Page 38 of Scarlet Angel

Trust is a sizeable word. I’m not looking to let rat bastards rule, but I play hard and fast. I give him a quick, confirming nod. He can trust me in most instances.

“Any information you uncover will be appreciated. It’s unsettling to have a cache of chemical weapons go missing. Every ally is on high alert.”

“The North Koreans must have an inkling…”

“My source says they don’t. But of course, officially, North Korea denies the theft.”

“Of course.” There’s no benefit to admitting a security breach. “If I learn anything, I’ll share.”

I look over his shoulder down the quiet corridor.

“So, tell me, who did he work for? Which intelligence group?”

I wasn’t going to ask Tristan about Leo, as I didn’t expect he’d share, given he’s Interpol. But I’m coming up with blanks.

“CIA?” It fits. Those bastards will do anything for intel. The corner of his eye twitches. “That’s it,” I say.

So someone with a source inside the CIA discovered Leo’s truth and outed him to me. It could be someone within the syndicate, but why not bring it to the group? Why only threaten me? Why use the Prophet moniker?

Tristan’s silent, hands shoved in his trouser pockets.

“Why send me to you? Not to a CIA resource?” The business card Leo handed me led me to Tristan, to Interpol.

“It’s not clean cut,” Tristan says. “Multiple parties.”

“But if I need help, I’m to go to you? Not the other parties?”

“Like you, we have resources. If you ever need something we can’t provide…” His lower jaw cracks as he shifts it, thinking.

“Interpol didn’t have a team on standby that day, did they?” I think about what was involved to pull off the faked death sham. The mobility. The expertise. “Not CIA. British intelligence?” He’s unreadable. I recall a report I pulled on Tristan and a matter in Switzerland. He worked with a private group. “Black ops?” His eye twitches once more.

I can’t recall the name of the group, but I’ll look it up. I found Leo through Sullivan Arms. There’s got to be a connection. An information broker, perhaps?

“And you’ve had no success in unveiling who blew his cover?”

Tristan’s lips purse. His head shakes slightly. “You’ve not heard more?”

“No.”

“We’ve pulled it off, then.”

“Aren’t you curious?” It’s a loose end. The culprit had access to a private number.

“The matter is closed.”

“Is it? Aren’t you prodding me to fill the spot?”

He shrugs. Can’t deny it.

If someone within the syndicate uncovered Leo’s connection to the CIA or some other entity, then why not go to the group? Unless the goal is to step in. Replace me. Reap the benefits. The only member who has pushed me about a replacement is Halston.

“We appreciate what you did.” Tristan’s comment draws my attention. He’s going on about Leo.

“Didn’t do it for you.” I miss the bloody bastard. He didn’t work for Interpol, so who the fuck did he work for?

“Right, but…we owe you.”

He’s right. They do. As if to underscore his statement, the door opens and Scarlet, then Nigel, exits the study.

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