The drive home was painfully quiet. Jack kept to the back seat, insisting that Jan go up front by Gray. It was painful to see the mistrust of his own actions back in his eyes. Making sure Jan stayed out of harm’s way but also next to Gray. Jan stayed just as quiet, but for the first time in months, his glances back at Jack wanted to cross the distance, not hide from it.
They made it back to the manor for dusk, just as Ed was serving an evening meal. Jack carried his silence up to the bedroom and this time Jan went with him. Through either natural default or an ability to push Jan to a safe distance, Jack took his hand and made sure he went with him, with a look back at Gray that almost had Gray going up with them.
But he had to wait for a text.
He found his way to his study, just giving a shake of head at Ed’s offer of food. He wasn’t hungry; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten properly. So when he took a seat in his study, it pissed him off to no end when a knock came at the door.
“Ed said you needed this, bright eyes.” Boots sounding heavy on the polished wood, Trace came over with a plate of Ed’s Sunday roast and a shot of whiskey.
Gray held his hand up for quiet, just sitting there, waiting. He knew they would have been followed. He also knew what would come next as he put Logan’s phone on the study desk.
A text came through a moment later. It came with a number to text back, and one word that said:
Name.
Gray thumbed it in. His reply just as simple:
Martin.
Trace frowned at him as he pushed the meal to one side and looked at the message.
Another text came through a moment later.
Well done, Mr Raoul. Now we can begin.
“You gonna tell me what this is about?” whispered Trace, easing onto the edge of the desk.
Gray sniffed, ignoring how it wasn’t the food that turned his insides. “Martin interrupted something over twelve years ago when he was fucking around with Mase. He saw a full list of codenames, MI6 codenames, and I think he fucked up whatever plans Kes had for them.”
“Kes was selling on a list of MI6 ops?”
“Or buying,” said Gray. “Two ops on that list were killed with a signature mark that goes for accidental death. The same mark that took out Rob Kershaw too. Jan’s ex-lover. Which means if we only have a partial list, the rest of those MI6 ops, or some of them at least, are on Kes’s hit list, and Martin saw them.”
Trace raised his brow, now leaning forward slightly. “So Kes is a professional hit man, with a liking for taking out MI6 operatives?”
Another message came through, and Gray left it on the desk as he opened it.
Wake Martin up, Mr Raoul.
Gray thumbed his reply.
No.
Nothing else was needed. No anger, no retaliation, just... no. After he was finished, Gray picked up his landline. “Ray.”
“Sir?” came the reply when it was picked up.
“Get Greg Harrison from work. Bring him to the manor. Tell him he’ll be stopping here for a few days. If he asks for clothes, you ask for a list, drop him off, then go buy new. You take his phone and you arrange cover for his work via the MC. No one here, and I mean no one is to go near Greg’s home or work. Not even surveillance.”
Now Trace looked worried.
“Get a call through to Steve, Jack’s manager,” added Gray as calmly as possible. “Tell him to take Carol and the kids away for a few days; make sure he gets the funds to cover expenses. I’ll arrange cover from the MC for Jack’s business and the Strachan side that Steve oversees. Tell him he’s not to come back into London for another forty-eight hours. You make that as clear as possible and make damn sure no one follows you here when you pick Greg up. He’s to see me before he gets to talk to Jack or Jan. Clear?”
“Understood.”
“Disable your stop-start function on your Mercedes, just in case.” He doubted at all whether it was that, but it took it out of play as an option. “In fact, take Jan’s classic Jag. For now I want you driving nothing that has an onboard computer, with IBS as standard.”
“I have an old 110 Land Rover, should be a good talking point for Greg.”
Gray managed a small smile. Ray was ex-MI5, where small details would be picked up and noted for later use. “Thank you.” He cut the call and looked up at Trace.
“So this fuck’s been doing this to get to Martin?” Something washed through Trace’s gaze. The same cognitive process Gray had been over a dozen times since talking to Kate. “For how long, Gray?”
Gray snorted coldly. The rape, the psychological reconditioning... long before that. Rob had been killed only when Jack and Jan had got together, sparking Jack’s spiral out of control. Elena had gone in thinking she was calming Jack down, curing him of disorders, but Kes, he knew there was no antidote. In fact, like Cutter, he’d done nothing but call it out, pushing and tearing at Jack for one thing.
Martin. For what he’d seen twelve years ago? Or what he’d taken?
And Martin... he’d attracted one hell of a dangerous player.
“He changed tactics, though,” said Trace. “Kes. He’s mostly been pushing for accidental cause with Martin. What’s got him out in the limelight?”
“639,” said Gray, and he didn’t realise he’d taken the whiskey until he took a sip. “He knows 639 took a list of codenames. And from the knowledge Kes has, they’ve met him.”
“So he’s suddenly got his foot on the gas in case they talk before he has chance to get to Martin and the rest of the codes?” Trace ran his hand over the mobile. “Who’s 639, Gray? Who’s your source?”
“You wouldn’t like the answer.” And he left it at that.
“But not giving Kes what he wants, you keep those remaining MI6 ops safe. What about Jack, though. You can’t protect everyone that Jack knows. Not forever, not—”
“I’m not fucking waking Martin.”
Trace jolted, and Gray calmed in the same instant. It’s what all this was about: break Jack, get to Martin, but get the dog handler to control him long enough to get the lost codes.
“Okay,” said Trace. “So we close ranks, we—”
Ringing from the phone got Gray’s attention and he reached over and picked it up. “Raoul.”
“I put a call through to Jack’s manager Steve,” said Ray on the other end. “He said he will send his wife and family away for a few days, but he can’t go anywhere.”
“I’m not fucking about over business now. Tell him—”
“It’s not about business. He said he’s just had a message off Sam.”
Gray paused.
“It was meant to be passed along to you. Sending it through now, Mr Raoul.” A beep came through Gray’s mobile, and Gray shifted and pulled his own out of his pocket. It wasn’t a text.
A dirty rag was jammed into his mouth, keeping Sam quiet. Blond hair had kissed the floor at one point, picking up dust and debris. The same side was also tinged red, as though he’d been hit in the face and blood had ran as he’d hit the floor. The dried blood crusting the insides of the nostril gave a blow point, but there was also a cut on the cheek, a half moon shape that spoke of a broken bottle. The dust gathered on his face was tear-streaked, the tracks caught mid-flow to map the chaos in his eyes. He held a newspaper in his hand, showing day, date, and breaking news. But it was the words written on the wall that caught his attention.
You have the night with them, Mr Raoul. Then I come for them again, after I’ve finished with the boy. They’ll lie with his body, with the knowledge you weren’t there for them a second time. Or you can wake Martin for me. Your choice, Mr Raoul. We’ll speak again in the morning.
“Who’s that in the picture?” Trace took the phone from him. “Christ.” Gray didn’t answer until Trace said his name again.
“A kid from Jack’s garage; Sam.”
“He close to Jack?”
“He’s close to Steve, who’s been close to Jack since Jack needed a leg-up into the nearest warehouse job. And Jack would swear he hates Sam, but Sam’s too much of a chaos train for Jack to offer too much protest.”
Trace raised a brow. “So taking him—”
“I can’t touch Jack.”
“Gray.... You’re going to have to knock on his door and—”
“I won’t fucking touch Jack and bury Jack and Jan in the process. I don’t give a fuck about who gets caught in the backlash. We clear?”
Trace turned his head away from the shout, and Gray slammed his chair back and the door took some of his frustration as he thumped his way out and let it slam shut behind him.
Gray made it to the pool room en suite, then lost everything he could stomach. It hurt, the constant tear of his insides took its toll and blood from his stomach lining laced the toilet bowl.
He hadn’t got them both back to lose them again. If he took Jack down, he’d lose Jan too.
“You’re a bastard, Gray.” Someone stroked at his back. “But you’re not cold enough to let Sam pay the price for this. And I know your instinct is there to get those MI6 ops to safety too.” Gray rested his head against the cool tile of the bathroom, wiping blood away from his mouth, and Trace came in close. “You broke Jack before,” he said quietly. “You did it and you got him back.” There was a lot of kindness there in the hold around his waist. “You got that mouthy shit to calm and testify against Cutter, and after you woke Martin, you made him appear a few times during the court case in order to show the judges just how much damage had been done, and you still got Jack back after all of that.” Quiet. “What about when you first met Martin? You made him face what he’d done to Jack’s dad over the years and you still got him back.”
“I had to fucking burn Martin out of him, Trace.” Gray groaned and nearly lost his stomach’s contents again at the smell of burning skin. “Love them both so much....”
“Yeah, I know.” A rub came at Gray’s back. “I see that. So you do what you need to before that kid in the photo gets to go through what Jack and Jan have. You worry about Jack, you worry about Jan, and you keep focus on how Jack’s hiding behind anything that Martin can throw up.”
Gray pulled away, giving a wipe at his nose... fingertips then to his eyes.
“Sam won’t be touched until tomorrow.”
“Can you be sure of that?” said Trace.
Gray eased around and Trace shifted back, handing him a towel. “Yeah, because it’s what I’d do. Killing Sam now leaves too much scope for thoughts on running. So he’ll be kept alive to keep us grounded here. I’ll put in place a missing person’s with MI5 and Brennan’s department. They will do what they can to try and trace Sam’s last footsteps. They might hit something.”
“But you doubt it.” Trace checked Gray’s face, wiping beneath his eye. “How the photo was set up, it looks like standard ransom terrorist activity.”
Gray shook his head. “He’s just making a point that there will be an execution come the end of tomorrow. The writing was in English on the wall.”
“So what do you want to do?”
Gray looked out towards the swimming pool, how tired he was of drowning. “One night,” he said quietly. “If I lose Jack... if I lose Jan through what I do to Jack... then I lose having held them my way.”
Trace stopped him before Gray pulled away. “You need to see a doctor. That’s blood there.”
Gray rested his head against Trace’s. “I need time with them, Trace, nothing more. If I lose them after tonight, then this time I lose with them knowing exactly how I goddamn feel about them.”