Blake wiped his face as they busted through the waves. A smile spread across his face. “Maybe.” He laughed. Z rolled his eyes and powered the boat out of sight.
CHAPTER 2
The room was windowless, and an air-conditioned chill cooled the servers that hummed in the secure compartmental information facility buried deep below Guardian’s European hub. Blake King sat in the single chair opposite the briefing table from the screen. Though his posture was loose, his eyes were sharp.
Across the table, Anubis, the main Shadow coordinator, appeared on the screen.
“Havoc,” the man said by way of greeting.
“Anubis.” Blake nodded in return. “How’s the family?”
He’d been raised around Anubis’s daughter Kadey since she’d lived on his grandfather’s ranch. The girl was brilliant and currently in medical school with Blake’s sister, Beth.
“Healthy and happy, thank God,” Anubis said. “Saw your mom and dad last week. They were here for Amanda’s birthday. Your old man never ages.”
Blake laughed. “He’s too damn stubborn to give in to aging. I called Grandma on her birthday. Sounded like a good party.”
“It was. She’s an amazing woman.”
“Best grandmother in the world,” Blake agreed before refocusing. “Why am I here today?”
Anubis’ face disappeared, and a picture of a man appeared on the screen. The man was in his late fifties, with iron-gray hair and the kind of smile that was cultivated for appearance. The smile didn’t reach the man’s eyes. The eyes were where Blake focused. They were ancient, as if the guy had seen far too much. He’d seen that look in his fellow assassins and his own father’s eyes. Below the picture was the name Étienne Duval.
“Duval was a French investigative journalist,” Anubis said, his voice low, deliberate, carrying the weight of a man used to commanding assassins and expecting their complete obedience. “Duval was one of our assets. He fed Guardian intelligence through his work. His articles disrupted trafficking networks in Marseille, exposed port corruption in Antwerp, and came close to gathering information that could dismantle the false charity fronts your target relies on.”
Anubis reappeared on the screen, and Blake shifted his gaze. “And now, he’s dead.” Anubis’s expression didn’t flicker. “The Belgian authorities called it an unfortunate mishap. An accidental fall into the water after too much wine at dinner. But Guardian did some checking. His blood alcohol content was zero. The reports were changed. Duval was eliminated.”
Blake cocked his head. “By?”
Anubis folded his hands. “Your target. Marek Zajac. Polish-born shipping magnate and philanthropist. He’s a beloved patron of maritime charities. To the world, he’s a respectable businessman. To us, he’s the linchpin connecting South American cartels to Europe. Specifically, drugs and weapons. Lately, it’s been synthetic drugs that are passing through undetected. They move through his shipping lanes. In order to get us the information to take to the Council, Duval got too close to the bastard. He must have said or done something to put him on Zajac’s scope”.
“Zajac had him erased,” Blake concluded.
“Three weeks ago.”
“Was he able to provide the information the Council needed?”
“Yes, in part. Flack and Smithson were able to obtain the rest. Zajac has been coded.”
“Method?” Guardian knew how he killed. Up close and personal. He used his knife and preferred to let the bastard know they were going to spend eternity running from him. Guardian had other assassins who could make the kill appear to be an accident, but that wasn’t his forte. He could do it, but he didn’t like to take the time to cover what he’d done. In his opinion, a dead bastard didn’t deserve to have his death rewritten so people could mourn them.
“Silent, no other requirement.”
“Good.” Blake leaned back in his chair, absorbing the details.
Anubis continued, “Zajac divides his time between Antwerp and Budapest. Antwerp is his financial hub where his banks, shipping companies, and foundations are located. But Budapest is where he retreats. He owns a private compound outside the city. It’s under heavy security and secluded enough for meetings he doesn’t want on the record. He visits at least once a quarter under the cover of ‘medical treatments’ for a chronic heart condition. CCS has confirmed he does have angina. He’s also a hypochondriac. Still, his pattern is consistent. The next trip to Budapest is expected in just over two months.”
Blake’s mouth curved faintly. A predator’s anticipation. “You want him eliminated in Budapest.”
Anubis inclined his head. “Precisely. Antwerp is too exposed. Too many eyes. Too much political fallout. In Budapest, he feels secure. That arrogance is your opening.”
“What’s the window?” Blake asked.
“Three days, maximum. He travels with a rotation of security personnel, but the logistics lead, Januse Brzek, has been by hisside for a decade. If you see Brzek, you’re close to Zajac. Our intelligence suggests Zajac spends his first day at the compound in private consultations with his doctor. Brzek usually visits his elderly mother after Zajac meets with his physicians. That will be your best chance.”
“And Brzek?”
Anubis sighed. “It’s unknown if Brzek is involved with the shipments, but given his proximity and knowledge of Zajac’s business, he could be complicit. He hasn’t been coded yet. Flack and Smithson are still working on that file.”
