Page 102 of The Bait

“I did it for your freedom,” Yunho said, crying now. Tears streaming down his face. “And mine. But yours first. Freedom. Citizenship for you, Asher. Your names cleared, for it all to be over so you were free to live as Harry and Asher. No looking over your shoulders. Full government absolution. That was my asking price. For you to be free.”

Holy shit.

“I knew my time doing this was coming to an end,” Yunho said. “The Milvus Division was up and running, the counsel in place. They know everything we know about the fascist movements. Not just in Europe, Asher.” He sighed. “Lucas’s work with MI6 was almost over. We were going to hand it all over, everything, every bit of it. Then retire and live out our days on our island.”

“You should have told me,” Asher said quietly. “You could have told me that, at least.”

“We couldn’t. Until it was over. But we planned to,” Yunho murmured. “When Istomin was behind bars. But he took us first.” He let out a shuddering breath and recomposed himself. “I wanted to surprise you when it was all over. So you could use your name. Get married using your real name.” His eyes welled with fresh tears. “I knew how much you hated going by the name Joshua Hill and how much you wanted documentation with your real name.”

“My real name,” Asher whispered. “Ciro. The sun god. Is it not my real name?”

Yunho deflated. “I’m sorry. Whichever name you want, the Australian government will do it. It was my request. For both of you.” He looked at Harry then. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“You said your freedom as well,” Harry said. “What did you mean? Were you not free before?”

“When Istomin learned of me, he threatened to inform my government. He said that he’d hand me back as a gesture of good faith to a dictator. Another piece to his political puzzle.” He patted his hair down nervously. Then he whispered, “North Korea and Russia don’t play to the same rules as the rest of the world. And like Asher, I have no country. I have no government to protect me.”

Asher stared at him for a long moment. He inhaled deeply and processed it all. “Why not England?” he asked eventually. “With Lucas?”

“Because Australia held the bargaining chips,” he said weakly.

“They plan to use you, don’t they,” Harry said. It wasn’t a question. “To wrap up the Parrish case, and to use the Milvus Division.”

Yunho’s tired gaze met his, and he nodded. “To an extent. My access, my contacts, my satellite system. Data mining is the future...” He let out a shuddering breath. “But I’ll be free. No more hiding. No more secrets. No more operatives, no more governments, no more murder. That was my asking price.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

All three were quiet for a long time, letting the dust of truth settle over them.

Needing to touch Asher, to remind him he was there, Harry got out of the wheelchair and stood beside Asher, putting his good arm around his shoulder. Asher leaned against him heavily.

Had Yunho kept information from Asher?

Yes.

Was he obligated to tell him?

No.

As his friend, maybe. As his informant? If Asher wasn’t on the ground and directly involved, then no. Asher might not like that answer but it was the truth.

Did it all make sense?

Harry was beginning to think it did, yeah.

“Where will you live?” Asher asked eventually. “Your island...” He shook his head and grimaced. “What about the police in Thailand? You can’t go back there.”

“No. I can’t. There’s a place,” he said quietly. “In Far North Queensland. An island...”

Asher snorted and shook his head. “Are you serious?”

Yunho nodded and tried to smile, but his chin wobbled. “If Lucas...” He cleared his throat. “If Lucas lives. If he doesn’t make it, I don’t think I’ll need it.” He shook his head, scrubbing away the tears and wincing when he clearly touched his swollen face too hard. “I can’t live without him.”

Asher reached over then and took Yunho’s hand. “Yunho,” he whispered.

Yunho shook his head and let out a teary laugh. “You know, he was planted by MI6. All those years ago. They found me, with help from the Indian government, of all places. He was planted as the project manager of the construction job for my house. That much was true. He was the construction manager. But we fell in love. He confided in me; he told me everything. And he was going to quit, to defect if he had to. I suggested we fake his death, as I had done. But I couldn’t leave my island.” He shook off more tears. “So we came up with a plan for him to stay. A deal.”

“Information,” Asher deduced.

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