13. Hornet
13
HORNET
T he command center transformed the moment Typhon walked through the door. He surveyed our makeshift situation room, taking in the maps, surveillance photos, and equipment scattered across the tables. Behind him followed the support from Unit 23 and the UN coalition, along with a team from K19 Security Solutions. They were led by two of the firm’s founders, who I’d heard of but hadn’t met. Tabon Sharp, code name Razor, and Gunner Godet were legends in the intelligence world. Given Reaper worked for K19, I wasn’t surprised to see them. However, I was stunned when Razor introduced Paxton “Irish” Warrick, the agent responsible for the demise of Operation Argead.
There wasn’t anyone who knew more about the organization’s foundation than he did, which meant dissecting SMO Romanov would be far easier for him than the rest of us.
“Hornet.” Typhon approached, his voice revealing nothing as he extended his hand.
“Sir.” I shook it firmly, maintaining eye contact. Despite my direct disobedience of his orders to bring Kima home, he wasn’t angry—only showing the focused intensity of a commander with a mission.
“Brief me.” He moved toward the map where we’d marked the potential FSB holding facilities across Athens.
As I outlined what we knew about Reaper’s abduction, Typhon studied the surveillance photos with careful attention.
“I’ve forwarded a preliminary brief on SMO Romanov,” he began. “You’ll find a combination of current intel as well as my theories regarding what aspects of the defunct criminal enterprise Russia would find most compelling.”
I perused the brief, anxious to focus on Reaper’s rescue first. “Greenwich can bring everyone up to speed on what we’ve learned in the last few hours,” I suggested after Irish called for questions and there weren’t any.
Greenwich stood and approached with a tablet. “We’ve established initial surveillance on all three primary locations. The warehouse shows minimal activity, but the other two sites have significant security presence.”
“Show me,” Typhon requested.
The operative displayed infrared images of three different locations—an abandoned warehouse complex near Piraeus port, a vacant office building in the business district, and a private villa in the northern suburbs.
“Based on what we received from the NRO, security rotation patterns are most consistent at the villa,” I noted. “The office building has electronic security but fewer personnel.”
“The villa is interesting,” Typhon agreed, zooming in on the image. “Underground level, based on the architectural plans. Excellent sight lines for defensive positioning.”
“Perfect for holding a high-value prisoner,” Kima observed.
We spent the next hour discussing the merits of each location, analyzing security patterns, and planning surveillance operations.
“Three teams makes the most sense,” said Typhon. “One for each location. We need confirmation of where they’re holding Reaper before we can plan extraction.”
When Kima cleared her throat, Typhon raised his head.
“I’ll take it from here,” she announced, proceeding before Typhon could argue. “Hornet, Razor, Regent, and I will take the villa. Greenwich, Typhon, Gunner, and Amaryllis will cover the office building. The rest—” She stopped when two other men entered the suite. “Blackjack and Atticus, welcome. We’ll pause for a few minutes so I can bring you up to speed,” she said, approaching Reaper’s brother.
I expected Typhon to object to Kima’s plan, in particular, her involvement, but he didn’t. As the team dispersed to prepare for the op deployment, I stepped onto the balcony for a quiet moment.
Kima joined me a few minutes later, leaning against the railing. “Typhon is being remarkably reasonable.”
“About the mission or…?”
“Everything.” She smiled while studying the horizon. “Part of me expected him to order me back to London immediately.”
“He knows you well enough to understand that wouldn’t work,” I replied. “And he respects your abilities, even if he won’t admit it.”
She turned to face me. “I’ve switched the teams up a bit.”
“Where am I?” I said, showing the same level of constraint Typhon had. The truth was, if she and I were on separate teams, it wouldn’t be easy for me to agree or to relent.
“The villa. With me. I’m replacing Regent with Blackjack. Amaryllis has also requested the switch.”
When I raised a brow, Kima put one hand on her hip. “I could move you to another team if you’d prefer.”
I chuckled and snaked my arm around her waist. “I promise to keep my opinions to myself.”
“Good decision.” She sighed. “We need to get back inside. That’s actually what I came out to say.”
“The property was purchased six months ago by a shipping magnate with known connections to several Russian oligarchs,” Amaryllis was explaining when we joined the group. “Satellite imagery shows significant security upgrades over the past three months—new fencing, reinforced doors, motion sensors.”
“All without apparent reason,” Greenwich noted. “A civilian residence hardly needs that level of protection.”
“Unless it’s not just a residence,” Kima suggested.
As darkness fell, the three teams split up. The six of us assigned to the villa separated into teams of two. Kima and I approached the villa from the eastern perimeter. The property sat atop a gentle hill, surrounded by olive groves that provided valuable cover for our approach.
We moved quietly through the trees, pausing whenever the guards made their rounds. The villa itself was partially illuminated, security lights casting pools of brightness around the perimeter.
“Two-man patrols,” I noted, watching a pair of guards walk the grounds. “Regular intervals.”
“Professional,” Amaryllis responded through the comms. “Not local security.”
We established a surveillance position within a dense cluster of olive trees, providing clear views of the villa’s eastern wing. From this vantage point, we observed the main entrance, a security office, and what appeared to be a reinforced door leading to a lower level.
“Underground facility,” I murmured, noting how the reinforced door differed from the villa’s otherwise elegant architecture. “Consistent with detention operations.”
“He’s not here,” said Razor, who’d paired up with Amaryllis. “We’ve got solid readings from thermal imaging. No extra bodies.” The other two teams reported similar findings.
Rather than return to the hotel with the others, Amaryllis, Kima, Blackjack, and I spent the next two hours documenting security measures, personnel movements, and communications patterns. The guards spoke Russian, confirming our suspicions about the FSB’s involvement, and their behavior suggested military training rather than civilian security.
“Vehicle approaching,” Kima whispered, pointing to the headlights winding up the driveway.
A black SUV pulled to a stop at the main entrance. Two men in suits emerged, followed by a third wearing a Russian military uniform with a colonel’s insignia.
“Orlov,” Amaryllis identified him immediately. “The FSB’s counterintelligence division.”
“What’s a colonel doing here at this hour?” I wondered.
“Let’s find out,” Kima said, adjusting her directional microphone toward the entrance where the men were being greeted by the villa’s security chief.
The conversation, conducted in Russian, provided valuable confirmation.
“They’re discussing transfer protocols,” Amaryllis translated quietly. “Something about securing a prisoner for transport tomorrow.”
“Obviously, Reaper,” I concluded.
“Here,” said Blackjack, receiving a transmission on a different comms channel. “So far, no read on where he is now, but there’s an interrogation scheduled for tomorrow.”
“Time?” I asked.
“Twenty-two hundred hours,” he said after several seconds.
“Delfino, I suggest we maintain surveillance. Document all entry points, security patterns, and personnel. The other teams can develop extraction strategies as we forward details,” said Razor.
“Roger that, sir,” she responded.
Dawn was approaching when we finally withdrew, making our way through the olive groves and rejoining the extraction vehicle waiting beyond the property boundary.
At our Athens base, the team gathered around the central table, where Typhon laid out detailed maps of the villa and surrounding area.
“Based on your surveillance and our intelligence sources, we’ve identified three potential transfer routes,” he explained. “Most likely is via helicopter from the villa’s helipad to this private airfield east of Athens.”
“The second option is by road,” Greenwich added, “using a convoy with protection vehicles.”
“And the third?” Kima asked.
“Sea route,” Regent replied. “The villa has access to a private dock. They could transport by boat to a vessel waiting offshore.”
I studied the maps, evaluating each option. “We need to prepare for all three possibilities. The road option gives us the most opportunities for interception, but also the highest risk of civilian exposure.”
“The helicopter would be fastest from their perspective,” Typhon noted.
“But most visible,” I countered. “Easy to track.”
“I recommend we focus primary resources on the road scenario,” Kima said, “with secondary teams positioned for air or sea.”
“Agreed,” said Typhon. “We’ll need three teams: interception, extraction, and support.”
“I’ll lead interception,” I volunteered.
“With me,” Kima added immediately.
“Amaryllis, you’ll coordinate with the extraction team. Greenwich and Regent will handle support and communications,” Typhon confirmed.
As the team dispersed to prepare for the operation, I found a quiet moment with Kima. Despite the professional facade we maintained in front of the others, the weight of the coming mission hung between us.
“You should rest,” I said. “Tomorrow will demand everything we have.”
She shook her head. “Not until we have Reaper back.”
I understood her determination. In the short time we’d worked together, Reaper had become more than a colleague. I considered him a friend.
“We’ll get him back,” I promised, reaching for her hand.
Her fingers intertwined with mine, squeezing gently. “I know.” She paused, her gaze drifting toward the window, where dawn was breaking over Athens.
“Hornet,” said Typhon, interrupting our moment. “A word.”
I looked between him and Kima.
“Go ahead,” she muttered, brushing past Typhon without looking at him.
I followed him outside, preparing myself for whatever was coming. To my surprise, he didn’t immediately speak about the mission.
“You’ve changed her,” he said instead, studying me with unsettling intensity.
I shook my head. “I’ve done nothing of the kind. This is who she’s always been.”
“I suppose. What I’m trying to say is, you’re good for her, Hornet. Better than I anticipated.”
The admission surprised me. “Thank you, sir.”
Typhon’s expression hardened slightly. “Don’t mistake my approval of your influence for acceptance of your disregard for my orders.”
I chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“But for now,” he continued, “we focus on getting Reaper back and understanding what game Jekyll is playing.” He handed me a tablet.
“Jesus,” I muttered, watching the man himself exiting the villa shortly after our team had called it a night.
“I want to run something by you.”
I tensed. Kima should be part of this conversation, and he knew it. “Typhon?—”
“Once I have, we’ll take it to Delfino.”
“Go on, then.”
“Don’t you wonder why he got so close but didn’t make contact?”
“I have several theories.”
He rolled his shoulders and looked out at the sea. “My gut is telling me he was waiting for me to get here.”
I hadn’t considered that as a possibility, but it made sense. Everyone—including Kima and me—had expected Typhon to move heaven and earth, as they say, to get to her, even before I did. That he hadn’t shown up until now lay credence to his theory, given Jekyll was once again in the same place we were.
“Why, though?” I asked.
“To protect her from the fallout.”
“Reasonable theory.”
“Reaper showing up at the Basilica in your place threw a wrench into his plan.”
“I was supposed to be bait.”
“And now, they have no idea what to do with Reaper,” Typhon added.
“Do you think Jekyll is working for SOV Romanov? Baikal’s intel?—”
“Odds are fifty-fifty at this point. Thinking he could be on the side of good over evil won’t be easy for me to accept.”
“Kima feels the same way.”
Typhon paced. “He’s been watching. Knows you’re important to her. He nabs you; she comes charging to the rescue…”
“But first, she calls you for backup.”
“It all went according to plan, except he’s not certain she’ll chase Reaper in the same way she would you.”
“So first, he needed to make sure she did. That’s what tonight was all about. Jekyll wanted us to know about Reaper.”
“You’re catching on, Hornet.”
“What’s your plan, then?” I asked.
“You and Delfino go dark.”
“And you stand in the spotlight.”
He smirked. “Exactly.”
It dawned on me why he’d wanted to talk to me about this first. It wasn’t to run it by me. He wanted me to sell it to Kima. “No,” I blurted.
He raised a brow.
“I’m not saying I disagree with your plan. What I’m refusing to do is present it on your behalf.”
His snarl told me I’d hit the nail on the head. “What I will do is go get her for you.” Something else occurred to me. “What’s the story with bringing Irish Warrick along?”
He leaned up against the terrace’s railing. “We’ve got three missions running. The first two relate to Jekyll. Find him, but determine who he’s been working for all these years. Next, take down SMO Romanov.”
“Do you think Minerva relates in some way?”
His brow furrowed. “I know it does.”
“How?”
“The day Reaper received the encrypted message, I got one too. One word— Minerva .”
“Jekyll?” I asked.
“No one else makes sense.”
“Why the big mystery, though?”
“That’s what this is really all about. Minerva versus Romanov.”
“And the disappearing diplomats?”
“Let’s say Romanov is stockpiling ‘inventory.’ Eventually, Minerva will have to act. Come to the table, so to speak. Their real power is in their anonymity. Once they’re exposed, they’re finished.”
“You know a helluva lot more than you’re saying.”
As I’d come to expect from him, Typhon muttered his agreement, then went inside.