11. Hornet
11
HORNET
A thens sprawled beneath us in a patchwork of ancient and modern—pristine marble ruins alongside contemporary high-rises. The panoramic view from our suite in Plaka’s most exclusive hotel provided an outstanding vantage point for both admiring the Acropolis and monitoring the streets below.
After Montenegro, we’d changed our approach. Instead of reacting to Jekyll’s movements, we were digging deeper, approaching the mission as the investigation it should be. If the man’s intention was to draw Kima out, first, we had to understand why.
“You’re frowning again,” Kima said, sliding her arms around my waist from behind. Her touch still sent electricity through my body, even after these past few days together.
“Just thinking,” I replied, covering her hands with mine.
“Dangerous pastime.” She rested her chin on my shoulder. Gone was the auburn bob from our Croatian cover identities. Now, her dark hair fell in loose waves, styled for our new personas as American academics.
“Someone has to do the heavy lifting,” I teased, turning to face her. Her eyes had captivated me from our first meeting. Now, remembering how her naked body had felt against mine only short hours ago, I shuddered.
She smacked my chest lightly. “Careful, or we’ll end up back in bed.”
“That’s hardly a threat,” I said, nuzzling her neck.
“I could always make you review clinic records again.”
I groaned theatrically. “Hours of mindless medical terminology? You’re cruel, Professor Lambert.”
“That’s Dr. Lambert to you.” She winked.
The subtle beep of a secure message drew our attention. Reaper had returned from his surveillance of the Aegean Maritime Heritage Foundation, where Jekyll had been spotted twice last week.
“Delfino, Hornet, you need to see this,” he called from the adjoining suite, which functioned as our command center.
Kima followed as I moved quickly toward Reaper’s workstation. Greenwich and Regent were already gathered around multiple screens displaying surveillance footage and building schematics.
“What have you got?” I asked, placing a hand on the back of Reaper’s chair.
“When he last visited, Jekyll spent three hours at the foundation,” he replied, pulling up time-stamped images. “But it’s not what he did there that’s interesting. It’s who he met.”
The screen displayed a middle-aged man whose bearing screamed military.
“Dimitri Kostas,” Greenwich supplied. “Former Greek Naval Intelligence. Now runs maritime security for several shipping firms.”
“Any connection to the Russian trafficking networks?” Kima asked.
Regent shook his head. “No direct links, but his security firm has contracts with three companies identified as known associates.”
“The plot thickens,” I murmured.
“There’s more,” Reaper continued. “Amaryllis managed to get access to partial records from the oncology clinic.”
My eyes met Kima’s. The line between operational necessity and personal privacy was one we navigated carefully. Medical information was sensitive ground.
“Diagnostics only,” Reaper clarified, sensing our hesitation. “No treatment details and nothing at all for a patient by the name of Edgar Hyde.”
I wouldn’t have expected there to be. Nor did I anticipate there’d be a common patient name listed on the days our surveillance showed him entering the clinic.
“The clinic is known to be a ‘last resort.’ Meaning, patients have been given a terminal diagnosis with a short life expectancy,” said Amaryllis, joining the conversation.
His repeated visits to a medical facility certainly meant something, but jumping to conclusions would be premature.
“We need to know why he’s visiting this clinic. Facts, not suppositions,” I stated.
“Roger that,” said Reaper.
“What about Minerva?” Kima asked.
At the mention of the word, the room fell silent. Since receiving that single-word message, we’d been searching for connections without success.
“I’ve been thinking about that,” I said. “In Roman mythology, Minerva was the goddess of wisdom, strategic warfare, and?—”
“Medicine,” Kima finished my thought. “Could there be a connection to Jekyll’s medical issues?”
“Possibly,” I acknowledged. “Or it could refer to her role in strategic warfare. A mission, perhaps, or an op.”
“Nothing in any database I can access. If it’s either, it’s buried deeper than we have access to,” said Reaper.
Between Unit 23 and the coalition, our resources were unmatched in both connections and databases, so that statement carried significant weight. Add Amaryllis’ ties to the NSA, and it was nearly unfathomable that there could be intel one of us couldn’t get our hands on.
“We need to engage Typhon on this,” I admitted reluctantly.
Kima’s expression was thoughtful. “I’ll make the call.”
Once alone in our suite, I secured the door and swept for surveillance devices for the third time that day. Paranoia kept operatives alive, especially when hunting ghosts.
“All clear,” I confirmed as Kima initiated the encrypted connection.
“Typhon,” she greeted when his face appeared on the screen.
“Delfino.” His expression revealed nothing. “Hornet.”
“Sir,” I responded, keeping my distance from the camera. Though we’d established a tentative truce since Kima’s earlier call, I knew better than to push my luck.
“We need information on something called ‘Minerva,’” Kima said directly.
Typhon’s expression shifted subtly—so slightly that most wouldn’t notice, but I’d served under him long enough to recognize when something hit its mark.
“Context?” he asked after a momentary pause.
Kima explained the encrypted message Reaper had received and our theories about potential meanings.
“You recognize it,” I stated rather than queried.
“It isn’t the first time I’ve heard it mentioned in intelligence circles,” Typhon responded.
“In regard to what?” Kima pressed.
“Nothing specific.”
I glanced from Typhon’s image on the screen to her expression. She was toying with calling him out on the lie, but was struggling not to.
“Could it relate to the comments made by Baikal regarding Jekyll tracking trafficking networks?” I asked.
“Or Volkov’s message about diplomatic immunity aiding transport?” Kima added.
“Possibly.”
While Typhon was typically a man of few words, more often, what he didn’t say spoke volumes over what he did.
“Is Minerva involved in trafficking? Could that be who Jekyll is tracking?”
Typhon’s gaze met mine. Was his expression meant to be a warning for me to back off? Given he ended the transmission without another word, I figured it had to be.
Kima turned to me, her brow furrowed. “He knows what Minerva is.”
“Definitely,” I agreed. “And he’s worried.”
“Typhon doesn’t worry. He calculates.”
“Which in itself is concerning,” I pointed out. “Whatever it is, it’s big enough to make him cautious.”
I studied her, already anticipating her next move. When she said, “I’m engaging Oleander,” I smiled.
“What?”
I covered my mouth with my hand, unable to steel my expression. “Nothing.”
Kima stood close enough to me that she didn’t have to reach to slug my arm. “You think I’m so predictable.”
I chuckled but shook my head.
“Don’t lie. You’re sure you can read me like a book.”
I snaked my arm around her waist and pulled her body flush with mine. “Not always, my te?or . If that was the case, you never would’ve given me the slip.”
“You really had no inkling of my plan?” she asked.
“In hindsight, maybe. Then again, maybe I had my suspicions, but my subconscious knew it would be wrong to try to stop you.”
She leaned up and kissed me, then wriggled from my grasp. “Oleander,” she reminded me.
I left the room in search of Reaper. “A moment?” I asked, finding him in the suite we’d set up as a temporary command center.
“Sure,” he said, standing and following me out into the hallway and over to the lift. We took it to the lobby, then outside and over to the beach.
“Typhon knows what Minerva refers to, but he isn’t talking. Delfino is speaking with Oleander about it now.”
Rather than look at me as we walked, Reaper’s gaze was focused on the blue-green water of the Aegean Sea. “In the past eighteen months, there’s been a twenty-seven-percent increase in diplomatic couriers crossing through Balkan borders. Most are legitimate—routine diplomatic business. But a subset shows unusual patterns.”
“Define unusual,” I prompted.
“Same couriers, same routes, consistently carrying packages classified as ‘sensitive documents’ but with weight distributions inconsistent with the paperwork.”
“Human cargo?” I asked.
“That’s my guess,” Reaper agreed.
“Is Jekyll tracking them or working with them?”
“If he’s tracking them, he’s gathering impressive evidence. These transports would be nearly impossible to identify without insider knowledge.”
“Baikal’s assessment gains credibility,” I noted. “Jekyll investigating from the inside, documenting the network.”
“For who, though? If not the FSB or SIS, then who is he working for?”
“Here’s a theory—maybe Minerva.”
“I had the same thought,” said Reaper.
“I’ll be interested to hear what Oleander has to say. By the way, what’s going on with you and Amaryllis?”
He stopped walking and studied me. “What do you mean?”
I held up both hands. “Simply that the two of you seem at odds more often than not.” My gaze met his. “Did I hit a nerve?”
“Fucking annoying pain in my ass is what she is,” he muttered under his breath.
“Speak of the devil,” I said, glancing at the screen and seeing a message from the woman we were discussing. I held it out for Reaper to see.
Found something critical. Meet tomorrow 1800. Basilica. Alone .
“What the fuck, man? She’s circumventing Delfino?”
She was, and I wouldn’t tolerate it. “How do you think I should handle it?”
Reaper’s expression turned from a scowl to a smirk. “Send me in your place.”
“Excellent idea.”