Blake nodded once. He knew what information he needed. The compound’s blueprints, terrain, guard rotations, and alarm systems. “I want Brzek’s mother’s address, too.”
“Why?”
“You never know when you might need a little leverage.”
“I’ll have CCS put that in your file.” Anubis typed something as he spoke.
Blake glanced at the date on his watch, mentally calculating the days available for travel and groundwork. He had plenty of time to case the compound and learn personnel routines and any vulnerabilities.
Anubis leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “There may be one complication.”
Blake sneered. “I fucking love complications.”
“Don’t we all. This one isn’t on the target’s scope, though, and we want to keep it that way. Duval had a protégé. Her name is Elise Serra. When Flack and Smithson were working on Zajac’s file for the Council, they noticed she’s been retracing Duval’s final steps. She’s also nosing around Zajac’s charity front in Antwerp and recently attended a function. She doesn’t know Duval worked for us; she only knows he died chasing a story. If she continues, she may step into the same crosshairs.”
Blake arched a brow. “You want me to take her out, too?” The humor in his voice was on purpose. He didn’t kill for the hell of it. He was a reasonable person.To an extent. Maybe. Sometimes.
Anubis’s laugh carried through the connection. “Fuck no. The opposite, actually. If she shows up, keep her out of the way and alive until Zajac is eliminated. After that, she’s no longer your concern.”
Blake nodded. “By out of the way, you mean tied up and secured in a location that can’t be tracked back to us.”
Anubis’s jaw dropped, and he shook his head. “Jesus, son, that is not what I mean. Take care of her like she’s your little sister.”
Blake’s jaw flexed. The thought of having his attention diverted from his target grated on his nerves. “That makes me itchy. I don’t like itchy. You know that. I’m not a babysitter.”
“No,” Anubis agreed softly. “You’re Havoc. And when Havoc moves, the world breaks. Keep her safe, scratch whatever itch is bothering you, hit your target, and walk away.”
Blake stared at Anubis. The gray at his temples was more pronounced than it had been when Blake had started work for Guardian. “You know, safe is a relative term.”
Anubis laughed again. “No, it really isn’t. She’s an innocent. She’s lost her mentor. From the information Smithson and Flack forwarded, she has one brother who lives in Ireland. They don’t see each other often, and her telephone records show they don’t talk regularly. She’s basically alone and probably wants answers. Keep her from harm, Havoc. Seriously, how hard could it be?”
Blake tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling. “You could send someone else to babysit her while I do my job. Raven’s good at that shit. She’s a fucking social butterfly.”
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you? However, we’re currently stretched to the limit. We have an active mission in Africa, andthree others are gearing up to take up the slack. Raven has her own file. On this one, you’re alone. If you need help, we can send a team to rescue your ass.”
“No offense, but fuck you, Uncle Kaeden. I won’t need help.” Blake flipped off his honorary uncle without any menace. “Marek Zajac’s days are numbered.”
“I knew you could handle one curious woman and a single target. I’ll send the files on the compound, personnel working there, and all information Smithson and Flack have put together to your secure email. Also, Rook will free up before you go for your target, and he’ll be there to assist if needed.”
“Thanks.” Blake deadpanned. “Are you sure I can’t duct tape her to a chair?”
Anubis chuckled. “Seriously, how much trouble could one reporter cause?”
Blake flipped the man off again, and Anubis laughed as he cut the transmission. Standing, Blake stretched his arms out. Hopefully, the woman avoided anything related to his target. Anubis had said she was in Antwerp, not Budapest. He rolled his eyes. He could hear his father’s voice in his head.“If shit can go wrong, it will. Plan for every fucking contingency if you want to live.”
Plan for a fucking nosy, pissed off reporter. Blake opened the secure door.Just how in the hell would I do that?Ropes and a secure room sounded like one hell of a good plan. Anubis wouldn’t need to know, would he?
CHAPTER 3
The cobblestones of Antwerp's old quarter gleamed wet under the amber streetlights that had been fooled by the midday fog. There were centuries of footsteps that had worn the stones smooth beneath Elise Serra’s hurried pace. The October fog rolled in from the Scheldt River, carrying with it the smell of shipping boats and big diesel engines.
Étienne's final notes led her to the narrow alley behind Sint-Pauluskerk. Here, charity workers distributed aid to refugees. But the entire situation felt … wrong. Shouldn’t there be lines of people asking for help? Hustling aid workers distributing donated goods as equitably as possible? She scanned the area. There was none of that. The street and building were too clean for the humanitarian crisis Étienne had described in his notes.
Elise pressed her back against the damp brick wall, watching the building's rear entrance through the mist. It had been three weeks since they'd found Étienne floating in the harbor, and the police had already closed the case.Accidental drowning.Too much wine at dinner.But Étienne never drank before midnight, and he'd texted her at 9:47 p.m. telling her he’d meet her for lunch the next day.
A door opened across the alley, spilling yellow light onto the cobblestones, and two men emerged wearing expensive suits beneath practical raincoats. They were the kind of men who belonged in boardrooms, not charity warehouses. They spoke in hushed Polish, their words lost in the fog, but their body language spoke volumes. Tension. Urgency.
Elise’s eyes narrowed as she watched them walk away, immersed in a conversation she couldn’t hear.
