Page 60 of Taming Achilles

“What do we think? The chicken or the egg?” Brett looked at me. “Do we think Alex was the handler? Or was he being handled?”

I mused this little quandary. Glancing from what I knew of them. Alex had been the head of Baas Medical Tech, one of the biggest companies in the world. He had made himself into a messiah, a mogul. His name as synonymous with innovation and business, until several poor decisions landed his company in hot water. Then he needed to turn a profit fast, and set his eyes on the governless oil fields discovered underneath the feet of refugees, and he started a war so he could step in and take control.

“I’d say Rhodes took advantage of Alex,” I finally said. “Alex was always an idealist, wanting to make the world fair. Bullied child and all that. But not more than he wanted power to replace what his family lost. His better angels couldn’t win over his devils when he was challenged, and that must have been when Rhodes appeared.”

I had frequently visited Alex “as a friend” after his monumental rise to power. I considered getting engaged to him for a while, but Victor had said no. There were no titles in the Baas family. Nothing to elevate little Fox heirs.

I had made a point to flirt with Rhodes when he appeared on the scene, right around the time the first Kemet refugee camps began. Alex had gotten involved in providing medical care. Rhodes was his “bodyguard” and the two were inseparable. I wanted to recruit him as a spy. My own little informant.

But the madman fell in love like a twat, and had no discernible personality or scruples. Other than his infatuation, I had no way to control him so he was a terrible mark.

Still, I cultivated his affections. Just in case. Now it was biting me in the arse.

“I have a question for you,” Brett asked, finally leaning back on his seat. “The Circus isn’t like the Company, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

He was comparing the CIA to MI6. He was right. The Circus wasn’t like anyone else, and the division I belonged in was unlike the rest as well.

“The shooting publically links you to this,” he said, his finger falling on the dossier. “I’m worried that you’re bringing the wrong attention to the Circus, and …” he clenched his fist.

“You’re worried they’ll white van me?” I asked, using the colloquial term for getting rid of an agent that was no longer serving their purpose. A practice almost completely reserved for people in deep cover. Like me. “I have 48 hours. Well …” I looked down at the blue Rolex watch on my wrist. “47 hours and 37 minutes.”

Ajax and Brett looked at each other, visibly paled, before their eyes turned back to me.

“It's been grand knowing you, no matter what happens,” I said, looking at them, but keeping the fear from reaching my eyes. This was no time for weakness. “I was recruited to rise into the peerage, and I have failed to infiltrate that level of society.” I looked at the dossier with the photo of Jason. “And the shooting will certainly bring the wrong attention unless I can cover it up, so that it doesn’t touch the shadows.”

Ajax swallowed, his brow creasing.

“We’ll worry about that when we get there.” I tried to laugh as though it was a silly worry. “In the meantime, we have work to do. We can’t change the inevitable.”

I knew I was in a fight for my life. If this mission did not end with a happy conclusion, then I might drown after all.

“We can …” Brett started to speak but I flipped my hand up, signalling for him to stop. He wanted to offer me some kind of sanctuary. I had no doubt that he had that kind of power and influence. He was a legend in his own circles and would be able to do as he pleased.

But I wouldn’t hear of it.

“I refuse to be persona non grata,” I declared. “I will not live on the run.”

There are worse things than death. And that’s a life looking over your shoulder with no allies, no friends … I already hated my family. I wasn’t willing to lose what I had left.

I’d rather be nothing instead of being no one.

Chapter 29

Geordie

Callum and his wife arrived in the apartment, their luggage rolling behind them in a clatter. I was sitting in the armchair with a Macallan in my hand, having gotten a warning from Hugo of the impending confrontation.

Callum dropped his bags into their suite without a word. Lea shot me a knowing, if not sympathetic, look before following behind him. She had grown out the bleached blonde hair she had, the dark roots showing. I silently wondered why that was the case. Was it because her twin had decided to darken his hair? What a strange duo.

When Callum came out, he was alone. He took a seat across from me, leaning forward in his seat, his green eyes on me. He glanced at my bicep, where I still sported a bandage from the stitches the bullet had left behind. Maybe I had it visible to gain some sympathy points.

“A’right, man?” He asked, in a form of greeting.

“Aye, I’m a’right.”

“Pippa, huh?” He said, and I wanted to wipe that name from his mouth.

“Aye.” I was letting him drive the conversation.

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