Munroe slid the white plastic tub of ice onto the bedside table, took a piece and popped it into his mouth before stepping out onto the balcony of the surprisingly impressive Best Western hotel. The streets of Bordeaux were, even at this early hour, beginning to ramp up for the day as delivery vans and early commuters started venturing out into the city, and he crushed the piece of cool ice between his teeth and took a moment to enjoy the scene. The sun would be up soon and already he could feel the change in the air as a gentle breeze blew over him. He closed his eyes and allowed the freezing, melted liquid to trickle down his throat. It felt invigorating. It was one of the few oddities he enjoyed even if, for most people, the thought of crunching ice was unappealing.
The drive from the chateau had only taken half an hour, and Kessler had been out for the count throughout. It wasn’t until he pulled into the hotel’s underground car park and then dragged the older man from the silver Renault that the moans had begun. In the guise of a chaperone for his drunk uncle, Munroe had checked in at reception, and after a quick back and forth with the night clerk, to explain the old man had fallen flat on his face, causing his bloody nose, the two had headed for the second floor and one of its rooms.
He stepped back into the room and closed the balcony doors as the sound of groaning started up again from the bathroom. He calmly strode over and pulled open the door.
Standing up from the toilet seat and with a white bedsheet tying his wrists to the shower rail, Kessler looked over with heavy eyes and grimaced.
“You’ve made a serious mistake.” He flared his nostrils before recoiling at the sharp pain in his fractured nose, which had swollen up nicely. “You’ve killed us both.”
Munroe said nothing but stepped over to Kessler’s side, untied the bedsheet and sat the old man back down on top of the toilet seat before rebinding both his wrists. “Your mistake was drugging me back at your chateau, and anyway, I’m sure your friends wouldn’t want to kill one of their own.”
Kessler’s eyes widened doubtfully. “My ‘friends’ don’t like loose ends, and they’ll consider me a liability… just like you.”
Munroe didn’t show it, but he was surprised at how well the old man was coping with all this, given that he must have been in his late seventies, and had been smacked around, knocked unconscious and restrained. Kessler had remained calm, collected and somewhat blasé in the way he spoke and it was this that made Munroe uneasy. “Then maybe we can help each other.”
Kessler considered it for a moment, and then he began to nod his head. “Well, you could free me of this bedsheet and then blow your own brains out. That would help.”
Munroe would have smiled, but he could tell the old man was deadly serious. “I don’t think I can be that helpful, but you’re right about being a liability.” Munroe allowed his eyes to dull and he now looked anxious. “You were right, I am ex-special forces, and I’m not a member of this DS5 you mentioned, but I was asked to do some contract work for them.”
“So you are a rent-a-cop,” Kessler replied, taking a touch of enjoyment at the knowledge.
“Not quite, but something like that.” Munroe tapped his forefinger gently against his thigh thoughtfully before bending down on one knee so he was at face height with the old man. “Your boy, Icarus, has taken an interest in me,” Munroe said solemnly, “and in my wife and child, which is the reason I offered to track him down.”
If Kessler knew anything he didn’t show it, but he did look intrigued. “Did he hurt them in some way?”
Munroe allowed the question to linger and then after a light frustrated sigh he shook his head. “No, they were involved in a car bombing a few years back, but I found a picture of them on the door of his house.”
“So you have been in contact with him, then.”
Munroe offered a nod. “I was called to a hostage situation in London. Icarus asked for me by name. It ended peacefully and your man was taken into custody… but he escaped.”
Kessler’s lips flickered in amusement but he remained silent as Munroe explained further.
“The thing is, Mr Kessler, I’ve been calling my contact at DS5 for the past hour and I’m not getting any reply, which leads me to one of either two conclusions. One, they’ve no one manning the phones, which seems unlikely given it’s a government agency, or two… for whatever reason, I’ve been cut loose, which means as a contractor I’m a party of one. Either way, I need to find out what the connection is between my family and your… madman.”
Kessler sat there for a moment and scanned Munroe’s face with the look of a judge, jury and executioner. His head tilted to one side and then his eyes tightened before flinching at the pain in his nose. “Icarus is no madman, of that you can be sure. He’s as pure as the driven snow, and everything he does is calculated. And to correct you, he is not mine, or ours, but he is on a mission, and believe me when I tell you it is one that neither of us want to see accomplished.”
Munroe was about to ask what, but he hesitated and allowed the old man to continue.
“Concerning your family, I can say that I know nothing. Whatever his business it’s his alone, but what I can tell you is David, ‘Icarus’, is a man of sheer focus and determination. His talents lie in subterfuge, counter-surveillance, assassination, and if you took him into custody peacefully then it was only because he wanted you to. I should know, I trained him. In my younger days I tutored many from an early age before they entered the ranks, but no one like him. Despite what you may think of his crimes, I can assure you that when it comes to his skillset, he’s about as good as it gets.” Kessler paused and smiled smugly. “He was bred to be that way.”
Munroe sat back on his haunches and gazed at the old man cynically. “Who the hell are you people?”
Kessler’s smugness slowly evaporated and he stared at Munroe with a dynamism that had seemed lacking in the old man thus far. “We are Daedalus, Mr Munroe. Named after the fabled father of Icarus, who flew too close to the sun and melted his wings. It is a lesson that we have learnt from, and will not repeat.”
“I don’t know about that, Mr Kessler. Your boy Icarus appears to be singeing his own wings pretty well right about now. Going rogue and all.”
Kessler looked untroubled by the assessment and he raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps, but setbacks do occur. The true measure of a person is how those issues are rectified, and that is something we are very good at, holding steady to the course laid out. Daedalus is the beginning of a new world. A far better world than the one so far constructed. There are few people who know our name, and I only tell you this because I see something in you. Something I’ve not seen in a while.”
“And that is?”
“I see providence in you, Mr Munroe. I see a man capable of great things. I see someone who wants to belong to something, but hasn’t yet found it. Tell me, were you abandoned as a child?”
Up until that point Munroe had been playing the game, but the question caught him off guard. “So you’ve seen my file, you do know who I am.”
Kessler was already shaking his head. “On the contrary. Before you turned up at my door I had never seen or heard of you before, but you exude a certain self-belief, a self-reliance that usually comes from those who have experienced extreme adversity or abandonment. These experiences provide a strong motivating factor for instilling such traits for the man one becomes. It’s no wonder you became what you are.”
“And what’s that?” Munroe asked, his eyes widening, sounding sincerely interested.
Kessler stared at him now without any malice or judgement. “You’re a killer, Mr Munroe, as all special forces men should be. But not without good cause, and I sense in you it is the cause, the right cause, that you yearn for.” Kessler leant closer towards him. “I can offer you that cause.”
Munroe leant backwards and his mouth dropped open ever so slightly. He didn’t trust the old boy one iota. There was something about Kessler that reeked of deceit, but it was underpinned with conviction and a belief that was absolute. Besides, some of what he was hearing resonated to Munroe’s core. “You see a lot, Mr Kessler.”
Kessler sat back upright. “It’s what I do best,” he said confidently, and if one set aside, in that moment, that he was sitting on a toilet seat, hands tied together with a bedsheet and with dried blood encrusting his nose, the man looked almost saintly. “And if you’re willing, I’d like to offer you an opportunity. An interview of sorts. We need men of moral fibre and resilience. Even given the unfortunate start to our relationship, strong kinships have formed from far worse beginnings.”
Munroe stood up and then looked down upon the old man blankly, his breathing becoming heavier. He took one last deep exhale and steadied himself. “You’re asking me to betray the people I work for, to join a group I know nothing about, who protect a man like Icarus, and all based on the guess that I was an orphan!”
Kessler looked genuinely upset by the misinterpretation of his offer. “You said it yourself, DS5 have dropped you like a dead weight. They have betrayed you. It’s their usual way of doing things. Believe me, I know them well, and it seems better than you do, especially that snake McCitrick.”
Munroe looked surprised, and it was noted immediately by Kessler. “I wouldn’t trust anything that passes between that man’s lips. That’s not even his real name, didn’t you notice? ‘McCitrick’! Take out the ‘C’s… Mitrick… My trick! He has a sense of humour, I’ll give him that, but make no mistake – he’s a bullshit artist with a bit of power and a questionable agenda. As for Icarus, as you have already mentioned, he’s gone rogue, and we want him stopped as much as you do. The man he was, the man I cared about, is long gone, and the man he has become… the terrible things he’s done…” Kessler looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “Unforgivable.”
Munroe looked puzzled and he gazed downwards to the floor, contemplating the offer as Kessler continued.
“I can see the conflict playing out inside you, Mr Munroe, but despite what you think you know, or don’t, could it be that you have found yourself on the wrong side?”
“The wrong side of what?” Munroe snapped, and he ran his fingers through his hair irritably. “I don’t know what fuck ‘this’ is.”
Kessler raised his bound hands comfortingly. “I understand your frustration, but I’ve not lied to you since we met. I said you had been dumped in the middle of something you had no idea of. What I’m offering you now is a chance to know what is really going on and then… well, then you can make up your own mind.”
Munroe rubbed his forehead as Kessler waited patiently for an answer. To say he was becoming torn about what to do was an understatement. What did he actually know about McCitrick and DS5? Nothing. And the Home Secretary on the call could have been impersonated. Christ, he’d never even met the man.
Munroe slammed his fist against the bathroom wall and grunted. “OK, let’s say, just for argument’s sake, I consider what you’re saying is true. That I’ve been duped royally. This DS5, whoever the fuck they are, will come after me with a vengeance. No loose ends and that. So what the fuck do you expect me to do?”
Kessler offered a friendly and supportive smile. “Undoing this bedsheet would be a good start, and then allow me to make a call and I can tell you everything about the situation you’ve found yourself tangled up in.” Kessler gave a shake of his hands. “But I can’t help you with Icarus’s fascination with you or your family. As I said, I don’t know anything about that, but when we find him, you will get your answers, of that you have my word.”
The small bathroom fell into silence as Munroe contemplated his options and his eyes darted about the floor broodingly. To be so out of control in any situation was unsettling for him, not in his nature, and he fretted through taut lips as Kessler sought to reassure him further.
“If DS5 is at the heart of your concerns then it needn’t be. In just under an hour they will no longer be a problem.”
Munroe looked up and stared at the old man in shock. “What?”
Kessler looked confident and almost magnanimous seated upon the white porcelain toilet seat. “I can’t give details, but let us say it’s a venture that your Fawkes would have been proud of.”
“Fawkes?” Munroe repeated as an icy realisation shot through his mind. “Guy Fawkes?”
Kessler only smiled. Munroe stood there totally stunned for a mere moment, then he rushed out of the bathroom and grabbed the iPhone lying on the bed. He tapped in a number and made his way back to the bathroom to find Kessler now looking unsure of himself.
“What are you doing?” he demanded as Munroe pulled the phone from his ear and attempted a redial.
“McCitrick, ‘My Trick’. Not bad. Was that on the spur of the moment, or is it an inside joke for you lot?”
Kessler looked upset by the con played on him but then he clicked his head to one side, looking reverent. “You bullshit well, Mr Munroe. Not bad. I almost believed you were reconsidering your position.”
Munroe held the phone to his ear and offered a forced smile. “Two rules to bullshitting, Mr Kessler. Firstly, always hide a lie between two truths, and secondly, when telling a lie, you have to make yourself believe it. The face can easily give away too much unintentional information. Either that or have a phenomenal flair for acting, which I do not.”
Surprisingly, Kessler didn’t look particularly annoyed, and he now began to smile. “I’m afraid you won’t have the time,” he said, watching Munroe pull the phone back from his ear after his second attempt and now noticing the ‘no service’ sign. “No service?” he muttered to himself as Kessler cleared his throat then tapped at a small scar on his forearm and the raised bulge underneath it. “It’s a tracker implant. You were playing for information, and I for time. Call it a draw – we both got what we wanted, only you won’t have time to tell your friends.”
“They’re blocking the signal,” Munroe muttered under his breath, and he leapt across the bed to the side drawer, jerked it open and pulled out the black SIG Sauer P320.
That’s when the explosions began.