Chapter 11 #4
“I’m not angry with you,” Leah interrupted. “And I already yelled it out with Jamie. I’m not going to do it all over again with you. It’s too early for that sort of fight.”
“Okay.”
Leah sighed, clutching her coffee mug with both hands. “Jamie’s my big brother, and I know how hard he’s worked to get where he is. He wouldn’t throw it all away for a one-night stand.”
Kyle choked on his sip of coffee, coughing through it. He had to set the mug down on the counter so he wouldn’t spill any as he struggled to breathe, fighting the sudden flush that stung his cheeks. Leah stared at him before palming her face.
“Oh my God. Seriously?” she said.
“If I don’t talk about my sex life with my sisters, I’m definitely not talking about it with you,” Kyle replied, voice a little raspy.
“That’s a good motto to live by, but I’m never letting Jamie live this down.”
Kyle picked up his coffee mug again and took another sip. “Just please don’t do it in public.”
Leah raked her hair out of her eyes with one hand, the other clutching her coffee mug with the white-knuckled grip of one who’d spent hours worrying about a loved one gone off to war. “I won’t. Just promise me you’ll watch his back.”
“You don’t ever have to worry about that, Leah. I will always guard his and everyone else’s six,” Kyle said.
“Good.” She waved her mug at the coffeepot. “Top me up, would you? I think I hear someone moving around.”
“Probably Alexei. He’s bunking down here and has a nose for coffee.”
Kyle filled up her mug and his, deciding he’d give his to Jamie’s and drink the cooled-down coffee in the other one. Leah gave him a little smile of thanks before heading back upstairs. Kyle watched her go, feeling an odd sense of relief wash through him.
Maybe he and Jamie could make this work after all.
* * *
Sean wasn’t used to working with a team.
When working deep cover for the CIA, it had been just himself, his training, and his instincts to get through the months or years of the mission, wrapped in the identity he was supposed to be living.
Communication with his handler at the time rarely happened.
For once, he was glad the MDF had opted to field a team for this particular mission.
It definitely required more hands than just his own.
“You think Jansen is going to bomb the gala?” Liam asked slowly, staring at Jamie.
“Not Jansen, but Cillian. He has a past history of targeting such events, and we believe he’s in London,” Jamie corrected.
“Half those people are criminals. He’d lose any shred of support in those circles, and it’d paint a bloody big target on his back. That’s a terrible way to do business.”
“Not if you’re trying to get rid of the competition.”
“Well, when you put it like that.”
Sean shifted a little on his chair, listening to Jamie and Liam work through the details of the briefing for their audience.
Alpha Team was arrayed around the living room of the home, all of them sitting straight-backed in their seats beneath half a dozen watchful eyes from the UMG brass on the secure, encrypted uplink Katie had created on Jamie’s order.
Jamie had broken their no-contact protocol because they had no other choice.
They needed more bodies in the field than Alpha Team and Sean could provide, and the lag time between information drops wasn’t something they could afford now.
Leah had been escorted to Clarence House upon Liam’s arrival that morning, leaving beneath the watchful eyes of her personal security intermixed with UMG agents to see her safely to her destination.
Jamie wasn’t risking his sister, which Sean more than understood.
Family was important to Sean, even if he didn’t have the best relationship with his own right now.
Sean squinted at the main display up on the flat-screen, taking in Director Nazari’s expression.
He’d joined the briefing through a secondary uplink on the UMG’s end, his image appearing in a holoscreen within their headquarters.
If anyone managed to hack Katie’s communications encryptions and get through the vine pathway they ran through in nearly a hundred countries, they’d only see calls to local London numbers.
“What evidence are you basing your conclusion on, Captain Callahan?” Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service Olivia Bailey asked.
Olivia was a stern-looking woman in a crisp suit, face only lightly lined with age.
Her brown hair was cut to her shoulders in a sharp bob that accentuated the severity of her features.
An Army veteran who’d changed careers for one in MI6, she’d served as chief through two prime ministers and was angling to keep the position through a third after the next elections.
The UMG sometimes worked with MI6, though it wasn’t an easy partnership.
Intelligence was shared between the two agencies because neither could afford to be kept in the dark when it came to securing the United Kingdom’s borders.
That was more than could be said about the relationship between the MDF and the CIA.
“An MDF agent here with us in the field was previously a CIA officer. He’s had dealings with the Reborn IRA before, and Cillian Halloran and Emmet Doyle in particular. I trust the intel he’s given us, ma’am,” Jamie said.
“How old is this intel?”
“Several years out of date, but with what’s happened here in London already, I think it’s safe to say certain aspects of the intel are still valid,” Liam answered.
“We trust Captain Callahan’s conclusion, Chief Bailey,” Chief of the United Metahumans Guardians Norris Chapman said in a deceptively mild voice.
Bailey’s gaze flicked over the group before landing on Sean, and he tried not to shift beneath her heavy attention.
He shouldn’t have been surprised she’d picked him out as the man in question who’d had previous dealings with the Reborn IRA.
Alpha Team had partnered with the Royal Legion several times before, and the UMG knew their identities, which meant certain officials within MI6 knew as well.
“The question at hand is how we go about handling the threat without losing our operatives’ cover identities. Closing down the gala after we’ve made contact will no doubt shine a spotlight on my people,” Nazari said.
“We’re not agreeable to putting innocent British lives at risk,” Bailey said.
“Technically, half the people who will show up are criminals, and the other half indulged in illegal acts that got them caught in Jansen’s power. Innocence is lacking in the group as a whole, but I will agree I don’t like putting lives in general at risk like that,” Liam said.
“We have options, but I don’t believe doing nothing will be beneficial to any of us,” Jamie respectfully pointed out.
“The infiltration plans you provided have merit, but implementing them on such short notice will be challenging,” Chapman agreed.
“I’m of the opinion that we don’t lose this chance, despite the risk.
We need to find those labs, and we need to know how many other decision-makers within this alliance of theirs are metahumans. Jansen can’t be the only one.”
“If that’s the case, then the only ones deployed should be metahumans. I won’t risk any of my people within the vicinity of a Splice chemical bomb,” Bailey stated flatly.
“Control of the perimeter can be attained by regular agents of both agencies. We can send in certain members of the Royal Legion and those on other teams. The police can be on standby if you think alerting them in advance won’t tip our hand,” Nazari replied.
“Initiating a quarantine zone in that area will require a lot of noticeable personnel. I think we’d all be better served if we’re able to locate the bombs beforehand and diffuse them.”
“Cillian Halloran preferred building and using bombs that were portable, which would take no more than two people to set up. That necessitated him using multiple bombs, which produced a wider area of infection and carnage. Considering the location of the gala and the many gallery rooms within the museum, I would think he’d stick to his preference over creating one large bomb.
I doubt the bombs will show up before the gala starts,” Sean said, garnering everyone’s attention.
“And do you stand by that assessment?” Chapman asked.
Sean hesitated, eyes flicking toward the director, who only met his gaze with calmness, no hint of doubt on his face. Sean squared his shoulders. “I do.”
Bailey frowned, glancing down at the data in her personal terminal on her side of the uplink.
“This will be a PR disaster if word gets out we anticipated the attack and let it go forward despite the danger it posed merely to entrench a foreign metahuman team into the inner circle of a criminal enterprise.”
“We Americans will take the blame and the glory,” Nazari replied in a mild voice. “That was the plan from the beginning, remember?”
“Going forward seems to be the only viable option,” Chapman said, smoothly steering the conversation away from an argument and back on track.
“Chief Bailey, the chance for solid information about potential Splice labs outweighs the risk to the people attending the gala. The UMG and MDF will be moving forward on this mission.”
“The fallout will be your problem to handle,” Bailey said.
“It usually is. We’ll let MI6 dictate the search for Cillian Halloran and Emmet Doyle in the lead-up to the gala. Monitoring the Victoria and Albert Museum will be overseen by the UMG. The timetable will be tight for all of us, so let’s finish up this briefing and get on with the job at hand.”
Despite the clock counting down, the briefing lasted another two hours.
Bureaucracy was full of red tape, more so when agencies anticipating blame were determined to minimize their own damage.
Sean knew people would die tomorrow night because of decisions made today, but their deaths would be marked down as a necessary loss in the fight against terror.
Governments used to be far more conservative in their efforts to entrap the enemy on domestic soil.
With the current political climate and blurry borders, leniency was paid for in blood and found acceptable through media spin.
Sean didn’t doubt that the fallout would be bad, but neither did he doubt the American and British governments would find a way to justify it down to the last life lost.
When the uplink finally cut off, a tentative plan was in place, drawn from one of Jamie’s many models, to be finalized by the UMG.
“This is a complete mess,” Liam sighed when the brass was no longer breathing down their necks.
“Sean, would you know the bombs on sight if you saw them?” Madison asked.
“Depends on if Cillian hasn’t altered his standard design,” Sean said.
“Most bomb-makers don’t. They tend to stick with what’s comfortable for them.”
“If we’re talking multiple bombs, we’re going to need more than one demolitions specialist,” Donovan pointed out.
“I’m no specialist, but I can disarm them pretty easily. My power and electronics don’t really mix,” Sean said.
“How so?” Liam asked.
“Phase field. I can go intangible and short-circuit any electronics in the bomb.”
The invisible phase field his body exuded encompassed Sean within a two-inch radius.
Sean could control his phase power so only all or part of his body became intangible.
He could push the phase field outward into other people, changing their molecular density as he did with his own, but it took a lot of effort.
The alteration of his body’s status didn’t agree with electronics, which meant he was forever at risk of losing communication with headquarters if he phased his entire body. It was part of the reason why he rarely used his power in the field, relying on his training to get the job done.
“How destructive is your phase power on weapons?” Madison wanted to know.
“The MDF tested my power on a whole range of weapons. Bombs don’t go off if I touch them, and I can still use guns.”
“All right,” Liam said. “So we have two people who can diffuse the bombs. Finding the bombs in the first place is going to be the bigger problem.”
“So let’s start looking. Sean, I need you to collate the examples of Cillian’s designs I flagged in the information the UMG gave us on the Reborn IRA. Let’s try to figure out if he’s still sticking with his MO and where he might try to hide them,” Jamie ordered.
Sean nodded and got to his feet, knowing they didn’t have any time to waste when the gala was less than forty-eight hours away. It was all hands on deck, which was far better than just his own.