, was going to pass out from exhaustion.  He’d been running on adrenaline for far too long.

I, on the other hand, laid in bed for at least another two hours, tired but unable to sleep.  Fragmented images of possible horrific ends floated into and out of focus through the miasma of inebriation.  A thousand different ways for things to go horrifically wrong occurred to me and even when I finally found sleep, the only possible way out that occurred to me still had at least one casualty.



Chapter 111

Chester smoked two cigarettes, one immediately after the other, before he returned the conference room.  Judging by the look on his face, the nicotine hadn’t done much to calm him or to put him in a more receptive state of mind.  James entered the room behind Chester, silent and stout, and sat back down in his seat as though he’d never left.

I decided to speak first, before Chester had an opportunity to work himself up to some burst of outrage again.  “This isn’t going to work,” I said.

“You’re telling me,” Chester snapped.

“If you would allow me to finish, I was going to say that we aren’t going to be able to make this work, the way we’re trying to do it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that you and I work in ways that are really a lot alike,” I said.  “We both rely on hiding in plain sight.  You and the rest of Billy’s people pull that off by operating in areas where the rich and powerful don’t bother to notice you.  My team does it by getting in their face and not letting them see anything except what we want them to see.  Either way, we’re all about disguise and subterfuge.  With me, so far?”

Chester grumbled something incomprehensible and then, reluctantly, nodded.

I took that as a sign of progress and pressed on.  “And I don’t have the slightest problem admitting when someone else has a skill that I don’t.  I’m working in Billy’s territory right now, but Billy isn’t here.  So that’s falling to you right now.  If you want to work with me, we can come up with a way to get Billy away from Hill and save Avis.  If you insist on doing things your own way, I promise you: we are all going to get killed.  So…what’s it going to be?”

Chester opened his mouth to say something.  His lips hadn’t yet begun to form so much as a single letter, but the tight lines around his eyes told me that his reply wasn’t going to be polite.  Before he could put breath to whatever thought he planned to voice, James reached out from his seat and gripped Chester’s elbow.

“Mate,” James said, in his rumbly bass voice.  “Hear ‘em out, yeah?”

Chester glared at James.  James returned that glare with steady, unblinking eyes until Chester finally looked away.  “You got something in mind, then?”

“Not yet,” I admitted.  “But I’m getting there.  And, in a way, you’re the one who kick-started the thought in the first place.”

“How’s that?”

The door clicked open.  Sophie stepped out of the way, allowing Stani and his lieutenants back into the room.  Anton followed a few steps behind them.

I clapped my hands together.  “Just the people I wanted to see.”

“Oh?” Stani asked.  “Why is that?”

“Watching the two of you go at it gave me an idea.  More of a realization, really.”

Chester and Stani gave me twin looks of impatience.  I couldn’t help but smile at that.

“They aren’t the only people in the room without a clue here,” Mila said drily.  “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop being so impressed by your own cleverness and just tell us what you thought of.”

“They have no appreciation for showmanship,” I stage-whispered to Sarah.

She rolled her eyes.  “And you have no sense of timing.”

“Fair.”  I turned back to the other people in the room.  “One of the hardest things about everything we’ve done here in London is that the bad guys keep working together.  Hill and Asher were tag-teaming us from the beginning.  That gave someone with Asher’s creativity access to Hill’s resources, and we’ve only just been able to stay a step ahead of them for weeks now.”

“And that has changed?”  Stani asked.

Michel’s eyes widened, though, as he began to grasp the same thought that had only recently dawned on me.  “It has changed, hasn’t it?”

A moment passed before Anton’s face also lit up.  “You said that this Hill wants to hire you to be his new enforcer…but he could not have told Asher this, could he?”

“Not at all,” I replied, touching an index finger to the side of my nose.  “And, if he’s keeping secrets from Asher, it stands to reason that he’s running this operation on his own.  After all, as far as he’s concerned, my old pal has been nothing but a gigantic disappointment.  He lost the crown, Mila burned down one of Hill’s warehouses, and we stole Avis from right under his nose.  Hill’s got to pretty pissed at Asher right about now and – as the two of you so neatly demonstrated – pissed off people do not work well together.”

“Alright,” Sarah said slowly.  “What does that mean to us?”

“Two things.”  I held up two fingers to illustrate the point.  “First thing: that means they can’t take advantage of each other’s strengths.  Hill’s blaming Asher for everything that’s gone wrong.  It must not have occurred to him that he’s been leaving holes for us to wriggle through.”

“And you’re sure about that?” Chester asked.  “We thought had the best of him, too, but then he laid that trap at the plant, didn’t he?”

“Exactly.  He tried to kill you, but Sarah and I were sitting across the table from him and Aiden.  If Hill had any idea how much of a threat we actually were, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“He’s right,” Sarah chimed in.  “People born to wealth like that don’t even consider that problems could be their own fault.  It’s so much easier to just hire and fire the help, as needed.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Chester asked, with just a touch of snideness in his tone.  I clenched my jaw to keep from firing some insult back.  He continued speaking after a moment and he might have been a little disappointed that I’d let his bait slip by untouched.  “What’s the second thing, then?”

“The second thing,” I said, “is that we can play them against each other now, too.  Instead of our ragtag group going up against their combined forces, we can start playing one of my favorite games.”

It took Sarah a second to connect the dots.  That was to be expected.  The relevant memory went back several years, after all.  “The Green Hornet?”

“I prefer to use its original name.  ‘Let’s you and him fight’ just sounds more fun to me.”

She smiled.  It was a genuine smile and it warmed my heart to see it on her face.  “I do like that turn of phrase more.”

Mila cleared her throat.  “Since this is apparently my job now,” she said, “could the two of you share with the rest of us what the hell you’re talking about?”

The warmth from Sarah’s smile was so invigorating that my own mood didn’t dampen, even in the face of Mila’s light sarcasm.  “Asher knows that we can’t be underestimated, but he doesn’t have access to Hill’s resources.  Hill could have us all killed at a moment’s notice but, for some reason, he doesn’t think that we’re enough of a threat to warrant that kind of action.”

“Poor planning on his part,” Sarah said, under her breath.

I heard her and elected to ignore that side comment.  “The two of them working together would be…difficult to get ahead of.  Not impossible, maybe, but it would certainly would not be something I’d voluntarily chose to do.  But the two of them at each other’s throats?  All we’d have to do is pick up the pieces when they were done taking chunks out of each other.”

“You think you can do that?” Mila asked.

“I think that Asher has done nothing in the past few years, except prove how poorly he handles even the illusion of betrayal,” I said.  “So he’ll either take out Hill on his own in a fit of rage or he’ll start planning to backstab him.  Either way, that’s at least one adversary we don’t have to deal with and, with these stakes, one less enemy is definitely something we could use.”

A round of silent nods went around the conference table, starting with Michel and working all the way back around to Mila.  “That’s all good for you lot,” Chester said, breaking the rare moment of camaraderie, “but that still doesn’t tell us how we’re supposed to get Billy away from that bloody bastard, does it?”

“I’m…still working on that part,” I said.  “If there was some way to guarantee that Asher would go after Hill, we might be able to shake him down for information.  But that’s as likely to bomb as anything else right now.”

“Bomb,” Michel mused to himself.  I attributed that to an English idiom he wasn’t fully familiar with and put it out of my mind.

“You said that you can track Hill’s cars?” I asked Chester.

He nodded.

“Right after you went outside to smoke, it occurred to me that Hill might be running a shell game.  You know that is, right?”

The expression on his face darkened.  “You think I was born yesterday, do you?”

I raised my hands in surrender.  “Just making sure.  They might have called it something else over here.  Anyway, if he’s doing that, then Billy’s people might be the only way we have to keep an eye on his movements.  It won’t let us figure out exactly where he’s keeping Avis, but that’s a problem we can tackle later on.”

“No,” Michel interrupted, shaking his head furiously.  “No.  We can use bombs!”

“We can use bombs to…what, exactly?”

Instead of speaking to me, Michel turned to face Chester.  “How many safe-houses does Hill have?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘safe-houses,’ I figure,” Chester said.

“How many places could he hide Avis, if he needed to?”

Chester counted on his fingers for a few seconds.  “If he weren’t worried about her health?  He could use some of the stash spots in the city proper and maybe a few more places where his men keep weapons and the like.  Why?”

Michel swiveled to face me.  “What if he could not use those places anymore?”

I took the information Michel had given me – both the conscious and unconscious signals – and tuned the full force of my mind to the problem.  Each movable piece sprang to mind, three-dimensional blocks in a puzzle that I couldn’t see the full shape of.  I started to fit them into place, one at a time.

The shell game was a deceptively simple game to unravel.  However, knowing that the game would be rigged wasn’t something that would help me cheat the cheater, though.  There were only a few surefire ways to counteract a well-run shell game and none of those were options I could use in this situation.

What would I do, if I were confronted by a game I couldn’t beat?  The answer came to me immediately: I wouldn’t play.

With that, another piece clicked into its proper place.  Why play the game at all?  Hill had set up the shell game on purpose, to give my team something to puzzle over while he extracted all of the information he needed from Avis and then had her disposed of, like an obsolete computer chip.  Its purpose wasn’t to hide her indefinitely, but to hide her long enough.  That difference was an essential facet of Hill’s plan that I’d allowed myself to overlook.

If there were some way to shake him out of the game, though…well, Hill had already proven that he didn’t take my team seriously.  I strongly doubted that he would have taken the pains to establish a reliable back-up plan.  Asher might have known me well enough to put several redundancies in place, but Hill wouldn’t.  At least, I hoped he wouldn’t.

How to disturb his well-orchestrated machine, in such a dramatic way that he couldn’t rapidly adjust things to keep with his plan of shuttling Avis from one spot to another?

I smiled.

“A bomb,” I said, out loud.

Several bombs,” Michel said, smiling widely.

“Okay,” Mila said.  “This part I understand.”

I winked at her.  “I thought you might.”  I turned my attention to Chester, Anton, and the Russians.  “How many people do you think you can mobilize in a few days, Chester?”

“Mobilize?  Mobilize for what?”

“We still don’t know exactly what Asher’s going to do when we make our move,” I said.  “He knows better than to take us for granted, but he’s got a weakness of his own that we can take advantage of.”

“And what’s that, then?”

“He can’t improvise very well.  Sure, he can make an elaborate plan, but when things go wrong, he isn’t the best at coming up with new ideas on the fly.  We’ve got a little bit more information than him.  That’s great to start with.  But with a little bit of creative chaos, we can throw anything he’s got in mind completely off of the rails.”  I glanced at Anton.  “Like the subway station, except bigger.  More bombs, better timed.  Less about the actual destruction and more about the sense of an explosion, if that makes sense.”

Anton nodded slowly, the gesture picking up speed as he began to grasp the idea more fully.  “I could make several things like that, if I had the time and the materials.”

“What subway station?” Stani asked.

I ignored his question.  “We can’t do anything about the time, but materials might not be a problem.  Unless that’s over the line for you, Sophie?”

The concierge shook her head, the ghost of a smile barely visible at one corner of her lips.  “Perhaps you’ve developed an interest in some sort of construction project,” she said sweetly.  “Or your import business has begun trafficking in inert substances that could be used in that sort of thing.  I’m certain there isn’t any sort of illegal activity you would have in mind.”

I grinned back.  “Yeah, we’ll go with that.  So, Chester?  How many men do you think you can get on the streets?  You and the rest of Billy’s people know where Hill’s places are, and we’re going to need to hit a lot of those spots at the same time if this is going to go the way I want it to.”

For the first time since meeting him, Chester seemed to consider that question without seething at my general presence.  “To get Billy away from that bastard?  We’ll get as many men as you need.”

“Excellent.  Very excellent.”

Sarah cleared her throat.  “When you’ve caused your customary explosion of bedlam and mayhem,” she asked, “what’s your next step?  You’ve still got to get Avis and Billy away from him before he decides to cut his losses.”

“That was something I was hoping you’d be able to work on,” I said.  “All I can do is make sure that their plan isn’t going to work, but we both know I’m not really the person to start thinking about long-term solutions.”

“At least you’re admitting it,” Sarah said, with a little smile to let me know that her rebuke was meant in good spirits.  “As it turns out, I’ve got a few ideas in mind.  I’ll need to look back through the information I managed to pull from his network while we were there.”

“You were still working on that?”  I blinked.  The reveal that Fairfax and Hill were, in fact, the same person had dominated my thoughts since leaving his estate.  It hadn’t occurred to me that Sarah’s original plan – to infiltrate his network and retrieve potential blackmail – would have continued, regardless of any other factors.

“The program was automated,” she said.  “I stopped monitoring it as soon as I read an email that talked about the manor house.  Why else did you think I was buzzing your earbud?”

“I figured you just felt something was wrong, too.”

“I knew something was wrong.  At any rate, if that was something that his men were keeping in the loop about, it’s possible they were telling him other information.  I’ll go through it tonight and see what I can dig out of those files.”

“Alright, then.”  I spread my arms wide, gesturing for anyone with a thought or suggestion.  “Anyone got anything else to add?”

Alex, who had been silent for the past few minutes, looked at Ally.  She looked back at him and he shrugged with one shoulder.  “I will continue to work with my friends inside his estate,” he said, facing me.

“You’ve got friends…what am I saying, you’ve got friends everywhere.  Do you think you’ll be able to get anything out of them?”

“I will not know unless I try.”

“Fine.  Ally, you’re not a part of this, so – “

She shook her head and cut me off.  “I know that I am not someone who can do the things you do, but I am not going to sit here and do nothing.”

“These are very dangerous people,” Alex protested immediately.  “You have already been through too much.  When you have had some time to think about it, you will understand.  Perhaps Sophie can find you something to do here that will not require you to – “

“Father, I am an adult now,” Ally said, her words cutting neatly through whatever Alex had been about to say.  “You would not let people who had helped you face trouble alone.  Why would you ask me to do the same thing?”

I went through a few quick ideas – ways to convince her to stand down or to shuttle her off somewhere safe – but discarded them all before any could grow past the larval stage.  Devoting any time to that task would divert our attention away from the things we needed to do in the next few days.

“You can help Sarah go through the files she got from Hill’s place, then,” I said.

Ally’s cheeks reddened and a light came on behind her eyes.  She flicked her gaze away from her father and over to me.  “Of course, Devlin!  If you think that will help, of course.”

Alex caught my eyes, from an angle that Ally couldn’t see, and gave me a miniscule nod of acknowledgement. I nodded back at Alex. He understood my intentions and, even if he wasn’t thrilled about his daughter’s decision, he trusted mine.

Sarah would be in the safest possible position, as far away from the action as we could manage.  If Ally insisted on contributing, it made sense to keep her in the back, behind the rest of us who would be busily juggling a half dozen things and trying our level best not to die tragically.

“If that’s it, then?”  I asked.

Mila coughed and sat up straighter in her chair.  “Stani,” she said, “how are you guys getting your weapons?”

The Russian had been trying to mouth silent questions to Anton – the words ‘subway station’ seemed to be repeated quite a lot – but he looked at Mila when she spoke to him.  “We have our own ways,” he said cautiously.

“Hill’s trying to muscle the Russians out of the smuggling operation here,” Mila said.  “I don’t want to ask Sophie here to arrange for anything, no matter how good she is at rationalization, and tipping him off to anything we purchase seems like a bad idea.  If I get you a list of things I’m going to need in the next couple of days, you think you could use your ways to make that sort of thing happen?”

Stani gave her a sharp, perfunctory nod.  “So long as you are able to pay for whatever you request.”

“I’m good for it.”  She smiled, showing a few too many teeth in the process.  “If not, feel free to come and take them back when I’m done.”

“I…will simply trust your credit,” Stani said.

I tapped Mila on the shoulder.  She turned to me, the vulpine smile fading into her usual mask of passionless focus.  “You’ve got your ideas,” she said, “and that’s fine.  I’ve seen you pull things off that I wouldn’t have thought anyone could do with so little planning.  But I’ve still got a job to do here, and I can’t do that unarmed.”

“You’re absolutely right,” I said.

Mila blinked.  “What’d you want, then?”

“I was going to ask if you know what gun might good for me to start carrying,” I said.  That sentence brought an eerie, still calm to the entire room.  I cleared my throat and spoke into the silence.  “One way or another, Asher’s not going to take this lying down.  I’ve got to be ready for anything, right?”