Page 9 of Belgian Betrayal

As one of the newest members of the Brotherhood Protectors International, Fearghas couldn’t refuse the advice and guidance. Yes, he’d often been undercover as an SAS agent for the UK. He knew how to conduct a covert operation.

He didn’t know how he, a former UK SAS special operations type, fit in this new job with the Brotherhood Protectors International, the most recent addition to the organization, initially founded by Hank Patterson, another former US Navy SEAL.

The Brotherhood Protectors had been staffed primarily with highly-trained special operations types from the US. After Fearghas had helped a member of Hank’s team, Ace Hammerson, in a successful rescue operation, he’d been offered a position as a founding member of the international office of the Brotherhood Protectors.

After leaving the UK’s SAS, Fearghas had freelanced as a bodyguard to some rich and famous businessmen and celebrities passing through Europe. He liked that he could pick and choose the jobs.

He'd been surprised that Ace had told him to consider helping his friend as his first assignment with the Brotherhood. In fact, he and their tech support guy, Dmytro, a former Ukrainian with mad computer skills and nefarious contacts, Ace and Jasmine Nassar, a former Israeli Sayeret Matkal soldier, comprised the entire team.

Ace assured him they would interview several others they hoped would join them soon. Fearghas had recommended an old buddy of his from the UK SAS. In the meantime, they would be looking at real estate in Zurich for their European office.

Fearghas had been in Amman, Jordan, when Catya’s call had come through. Ace had quickly booked him on the first plane to Zurich to meet with Dmytro, who would set him up with anything he might need for the assignment.

Dmytro had picked him up at the airport, and in a few short hours, he’d come through with new passports. Now, Fearghas could move about Europe under several different names and nationalities.

The Ukrainian had also outfitted him with communications devices, a burner phone, a satellite phone, a handgun and a shoulder holster. At the last minute, he’d added a wicked KA-Bar knife typically used by US Navy SEALs.

Fearghas didn’t ask where he’d acquired all the equipment he’d loaded him with and Dmytro didn’t offer any information.

“You’re one of us, now,” the older man had said. “We take care of family.”

Fearghas preferred his own pistols, but he didn’t have time to return to his Athens home to secure one. He presumed he’d need every bit of artillery he could manage to pack.

Because he was carrying a gun on his person, he didn’t attempt to fly from Zurich to Amsterdam. Traveling by train would take longer, but it would also avoid the hassle of smuggling a gun through customs at an airport.

The chilly air and fine mist felt good on his face after being on a train for over eight hours. He lifted his face to the low-lying clouds, keeping vigilant through his peripheral vision, searching for anyone who might pose a threat.

On the train ride out, he’d gotten off the train and back on at several stops, watching carefully for anyone following him.

He hadn’t spotted anyone, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

Catya’s warning echoed in his thoughts. He’d been chomping at the bit to get on the train and get to her as soon as possible. Arriving early at the designated location would do him little good if he didn’t know where to find her. Eight o’clock was as good as it would get. A glance at his watch assured him he’d be a few minutes early despite leaving later than he’d wanted.

He hurried through the streets, carefully staying out of the bicycle lanes. Even at this hour, plenty of riders traversed the city on the most popular mode of transportation. They didn’t appreciate pedestrians wandering into the lanes marked explicitly for bicycles. There were more bicycles than people in a city of over eight hundred thousand residents.

Fearghas crossed a bridge and continued through the cobblestone streets, slowing as he neared the newest bridge in Amsterdam.

The MX3D bridge had been designed by a Dutch engineer and built of steel using a 3D printing technique. Fearghas had seen pictures of this S-shaped bridge and had always wanted to see it. From what he could see in the near-dark, the pictures didn’t do the structure justice. He'd spend more time studying the beautiful design if he weren’t concerned for Catya’s life.

He glanced around, searching for Catya and anyone who might interfere with their rendezvous.

A couple stood in the middle of the bridge, locked in an embrace, kissing as if they didn’t care who was watching.

A bum sat with his back against the wall of a building with a red light glowing over the doorway and ladies standing, sitting or lounging behind windows, displayed like merchandise.

Fearghas wasn’t as much concerned by the ladies in the windows as he was by the constant flow of tourists crossing the bridge.

The streets remained active, especially in the red-light district, until the early morning hours. Any one of the supposed tourists could be a threat, looking for him, or looking for Catya.

He glanced at his watch again.

Two minutes until eight.

Movement in the corner of his vision caught his attention.

He turned to face the couple who’d been kissing as he’d approached the bridge.

The woman, slender, dark-haired and wearing a long black fashionable trench coat, held out a camera and said something in what Fearghas guessed was Dutch.

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