“That’s the one,” Gideon said. “If you recall, there were three men in the picture. Harrison Winters, Reginald Crowe, and another man--one whose face was turned away from the camera as the photo had been taken.”
Given his evident rapport with Crowe and Devony’s brother, both members of Opus Nostrum, the Order had been working to ID the third man ever since.
“I just got a lock on him,” Gideon said. “His name is Ahmed Touati. He’s Breed, working as attaché to the ambassador of the Breed nation in Algeria for the past four months. Touati’s got an apartment here in D.C. Turns out, he was at the theater the night of the Opus attack, but managed to escape unharmed.”
“That’s some kind of luck,” Darion all but growled, full of suspicion.
“Yeah,” Gideon said. “Want to guess where he was the day before the JUSTIS bombing in London?”
“Son of a bitch.” Darion’s vision flashed amber with rage. “Where is Touati now?”
“From what I could gather so far, it appears he’s still here in town. He’s due to fly back to Algeria tomorrow.”
“Then let’s go get him. Let’s drag his ass down here for questioning right fucking now. I’ll handle the interrogation personally.”
With his father missing and his mother suffering in equal measure, Darion had little patience for anything. He wanted to inflict maximum pain on Opus and its members, and he wanted it to start yesterday.
“I understand where you’re coming from,” Gideon said, “but we need to tread carefully. Ahmed Touati’s our best lead on Opus at the moment. He’s also our only lead. We need to ID them all before we strike. If word gets out that we’re bringing Touati in by force, don’t think the others won’t scatter like rats off a sinking ship.”
Darion knew Gideon was right. That didn’t mean he had to like it.
“What about Scarface down in our holding cell? You think he and Touati might know each other?”
Gideon considered for less than a second. “Decent chance they do, yeah. That theater attack didn’t execute on its own. Someone had to let Gopnik and the other Opus gunmen inside that night without raising any alarms.”
Darion’s blood seethed at the thought.
That Touati would be willing to stand by while other members of the Breed nation--innocent civilians, at that--came under attack by Opus was unconscionable enough. To think he’d likely been complicit in the attack made him the worst sort of scum.
The human offal sitting in the Order’s holding tank wasn’t any better.
Gopnik was nothing more than a grunt foot soldier, albeit a sadistic one, but in terms of intel on Opus he’d proven to be a dead end.
At least, so far.
That was about to change.
With contempt--and a deadly craving for some payback--boiling in his veins, Darion stepped past Gideon to set a hard pace toward the opposite end of the corridor.
“If you’re planning on talking to Gopnik, you won’t get very far,” Gideon said, falling in alongside Darion. “If he had anything useful to tell us, Lucan and Hunter would’ve pulled it out of him by now.”
“I’m not interested in anything Gopnik has to say anymore.”
Gideon gave him an uncertain look. “Then what exactly to you have in mind?”
Darion didn’t answer, mostly because he knew Gideon wouldn’t approve.
None of the other warriors would, his father included, if he were there.
At the moment, Darion didn’t care. He knew what needed to be done, and he wasn’t looking for anyone’s permission. Things had gone too far and it was time to take the fight to Opus with every tool at their disposal.
Stalking through the winding corridors with Gideon at his heels, Darion headed for the chamber where the Order’s captured enemy was being held. Gopnik vaulted to his feet inside the locked cell the instant he spotted the two Breed males stalking toward him.
For one brief second, there had been a spark of hope in the human’s eyes. It vanished as soon as his gaze lit on Darion’s glower.
“Does the name Ahmed Touati mean anything to you?” Darion demanded as he approached.
Gopnik swallowed hard, taking a step away from the bars caging him. “I-I don’t know.”
