Cliff Ryder - The Finish Line

Kate looked at one glowering face, for even though the program presented its subjects in a neutral expression, the heavy eyebrows and hooded eyes, combined with the strong nose and jaw, gave the man a decidedly unpleasant aspect. She hoped the computer would come up with something soon. God, I hate waiting.

Even as she did that, a part of her already had a pretty good idea of what they were going to find. With that in mind, she dialed a number.

"This is Samantha."

"Samantha, this is Kate. How goes it?"

"As well as can be expected. I understand there was a bit of commotion at St. Pancras Station this morning."

"Mmm, I'd heard that, as well." Kate didn't squirm in her chair often, but Samantha's matter-of-fact tone told her that the other woman had a pretty good idea of who had caused the disturbance. However, if she's not going to come out and say it, there's no need to elaborate. "I'd also heard that the suspect got away, unfortunately."

"Yes, it seems she's due more credit than we've been giving her."

"Funny, I was just thinking that. But the real reason I've called is that I have a line on the people who may be behind this — or at least one of the parties that's after her — probably to get back what they hired her to steal."

"She's a contract employee?"

"Surely MI-6 has had the same thought. No hackers go to this much trouble — take this much risk to go on-site and get access the only way they could — unless they're being paid incredibly well by somebody."

"You may have something there. So, who do you think it is?"

"Mercury Security," Kate said.

There was a pause. "Terrence's organization?"

"The same."

"I thought their cash flow showed they were nearly broke."

"Perhaps broke enough to go all-or-nothing on a data strike they could auction off bit by bit to the highest bidder, or get a blanket bid for the whole enchilada. It's not like we don't know people, or governments willing to spend that kind of cash to get what they want."

"True, too true. What do you intend to do about it?"

"Well, I was hoping that you'd be interested in serving both of your loyalties at the same time by agreeing to do a bit of fieldwork."

"Oh, God, you can't mean you want me to be a swallow."

Kate smiled wryly at the term. In tradecraft parlance, a swallow was an agent with the sole purpose of subverting a target using whatever means necessary, including sex. "Hopefully it wouldn't come to that."

"You're damn right it wouldn't — I can barely stand the man as it is, but to think of doing that…I'd better have the fastest acting sedative you've got available with me."

"And you will, along with plenty of backup. In fact, I'll assign Jake to the case — it would be good for him to get out in the field, keep his reflexes sharp. So what do you say — shall we set it up?"

There was silence on the other end as Samantha thought it over. "I'd do just about anything for my country, but I didn't know I'd have to endure a sacrifice like this."

"What, dining in a five-star restaurant with a handsome man who's at least charming on the surface? Every woman should have your problems," Kate said.

"No, they shouldn't — you've only had a small dose of him. Let me run this past my superiors here — they may insist on a joint op."

"That's fine. I like to think we play well in other people's sandboxes when we have to. Call me with particulars once you have the op in play. And Samantha — thank you. You're doing the right thing."

"I know, I know. It's just — I'm going to feel so unclean afterward. Ah well, for queen and country, as we say."

"That's the spirit. And if you need anything that MI-6 can't provide — although I can't imagine what that might be — let me know."

"I will, Kate. Thanks for passing this along. I'll be in touch."

Kate disconnected and leaned back in her chair, massaging her temples. She had been up for the past twenty hours without a break, and it was starting to catch up with her. Just enough time to catch a nap before the team touches down in Paris. No, I'd better update Louis of what's coming his way — I'm sure he's not going to be happy. With a sigh, she dialed again, with only a brief, longing look at the bed a few feet away.

Maggie Britaine had seen plenty of movies where the heroine or hero, when faced with an enemy who had incontrovertible proof of his or her real identity, just shrugged it off with a smile and a careless remark that deflected the intended verbal thrust while preserving the air of mystery.

Real life, however, was much different, and her hand flew to her mouth as her eyes widened when she heard the man's astonishing revelation. She knew there was no point trying to pretend her name was Marlene anymore.

He sat back, smug and comfortable. "Yes, I'm afraid that while you evaded my partner quite effectively, I won the coin toss to pursue you onto the train if necessary. He was so sure that he'd be able to handle you himself…a mistake he won't make next time, I'm sure. Unfortunately, our employer will not be happy that he landed himself in jail, either."

Maggie only half listened to her new captor as he prattled on. The rest of her mind was already preoccupied with trying to figure out some way to escape. No weapons — not that I could shoot or stab him — and I'm sure he could overpower me without thinking twice. No, I'll have to come up with something else. She had never really been comfortable with violence — hence her career in computer crime, white-collar and oh-so-bloodless. But now she might have to get up close and personal with this guy to get away.

She tuned back in to his conversation, hoping to find something she could use against him. "…since there is literally no place to go for the next two hours, you might as well relax and enjoy the ride."

Maggie's eyes flicked to her laptop case on the seat next to her. "What if I was able to give you what your employer wanted right now? Would you let me go?"

The mercenary smiled. "I'm afraid it is too late for that now, my dear. My employers would be very disappointed if I didn't bring you back with me. Although perhaps I should hold on to your computer case for the time being."

"Why? As you rightly pointed out, I'm not going anywhere, and carrying this case would ruin the lines of that excellent suit."

The man appraised her, his eyes sliding up and down her lithe body. "At least you appreciate good fashion, even if you, ah, do not seem inclined to wear it."

"Oh, this?" Maggie let her fingers trail up the side of her leg, noticing his eyes dip down, drawn by the movement as she readjusted her skirt. "Well, I was trying to disguise myself after your goon squad came after me. Trust me, this isn't my usual attire." Crossing her legs, she let her hand float to his wool-clad knee, caressing it ever so gently. "Isn't there any other way I might persuade you to overlook this chance meeting?" While she spoke, she also slipped the small flash drive out of her pocket and wedged it into the crack between the two seats, pushing it down until it was completely hidden.

He laughed at the suggestion, right to her face. "Oh, you are delightful. However, I would save that gambit for any other men who might be interested later on. As for me, my tastes run in other directions. Your charms don't interest me."

"That certainly explains your excellent wardrobe taste." Unbelievable — just my luck to get caught by a gay mercenary, Maggie thought as she slumped back in her chair. "I could scream, you know. Get a conductor over here to investigate why a young, attractive woman is making such a racket."

The man removed a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. "Then I'd have to show him this, which says that you are my cousin, and that you suffer from paranoid schizophrenia, you have escaped a mental health facility in England and you're in my care while we seek treatment in Paris. And, if it comes to that, I would have no choice but to sedate you." He rattled a small bottle of pills at her. "But I'd much rather enjoy your company until we arrive. The choice, of course, is yours."