Page 27 of Thorn

Saturday, Sixteen Twenty-six Hours

Find Juliette – or your country will suffer. We all will.

Thorn stared at the message written on the mirror. His reflex was to think that Brigitte was trying to split their forces or pull him off the right trail.

That was surely possible.

Thorn had to assume that the conversation he’d had with Brigitte was compromised. He didn’t think that the DGSE had time to wire the room, but who knew? His guess was that she’d have comms open on her phone and that she heard directives from her own set of listening devices in her ear canals. That being true, and he had no doubts about it, she had to find another way to communicate with him. Something that wouldn’t be seen or heard by her support team.

If she was trying to pull his mission sideways, she’d just say it. Whisper it in his ear at some point. Support would pick it up and high five her on her subterfuge when she got back to her base. But she’d printed it on the mirror in soap. She’d steamed up the bathroom.

Brigitte would have assumed he’d go in and wash up after having sex.

If this was a ploy, she was a master of her craft.

Thorn jumped under the shower, toweled off, and pulled his clothes back on.

Dressed, Thorn went downstairs and found an empty conference room. He snuck in and sat at the table to pull up an encrypted connection with Panther Force war room.

Nutsbe okayed the connection. “You look like a man who’s had some stress relief. You were off line for a long time. She must be a happy woman.”

“Did my best. I’m about to send you pictures.”

“Seriously, Dude? I’d rather not see you getting your rocks off.”

“Dream on.” Thorn clicked a couple of keys. “What do you think that is?” He sent the images of the bathroom mirror, opaque with fog except for the message.

“Looks like she soaped you a love note on the bathroom mirror. That’s very old-school. You wash it off?”

“Yes, Mom. Here’s the question. Why go old-school? We were talking fairly freely. Why didn’t she just write it down, or tell me?”He paused. “When she got in my car, you heard her, she knew my name, my affiliation, my hotel, and the driving instructions. That room has got to be under surveillance.”

“I have support directed your way,” Nutsbe said. “I was just waiting for you to check in with us, so he didn’t come a knockin’ while you had things a rockin.’ They’ll sweep the room. And I’m adding it to my to-do list to run a computer search of the amateur porn sites, see if someone tries to make some extra cash on the intel they collected. I hope you were giving it your best effort. I’d hate for you to have embarrassed yourself.”

“The quality will depend on the camera angle,” Thorn said. “Now, to answer my own question, why would she pass it that way? Answer − surveillance. Another answer would be that she wanted me to think she was giving me a gift, and she was routing me somewhere she wanted me to go – some kind of smoke and mirrors trick. Well, steam and mirrors, in this case.”

“I’ll research it and get back to you. You need to go back upstairs. You’re about to get a knock on your door. Change into the new clothes support is bringing you. Take the new equipment. I’ve programmed your route into the texts. I’m taking you off line, and there will be no connection until Honey announces you’ve arrived at the safe house.”

“Affirmative. I’m on it. But can you grab hold of Margot?” Thorn ran through Brigitte’s connection with Margot − all the details that Brigitte had shared.

“This is getting interesting,” Nutsbe said. “I’ll get on that. You need to move.”

***

Upstairs, the sweep team was waiting for Thorn. As they checked the room, Thorn heard their equipment pinging success. He turned to look at the gizmo in the sweeper’s fingers. So all that had ended up on a video tape somewhere, hopefully Nutsbe would find it if it hit the web – and hopefully Nutsbe wouldn’t use it against him at some future stag party.

Thorn wasn’t shy as he stood in the middle of the room − out of the sweepers’ way − pulling on his new clothes. He hefted the new duffle onto his shoulder. He took his passport and ID and stuck it in the new wallet with the new cash and credit cards and secured them into the pocket of his new jacket. The fit wasn’t perfect, but it would do. He pulled up the first text directive:Exit east door.

They had him following a circuitous route through malls and metros, in cabs, and buses. Now, finally, he was hoofing it up a hill where he saw the car Gage had driven when he’d separated from his fellow Panther Force teammates. It was parked on a corner, ready to jump in and go.

The house number he was looking for was half a block down. He jogged up the stairs to the front door, and Gage let him in. Thorn’s head turned as he took in the layout of the small townhouse: living room, dining room, kitchen, a set of stairs to the left. Two doors to the right. He opened the first one, coat closet. He turned the knob on the second, it was locked. “Where’s Dr. DuBois?” Thorn asked. A flush of the toilet behind the door answered that for him. “How’s that going?”

Gage rolled his eyes.

Ah, so the good doctor was non-cooperative and untrustworthy. They’d need to keep a hand on his shoulder.“He been in their long?”

“International flights can do that to you,” Gage said wryly.

Thorn made his way into the kitchen where Honey was stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce. Thorn still hadn’t eaten. Was still famished from earlier. He was clapping Honey on the shoulder, when glass breaking in the front of the house had him spinning on his heels.

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