Chapter 13 Nightingale
NIGHTINGALE
The encrypted message came at zero four hundred, jolting me from my restless sleep.
I reached for the tablet on my nightstand, blinking against the blue glow in the darkness of my room at Glenshadow. The screen showed a single notification—priority intelligence, Kestrel’s signature encryption.
My pulse quickened before I’d even opened it.
PRIORITY: TIME-SENSITIVE OPPORTUNITY
EVENT: Private charity gala
LOCATION: Brodick Castle, Isle of Arran
DATE: This evening, 2000 hours
HOST: James Dalgleish
ATTENDEES: High-value targets confirmed. Guest list includes Ian MacKenzie and international arms dealers Vadim Karpov, Hassan Al-Rashid, and Chen Wei.
ASSESSMENT: Optimal window. Dalgleish’s network exposed, vulnerable. Primary targets in one location. Recommend immediate action.
NOTE: CRITICAL TIMELINE - Guest list locks tomorrow 1200 hours. After that, infiltration impossible. You have until then to decide.
This was it. The opportunity we needed. Several of our targets would be gathered in one place, at a charity gala I could infiltrate as a guest.
From Damascus to London—every lead had brought me here. To the people responsible for my brother’s death.
If I brought this to Tag, he’d shut it down immediately. He’d insist on going himself, even though he’d be recognized instantly in those circles—the Earl of Glenshadow, who’d moved through aristocratic events his entire life. Or he’d refuse the op entirely.
The promise he’d made to Idris would ensure that.
I was perfect for this assignment. Unknown in aristocratic circles, trained for infiltration, fluent in the social languages required to move through a charity gala undetected.
I could get close to Dalgleish and MacKenzie and their buyers, and maybe even gather what we needed to dismantle their entire operation.
Tag wouldn’t be able to do the same. Nor could Con or Ash.
But me? I was nobody to these people.
The mission had to come first. Even if it meant going around Tag. Even if he never forgave me for this.
I committed every detail Kestrel sent to memory, then stood, moving to the wardrobe to pull out clothes.
Dawn wasn’t here yet, but it was coming fast, and I had work to do before the rest of the household woke up. But first, I needed to make contact with Typhon and Viper. Without their support, there’d be no way for me to pull this off.
The sun was barely breaking through the tall windows of the library at zero five thirty, the time Viper had confirmed we could meet.
I positioned myself at the far end of the room, away from the door, with my laptop open on the desk so the camera angle only showed my face and the bookshelves behind me.
The secure connection took thirty seconds to establish, and when the screen divided into two feeds, Typhon appeared on the left and Viper on the right.
“Nightingale,” Typhon said. “This better be good.”
“I have time-sensitive intelligence that requires immediate authorization.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“There’s a charity gala this evening at Brodick Castle on the Isle of Arran. James Dalgleish is hosting.”
That got their attention.
Viper leaned forward. “Dalgleish?”
“Yes. My source confirms high-value attendees, including MacKenzie as well as known arms dealers.”
“What’s Obsidian’s assessment?” Typhon asked.
My stomach tightened. “He’s unaware of the intel.”
Viper’s brow shot up. “Explain.”
I chose my words carefully. “If Tag learns about this beforehand, he’ll stop me from going. He’ll either refuse to authorize it entirely or insist on going himself.”
“But he’d be recognized,” Typhon said under his breath.
“So would Con and Ash. Every sensitive conversation would shut down the moment they walked through the door.” I leaned forward.
“I’m lesser known, and with the right hair and makeup, I’m better suited.
I can infiltrate as a guest, get close to the targets, and gather as much intel as possible.
This is exactly what I was trained for.”
“Your tactical assessment about this opportunity is sound,” Typhon said. “And you’re right that MacTaggert would be compromised in that environment.”
Relief flooded through me.
“However…” Viper’s voice was sharp when she cut in. “We don’t authorize operations behind a handler’s back. That’s not how MI6 functions.”
My stomach dropped. “But—”
“Unit 23 will authorize the mission,” barked Typhon. “But MacTaggert will be informed. As soon as the op is secure.”
“But—” I repeated.
“You heard me.”
The words came out before I’d fully thought them through. “Then I quit. Effective immediately.”
Silence crashed across the connection, and Viper’s expression sharpened. “Leila—”
“I have to do this. With or without support from SIS.”
“This is enough to refuse you and inform MacTaggert,” she spat back at me.
My eyes met Typhon’s. “If I don’t do this, Idris’ death will be in vain.
And, Typhon, I will never forgive you.” I turned to Viper.
“Or you.” I took a deep breath. “You both know I have the means to ghost. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again.
I may lose this chance, but there will be another. I’ll make sure of it.”
Neither spoke for several seconds. Finally, Viper did. “Very well. I’ll serve as your handler again, but only for this mission. You’ll have full op authority, but you’ll report directly to me.”
“No. She’ll report to me, given my unit is authorizing as well as funding this,” Typhon clapped back. “But I have another caveat. Vanguard goes with you. If necessary, I can pull him from the Glenshadow assignment.”
“I accept those terms.”
“I’ll arrange your cover identities, wardrobe, and logistics.” Viper’s eyes were steady on mine as she spoke, as though she hadn’t heard a word Typhon said. “The fallout from this is yours to handle. When Tag finds out—and he will find out—you’ll deal with the consequences.”
“I understand, and I will. So, who do I report to?”
When they both answered, “Me,” Typhon smirked and shook his head. “Both of us. But never again. Got it?”
“Roger that.”
The feeds disconnected, leaving me staring at a blank screen in the growing dawn light.
My hands trembled as I closed the laptop. The weight of what I’d just done set in. Once again, I was ruining any chance I’d have to be with the man I loved. But hadn’t he already made that decision for me?
I stood and returned to my room to prepare for a day of careful omissions and half-truths with the one person I’d never wanted to deceive.
Tag found me in the library midmorning, looking every bit like a man who’d slept well and had no inkling of the subterfuge taking place at his estate.
“Making progress?” he asked, nodding toward the plethora of notes on the table.
“If Labyrinth has facilities at Glenshadow, they likely have them elsewhere too.”
He moved to stand beside me, close enough that my chest tightened with what I was about to do.
“We’ll need to check Blackmoor and Ashcroft systematically. Con and Ash should search their estates when they return,” he suggested.
“That makes sense.”
We worked in silence for the next hour, in what should have been an easy collaboration. Except it wasn’t. Every word I spoke was a careful navigation around the truth.
When my tablet buzzed with an encrypted message from Viper at eleven hundred thirty, I angled it away from Tag as I opened it.
Cover established. Helena Moore, art collector, recently divorced. Background verifiable through multiple sources. Wardrobe and documentation being delivered to hotel in Brodick. Vanguard briefed. Extraction protocols in place. Deploy 1645 hours.
I deleted it quickly, but not before Tag noticed.
“Everything all right?”
“Viper was confirming some logistics.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.
His brow furrowed. “For?”
This was it. The moment when I crossed the line from omission to active deception.
“Vanguard and I are heading out this afternoon to conduct additional reconnaissance on the estate connections and thermal signatures.”
The lie came out smoothly. I’d practiced it during the hours since my call with Typhon and Viper.
“This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
His mobile rang before I could respond, and when he glanced at the screen, his expression hardened. “What do you know? Viper’s calling now.”
“MacTaggert.” His eyes remained riveted to mine when he answered.
I couldn’t hear her side of the conversation, but I watched his jaw tighten as he listened to whatever she was saying.
“I wasn’t consulted about this reassignment.” His tone of voice was low, the way it got when he was fighting to maintain control. “She’s my operative.”
He paused while Viper responded to his challenge.
“Thermal signatures requiring the chief of MI6’s personal oversight?” Skepticism dripped from every word he spoke. “For routine reconnaissance?”
Another pause followed while his free hand clenched into a fist at his side.
“And this couldn’t wait for proper briefing because...?”
Whatever Viper said in response made his expression darken further.
“Understood.”
He ended the call with barely controlled anger, then stood perfectly still for several seconds while he visibly worked to regain his composure.
“Viper says the intelligence is time-sensitive and that source verification required her direct involvement.” His tone made it clear he didn’t believe a word of what he’d just been told. “She’s concerned about the London surveillance incident and wants extra security protocols in place.”
The lies I’d set in motion tasted bitter in my mouth. “Tag—”
“Why didn’t she brief me directly rather than wait until you’re about to walk out the door?”
“I can’t speak for her.”
“Right.” His gaze lingered like he was searching for answers. “Be careful,” he finally said.
“I will.”
The words sickened me, but what choice did I have? I had to do this. For Idris.