Page 2 of Code Name: Typhon

I’d long suspected it was related to traffickers—a personal vendetta, perhaps—but didn’t have enough to go on to say for sure. Getting information out of O was the equivalent of getting blood from a stone. However, I sensed Mithras was the key, and I wanted to know why.

“We need her on this, Typhon,” said Z. “We both do.”

He was right. Z and I had shared a similar concern before she transitioned from MI6 to Unit 23.

“I’ll speak with her,” I said.

Neither of us doubted my acquiescence was anything but self-serving. However, feeling benevolent, I also believed O’s cooperation may further whatever quest she was on more than it would benefit the coalition.

“Your help is appreciated. By the way, you’ll be hearing from Marchand as well.”

Henri “Baissier” Marchand was the French ambassador to the United Nations and the man responsible for creating the coalition. I was about to tell Z to call him off when he rang.

“You owe me,” I said before abruptly ending the conversation in order to begin the other.

“Typhon, my friend, please tell me you are well?—”

“I’ve no time for feigned pleasantries, Marchand. I’ve already spoken with Z and agreed to speak with Oleander.”

“Excellent news. I will forward the brief.”

“Send it to me, Baissier, and understand this. O’s participation is not a done deal. All I’ve agreed to is a discussion.” I didn’t tell him to send me the brief so I could read it. I’d already received a copy from Delfino. What I didn’t want, wouldn’t allow, was direct communication between Marchand and O.

“You must understand?—”

“Au revoir, ambassadeur.” Whatever threat he was about to issue had no bearing on my intentions, so there was no point in allowing him to finish his sentence.

The message I sent to Oleander asked only that she prepare a response in the form of a brief and send it to me for review. I could picture the look on her face. Unit 23 didn’t do briefings of any kind. Reading between the lines, she’d know what I was really asking.

After waiting a few days, I rang her.

“Typhon,” she answered.

“Oleander.”

“If you’re looking for a brief, I’m not finished with it.”

I chuckled. “No? I’m surprised.”

“You’re amusing.”

“The coalition is interested in you coming on in a senior advisory role. Another point of note: they’ve set up a command center in Shere, England. Should you accept their offer, you’d be required to work there from time to time.”

When she groaned, I chuckled again.

“While they’re asking for you to assist them, Oleander, you may find they further your investigation more than you could on your own.”

She didn’t take my bait, not that I’d expected her to. It made me regret not making this a video call.

I suspected one thing held her back from committing to work with the coalition, and it didn’t relate to Mithras. Instead, it was the commander of the Maltese task force. Long before O joined MI6, then eventually, Unit 23, she’d had an affair with Poseidon. One she’d be a fool to think I didn’t know about.

When I reviewed the team’s standard background check and read the details of how it had ended—with her ghosting him in the middle of the night after abruptly withdrawing from university—I suspected he may have stumbled on whatever drove her obsession. Putting her in close proximity to him might result in my learning what the fuck she was up to.

Eventually, I ran out of patience with Oleander. It was one thing to stall, but now, she was making me look like a fool. I was her commander, and I’d had enough of her game-playing.

“Does your reluctance to provide information to the UN Coalition have anything to do with the Maltese task force commander?” I barked when her face appeared on my screen.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She was lying, and we both knew it.

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