Mitch hung up from talking to John and read the sign requesting all phones to be turned off before entering the hospital. He frowned, hit the silence button and ignored it. Mitch followed Nick and Ellen through the doors of the outpatients’ wing.
“Doing a roaring trade here for ten in the morning,” Nick commented as they struggled to find three seats together in the waiting room. Mitch saw a nurse glance at Nick, who was covered in dried blood, and she quickly motioned them into a small room.
“Ah, this is more like it,” Nick smiled.
“Be even better if they had a coffee machine in here,” Mitch added. “So, while we wait, can you tell me what happened?”
Nick sighed and sat back against the wall, resting on a stretcher. “It was my fault.”
Mitch listened, looking from Nick to Ellen as they told the story together. He stiffened, motioning for silence as a doctor entered the room.
“Good grief, bit early for a fight isn’t it?” The doctor exclaimed looking at the two men. “You know I may have to report this …”
“Not necessary,” Mitch flashed his I.D. and gave a brief overview of injuries.
“Ah, all in a day’s work then,” he looked them up and down. Mitch watched as the doctor placed an I.V. into Ellen and Nick’s arms for re-hydration, then divided the room with a curtain. He left Ellen with a magazine and the fluid dripping into her on one side of the curtain, and reappeared to dress Nick’s wounds.
“Nothing broken. Just some bruising and you’ll need an assortment of stitches,” the doctor announced pulling out a needle.
Mitch caught Nick’s eye. “Nick, I’m sorry I got you into this.”
“I’m not,” Nick cut in. “Don’t look so worried, boss; it’s not as bad as it looks.”
Mitch frowned.
“I’d still sign up even if you told me this might happen,” Nick winced as the doctor applied some antiseptic to an open cut. The doctor moved from Nick to Mitch, who brushed him off, and then cleared both men to leave while he checked Ellen.
Outside, Nick pulled Mitch aside.
“Listen, Mitch, I need to help Maria.”
“Nick, you’ve got to be kidding …”
“Daniel knows that she knew about Mastermind. He’ll try and win brownie points by making that known,” Nick cut him off.
“She’s locked away,” Mitch reminded him.
“They won’t risk leaving her alive. They’ll kill her, Mitch.”
Mitch exhaled. “OK, OK.”
“I’ve got to go to her.”
“No way,” Mitch shut him down. “I’ll talk to John. We’ll get her in maximum security. Can you live with that?”
“Does that ever work?”
“It’ll work.”
Nick nodded. “When can you do it? It has to be now or …”
“I’ll call as soon as we leave here.”
Mitch saw Ellen walking towards them.
“Cheer up you two,” she smiled at them.
“All OK?” Mitch asked.
“I’ll live to see the next round of action.”
“Speaking of which, I’m surprised the doc didn’t tape your ribs. Are you going to be OK for the next round?” Nick jabbed at Mitch’s ribs.
Mitch inhaled at the sharp pain. “Yes, thanks. Now, beat it!” he said as he moved away.
“They don’t do that anymore,” Ellen said. “Tape or strap the ribs. You’re supposed to breathe deeply and cough to prevent lung collapse and pneumonia. Try it, Mitch.”
Mitch breathed deeply which brought on a bout of coughing, his face winced with pain. “Nuh, I’ll stick to the breathing,” he gasped. “If Nick could stop giving me thrashings it would help.”
“You deserved it the first time,” Nick said.
“You’re kidding?” Mitch glared at him.
Ellen interrupted. “So what happens to Daniel now?”
“I’m leaving him to John. He’s arriving late tonight and he’ll interview Daniel tomorrow,” Mitch told her. “We’ll have a conference call later and then fly out of here as soon as we can.”
“Do you think Daniel will testify against Lawrence?” she continued.
“No,” Mitch answered.
Nick agreed. “Not unless he’s got a death wish.”
“We’ve got enough to put Daniel away at least,” Mitch assured her.
Ellen nodded.
“I’m starving,” she changed the subject. “It’s just after eleven, near enough to lunchtime – let’s eat.”
“I’d kill for a steak,” Mitch agreed.
“With a huge potato and sour cream,” Ellen continued.
“I’d kill for a cigarette,” Nick sighed.
“You should give those up, they’ll kill you,” Ellen told him.
“They saved our butts today.” Nick turned to Mitch. “She’s bossy for someone who barely reaches your waist.”
“Aren’t you bruised enough?” Mitch grinned watching Ellen punch Nick’s arm.
Samantha paraded in front of Adam in a black, shimmering dress and strappy black sandals. Her hair was down, full and shiny, and diamonds glittered in her ears.
“How do I look?”
“Absolutely lovely,” Adam told her. “If he stands you up, come back and I’ll take you out.”
Samantha laughed. “OK, so you’ll be around?”
“I won’t let you out of my sight. Where’s the microphone?” Adam asked.
Samantha turned over the edge of her dress to reveal it clipped to her bra.
“Good,” Adam said, “don’t get drunk and forget you’re wearing the wire. You need to remove it if you decide to get amorous.”
“Hmm, let’s not go there again.”
He saw her glance at the transcript work on the sofa.
“Don’t panic. We’ve only got the eighth floor tapes to do. I’ll start them when we get back tonight.”
“Alright,” Samantha agreed. “Best go. I’ll try and keep the conversation lively so I don’t bore you while you listen in.”
“Bore away. I’ll just sit there, dateless, eating my salad, and eavesdropping.”
He opened the door and followed Samantha out, a bundle of paperwork tucked under his arm. “I’m going to attempt to crack the remaining Masterminds over dinner.”
“Good luck,” Samantha said.
“Hopefully, we both won’t need it.”
Adam saw Lawrence waiting as he followed Samantha across the square to the nearby restaurant. He watched Lawrence’s eyes move up and down Samantha admiringly. Adam waited for them to enter and followed, requesting a table in the far corner. He observed the staff fawning over Lawrence. Adam pulled out the first printout from his folder and started to cross-check Lawrence’s missing directors with the three projects still unaccounted for.
A waiter passed, he ordered a mineral water and accepted the menu. He heard Samantha order the calamari salad as a starter and grilled perch with steamed vegetables for the main course. Nice choice, I’ll have the same.
He closed the menu and sat back, looking at the passing pedestrians. The corner paper seller caught his eye. He glanced at the headlines. Jumping up, he ran out and bought a copy, returning to his table and spreading it out before him. A young man’s picture covered the front page.
I know that kid!
He scanned the article. ‘Anthony Jenkins, a programmer for multimedia giant Globalnet was missing, feared dead … last seen by his mother before leaving to collect a file at his office … expected home at eleven that evening but did not arrive … there is no record of him having entered the Globalnet premises that night … Globalnet President, Lawrence Hackett, said Jenkins was an ambitious young man with a bright career ahead of him. Lawrence has posted a sizeable reward for any information that could assist police with their investigation … and provided for Jenkins’s mother.’
Adam stopped reading, feeling a wave of nausea. He looked at the front-page photo of the kid from the computer room.
Samantha had just finished her entrée when Lawrence’s phone rang. He apologized and reached for it. She studied him; Lawrence’s face was unreadable.
“Excellent, I’ll be there.” Lawrence hung up and returned the phone to his pocket.
Leaning across the table, he took Samantha’s hand.
“Samantha, I’ve got to be unthinkably rude and leave you.”
“Emergency?”
“I’m afraid there is a small problem at the office, something I need to attend to.”
“Another time,” Samantha smiled.
“I told you I wouldn’t get laid,” Samantha said as Adam walked into their hotel room.
“Bad luck! Is the audio on?”
“Yep, he hasn’t entered his office yet, but we’ll hear it if he does. I’m guessing that’s where he’s heading.”
“Look at this,” Adam slid the newspaper across the table towards her. “We need to listen to those tapes tonight. I bet it’s all on there.”
He watched Samantha’s reaction; a look of confusion crossed her face.
“It’s the kid from the computer room … when Mitch and I were in there.”
Samantha gasped. “Are you sure?” She read the headline and stared at the photo of Anthony Jenkins.
“Positive. He was in the building.”
“We could have saved his neck.” Samantha looked up at him.
“It’s worse than that. I suspect we’re the cause of his death.”
They weren’t waiting long before voices were heard in Lawrence’s office.
“Sounds like a conference call,” Samantha said. “That’s Lawrence’s voice. Who’s the other?”
“Don’t know. He’s bound to call them by their name soon enough,” Adam added.
They listened as Lawrence appeared to be enjoying a description of a successful crime from a voice over a phone line.
“He cut our date short for that? He could have got that news later.”
Adam shrugged. “You’ve got to put it in perspective. He has a bevy of beautiful women like you at his fingertips—not saying you’re not one of a kind—but Mastermind is played only once every five years. It’s hot on his list. And I’m guessing they’ve just pulled one off.”
Samantha sniffed with disgust. “Sounds like something in Monaco’s succeeded.”
“Ah-ha, there you go!” Adam picked up a name. “He said ‘good work Brian’. We need to check our paperwork, find a director by the name of Brian and see where he’s located at the moment.”
They heard Lawrence terminate the conversation and the sound of a door closing.
“That sounds like the end of it,” Samantha said. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to call Mitch and fill him in. Then I’ll take some paperwork to bed and see if I can find this Brian guy.”
“Work out the time difference before you call.”
Samantha had the phone pressed to her ear. “Too late … anyway, it’s gone to voice mail. How weird, Mitch’s always reachable.”
“Try again in a few minutes; he might be out of range.” Adam loaded the audio recordings for floor eight. “I’m going to go through the tapes, see if I can find anything about the kid on them.”
“I’m going to get changed.”
Adam put the headphones on and watched Samantha walk out of the room. Nice butt, he thought.
He glanced again at the front of the newspaper.
It’s one thing to kill the baddies, Adam thought with a sigh, I can do that with the best of them – but if we’re responsible for this kid’s death, that would be hard to stomach.
He fast-forwarded through the tape for a few minutes, stopping and starting. He caught the sound of a young voice and rewound the tape. He heard the kid pleading for his life with three males.
Lawrence and … Andrew. Must be Andrew Kenny, Lawrence’s right-hand man, and I’m guessing the third is the security guard.
The incident finished. Taking off the headphones, Adam ran his hands over his face. He heard Samantha call out to him and he went in, taking the files she wanted with him.
“I found our Brian guy,” she said propped up in bed in a gold-colored slip. “It’s Brian Davies and he’s in Monaco,” Samantha waved a piece of paper at him. “So it looks like a Mastermind entry has succeeded in Monaco tonight.”
Adam sat on the edge of her bed.
“What’s wrong?” Samantha scanned his face.
He told her what he had heard. “That poor kid probably hadn’t even started shaving yet,” Adam sighed.
Samantha woke with a start. The red digital numbers of the clock read 12:10 a.m.
Mitch! I forgot to call him back.
Dialing, his number, she got the voice mail again.
Odd.
She put in a quick call to John and got diverted to his voice mail. Are they on the phone to each other? She lay back on the pillow.
Why hasn’t anyone called with an update? What’s happening at Broad Arrow? Maybe it’s worst than I imagined, she thought.
Samantha got up and went for a glass of water.
It’s got to be about five in the afternoon in Nevada. Where are you, Mitch?
She tried again.
Mitch was sound asleep when his phone rang. He woke on full alert, reaching for it.
He heard a rush of words; “Mitch, it’s Sam. Is everyone OK? You didn’t call to let us know. What’s happening?”
“Who?” he stumbled, he looked around at the unfamiliar room trying to get his bearings.
Where the hell am I? Nevada … yeah, that’s right.
“Sam … Agent Samantha Moore!”
“Sam.” Mitch sunk back down onto the pillow.
“Are you there?” Samantha’s voice snapped at him.
“Yeah, I’m here. How are you?” he asked rubbing his hand over his eyes.
“I’m good. Did you hear what I asked?”
Mitch thought for a minute.
“Sorry, ask me again.”
Samantha sighed. “Where are you? You sound half asleep. Isn’t it five in the afternoon there?”
“I was asleep … I’m wiped out.”
“Is everyone OK? Nick and Ellie? I’ve been worried.”
“Everyone’s fine. Sorry, Sam, I meant to catch you up. We’ve arrested um …” Mitch couldn’t think of his name. Geez, I’m losing it.
“Daniel Reid,” Samantha filled in.
“That’s it.”
“Thank God. Now listen, Mitch, I know you’re exhausted, but you need to know there is some serious shit hitting the fan here. There has been a successful entry in Monaco; they were talking about it in a roundabout way earlier tonight, and Lawrence knows someone’s broken into the system.” Samantha kept talking and Mitch struggled to keep up with her. “There is some bad news. They killed the kid, the computer kid with the spiky hair.”
Mitch sat bolt upright in bed. He noticed he was still fully dressed, his combat boots and jeans still on, his T-shirt twisted around him. He pulled it straight and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“What do you mean?”
“The kid you and Adam saw,” Samantha said. “We’ve got it on tape.”
“No, seriously? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Mitch groaned. He rested his head on his hands.
“That’s my fault. He’d never have been killed if he hadn’t seen our logout on the Mastermind file.”
“The poor kid thought he was doing the right thing reporting it.”
Mitch felt a wave of guilt wash over him.
“Shit. What did they use?”
“I don’t know. Adam said I didn’t need to hear it, so I didn’t push it.”
“I agree. Where is he now?”
“Here. We worked until late, so he crashed here for the night.”
“Can you put him on?”
“Sure.”
Mitch heard Samantha whisper, “Adam, Mitch wants a word.”
Mitch listened to the sounds of Adam stirring on the bed.
“Mitchell?” His English accent came down the line.
“Are you in bed together?” Mitch exclaimed.
“Ah, let me check …”
“Forget it. What happened?”
“It’s definitely the kid,” he said. “No gun noise – must have used a silencer or a knife.”
“Shit!”
“Listen,” Adam changed the subject, “we’ve emailed you the transcripts. They know someone’s on to them and they don’t know whether it’s MI6 or whether to expect a blackmail note.”
Mitch thought for a moment. “Blackmail … that could work.”
“There is more. They’re going to invite the blackmailer to meet them in person. Lawrence wants to play. And he’s doubling his board members’ bonuses if they take part and manage to eliminate the blackmailers.”
“He’s out of control. Adam, leave it with me to process when I wake up. It would be great to catch him in the act, this might make it possible.”
“OK. Now in respect to the next two Masterminds,” Adam continued, “I think I’ve cracked them. It’s a hunch …”
“Two?”
“Yeah, it was three earlier today, but Sam went into their system tonight and another one of them has been marked project complete. We’re assuming that’s the Monaco one.”
“Right, I think she just told me that. Anything we can use on the tape to hang it on them?” Mitch asked.
“It’s pretty ambiguous unless we’ve got a witness,” Adam said.
“So, somewhere tonight your time, they’ve pulled one off?” Mitch reiterated.
“So it seems.” Adam stopped. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, sorry, I just woke up. I’m catching up.”
“I’ll speak slower.”
Mitch laughed. “Thanks.”
“Anyway, I need a few more hours on the other two, it’s cryptic. I’ll fill you in tomorrow, or today in your case.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll need that to finalise our next move.”
“OK. Do you need to speak with Sam again?”
“No.” Mitch sighed. “I’m blown away by the kid though; it pisses me off. You know that was probably him on the fourth floor, that reading we got …”
“I know; it crossed my mind too. You don’t want to hear the tape.”
“They didn’t torture him, did they?”
“No. But he was terrified.”
Neither of them spoke for a few seconds.
“Hang on, Sam wants to say something.”
Samantha came back on.
“Mitch …”
“Yep?”
“About the bed thing …”
He cut her off. “Sam, who you share a bed with is none of my business. I’ll talk to you later today.” Mitch hung up.
Poor kid … and poor Marco, he thought wondering if Samantha would come clean with her Caribbean Casanova. I hope Charlie’s not in bed with anyone.
Samantha hung up the phone and turned to Adam. She looked at him lying on the pillow, a smile on his face.
He’s gorgeous, she thought. Gorgeous face and eyes, the body … beautiful.
“That was subtle,” he reached for her.
“I could have handled it better,” she agreed, running her fingers down his chest. “You know, for the record, I don’t make a habit of bed-hopping. I am a good Catholic girl.”
“Ms. Moore, I beg to differ. I think you’re a very bad girl indeed.” With one quick move, he pulled her on top of him. “Your penance is …” he kissed her, “two good deeds – and make love to me.”
Mitch got up and headed for the shower. Shivering in the chilly room, he stripped off his gear, struggling with his boots. Turning on the cold water first, he braced himself for the impact and stepped in. It hit him like needles and he gasped. He turned up the heat, adjusting it to a comfortable temperature.
Was it really necessary to get rid of that kid? He thought of the young man in the computer room.
If they had thanked him for reporting it, would the kid have given a second thought to what MM3 was?
Mitch closed his eyes and let the water run over him.
Kid was probably so excited to be working for Globalnet. Lawrence’s going to pay for this, Mitch decided. Whoever orchestrated it, is going to pay for it.
He could hear John’s voice telling him to keep his head.
Sometimes, it’s worth losing it.
Bet I haven’t heard the last about hanging up on him either. Better lay low for a while; first the fight with Henri, now losing my cool with John. Not playing it smart … then again, running on no sleep, crap food and a different time zone every day, they’ve got to expect a fall out.
His thoughts drifted to Charlotte. I’m not even getting any action and Sam’s getting enough for all of us.
He took a mouthful of water, swilled it round and spat it out. He drank the next few mouthfuls.
At this rate, the chance of getting to first base—or is it second—with Charlie anytime real soon is up there with walking on the moon. Shit! I meant to call her back. When this one is over, I’m going to take a week off, maybe two. No, one week will do.
Mitch wrote a note to Nick and Ellen, telling them to go to dinner without him and come to his room around nine p.m. for a conference call.
That’ll give me enough time.
Walking down the carpeted hallway, Mitch slid the note under each of their doors and headed down the stairs of the three-level motel. He stopped on the street and looked left and right, feeling the cool air hit him. Mitch walked towards the main street, searching for somewhere that served coffee. He spotted a McDonald’s.
No matter where you are in the world, there is bound to be a McDonald’s, he thought.
He went into the warm surrounds of the familiar store, ordered a coffee and found a booth in the corner.
Parked looked around; people were having real lives. He watched the kids with their parents, trading their toys and food; the mother with her kids who were more excited about the playground than eating; the young couple that must have lived with their parents and had nowhere to go to be alone.
He remembered coming to McDonald’s as a kid.
We loved it; maybe it was the food or it was kid-friendly, or bright and happy. Everything home wasn’t. Or maybe we always went when Dad was away on his road trips. They were the best times when he was away; Mum was happy, the house was peaceful, and I could look after them both – Mum and Dylan.
Mitch swallowed and looked away from the kids playing.
OK, he refocused. Six p.m. in Elko, and after nine in D.C. Will Charlie be home? Home alone?
He dialed her number.
“Of course I’m here, you know I hate going out Sunday nights with work on Monday. What are you doing?”
“I’m having a coffee with Ronald.”
“With whom?”
“Ronald McDonald.”
Charlotte laughed.
“Sorry about my phone battery, running out,” Mitch continued.
“It’s fine. I tried to call you back, but no luck.”
“Me too, I got the machine. Who was at the door?” Oh no, did I just ask that?
“What door?”
He hesitated.
May as well keep going now.
“When I rang, you had to answer the door.”
“Oh God, yes, that seems like a lifetime ago now. That was Dad. I promised Mom a book I’d been reading, and he dropped in to get it on his way home from his shift.”
“Ah.” I am an idiot. To think I let it affect my work. And let John see that.
“When are you coming home?” she asked.
Mitch sighed. “I don’t know. Soon, I hope; I’m a bit plane weary.”
They caught up for a while until the conversation waned, and Mitch heard Charlotte’s landline going in the background.
“Hey, I’ll let you go,” he said. “I’ll call you soon.”
“OK. Take care.”
“You too.”
Mitch waited for her to hang up, but she remained on the line.
“Very high school.” He smiled.
Charlotte laughed.
“See ya,” she disconnected.
Mitch realized he was sitting there smiling.
I am such an idiot, he told himself again. OK, everything’s in order on the home front.
He felt invigorated. Even the coffee tasted better. He opened the folder, thinking about the team’s next move.
Got to get to work or the plan won’t be finished before John arrives.