Lady Death by Brian Drake (good e books to read .TXT) 📕

grouchy tone told her all she needed to know. He wasn’t happy with her.

Raven had no idea what micromanaging meant. He’d never met Sir Miles.

“Where are you?”

“Antwerp.”

“Why?”

“Next lead, sir.”

“Why haven’t you called before now? I shouldn’t have to have the CIA give you a reminder.”

“I don’t intend to be recalled from this assignment, sir.”

“How do you know I’ll recall you?”

Misty let out a quiet sigh. There was a time when his choice of words made her flinch. No longer. She said, “I’ve worked for you for six years, Sir Miles. We’ve determined Operation Triangle doesn’t involve the United Kingdom. There’s no official reason for me to be here.”

“Yet you want to stay?”

“Because of Raven, sir.”

“I’ve never understood your fascination with him,” Sir Miles said. “The man is a rogue. Irresponsible. He has his own agenda and he’ll let nobody get in the way.”

“Anything else, sir?”

“Watch your tone, young lady.” Sir Miles cleared his throat. “I am not recalling you. The Stathoti information you sent has proved invaluable. We now know how various terror groups are getting their weapons, through whom, and by what means. If you’re determined to stay, I hereby order you to do so. I want to know what else you can find. Tell me about the new lead.”

Misty updated Sir Miles on Dante Horn and what the CIA wanted to do in Antwerp.

Sir Miles said, “I’ll call the cousins and make sure you’re included on whatever they find.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“When this is over, I want you back in London. No argument.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll discuss this further then.”

Sir Miles ended the call without saying goodbye. Misty cursed. She tossed the phone on the bed. They wouldn’t welcome her home a hero. There’d be a price to pay for not checking in like a good employee.

Maybe, she thought, I’ll take off on my own like Sam.

She laughed at the absurd notion as she stepped into the bathroom.

Raven stood at the hotel room window. A stretch of the N13 stood out against the backdrop of blue sky and more of the sprawling city.

Misty’s words reverberated in his mind.

“Because I know you, Sam.”

Did she know him better than he knew himself in this case? Because she did have a point. He’d rather work with a group of allies toward a common goal than take on the task alone. Going solo was usually his first and only option. This time, he had help. Maybe he needed help. Perhaps taking on as much responsibility as he did wasn’t serving his cause.

He felt the locket hanging under his shirt. No. She was wrong. He didn’t mind working with allies, but he preferred working alone. He’d made his vow alone; he pursued his cause alone. Nobody else understood. Often, he didn’t understand himself. But he knew what he had to do.

This time, he had help. Thanks to the tightrope on which he found himself, allies were welcome.

Next time, he wouldn’t allow the bureaucracy he’d left behind tie him down.

10

Raven and Misty bet each other $20.00 US Dante Horn would skip his nightlife routine and go home after work.

Raven lost.

Misty laughed as they picked up the Black River CEO’s trail. He rode with two bodyguards and a driver and they drove into downtown Antwerp. Horn’s car stopped in front of an Irish pub called Josie’s. Horn and his bodyguards exited the car. The driver pulled away to park up the block. He remained with the car.

Raven parked the rental Ford on the street behind the pub. They walked around to the front. Halfway there, Raven smelled frying food and his senses perked. Whatever was cooking smelled delicious. A hostess greeted them at the door and the smells became stronger. Even Misty’s eyes widened at the prospect of a good meal during a boring surveillance job.

The hostess escorted them to a booth of dark mahogany walls and a polished wood table. A light hung above. The circular leather seat hissed as they settled across from one another.

“I didn’t come all the way to Antwerp,” Misty said, “to sit in a pub.”

“Whatever they’re cooking doesn’t smell like Brit pub food.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“British cooking sucks, my dear Watson.”

She sighed as she opened her menu. “So I hear.”

Raven started to look at his menu but felt restless. He closed the menu and looked around. Tables and booths full. Long line of people at the bar drinking and talking. On the other side of the dining area, some played darts. Others leaned over pool tables. The noise and low light might have been cozy to the regulars, but Raven’s combat senses screamed silently. He felt anxious, caught in a box, with only one way out.

And too many people around if the night went bad. Rule One was never far from his thoughts.

Worse, neither he nor Misty saw Horn.

“Private room?” Misty suggested. She made a show of examining her menu while examining the crowd.

“Nope,” Raven said. “Corner booth.”

“How do you know?”

“Because one of the bodyguards left and is crossing to the bar.”

Their waitress arrived. She was a young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes and a sleeve tattoo of interlinked rainbows on one arm. Raven and Misty ordered drinks and food. The waitress departed. They looked at each other.

She smiled. “Let’s see what Belgium pub grub is like.”

“Sir Miles give you a hard time?”

“He was his usual self.”

“A fussbudget?”

She laughed. “Exactly! With a touch of grumpy old man sexism.”

“And you’re staying?”

“The Stathoti intel proved valuable. Now they want to know how Horn’s information might make it better.”

“Fingers crossed he gives us something. I didn’t tell you about my chat with Clark.”

“When?”

“After we arrived at the hotel.”

“Good news?”

“Very bad news.”

“Tell me.”

“Stathoti’s ship came and went. Docked in New York City for two days. Now it’s heading for South America.”

“How long to get the weapons to Chicago and Los Angeles?”

“Depends if they’re driving or flying,” Raven said. “If it were me, I’m having them driven to Chicago and flown to Los Angeles by separate couriers.”

“We’re going to cut it close,