21. Hornet
21
HORNET
“ W hat’s on it?” I asked, watching Kima insert Jekyll’s flash drive into her laptop.
The small device contained Jekyll’s final legacy—intelligence gathered over eleven years that had cost him his life.
Kima’s hand hesitated for a moment before she clicked open the first folder. “Let’s find out.”
The screen filled with meticulously organized files—folders labeled by operation, date, and significance spread before us in a digital archive of his clandestine life.
“He documented everything,” Kima murmured, navigating through the hierarchy. “SMO Romanov’s structure, key operatives, transportation protocols…”
I leaned closer, my shoulder brushing hers as I studied the screen. “The Minerva Protocol too,” I noted, pointing to a secured folder that required additional credentials to access.
Kima entered the letters and numbers from the bottom of Jekyll’s letter, and the Minerva files unlocked, revealing a wealth of information that made my breath catch. “The Council of Twelve,” she read, opening a document with an organizational chart.
“Hydra,” she said softly, finding Jekyll’s designation among the members. “That was his code name.”
I reviewed the document over her shoulder, absorbing the scope of what we were seeing. “Founded by Dr. Eleanor Aldrich, former CIA Deputy Director of Operations. Code name Prism. And look at this,” I said, pointing to the organizational structure. “The Protocol’s primary headquarters is in Lausanne, Switzerland. They call it ‘The Haven.’ It operates under the cover of a company called Aegis Global Analytics.”
The sheer scale of the organization was staggering—nearly a thousand people divided into a sophisticated cellular structure designed for maximum security and compartmentalization. Regional command centers covered every major continent. Legitimate businesses provided cover and funding. The entire operation existed outside the traditional intelligence structures while maintaining deep penetration within them.
“Five core principles,” Kima read, finding a document titled “The Aldrich Principles.” She paused. “This is incredibly detailed. The Mirror Doctrine, the Echo Protocol, the Hydra Structure…” She stopped on the third principle. “That’s what Jekyll was responsible for. Ensuring the organization had redundancy at every level.”
I squeezed her shoulder gently. “It says he designated you as his successor.”
“Yes,” she said as she continued to explore the files. After several minutes of silent reading, she opened a folder marked “Active Operations” containing detailed maps of trafficking routes across Europe used by Romanov operatives.
“Look at this!” She gasped, highlighting a compound near the Montenegrin-Albanian border. “This is the same intel Greenwich found. Active FSB transfer point, scheduled transport in forty-eight hours.”
I studied the intelligence notations. “Five diplomats being moved from Montenegro to a Russian black site.” The operational details were precise—convoy composition, security protocols, timing.
“Nothing specific about Amaryllis or Dr. Carrington,” Kima said, searching the related files. “But if they’re moving high-value assets through this route…”
“One or both could be there,” I finished.
“We need to move on this.”
We returned to the safe house’s main room, and Kima briefed everyone on the confirmation of the intel Greenwich had relayed, along with the additional details Jekyll had included.
“The compound is located here,” she indicated on the map. “Remote location, minimal civilian presence.”
“According to Jekyll’s files, they’re moving five diplomats,” I added. “Standard convoy—two escort vehicles, one transport.”
Reaper studied the terrain. “They’ll have to use this route.” His finger traced a narrow pass between two ridges. “Perfect location for an intercept.”
“Agreed,” said Typhon, looking over at Kima before continuing. “Delfino? If I may?”
“Go ahead.”
“We’ll need three teams. Reaper and Atticus, you’ll take overwatch from this position.” He indicated a ridge with excellent sight lines. “Delfino, Hornet, and Blackjack, primary intercept here where the road narrows. Greenwich, Regent, and I will establish the roadblock here.”
“What about extraction?” I asked, noticing Reaper’s scowl at not being part of the intercept.
“Two vehicles staged here,” Typhon replied, marking a position three kilometers from the ambush site. “Greenwich will coordinate with additional Unit 23 and MI6 assets.”
Twenty-four hours later, the op was fully planned, contingencies mapped out, and roles assigned. As the others prepared, Kima and I continued reviewing Jekyll’s files, searching for any additional intelligence on Dr. Carrington.
“Nothing specific about their current locations,” she said, frustration evident in her voice. “Just that Dr. Carrington leads something called ‘The Mirror Doctrine’ within Minerva.”
“What about Amaryllis?” I asked.
Kima shook her head. “Nothing whatsoever.”
I squeezed her shoulder gently. “We should rest. Early start tomorrow.”
She reluctantly set the laptop aside. The weight of Jekyll’s legacy—both the mission and the personal responsibility he’d left her—was evident in the tension across her shoulders.
“One step at a time,” I reminded her softly. “Tomorrow, we focus on the diplomats.”
Hours before the scheduled transport, the op was staged in a location not far from the compound. The narrow pass provided natural coverage—steep rock faces on either side, creating a bottleneck that would force the convoy to slow.
“All teams are ready to move into position,” Reaper confirmed through our comms from his overwatch perch. “No movement from the compound yet.”
“Copy that,” I responded, checking our lines of sight once more. Beside me, Kima knelt in the cover of the dense underbrush, her focus absolute as she scanned the approach road.
“How long?” she asked, voice low.
I checked my watch. “If they maintain schedule, approximately two hours.”
The wait stretched on, tension building with each passing minute. Then, finally, word came over the comms from Reaper.
“Movement at the compound gates. Three vehicles exiting. Two SUVs, one transport van in the middle. Standard diplomatic escort formation.”
“Confirmed,” Kima replied. “ETA to intercept point?”
“Eleven minutes at current speed.”
I signaled to Typhon’s team, who had established the roadblock at the far end of the pass. They responded with a brief acknowledgment light—all ready.
The convoy appeared on the winding mountain road below us. The lead vehicle—a black SUV with diplomatic plates—was followed by a windowless transport van and a second SUV bringing up the rear.
“Two minutes,” I updated as they approached our position.
Kima shifted, weapon ready. “Remember, we need them intact.”
“Copy that,” came Typhon’s response. “Roadblock is set.”
The convoy rounded the final bend and immediately slowed as the drivers spotted the fallen tree Typhon’s team had positioned across the road. The lead SUV came to a complete stop, its driver clearly assessing the situation.
“Now,” I said quietly.
The operation unfolded precisely as planned. Kima and I targeted the rear vehicle first, disabling its tires with multiple shots while Typhon’s team emerged from concealed positions near the roadblock. The FSB teams exited their vehicles and took the same defensive positions we’d anticipated.
“Eight hostiles,” Reaper reported from his vantage point. “Standard tactical gear, automatic weapons.”
The firefight was brief but intense. The FSB put up significant resistance, but our superior position gave us the advantage. Within minutes, we had neutralized their defense.
“Clear to approach transport,” Typhon confirmed as the last of the FSB operatives surrendered.
Kima moved forward, covering me as I approached the center vehicle. The van’s rear doors were secured with both electronic and mechanical locks—serious security for a diplomatic transport.
I attached a specialized breaching device to the locking mechanism, stepping back as the small charge did its work. The doors swung open to reveal five figures inside—three men and two women, bound but otherwise appearing unharmed.
“You’re safe,” Kima announced in Russian, then repeated it in English. “We’re with the UN coalition.”
Relief washed over their faces as I moved to cut their restraints. One of the women, whose professional attire showed signs that she’d been wearing it for days, spoke first.
“Thank you,” she said in Baltic-accented English. “We thought we were being taken to Moscow for interrogation.”
“Is anyone injured?” I asked, helping them from the vehicle.
They shook their heads, though exhaustion was evident in their movements. As they emerged into the daylight, one of the men, tall and silver-haired, addressed Kima directly.
“There was another woman,” he said urgently. “She was taken separately.”
My gaze met Kima’s, both of us thinking the same thing. “When?” she asked.
“Yesterday,” he replied. “Before dawn.”
My heart sank. Had either Amaryllis or Dr. Carrington been here?
“Did you hear where she was being taken?” I pressed.
The diplomats exchanged glances. “Something about a secure facility,” the woman offered. “But no specific location.”
As we prepared the diplomats and the FSB personnel for separate transport, I couldn’t shake my anger over the near miss.
“We’ll find them,” Kima said quietly, reading my expression as we loaded the rescued diplomats into our vehicles. “This isn’t over.”
“I know,” I replied, scanning the mountain passes one final time.
“One step at a time,” she reminded me, her hand finding mine briefly. “Right now, let’s get these people to safety.”
The drive back to our secure location was tense but uneventful. Those we’d rescued stayed mostly silent, while Typhon coordinated with coalition resources to arrange their safe extraction from Montenegro.
Later, as the victims rested under Greenwich’s and Regent’s watchful eyes, Kima and I returned to Jekyll’s files, searching for more clues.
“There has to be something here,” she murmured, scrolling through communications logs. “I doubt there’d be anything about Amaryllis, but there certainly should be something about Dr. Carrington.”
“If she’s as important to Minerva as these files suggest, she’s a high-value asset for Romanov.”
“So where the fuck is she?” Kima’s fatigue was evident despite her determination.
From the corner of my eye, I spotted Reaper outside the door of our room. “Be right back,” I said, motioning in that direction. He was outside before I caught up with him.
“Go away, Hornet,” he said as he trekked deeper into the forest.
“Whatever you’re not sharing might help us find Amaryllis.”
He turned to face me, then shook his head.
“Tell me this. Do you believe she set us up?”
“I do not.”