Much later, as the late afternoon crowd began to thin, the stranger in a tailored grey overcoat made his way across the room. Simon was still talking, and Samantha was so absorbed she didn’t even look up as the man passed by their table and left the pub.
A few minutes later Simon tipped up his glass and drained the last of his melted ice with a hint of scotch in it. He sighed deeply, relieved and concerned at the same time, and looked around the room. He had to smile. The place was nearly empty. “Wow. The dinner rush will be starting any time, and I have another engagement this evening.”
“We have another engagement this evening, you mean.”
Simon sighed. “Sammy, I-”
“I thought we had settled this, Simon. I’m coming. It’s settled.”
He thought about arguing with her. And he knew how pointless it would be.
He nodded. “All right then. Andrew and I will swing by and pick you up.”
“Good.”
“…But maybe we should be heading out.”
Samantha didn’t respond. She was staring into the distance, clearly stunned by all he had told her. Suddenly her eyes snapped to his, focusing sharply.
“What do you need from me?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Please.” He had told her everything-more than he had intended-but he was not about to invite her along.
She sat back in her chair and looked up toward the ceiling thinking deeply. The waitress came by again with a contrived smile.
“We about ready to square up on the second round, then?”
Samantha almost jumped, as if she was surprised at the young woman’s presence. “Oh. Of course.” He stood and begrudgingly let Samantha pay the bill, then helped her with her coat. The scent of her perfume was even stronger as she came close to him.
I can’t put her in danger, he told himself, glad that he had avoided telling her the details of his plan. I just can’t. He reached for the door to the street, but Samantha put a restraining hand on his arm.
“Simon.”
Something in her voice made him turn to her. Her amazing eyes looked directly into his. “Simon, you know I would do anything.”
He forced a comforting smile. “I know, Sam. But…I don’t want you to get into a situation that you can’t pull out of-that no one can pull you out of.”
She nodded, seeming to understand, and they moved into the chilly London evening.
A cab was waiting just down the street in one direction; Sam’s flat was a short walk the opposite way. She gave him a brief, almost distracted hug and a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll talk later, young man,” she said with mock severity. “And I am going to Ryan’s.” He started to object, but she put up a hand, having none of it. “No. I’m going. End of story.”
Simon shrugged and surrendered. He would have to find some kind of home-front role for her, something to keep her involved but out of danger. “All right,” he said.
She turned and strolled up the street toward her flat. Simon watched her for a moment, thoughts whirling, then turned and ducked into the cab.
The stranger watched them part from a full block away. He saw it all on a simple handheld device that viewed the scene from above, an amalgam of images from CCTV, private cams, and eyes-down satellites that only he and his superior could access. He saw them part in crisp, clear images, unobstructed by clouds or shadows. A touch of the controls, and he continued to follow Samantha, allowing Simon to climb into his taxi and disappear from view…for the moment.
The special communicator implanted in the canal of his left ear murmured to life. He heard a voice-the voice of his superior, the voice he never wanted to hear-speaking clearly and calmly.
Three short sentences; three simple commands. And then the voice was gone.
The stranger nodded his head. It was all very clear. He needed to retrieve enough information to plant the asset precisely at the right place and at the right time with the team’s journey.
There was work to be done.
A ROOM
5,732 Feet Below the Surface
The room was too bright.
The man on the table could see nothing but light, could feel nothing but pain. The person standing over him had turned away for a moment, whispering to himself, touching his ear…but now he turned back and leaned forward.
“What do you know about the Nest?” He asked. “What are you not telling me?”
The man on the table said nothing. The standing man made a harsh, frustrated sound-almost a growl.
“Tell me,” he ordered. “Tell me everything.”
“No.”
The man standing above him clutched at his throat. His fingers tightened. His lips were only an inch from the man’s ear. “Tell. Me. Everything.”
The man on the table gulped in one more breath and said the only thing he could.
“Never.”
The man standing above him squeezed.
The pain suddenly became brighter than the light.
OXFORD, ENGLAND
Outside Simon's Flat
Simon never even made it inside his flat.
The cab dropped him at the curb just a few feet from the front entrance. He was raising his hand to cue the biometric lock when the waist-high hedge to his left suddenly trembled and hissed at him.
“SSSimon!”
He stopped short and turned, surprised. Without thinking, his body fell into a natural defensive posture: hands up, fingers half-curled into fists, one foot in front of the other, knees slightly bent. All those years of martial arts training instinctively took control of his body. He was ready to defend himself.
A shadow rose up from behind the hedge: slender and tall, narrow build, a fall of silver hair like wings on both sides of his face.
It was Hayden, wide-eyed and intense.
“Hayden!” Simon whispered fiercely. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Come with me,” he said softly. “We need to take a drive.”
“You’re drunk!”
Hayden cocked his head as if he was truly puzzled. “And your point is…?”
“I’m not going anywhere if you’re driving,” Simon told him.
Hayden spread his hands innocently. “Then you drive. I don’t give a rip. We just have to go.”
Simon thought about it for a second. He only had a couple of hours before he had to go to Ryan’s, and the long talk with Samantha had been exhausting. But…if Hayden wanted him, there was a good reason for it. He agreed.
He dropped his head in surrender. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s drive.”
Hayden’s odd little electrical car was parked unevenly at the curb, halfway down the block. Simon was unfamiliar with the controls, but it didn’t take long to adjust. Three minutes later they were slipping into traffic with much larger vehicles, but the Hayden-mobile zipped and maneuvered more like a sports car than a commuter-box.
Simon was astonished: the two-seater had incredible pick-up; it was almost like driving a turbo-charged internal combustion engine from the last century.
“You’ve messed around with this, haven’t you?” he said as they sailed down the highway, barely in control.
“Maybe a little,” Hayden said, rubbing his face with both hands. “Turn right here, please.”
“Here?”
“HERE!”
He dragged at the wheel and tilted into a hard right turn. The tires squealed at the strain.
“Where the hell are we going?”
“To a suburb in the north part of town,” he said. “Turn left at the next light.”
“Why-”
“I need to show you something, Simon. I’m not going to talk about it ‘til we get there, so just, for the love of Christ, drive, will you?” He took a pull at the bottle he had left on the floor of the front seat. “My god, I’m amazed I even made it to your flat in my condition.”
“Then stop drinking, Hayden!”
The older man goggled at him. “Damn, you are an old woman, aren’t you?” he said and took another swig.