3. Hornet
3
HORNET
E ye of the Storm —as Typhon referred to the private jet where I was the sole passenger—cut through the sky somewhere over Europe. I’d been staring at my laptop for hours, coordinating with Reaper over secure comms while he dug through intelligence feeds from his position at the coalition headquarters in Shere.
“Another hit from Sofia.” Reaper’s voice crackled through my headset. “Security footage shows Delfino meeting with a woman at a café frequented by artists and students.”
It was unlikely he would’ve picked her up on his own. It was only the biometric profile I’d sent over that aided his search.
I studied the grainy video feed that filled my screen. Kima had managed to conceal her face, but even in disguise, she took my breath away. She’d changed her hair and added glasses, but nothing could hide her natural grace, the fluid way she moved that I knew better than anyone. My chest ached at the sight of her.
“Timestamp?” I asked, forcing myself to focus.
“Four hours ago. But that’s not the interesting part. Check out the guys by the door.”
I leaned closer to the feed, watching as the woman with Kima scanned the room, keeping her hand close to her concealed weapon—she’d spotted the surveillance team too.
“Got an ID on her yet?” I asked.
“Code name Zephyr. She’s with Bulgarian State Intelligence. She and Delfino were roommates at Oxford.”
My focus returned to the teams surveilling the women. “FSB,” I muttered. “She’s being watched.”
“More than watched. They followed her for three blocks before she lost them in a metro station.” Reaper’s tone darkened. “She’s good, but she’s taking too many risks. These aren’t coalition-sanctioned operators. As you said, they’re FSB.”
My mobile vibrated with a call. “It’s Typhon,” I told Reaper.
“Keep me on the line.”
“Sir,” I answered.
“Update,” he barked.
I outlined what we’d found since our last call, pulling everything up we had on the recent FSB activity in the region, along with who she’d met with and where I believed she was headed. “All signs point to Moscow.”
“He’s laying a trap,” Typhon said under his breath before clearing his throat. “Your orders stand. Find her. Extract her. Bring her the fuck home. Nothing else matters.”
My laptop pinged with new data from Reaper. Kima had been spotted entering a Sofia hotel, then leaving again shortly after her meeting with Zephyr.
“Got something else,” Reaper said. “Hold up, and I’ll patch Typhon into the video feed.” Both of their images appeared on my screen. My boss was also on a private aircraft. “Jekyll’s scheduled to attend a high-profile event two days from now. Guest list includes several suspected trafficking kingpins.”
“Where?”
“Near Cape Idokopas on the Black Sea.”
Typhon snarled when I raised a brow and muttered. “The president’s palace.”
“Your cover documents will be waiting when you land in Bulgaria. The flight plan is already filed from there to Moscow,” said Reaper, his keyboard clicking rapidly in the background. “But, Hornet? These guys Jekyll’s meeting with—they’re heavy hitters in the trafficking world. The same networks the coalition has been working to shut down. Nemesis will want?—”
“He doesn’t answer to Nemesis,” Typhon snapped.
Reaper chuckled. “Understood, sir, but I do.”
“What in the bloody hell is he up to?” Typhon said, turning his face away from the screen.
“If I had to guess, I’d say he’s after the same people we are,” I responded. It made sense. He’d been a Russian agent for God knew how long. No doubt the Kremlin wanted to take down criminal enterprises as much as we did. Albeit, unlike us, they aimed to eliminate their competition.
“You’re right, Hornet,” said Reaper. “He’s hunting them too. Using his cover as a Russian asset to get close to the operations.”
“Or that’s what he wants us to believe,” Typhon added. “We can’t assume anything about his motives.”
“Sir.” I chose my words carefully. “Delfino will not want?—”
“I know she won’t. Which makes this mission she devised all the more dangerous.” When his transmission ended abruptly, my guess was he’d signed off rather than lost the signal.
The jet banked slightly, beginning its decrease in altitude.
“Wheels down in twenty,” the pilot announced over the intercom.
“I’ve got surveillance feeds running at every major hotel and transport hub in Moscow,” Reaper said.
“Add Krasnodar Krai. My guess is that’s where she’ll head next.”
“Roger that.”
Once we landed, it would take anywhere from four to six hours before we could get back in the air and head to Moscow, unless Reaper’s intel indicated Kima went somewhere else.
In that time, I needed to make contact with Zephyr and convince her to betray her friend’s trust by telling me what she knew about Kima’s plans.
I touched my chest, where her note rested in my pocket. “Don’t attempt to follow me. I need to do this on my own,” it read. But she had to know I would regardless, in the same way she probably guessed my feelings for her went far deeper than duty or protocol. The other thing she couldn’t doubt was that I’d walk through hell itself if it meant keeping her safe.
While the plane made its descent, I got lost in thought, remembering the last time Kima and I had been undercover at an event similar to the one taking place in less than forty-eight hours. The red dress she wore that night made regular appearances in my dreams, as did her body pressed close as we danced our way through surveillance. Her natural scent, her warmth, and the way she’d looked up at me, asking questions I couldn’t answer.
I made contact with Zephyr, who confirmed Kima had been in Sofia, but that was as much as she knew. When I asked about Moscow, she said she had no idea whether she was still in town, and if not, where she might be headed.
I did, though, hoping that, when I arrived, she wouldn’t already be on her way to the Black Sea. If she was, the pilots would file another flight plan, and we’d get back in the air.
Six hours later, the Moscow skyline emerged through the clouds, a maze of ancient spires and modern glass. If Reaper’s intel was correct, Kima was booked on a Turkish Airlines flight scheduled to land at zero six hundred Moscow time. I was eight hours ahead of her. And, if I was really fortunate, I’d intercept her getting off the plane. Something told me it was not my lucky day.
While I wanted to wait at the airport, I couldn’t afford the wasted time. Instead, there were two Unit-23 agents and more from MI6 staked out in every terminal where an airline traveling from Bulgaria or Istanbul had an incoming flight.
My contact was waiting at a restaurant near Gorky Park when I arrived, seated at a table, and for all intents and purposes, an average-looking pensioner. Morozov Vadim, code name Baikal, had been running assets for MI6 for years, surviving countless purges through a combination of cunning and careful cultivation of kompromat —compromising information—on his FSB handlers.
“You’re getting sloppy,” he muttered in Russian as I sat across from him, not lowering the newspaper he held. “Three separate surveillance teams have tracked you since you landed.”
“I know.” I kept my voice low, watching a couple who reminded me of Kima and me. If only I’d been able to admit that, deep in my heart, it was what I most desired. “I wanted them to follow me instead of her.”
That earned me a dry chuckle. “The girl hunting Jekyll hasn’t arrived in Moscow yet,” he said, switching to Bulgarian. “She’s good. Better than you at staying hidden—at least in Sofia.” He lowered the paper, revealing rheumy eyes, sharp despite his aged appearance. “But that’s not why you called in favors to meet with me.”
“What do you know about his operation?”
“Only fragments,” Vadim folded the paper and set it to the side. “He’s been meeting with trafficking networks, yes. But something doesn’t add up. My sources have noticed unusual patterns. He’s documenting something—routes, contacts, safe houses. But for whom?” He shook his head. “The Kremlin thinks he’s their asset, but Jekyll…he’s playing a deeper game.”
My chest tightened. “For the Razuznavane ?” I used the Bulgarian slang for the SIA, the acronym for their intelligence agency.
“Perhaps.” Vadim’s voice dropped further. “Or perhaps not. The FSB tolerates these traffickers—finds them useful. But Jekyll’s actions…they suggest other motives. Other masters. I cannot imagine the SIA has the ability to command him.”
“Then who?”
Baikal shrugged. “Perhaps China, though that too is doubtful.”
“Someone working against the FSB.”
He winked. “Not so stupid, after all.”
When I scoffed, he held up his hand.
“Typhon’s word, not mine.”
I shook my head. “I’ll be lucky to live long enough to see the end of this mission, and not because Jekyll, the FSB, the SIA, or the Chinese will take me out.”
“Typhon’s the best assassin in the business.”
“Especially given my assignment for the past year has been that of a nursemaid.”
Baikal chuckled. “Tell me you didn’t enjoy every minute.”
He was right, not that he needed me to confirm it.
“If we can’t figure out who, the next question is why. Or maybe that should come first.”
My tone was sharper than intended. “Why fake his death, let his family think he was gone for eleven years?”
“Because he discovered something back then. Something that made him choose this path.” Vadim stood, bones creaking. “Your girl is right to chase answers, but she may be asking the wrong questions. The real mystery isn’t whether Jekyll betrayed his country. It’s what he found that made him give up everything—including his family.”
My mind raced as I absorbed his theory. If Baikal was right, there was more to Jekyll’s apparent betrayal than anyone suspected. The implications made my head spin.
“Eleven years is a long time to play such a dangerous game and survive.”
“Unless survival isn’t the primary goal,” he said cryptically.
I received an alert of a facial recognition hit on Kima, captured in Istanbul. I pulled up the feed, heart stuttering at the sight of her. She’d changed her appearance again—blonde now, wearing clothes that helped her blend with the tourist crowds. But I’d know her anywhere.
“Go,” Baikal said, reading my expression. “But remember—if Jekyll is truly hunting these networks, he’s made powerful enemies. Enemies who would gladly use his stepdaughter to get to him.”
I arrived at the safe house Reaper arranged, knowing I couldn’t rest whether I needed to or not. Instead, I wrote a brief, updating Typhon on what I’d learned since we last spoke.
As much as I hoped he wouldn’t show up either here or in Krasnodar Krai, I knew that was futile. He wanted to find Kima as much as I did. I’d say more, but neither he nor she knew the depth of my true feelings.