Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Catya carefully crafted her disguise, knowing how dangerous it would be to step out in broad daylight. She wore a gray wig, covered her dark eyebrows with gray fake brows and drew lines at the edges of her eyes and mouth, making her look forty years older than her thirty-four years. She’d dressed in layers, starting with black leggings and a long-sleeved black shirt. Over these items, she’d pulled on an oversized dark gray shirtdress and a bulky coat to hide her slim figure. Black boots finished the outfit.
She’d insisted Fearghas dress in a similar fashion with a short gray wig, bushy gray eyebrows and the slacks she’d loaned him. She dragged a plaid shirt and sweater out of the wardrobe for him to wear.
When they were ready, each eyed the other and smiled.
“You’ll make a sexy old lady someday,” Fearghas said.
“You’ll be the hot old guy the widows will fight over.” She dug a cane out of the wardrobe and held it out to him. “Lean on this. You look too straight for an old man.”
He reached for the cane.
When Fearghas wrapped his hand around the shaft, Catya didn’t release it. Instead, she used it to tug him closer. “I bet if we kiss in public dressed like this, we can make the teenagers cringe.”
Fearghas waggled his bushy brows. “I’m willing to test that theory.” He bent to claim her lips in a brief kiss that promised more of the same when they weren’t in a hurry to make the rendezvous. They had fifteen minutes to make it to the museum on foot, taking a meandering route in case someone followed them.
Catya left her hidden apartment first to ensure no one was around to pounce on them or see that they’d emerged from behind a bush.
She was glad Fearghas hadn’t argued and insisted on going first.
“You’ve managed to keep your safe house secret for some time,” he’d said. “It’s a testament to the fact that you know what you’re doing.”
Her heart swelled at his confidence in her. Most men would discount her abilities because she was a woman. That misconception had played in her favor on more than one occasion. Some men who’d underestimated her had paid with their lives, making her job easier.
Though they represented two older people, they moved quickly through the streets until they arrived in front of a large building with a sign hanging over it—Van Gogh Museum.
Catya had visited the museum several times while she’d been in Amsterdam. She liked the different floors displaying the artist’s works at various stages of his life.
Hyperaware of her surroundings, she studied every corner and stairwell before entering and then studied the faces of the patrons viewing the great artist’s work.
No one stood out or appeared to be watching them as they moved through the museum, climbing the stairs to the level containing the Almond Blossoms painting.
When they reached the correct floor, Catya entered slowly, her head lowered. Only one other person was in the room, and it wasn’t Atkins.
A young woman with a backpack stood in front of the dusty-blue painting of almond blossoms. She turned and smiled as Catya and Fearghas walked in.
“It is very beautiful, yes?” she said in Dutch.
Catya nodded and responded with a gravelly voice. “Yes. Very beautiful.”
The girl sighed. “I could stare at it all day.”
Catya fought a groan, hoping the woman wouldn’t stay.
A quick glance at her watch made her heart skip a beat. Atkins should have been there by now.
Catya’s mind ran through possible scenarios and reasons why he wasn’t there before them.
One reason made her second guess agreeing to meet him there. What if Atkins had set her up again and planned on blowing up the museum with her in it?
How could she get people to leave quickly before the place exploded? Maybe they wouldn’t set off the explosives if she wasn’t there.
Dressed as she was, they couldn’t know she was there. Could they? Unless Atkins had told his demolition expert she would be there when the museum opened.
On the verge of darting out the door, Catya turned and almost ran into a man striding into the room.
He wore a zip-up hoodie, jeans and a baseball cap with NY embroidered on the forehead portion.
Catya might have looked past the man if not for the sunglasses he wore. Out of the corner of her eye, she studied his facial structure, his nose and the little scar next to his lip, making him appear to be sneering.
She’d noticed that scar when they’d met the morning of the Rosolino mission.
Anger burned in her chest, and she clenched her fists. She took several breaths to tamp down the rage.
Fearghas moved up beside her, placing his body between Catya and Atkins. He leaned on the cane, his free hand tucked into his pocket.
The young woman glanced at the man, dipped her head and left the room.
“I’m sorry I bailed on you,” Atkins said, his tone so soft Catya could barely make out his words.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you. Here. Now,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I came to give you what I took,” Atkins said.
“Why now?” she asked.
Atkins hunched his shoulders. “The stakes are too high. I can’t afford to screw this up.”
Catya snorted. “Whoever wants it thinks I have it. Isn’t that enough? They expect me to bring it to Bruges by midnight, or they’ll kill more of the people I care about.” Her voice lowered even more as she bit out, “They’ve already murdered my parents.”
Atkins stared at the beautiful painting that should have inspired peace and tranquility. “I heard about your folks. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry won’t bring them back.”
“I know. That’s what brought me here to find you,” he said. “I need help and don’t know who I can trust.”
Catya let out a short laugh. “And naturally, you think you can trust me…?”
“You’re in as much danger as I am. They gave me the same ultimatum. I’m to show up in Bruges at midnight.”
“For all I know, you were the one to set the explosives that nearly killed me. You could be the one who had those thugs waiting for any chance I would escape the townhouse.” She stepped around Fearghas and faced the bastard. “What makes you think I’ll trust you?”
“You have no reason to trust me.” He took off the sunglasses and met her gaze. “If I could do this on my own, I would. But the odds of failing are high, and the consequences are too horrible to contemplate.” His brow furrowed. “They have my Madison. My nineteen-year-old daughter. They took her from Trinity campus three days ago. When you asked me to give you that disk...I couldn’t. It’s my only leverage to get her back alive.”
Catya wanted to throw more insults at the man, but her breath lodged in her lungs, and images of her parents’ deaths replayed in her mind.
Fearghas reached out and grabbed Atkins by the throat. “If you’re lying, I’ll kill you in a very slow and painful way.”
Atkins managed to get enough air to say, “I wish it weren’t true.”
For a long moment, Fearghas refused to release his grip on the man’s throat.
Atkins didn’t fight him, his face turning red and then purple.
Catya touched Fearghas’s arm. “Not here,” she whispered. “And if anyone kills him, I should get the honor.”
Fearghas let go of the man, giving him a slight shove.
Atkins gasped, dragging air into his lungs. He straightened quickly when an older man and woman entered the room and gave them curious stares.
Catya headed for the door, followed by Fearghas. She paused before passing through, looked back, and lifted her chin, indicating Atkins should follow.
Even more careful and aware of the people wandering through the museum, Catya made her way to the exit, trying hard not to forget she was supposed to be an old woman with a shuffling gait.
She needed to get Atkins somewhere they could talk openly. If he was telling the truth, his daughter was in grave danger. Catya hadn’t said it aloud, but the girl could already be dead. The people after that disk didn’t care if they had to kill a preschool teacher or an old, retired couple to get what they wanted. They’d kill Atkins’s daughter without a second thought.
If he was lying...
Her fingers clenched into fists.
They left the museum without being accosted.
“Keep your distance,” Catya warned and set off. She hated leading him back to her hidden apartment, but she didn’t feel safe talking anywhere else.
She and Fearghas shuffled along the cobblestoned streets of Amsterdam as fast as they could without drawing attention. The casual observer wouldn’t expect to see older people jogging or powerwalking.
Atkins ambled along with his hood up and sunglasses in place. He walked twenty feet behind them, his head down, his hands in his pockets.
Catya wondered if he had a gun in one of his pockets. He’d said he would give them the disk, yet he hadn’t brought it out to prove he still carried it.
Catya and Fearghas were taking a considerable risk leading the man back to her apartment.
“You sure you want to take him to your place?” Fearghas asked. “What if he’s tagged and leading killers to you?”
“What if he isn’t lying,” she said softly. “What if they have his daughter?” Gia’s face haunted her. She’d been someone’s daughter. Catya had agreed to the assignment MI6 had put her up to, but not because she’d planned to kill Gia. She’d hope to learn why they’d wanted her dead. That’s why she’d insisted on going in first and alone. She’d have found a way to save her if someone hadn’t beaten her to the woman.
After several twists and turns through the maze of streets and narrow alleys, they arrived outside the church.
Catya’s gaze swept the area, peering into the shadow, looking for anyone who might have followed them. She waited until Atkins rounded the corner before she ducked through the bushes. He’d see where she’d gone in and follow.
Fearghas followed her in and waited for her to unlock the door. “You go in. I’ll wait for Atkins and make sure he wasn’t followed.”
She gave him a quick nod and ducked through the low door into her safe house, wondering if she was doing the right thing by trusting a man who’d left her to die in an explosion he could have set.
Catya shed the dress and overcoat, then pulled off the gray wig and eyebrows. Then she hurried around her apartment, stuffing her laptop, a change of underwear and clothing into a backpack in case she had to leave in a hurry. Even if Atkins was telling the truth, she couldn’t return to this location. Atkins was one too many people who knew of its existence. Her life depended on her ability to disappear.
She’d even had doubts about letting Fearghas into her safe space. The more people who knew where she was, the more chances her enemies had of finding her.
Catya glanced at the bed where she and Fearghas had made love hours earlier. Sure, she had doubts about letting him, but she had no regrets.
Moments later, Atkins ducked through the low door and entered her sanctuary.
Catya held her breath, waiting for Fearghas to follow and give the all-clear.
Several moments passed, making Catya tense. She started for the door.
Fearghas bent and passed through, pulling the heavy wooden door closed behind him. He twisted the lock with its thick metal bolt into place.
Once they were all inside, Catya turned to Atkins and held out her hand. “I’ll take that disk.”
The man dug into his pocket and pulled out his hand. He uncurled his fingers, revealing a thin square disk the size of an American nickel.
When she reached out to take it, he closed his fingers and retracted his hand. “This disk represents my only chance of getting Madison back. You can have it as long as you promise to help me get my daughter back alive.”
Catya’s eyes narrowed. “I promise to help.”
Atkins placed the disk in her hand.
Catya studied it briefly and then slid it into her pocket. “I can’t promise you’ll get her back alive. These people are animals with no respect for the lives of innocents. I watched them murder my parents.” She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She hadn’t had time to process her loss or grieve. She snorted softly. “I realize the irony, considering we’re all in the business of killing.”
“She’s nineteen and barely beginning her life,” Atkins said. “I’d take that disk to them in a second if I believed they’d go through with the trade and give me back my daughter unharmed.”
“But you don’t believe they’ll spare her.” Catya nodded. “Having seen what they’re capable of, I wouldn’t trust them, either.”
“How do you think we can help?” Fearghas asked as he removed his bushy gray brows and the wig Catya had talked him into wearing.
“They’ve been after both of us, which leads me to think they don’t know for certain who has the disk. If we both show up in Bruges, it could provide enough distraction to demand proof of life. Once they bring Madison out in the open, we have a chance of negotiating the trade.”
“They’ll outnumber us,” Catya said.
“And they’ll threaten to kill your daughter if you don’t hand over the disk.” Fearghas shrugged out of the sweater he’d used in his disguise and slipped his arms into his leather jacket.
Atkins’s jaw hardened. “And we can threaten to destroy the disk if they harm a single hair on Madison’s head.”
“Meeting them in Bruges exposes us to snipers and being surrounded and cut off,” Catya said. “We need a way to guarantee they won’t get trigger-happy and start shooting. What’s to keep them from killing us and taking the disk?”
Atkins fished in his hoody pocket and pulled out something the size of a baseball.
Fearghas immediately stepped between Atkins and Catya. “What the fuck?” he demanded.
Catya’s heart skipped several beats when she realized what it was. “You’ll threaten them with a grenade?”
Atkins nodded. “I show up and let them know I have the disk and a grenade with the pin pulled. If they shoot, I drop the grenade, destroying the disk. Once they release my daughter, I need you to get her safely away before I hand over the disk.”
“You think they’ll let you walk away?” Catya asked.
Atkins held her gaze for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t care what happens to me as long as Madison gets away. She doesn’t deserve to die because of me. If I’m dead, she will no longer be the target of someone trying to get to me.”
Catya couldn’t fault his thinking. She’d had similar thoughts. If she had died, rather than walking away from him, these people wouldn’t think to target Fearghas. He’d be safe to live that normal life he deserved.
“Did you ever consider how your daughter might feel about you making a martyr of yourself to save her from danger?” Fearghas asked. “Are you and your daughter close?”
Atkins nodded. “Her mother died when she was six. I raised her with the help of a nanny. She’s everything to me.”
“And she probably feels the same about you,” Fearghas said. “Shouldn’t she have a choice in your life and, in this case, your proposed death?”
Atkins frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Some decisions aren’t yours to make,” Fearghas said. “If she had the choice, would she want you to kill yourself or allow yourself to be killed just to make her life easier? What if she chooses to live with the risk if it means having you in her life?”
Catya frowned. Was Fearghas making these statements for Atkins…or her?
The MI6 agent shook his head. “She deserves a normal life.”
His words echoed in Catya’s head. Hadn’t she had the very same thoughts? She shook her head and focused on more urgent matters.
“We have until midnight to get that disk to Bruges,” Catya said. “We have fourteen hours until we have to be there to make the trade. It takes about three hours by train or by car. That gives us a little time to figure out what’s on the disk that’s making everyone homicidal.”
Atkins shook his head. “I’ve tried to get into it. It's password-protected and probably encrypted. It would take some serious computing power to get in. They have computers at MI6 headquarters that might break through.”
Catya shook her head. “I don’t trust anyone at MI6, including you. Sykes sent us in to kill Gia Rosolino. If he didn’t know about the disk, whoever directed him to make that hit knew.”
Atkins’s eyes narrowed. “Which leads me to believe there are people at higher echelons who don’t want the information on that disk to get out.”
“Exactly,” Catya said. “If we knew what information that disk contained, it might lead us to whoever has the power or money to send out MI6 and all the mercenaries we’ve encountered thus far.”
“We need technical support,” Atkins said.
Fearghas reached for the satellite phone. “I might be able to help with that.” He entered numbers on the phone and held it to his ear. “Call off the search for Atkins. We have him and the disk.”
Catya couldn’t hear what the person on the other end of the call was saying, but she had a good idea of who it was: Fearghas’s go-to guy, Dmytro.
Fearghas continued, “The disk is password protected and possibly encrypted.” He listened, then shook his head. “Not possible. We have to be in Bruges at midnight to trade the disk for Atkins’s daughter. That only gives us fourteen hours. Exactly.”
Catya leaned close to Fearghas in an attempt to hear what Dmytro was saying. Something about a plane was all she got out of their conversation. She stood back and waited for Fearghas to complete the call and share the outcome.
“Roger,” Fearghas said. “My cell phone is working. You can send the location to me via text. See you in three hours.” He ended the call and met Catya’s gaze. “We need to get to the train station.”
The doorknob on the heavy wooden door jiggled.
Catya spun toward the door.
Metal scraped against metal.
“Someone’s trying to pick the lock,” Catya whispered.
Atkins said, his eyes widening. “We can’t let anyone take the disk. My daughter’s life depends on us getting it to Bruges.”
Catya grabbed her backpack. “We’re not letting anyone get that disk.” She crossed to the bed, stepped onto the mattress and pushed against the wooden slats of the ceiling paneling. “Give me a hand.”
Fearghas stepped up beside her and shoved the slats upward, exposing a square hole.
The metal scraping sounds stopped.
Catya shot a glance toward the door.
A loud thud rattled the heavy door.
“They’re trying to break down the door,” Atkins said.
“It should hold long enough for us to get out of here,” Catya said. “If we hurry.” She tossed her backpack into the hole and reached for the framing around the access, pulling herself up.
Fearghas’s hands planted on her ass and gave her a push, sending her up into the crawl space.
Catya slid her arms into the straps of the backpack, settling it against her chest instead of her back. She crawled several feet away, making room for Fearghas and Atkins as they climbed up into the space over her apartment.
The pounding continued below. Catya eased the wooden panel back in place, banking on it hiding their exit route long enough for them to get away. Another loud bang was followed by the sound of wood splitting.
“Time to go,” Catya said and led the way, moving quickly on her hands and knees.