Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
nyx
The next week goes by in a blur, I’ve hardly spoken a word to anyone.
My mind is battling a twister trying to grasp all the facts that lead to Noc being a traitor, and responsible for Ashley’s death.
I replay it all in my mind. How she’d gone quiet when I said his name on the phone, the unease in her eyes when she stared straight through me, telling me the story.
I’ve fully convinced myself he’s responsible for it now.
That he’s somehow tethered to Volokov. Otherwise, why was he at his warehouse?
I’ve lost count of the number of times the bile has shot up my throat at the thought.
I loved a man who was playing the whole army like a damn fiddle.
There's only two things I can’t get my head around: One, if people knew - why wasn’t the Seattle base notified?
Was his faked death enough for them to close the case?
Two, where did I fit into it all? Was I just something to pass the time?
I only started getting close with him after my mother died.
Did he see me as emotionally vulnerable, and thought to take advantage?
My eyes shut and I shake my head before entering the command room, clearing the thoughts before we get a mission update.
Adam catches me and gives me a nod, I take a seat next to him and stare straight at the operation map.
Right now? I feel like telling Hawk exactly who the shadow figure is.
I could show him the image I have and tell him exactly what he’s done - yet something stirs inside me urging me not to.
At this stage, I don't care if I get reprimanded, but I can’t let Adam get tangled with me.
They'd know I wasn’t capable of clearing that image.
It’s not in my area of skill. Then, there’s the whole Ashley scenario for my source of intel.
I could easily take the blame and say I met her alone, but everything before would give up Adam.
I let out a broken chuckle at how easy loyalties are for me.
Noc on the other hand, clearly doesn’t know the meaning of it.
Adam leans forward, pretending to fix his laces when he gives me a concerned look. “I’m fine,” I mouth at him.
Blitz and Phantom head in with Hawk on their heels and take the seats next to us.
“Morning devils.” While his playful nickname for us is there, he looks stressed.
There's none of his usual banter present, and he looks tired.
His stubble is more visible than normal and there's dark shadows forming under his eyes.
“We're going to go ahead and intercept the club tonight. We’ll be settling into a hotel within a thirty minute radius.
You'll have time to head into the center and get supplies to go undercover.
There's enough outlets for you to purchase necessities to be completely unrecognizable. You need to blend in with the crowd.” He shows us some photos 656 have taken of clubgoers standing outside waiting to get in.
“Why aren’t 656 going in?” Phantom asks, Hawks eyes shift to the map as he speaks.
“I need them back here for Graves’s return and to settle into the base for strategic rest. They’ll also need the debrief of everything so far.
” He eyes each of us before landing “Blitz? Please take note of this. No yellow.” She rolls her eyes and huffs, “No fun Hawk,” and he gives her a tight smile.
The more I stare at him, the more I see just how utterly spent he looks.
He must be rushed off his feet with Graves being out.
“We leave within the hour. No weapons upon entry. We can’t raise suspicions.
I’ll have you all linked in to communicate with each other.
If shit hits the fan, you get the hell out of there.
If you feel like someone's watching you. You abort the mission.”
He looks each of us in the eye. “This is not an engagement task, people.
We're going straight into the viper’s nest. I want you to survey only.
If you spot Volokov, keep an eye on how many people are around him.
You'll head in together as two teams. Shadow one - Phantom and Nyx. Shadow two - Adam and Blitz. Play the part guys.” Blitz turns to Adam and beams him a smile.
“Oh Adam! I know you've been waiting for this day your whole life little guy, how'd you feel?” For the first time in what feels like forever, I laugh.
Phantom rolls his eyes, fighting to hide his amusement.
I pat Adam on the back, “Good luck buddy,” my voice breaking through a smile.
He's going to have his work cut out for him, Blitz thrives in role play.
We arrive at the hotel, check-in and load our belongings into the rooms. Hawk’s due to arrive in two hours, which gives us enough time to head out for some civilian attire.
We all split up and head in our own directions.
I've seen undercover missions go very wrong, very quickly, very early on.
I head into the hair salon first, racks and racks of all varieties of hair hanging on their walls.
From hair extensions to bright colored wigs to expensive looking realistic hair - exactly what I want.
Whilst I don't want to draw attention to myself, the only different color I can get that'll make a difference is red or blonde.
I would be a beacon with blonde - so that's a no.
I head over to the section that looks like the red-colored section, from deep cherry all the way through to luminous.
My eyes catch on a realistic wig with long, loose curls - this should do.
It's a nice light shade, and with my green eyes?
Perfect. I look at the price tag and my eyes bulge.
Jesus Christ, what's this in dollars, 600? Glad it’s not my budget being used.
The rest of my trip is rushed. I’m not much of a shopper - you kind of lose the want for those luxuries after a while.
I’m happier walking through an ammunition store.
I take advantage of my new focus to steer myself away from the lurking thoughts that keep penetrating my distraction every so often.
Will Noc be there? Nope, bat it away. I manage to find a black, coated bandeau dress.
It’s tight, and I feel like I should have melted myself down to pour into it.
But from the photos Hawk showed us - this seems to be the vibe civilians wear to this club.
I snatch a pair of platform heels from the shelf on my way to the cashier, not even bothering to check if they go; black on black works for me.
I push through the exit and onto the street, and something catches my eye up ahead.
Blitz. She’s skipping down the street, drawing the attention of a guy who runs behind her.
He looks older, by at least twenty years.
I can’t make out what he says, but it's in Russian. She stops her merry jolly, catching my eye and winks. Oh no, I hope she’s not about to cause a scene, and by scene I mean punch his throat – she’s got a wicked gleam in her eye.
But instead, she whips around and walks up to him.
I can feel her sultry vibes from here as I lean against the wall of the store.
I stare down at my phone - at nothing. I don’t have social media on my mobile, for security reasons.
But I feel like I need to monitor this as Blitz, who is speaking fluent Russian back, seems to have found a new plaything in the middle of a high street, in enemy territory.
Our girl is a total wildcard. She is incredible at what she does, to an insane level.
She’s five-foot-eight, with porcelain skin and a slender build.
She moves like lightning on the field; whoever gets in her path usually has their limbs dissected shortly after.
Likely blown up by a minefield she’s lured them through.
She also doesn't give off special ops vibes - she's more Harley Quinn to the core. She has the hair to match it as well. Most people get distracted during an altercation because, one, her wild blonde hair with the faint yellow dip dye is unusual for our line of work. Two, if you’re in her path, she’s usually laughing like a maniac before she rips out your jugular with one swipe. She's the ultimate secret weapon.
Fifteen minutes later she waves the guy off and strolls lazily over to me, linking our arms as we head back to the hotel. “I’m thinking of getting a leash for you, Blitz,” I mumble as I lean into her.
“Hey, don't threaten me with a good time,” she deadpans and I bark out a laugh.
She's so mercurial and sometimes I wish I was on the same planet as her.
“And before you give me a lecture, I asked that guy about where the hottest spot to go this weekend was, for someone looking to get into trouble of course.” She wiggles her eyebrows
“Go on.” I urge her, wondering where this is going.
“Exactly where we're going: Peklo, which means ‘Hell’ in Russian by the way. Says it's packed Thursday to Sunday, that the owners are the Volokov’s, whom he works for. He usually joins them in the VIP area on the second floor. Gave me four free passes.” I whip my head round to look at her, and she’s smiling like a dog with two dicks.
“I led him astray, told him we'd turn up tomorrow and I'd meet him there.” She shrugs. “But at least we’ll get a better scope around now.”
“You always seem to amaze me, Blitz,” I laugh as I stare up at the sky.
“There's method in my madness.” She tugs me closer and we laugh our way down the street, looking like a couple of girls ready to hit the town, and not two highly trained killers ready to go on a mission that could quite possibly be the end of us.