CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Six guests. Twenty-seven of Lachlan’s people. Forty intruders.
The incinerator in the basement has a lot to get through.
Although the guests won’t end up there, everyone else will.
Lachlan wakes in a medical suite.
Carrigan brings him the reports personally, walks him through the details of the attack even though much of it confirms what he already knew. The operation was coordinated from inside the Estate by one of the guests. Lachlan knew that the moment the East Wing was surrounded.
Once she confirmed Mimi, Blaire, Jules and the other children were alive and safe, Lachlan asks if the traitor is still alive. Carrigan informs him that the woman was killed by a stray bullet during the chaos.
None of the six guests killed were Alistair’s inner circle.
Jules’ statement of events is brief, but it makes Lachlan sound like a hero. His gaze catches on the word Jules used to describe how he shot and killed the intruders in that small room.
I fired a cascade of bullets.
If there was ever a sentence that so well captures Jules’ essence, it’s this. Fire and water, that’s him. Lachlan smiles faintly at the word choice, a brief moment of happiness before reality settles back in.
‘Where are the kids?’
‘Confined to the Cove for now.’
‘Smart.’
‘You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? You almost died.’
‘It was definitely the Front?’
‘Confirmed. They wanted the kids.’
He frowns. ‘Kids? As in not just Jules?’
‘As in all of them. Mimi, Jules, Savannah, Sorrenko’s two.’
Lachlan sits up a little, wincing. ‘How do you know?’
‘We kept three alive.’
‘Any of ‘em still breathing?’
‘One.’
‘Take me there.’
?
Carrigan helps him down to the holding room in the sub-levels.
A bare bulb, concrete walls, nothing more. It’s far from ideal for their purposes. Lachlan would upgrade it if he could, knows all the tricks to get the maximum from a “holding room”, but Penhalyx consistently blocks even the mildest requests for upgrades for this level.
Inside the empty room, the man Carrigan has kept alive is worn to the bone, doesn’t have long left, but Lachlan doesn’t need long.
In English, he asks, ‘What’s your name?’
‘Gregory,’ the man answers, voice thin and reedy.
‘Tell me your objective, Gregory.’
To her credit, Carrigan has already broken him down. The man doesn’t even hesitate. There isn’t much point when you don’t have hands anymore.
‘Extract the children.’
‘Why?’
‘Not my place to ask.’
‘What was the margin of error?’
‘None. The children could not be harmed.’
‘So it was a kidnap?’
‘Extraction.’
‘What’s the difference?’
Gregory holds his gaze. ‘Is your place to question orders?’
‘No.’
‘We were told to extract all children. The boy was high priority.’
‘Lazorevy.’
‘Yes.’
‘So, kidnap and ransom? That’s what this was?’
‘I do not answer to the protectors of the Upyri. I told you all I know. You will give me quick death now.’
Lachlan nods briskly. Carrigan’s gun has a fitted suppressor.
Between the eyes, one and done.
She looks at him. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think…’ he says slowly, staring at nothing, can’t say what he really thinks, ‘I need to see the kids.’
?
Carrigan escorts him to the Cove.
Along the way, she fully recounts all those who died by name. Lachlan walks past several places he saw it happen. The bloodstains are already gone.
He’s dressed, walking, albeit slowly, and breathing fine despite the bullet that came too close to his lung. A through-and-through isn’t so bad. His right arm, however, is worryingly weak.
He’ll have to learn to shoot with his left, just in case.
As soon as he’s in the same room with them, he smiles, kneels down (ouch) and opens his arms (big ouch) to catch his little princess who jumps where she knows she’ll be caught. It surprises him when Vasily and Savannah quickly follow, both hugging him too. Lachlan chuckles, piled on by kids.
Only Jules and Roman hang back.
Lachlan kisses Mimi’s cheek eight times, their secret language for, everything is fine, don’t you worry.
She then sternly tells him off for getting hurt.
He ruffles Vasily’s hair and pats Savannah’s shoulder, groaning slightly as he stands.
They’re in Jules’ former room, currently empty but for quilts, pillows, books and snacks on the floor. Lachlan studies the other two.
‘You’re all right?’ he asks them, scanning. He already knows Jules isn’t hurt, but Roman was out there in the hallway, he could have been shot. ‘Ro, you good?’ he prompts gently and the older boy nods while Jules looks between the two with a small frown that doesn’t bode well. ‘I’m glad.’
‘I told you he would not die,’ Vasily whispers to Mimi who huffs, says she already knew that.
‘No one can kill my Daddy,’ she informs him, settling into the space where she fits best, face buried in Lachlan’s neck.
‘Have you seen your parents?’ Lachlan asks the kids, gets confirmation that they all have, including the little nod from Jules who still seems less than thrilled about the nickname he gave Roman.
‘My mother was so upset about Alberto,’ Savannah tells him. They’re all in different clothes, fresh and clean. As far as he can see, no one is injured. ‘She said I’m not setting foot outside again until I’m twenty-one.’
Lachlan looks around. ‘Where’s Blaire?’
Carrigan says, ‘With Mr Penhalyx.’
‘I need to go see him.’
‘No, Daddy, stay, you stay!’ Mimi demands, gripping tight.
‘I’ll come see him and then I’ll come back.’
‘No! It’s dangerous out there and they said I can’t have a gun!’
‘You can’t have a gun, babygirl, but maybe for your birthday tomorrow you can have a knife, hmm?’ he adds in a whisper, kissing her cheek.
Mimi makes a face.
‘Daddy,’ she complains, only needs one word to do it.
‘I’ll be back soon,’ he promises, setting her down. Savannah sits with Mimi, offers to play a game until he gets back, but his little girl is mad. Her dark blue eyes are full of unshed tears and Lachlan hates that this has to be so hard on her. ‘Carrigan, stay with them.’
‘Heard.’
?
Lachlan goes to the West Wing alone.
Along the way, he takes stock of the attack. The areas that were directly exposed because of Alistair’s interference and what needed improving from the start. This was a tactical invasion, and they should have been better prepared. When he gets to the old man’s office, he knocks and waits.
‘Come in,’ Penhalyx bids.
Lachlan enters, reading the room quickly.
Blaire is inside, holding her tablet.
Alistair is sat at his desk.
Sorrenko and Alderwyck are sitting close by with someone new.
They all stare at him when he comes inside.
Lachlan gives Blaire a small nod, nothing more. ‘Sir,’ he greets Penhalyx.
‘They told me you wouldn’t be awake until tomorrow.’
‘I’ve slept long enough.’
‘Close the door behind you.’ Given permission to stay, Lachlan settles in to endure the pain of standing as no chair is available, nor was he told to sit. ‘Lachlan,’ Penhalyx says, gesturing towards the new man, ‘this is Troy Harker.’
Troy Harker is maybe twenty years younger than Penhalyx. He has a rough look about him, wearing a distressed leather jacket, navy shirt and good boots. The name instantly registers with Lachlan. He’s head of Iron Star.
Muscle for hire in the gutters of Varrow City, they are generally not to be fucked with. Lachlan gives a polite nod.
‘Good to meet you.’
‘This is the bodyguard?’ Troy asks, sizing Lachlan up.
‘For now.’
Troy cocks his head, openly studying Lachlan. ‘You black ops?’
‘No,’ Lachlan simply says, offers nothing more.
‘Ah.’ Troy cracks a mean grin. ‘Black sites, then? Yeah, I thought as much.’ He looks at Penhalyx expectantly. ‘Am I running cleanup through him?’
‘That remains to be seen,’ Penhalyx says, voice soft, eyes sharp.
Mikhail Sorrenko approaches Lachlan, unreadable at first. Then he blinks, seeming human for the first time. ‘Thank you for keeping my boys safe.’
‘Of course.’
‘Savannah too,’ Ariadne chimes in, her typically songful voice low and hollow.
‘If I lost her…’ The older woman shudders.
‘You had no obligation to keep her safe, but you did it anyway. I had no idea her bodyguard was in league with the Moroz Front.’ She heads for the door. ‘You did a very good thing.’
Sorrenko moves to follow suit, shakes Lachlan’s hand first and quietly says, ‘I would speak with you later if you are available.’ Then he calls over his shoulder, ‘Let me know the answer, Alistair. I am leaving tonight.’
‘I shall. Would you close the door for us, Miss Montbelliard?’
Blaire is all shades of neutral, clever girl, but Lachlan doesn’t like her being in here. It unnerves him. She closes the door and takes her seat, tablet open.
‘Troy has a great deal of experience keeping unpleasant situations from acquiring unnecessary momentum. In the aftermath of an event like this, there are sometimes secondary effects. Ripples. Overflow. Families might misinterpret sympathy as weakness and loss as entitlement. Lawyers smell blood. People may even be tempted to go to the press. Iron Star nips all this efficiently in the bud,’ Penhalyx explains casually.
‘Yes, sir.’ Lachlan understands.
Family of his fallen team members might go to the cops, reporters even. Iron Star is well known for buying out law enforcement, ensuring troublesome reports sit at the bottom of a forgotten pile.
‘Walk me through your failure.’
Lachlan tries to rally. He knows he’s going to be punished for this. In all honesty, it’s surprising it hasn’t happened until now, but Blaire’s presence is making him nervous.
‘I haven’t had a chance to write my incident report yet.’
‘I don’t want an incident report. I want you to explain to me how you let this happen. You, with your limitless budget, endless support and freedom to govern, allowed my Estate to be invaded, my guests to be threatened and my children put in danger. Walk me through it, Lachlan.’
Lachlan opens his mouth, poised to speak when Troy stands, claps his knees and says, ‘You need me here for this or can I go? My boy’s a fuckin’ nightmare. God only knows who he’s killed while I’m away.’