Cliff Ryder - The Finish Line

"Glad to hear the mission was a success," he said.

"I know about the losses your team took. It was a terrible thing."

"I let my team down. I couldn't save them. I don't know why I lived and they didn't," he said.

She frowned. "I think you do know the reason why, even if you don't want to admit it. If you had been killed, Mr. Southerland, then the enemy would have that information, and from there who knows where it would have gone and how many more lives would have been lost. You did the right thing. You kept going, even though it must have been very hard to do."

A pleasant heaviness was spreading over David's limbs, and his eyes drooped to half-mast. "Not that difficult. Had to continue the mission…"

"Yes, the director mentioned something about your stubbornness. Apparently you don't like to lose."

"Not if I can help it. What about the…rest of the team. Were they brought back?"

An odd look crossed her face, but Donna recovered quickly. "Their bodies are being flown back from France as we speak." She smoothed the blanket at the edge of the bed, a gesture David found oddly maternal. "You just get some rest now, and we'll begin your debriefing in a few days, when you're feeling better. After that will be several weeks of intense physical therapy, since we'll want you back in tip-top shape. Sleep well, Mr. Southerland."

David barely heard Donna Massen's goodbye or her quiet exit from the room, as he was already drifting off into sleep…

Outside David's room, Kate resisted the urge to tear the brown wig off her head, striding instead through the quiet halls until she had left the hospital part behind as she headed back to the small manor house on the grounds, now divided into several apartments for visiting personnel and recovering operatives.

As she walked, she punched an autodial number on her cell, then slipped her earpiece on.

"Kate, you're right on time."

"Have I missed anything?"

"No, just inconsequential small talk." She heard the quiet sounds of chewing. "Jake, are you eating while talking to me?"

"My roasted Cornish scallops with white truffle and white chocolate risotto is best eaten while hot." Although Jake was usually under strict orders to never leave Kate's side, the hospital, between the Snowdon Forest and Lake Te Anau in Wales, was guarded by a rotating schedule of Midnight Team members. Kate felt quite secure there, even with Jake a few hundred miles away.

She trotted up the refurbished nineteenth-century home's front steps and through the doors into the main suite. It was as well appointed as her hotel room back in London. Making for her laptop, Kate brought up the screen. "And here I thought you'd be an Angus-beef-and-Yorkshire-pudding sort," she said laughing.

"Not while on duty. All that heavy meat can make a man slow to react," Jake said.

Kate sat at the desk and brought up what Jake was looking at through his spyglasses at the moment — a stunning redhead in an off-the-shoulder black velvet dress. "And I'm sure you have no designs on impressing the young lady across from you," she said.

"That young lady, as you so casually describe her, is Darlene Thomason, who, I think, has done as many missions for MI-5 as I did for the army, perhaps more. But enough shop talk for now, darling," he said, raising his voice and taking his dinner companion's hand. In a lower tone, he spoke to Kate. "The show's about to start. You sure you don't want to get some rest and read Samantha's report in the morning?"

Even though Kate's eyes felt as if bits of ground glass had been sprinkled in them, she said no. "This guy works for the bastards who casually murdered four of our operatives, and nearly brought MI-6 to its knees. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Then switch over, because Samantha's claws are about to come out."

"Switching over to Samantha now. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Jake."

"I will. Oh, and Kate — I wouldn't wait up."

"I have absolutely no intention of doing so. Kate out." She switched over to Samantha's spyglasses in time to see her glance about the room, taking in Jake's chatting up of his companion. He was alert enough to catch her gaze out of the corner of his eye and nod subtly at her.

I have to admit, the room is something else, Kate thought. The Grill Room at the Dorchester was decorated in an unusual blend of baroque and modern elegance. Gilded gold chandeliers dangled from the recessed ceiling, casting their intimate light around the room and onto the classical figures painted right onto the walls. Dark-green-and-bright-red-plaid patterns on the casually mismatched chairs accented the red tartan pattern on the carpeted floor. Tall wine cabinets dotted the walls, and the whole place looked as if serious money flowed into and out of it. Kate would have bet a year's salary that the food no doubt tasted like it, as well.

She tuned in to the conversation. "More wine, Terrence?" Samantha asked.

"Thank you, but please — allow me." He poured what looked like a chardonnay into her glass, then refilled his own. Terrence Weatherby looked like a man who was slowly coming apart, but doing his best to hold himself together. Although he was impeccably dressed in a dark, worsted-wool suit that draped his tall frame well, Kate saw small beads of perspiration dotting his hairline, and noted the small tremble in his hand as he replaced the wine bottle in its ice bucket. He's nervous about something, she thought, watching him polish off half his wine in one large swallow. It might be just that he's sitting across from Samantha, or it might be something else entirely.

Regardless of how he looked, Terrence was still trying to project a nonchalant air. "It is so refreshing to relax in a fine restaurant, with such attractive company, for a change."

"Terrence, you're too kind. I suppose your work keeps you busy, especially nowadays," Samantha said.

"Well, you know how it is in the global security market — good business is where you find it."

Oh, Terrence, you really shouldn't set yourself up like that, Kate mused.

Apparently Samantha had the same thought, for she leaned forward a bit, making Terrence grow larger in her view. "And how is business in Europe for Mercury — say, in France, particularly?"

Terrence had been about to take a forkful of what looked like some sort of fish in a cream sauce, and he barely paused as he ate it, chewed and swallowed. Not bad, taking a moment while he tries to figure out exactly what she means, Kate thought.

"France? I'm not sure I follow. There isn't any reason for us to be in France at this time."

"Oh, excuse me, I must have been too vague. How about your business in Paris, in particular, at the Gare du Nord train station earlier today?"

Terrence tried to chuckle, but the sound died in his throat. "I heard something about a shootout there on the news. Are you insinuating that my company had something to do with that?"

Samantha dabbed at her lips with her napkin, then laid it across her plate. "Terrence, you should know me better than that by now. I don't have to insinuate anything. We have the bodies of two of your mercenaries. And we also have one of your pilots, taken alive from Belgium, where he was sent to pick up a certain young woman who had carried out a very nasty mission on your company's behalf."

His face turning as pale as his fish entree, Terrence rose to his feet with such force that he overturned his chair, attracting startled stares from nearby patrons. "I don't have to sit here and listen to these ridiculous accusations…"

"Actually, Terrence, if you'll look to your left, you'll see two very good reasons why you're going to do exactly that." Samantha's gaze followed Terrence's as he glanced over to see Jake and Darlene, both of them staring back at him with their best dead-eyed, covert-government-assassin gazes.