Page 12 of Prodigal Son

When she plugged it in, the drive proved to be a list of names and addresses. Fox scanned it at first with minimal interest, but then his own name popped out at him.

Charles William Fox.

“What the fuck?”

“Those are the names and last known addresses of all thirteen operatives, their spouses, and children.”

And grandchildren, too, apparently, because Michelle’s name was down near the bottom.

Fox nearly choked on his anger. “Pseudonym had this?”

“What? No. Of course not. This is mine.”

“Why do you have it?” Eden said something in a calm, warning tone, but he didn’t hear it, shooting to his feet. “What part of having your bloody granddaughter’s name and address on a flash drive people are trying to steal is a good idea?”

“They didn’t steal it though, did they?” Devin said. “You think I’m that stupid?”

“I think you’re that careless. You don’t give a shit about any of us bastards.”

“Hey.” The first note of anger crept into Devin’s voice. “I would never let this fall into the wrong hands.”

“Then why do you have it in the first place?”

“It was Three’s – it wasMorgan’sidea. I can never remember his bloody name. Morgan said, after One and Two got picked up, that we ought to make a contingency plan. A way for the others to help whoever was left should anything happen. That was back in the early eighties, when this was still on paper.” He flicked a nail against the drive. “We’ve all kept ours up to date ever since. Just in case.”

“Two weeks ago,” Devin said, looking serious, “Morgan left me a message. ‘Get the file,’ he said. I went by his flat, and he was gone. Not a trace. Empty, smelled of bleach, and a realtor’s lockbox on the front door.”

“He bolted?” Eden asked.

“Or Pseudonym got him.”

Fox rubbed his temples. He needed so much more whiskey. “You’re gonna have to explain this. In detail. It’s making me dizzy.”

“You–” he started, and Eden’s phone rang.

Then the window shattered.

~*~

Fox didn’t know if he ought to kick himself for not thinking to pull the drapes, or his dad for flustering him so badly that the thought never crossed his mind. Proof positive that being related to Devin Green – or whatever the hell his name was – would get a man killed.

The glass shattered the same moment Fox felt thewhiffof a sniper round zipping past his face. If he hadn’t moved that moment, it would have taken the end of his nose off.

Sloppy sniper work, to be honest. Albie would have been appalled.

“Sniper,” he said, voice finally, thoroughly calm, because family revelations had shaken him to the core, butthishe could handle.

“Noticed,” Devin said, equally calm, as he launched himself over the back of his chair with the dexterity of a much younger man.

“Shit!” Eden said, and vaulted over the back of the sofa.

Fox landed next to her, close enough to feel the hot, rapid pulse of her breath on his face.

“Clearly, you were followed,” he told her.

“I was careful.” She closed her eyes in a moment of intense frustration – withherself; he knew her well enough to know that. “And Mum had eyes on us. How in the–” She went silent as three more rounds popped through the open window, thunking into the sheetrock, shattering something porcelain. “We’ve got to get out.”

“Excellent idea.”

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