“I have dealt with several sections of this organization, Paddy. You know this,” Sam insisted.
“Listen, Sam. You appear to think I am discounting your significance regarding this assignment, but I promise you I am doing just the opposite,” Patrick Smith told his friend with conviction that came across as truly sincere. Anneke watched the two from her place at the stove, occasionally flipping the rubbery egg fold.
“How? How are you exactly planning to use what I know if you keep hiding things from me?” Sam sneered, creases sinking deep into his brow.
“I am trying to keep you clear of direct contact, while using your expertise and opinion about these people, Sam. You have got to see that, mate! All this,” he gestured wildly, showing a rare side of him that denoted that he was getting annoyed at Sam’s accusations, “is to get intel from your previous experiences on hand, while we are out here. Do you understand?”
Anneke served Sam his steaming yellow dish, the flavor permeating pleasantly to relieve his fury. He looked at his friend. Paddy shot him a suspiciously surreptitious glance that Sam construed as a hidden message. Clearly he had more to say that he did not want Anneke to overhear, and Sam instantly ceased his incessant prying into his purpose on this assignment. Zealously he dug into the delicious omelet and pretended that his meal was the reason he had stopped talking about the mission. Anneke smiled as she finished her coffee.
“Might have put in too much garlic,” she winced with a cute shrug, pulling up her nose.
“No, it’s lovely,” Sam mumbled happily through his stuffed mouth.
“Oh, good. I am going to take a shower and watch some TV,” she smiled. Anneke looked immensely drained, even through her mild demeanor and sweetness. Her eyes were pink, her lips off color and her hair unkempt as if she was too tired to groom. Their hostess retired to her bedroom and closed the door.
It was two hours before Paddy and Sam were due to leave.
“Was there something else in that conversation?” Sam asked under his breath.
Paddy’s well-trained eyes scanned the place briefly for any signs of surveillance equipment before he leaned in toward Sam.
“I have… I sort of have my own agenda in this, mate,” he whispered, still combing the background as he spoke. “I was going to tell you later in the game, but now, with the meeting changing our course of action I suppose I must tell you that for me it is not just a mission for the Secret Service.”
“Then what? Are you a double agent or something?” Sam asked, intrigued.
“No, nothing like that. It’s just that I have seen what this organization is capable of, what they have managed to accomplish. You know this stuff, Sam — how they have infiltrated just about every important sector of modern civilization,” he told Sam in the stark light of the back porch that he had led Sam to, to isolate them as best as possible from any possible scrutiny.
“You see, what MI6 doesn’t want is for us to make waves until it has enough information to orchestrate a formal plan for the destruction of all the authorities concerned with the Black Sun,” Paddy presented his strategy. “However, what you and Nina had to endure for the past few years prompted me to take a more immediate, more blatant approach without the knowledge of MI6, you understand?”
“You want to do this alone?” Sam grunted with incredulity, grabbing Paddy’s forearm to snap him out of it.
“Not entirely,” Paddy answered. “Let’s not jump the gun, mate. First I need to get all the details I can get, you know? Let’s just first gather more intelligence until we can formulate a more destructive way to topple this Nazi empire that lies dormant under our world like a fucking disease waiting to erupt.”
Sam felt his faith in their friendship restored. True, Paddy lied to him at first, but now he could understand why and it kind of made him proud of his best friend’s intentions. Once more Sam was ready for the fight against the Order of the Black Sun, and with the help of MI6 and a few other clandestine government creepers they might well just pull it off.
Sam grinned.
His face filled with contentment as he sipped his coffee, looking out over the backyard and the glittering streetlights that covered the landscape like a blanket of stars. Paddy knew he was forgiven and it made his work so much easier now, without the distraction of interpersonal chaos.
“So I am tailing Roodt tonight, and you are staying behind to watch what ensues at his house while he is gone,” he told Sam in a more tranquil tone.
“Wait, I have to get footage of the meeting place! How can I do that if I am watching the house?” Sam protested vigorously.
“Listen, Sam. Much as I hate to pull rank on you, just remember that this is my mission ordered by my superiors. You are not supposed to interfere with either the orders or the chain of command, otherwise they will not allow me to choose my team again,” Paddy clarified with a stern tone that once again fascinated Sam. Smith had a good point.
“I just don’t think you should go alone tonight. You know what we are up against and going alone is just short of suicidal,” Sam argued. He was honestly troubled by the thought of Patrick following Jaap Roodt into the hornet’s nest.
“You know, laddie, I feel just a bit patronized by that. Lucky for you, I know you. And I know this is your half-assed way of caring, but might I remind you of my position in the police service, my years of expertise, Sam, my qualifications and experience as an agent? You are viciously underestimating my abilities here,” Paddy laid into Sam, almost with a tinge of disbelieving exacerbation at the journalist’s dismissal of whom he was. “I can’t believe this! Do you really think I am not able to run this operation, Sam?”
At once Sam realized just how blind he had been to the whole setup. It crossed his mind like a roaring eighteen-wheeler truck. He had been so busy obsessing about the council and the dangerous situations he had suffered firsthand, that he became completely oblivious to the caliber of agent Patrick Smith really was. Perhaps he was too preoccupied seeing Paddy as his old best friend, his pal, his drinking buddy, that he neglected to observe the man in his professional capacity.
Chapter 13
Agent Patrick Smith chose the next vantage point carefully. Surveillance worked best when the spy changed his routine completely from day to day, unlike the mark that was being scrutinized. Different spots from where to observe at differing times assured that no suspicious activity could be detected by security personnel or the occupants of the house. Better yet was when the spy had equipment that could pierce the cloak of darkness or pick up heat signatures, thereby avoiding having to round obstacles and risk discovery — and Sam Cleave had the necessary equipment.
It was just before 9:30pm when the drizzle came down on Rotterdam, gradually drenching everything in its deceptively meager downpour. Through the light rain, the lights of houses looked like disembodied eyes faintly glowing with no detail to guide the eye on the dimensions of the setting. Sam would kill for a smoke, but he had to focus on preparing his nest for the evening. He had borrowed Anneke’s vehicle for the evening, as she had no obligations the following day and Paddy would need their car to tail Roodt to the meeting.
“You ready?” Paddy panted as he jumped into Sam’s passenger seat, his short hair clinging to his face in wet points that dripped tiny tears every now and then.