“I meant CCTV.”
Katie shrugged one shoulder. “He’s good at hiding.”
Kyle crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the flickering holoscreens. “Yeah, well, I’m good at shooting people in the head. We can only hope he walks through my crosshairs.”
Katie opened her mouth to respond but snapped it shut when an alarm blared through the room. Kyle stepped forward, arms dropping to his sides as the holoscreens blanked out before coming back online, relaying the same handful of CCTV feed with identification charts overlaid on the images.
Liam’s bruised and battered face, staring right at a CCTV camera before he was forced to duck for cover around a building to escape gunfire, limping heavily, showed up clear as day.
“Katie,” Kyle ground out.
She had two fingers pressed to her temple, eyes half-closed. “I’m reaching out.”
Chapman’s voice came through every single embedded speaker in the room. “All field teams, prepare to deploy to Havering. Wheels up in ten.”
“Havering?” Kyle asked, already heading for the door.
“Borough of London. I’m remaining here,” Katie replied. “We’ll wipe people’s memories so Liam can go to ground.”
“Kind of wish the UMG had a fucking teleporter in their ranks right now.”
“Theirs is still undercover in Eastern Europe. Get your gear and get in the field, Reaper.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kyle ran for the elevators, nearly crashing into a couple of UMG agents racing out of offices now that they finally had a lead. Knowing Liam was alive made all the difference. The UMG headquarters swarmed with activity, everyone’s dread replaced with a sense of purpose.
It took two minutes for Kyle to reach the UMG ready room assigned to the Royal Legion. Jamie and the others were already there, halfway into combat uniforms. Kyle stripped and got into his combat uniform in under ninety seconds. The UMG had provided him with tech camouflage, the smart fabric capable of blending into whatever background he stood against to hide his location. Kyle let the hood pool around his neck. He’d pull it on right before they entered the field.
Jamie handed him the sniper rifle the UMG had thoughtfully issued him, the same one he’d handled at Ascot. This time it had been wrapped in the same sort of tech camouflage as his uniform. Kyle checked to make sure the muzzle was correctly hidden before slinging the strap over his shoulder.
“Europa is taking lead,” Jamie said.
Kyle glanced over at Samaira and nodded. “Figured that was the case.”
Samaira slammed home the magazine into her assault rifle. “Let’s bring our boy home.”
Kyle and Jamie followed the Royal Legion out of the ready room for the underground hangar. With the urban location, the government had been forced to build down, and a section of the grounds had been reserved for the hangar. Small, and nowhere near capable of matching what the military could deploy, it still offered much-needed aerial transport.
The hangar doors were open and pointing at the afternoon sky when they exited the corridor and ran toward their assigned jet.
“Who’s flying?” Kyle wanted to know as they double-timed it toward their transport.
“Our usual pilot,” Tariq replied. “Abigail is already on her way there.”
Kyle nodded, following the older man into the jet. “Drop me on a roof for overwatch.”
“Base is picking out positions,” Samaira said.
“Fine by me.”
Kyle would make a nest wherever the UMG thought it best to put him and rain hell on the bastards in the street. Urban sniping always came with a risk of injuring civilians, though. He hoped the UMG had a plan to keep people sheltering in place while they extracted Liam.
Their jet was wheels up ten seconds after the Royal Legion, Jamie, and Kyle were onboard. Kyle hooked a hand over the strap of his flight harness, the artificial gravity engaging a familiar tug in his guts even after so many months being off the field.
Jamie sat beside him, assault rifle resting between his knees. His tactical goggles were pushed on top of his hard helmet so he could better see the communications screen at the front of the jet. The map displayed there showed their flight path over London, the target area located in East London.
“ETA seventy seconds,” Jamie said.
