“He is devoted to Zajac. Yes, of course, like all of you are.” She sighed. “But Januse … he has rules. He does not drink, he does not gamble, he does not steal. He told me once, very firmly, that his loyalty is service, not greed. He protects. He organizes. But he does not dirty his hands in that … that ugliness.” She wrinkled her nose as if the very thought offended her.
Blake let a small smile curve his mouth, reassuring without revealing his satisfaction. “That sounds exactly like him.”
“Yes,” she said, her eyes brightening. “He is strict, but he is honest. I know my boy. If Zajac tells him to do something … wrong … he will find a way to stand aside. He will not shame me or belittle himself.” She patted the edge of the pastry box with her thin fingers. “You see? The treats are nice, but his true gift is that I can hold my head high. That has always been the most important thing for Januse.”
For Blake, that was the confirmation he needed. Januse Brzek was an employee, yes, he was loyal, steady, and dangerous, but not complicit in the rot Zajac spread. A tool, perhaps, yet not a conspirator.
Ilona leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Tell him I will light a candle at the basilica tomorrow for his safe return. The day after tomorrow, he will be back, and then he will come and see me. Busy, yes, but he will find time for me. He always does.”
Blake lifted his cup in a small toast. “I’ll make sure he knows of your love.”
They lingered over the last sips of coffee, the evening shadows lengthening across the lace curtains. Ilona fussed with the pastry box, closing it carefully and setting it on the sideboard as though saving the sweetness for tomorrow.
“You’ll tell him I was pleased?” she asked again, her eyes hopeful.
Blake rose smoothly, setting his empty cup back onto the tray. “Of course. He’ll be glad you enjoyed them.”
She walked him to the door, her slippers silent on the polished wood. At the threshold, she touched his sleeve with the familiarity of a mother who trusted she was speaking to one in her son’s circle. “Tell Januse that I pray for him every night. Andfor Zajac as well. His soul needs more than just prayers. Still, I pray for both to come home safe.”
Blake inclined his head, masking the sharp calculation running beneath the surface. “I’ll see to it.”
She smiled, satisfied, and opened the heavy door for him. The air outside was cooler, carrying the faint scent of damp stone and wood smoke from a neighboring chimney. From the street, the townhouse’s windows glowed. The illumination was a beacon of wealth and security her son had built for her. But her son was remiss. He needed to provide a companion or employee who would vet strangers bearing gifts.
His smile faded as he walked down the tree-lined street. He had the timing. He had the confirmation. Zajac would return the day after tomorrow, and Blake would complete his mission, leaving Ilona’s dutiful son untouched by the shadow that would eliminate his targeted employer.
He tapped his ear. “Did you get that?”
“I did.” Con’s voice came over the connection. “Zane will be back shortly. Until then, you have me.”
“I’m thrilled,” Blake drawled and kept walking.
“See, I told them you would be. I should be your permanent comms specialist.”
Dear God, no. That would be torture. Inhumane treatment, even for an assassin. “Ah, no. I’d rather not.”
Con made a small crying sound. “Are you trying to hurt my feelings?”
“Anyway … do we have a release date and time for Elise’s computer and the information she wanted?”
“Sure. Everything is ready. We can have it delivered to you tomorrow. Just waiting on you to get the date of the mission set. I’m assuming, given the information you just received, it will be the day after tomorrow?”
“Yes. Deliver it in the morning, the day after tomorrow.” Blake got into the van he’d borrowed from a delivery shop on the outskirts of town. He’d return it and leave some money for the owner’s inconvenience. Not that the owner would ever know it was gone, unless they logged mileage.
“If she posts it to her editor, she’ll alert him.” Con was typing as he spoke.
“She won’t post it until I tell her it’s safe.”
“Can you be sure of it?”
Blake considered the question. “If she gives me her word, I’ll believe it.”
“Enough to stake your life on it?” Con prodded him.
“Yes.” And that was the truth. “Do you have anything else for me?”
“The Hungarian police are still searching for her and an unknown male accomplice. Guess you made them mad when you kicked the shit out of two of them.”
“Whatever.” Blake started the van and checked the road before pulling out onto the street.
