Page 101 of The Wolves Come at Night
“Thank you,” Taylor said softly.
To which Angelie snorted, “Let’s hope he decides to take a bathroom break.” Her voice was low, barely discernible over the music coming from the hangar’s office in the back. “I’ve been thinking about your reluctance to do what is needed without thinking about the consequences. I believe I can explain in a way you might understand. You see, I’m what your literature professors call a Byronic hero. I do things someone else might consider an illegal action—”
“Yes, murder for hire might fall into that category. As well as murdering innocent people indiscriminately.”
Angelie ignored the interruption. “—but have a higher purpose, and benefit the masses. An immoral action for a moral reason. This is what makes the job interesting, and gives my position gravitas. It is why we are paid so well, because we do things most people cannot. I am helping rid the world of the vermin who breed in the darkness. Now you…”
The guard started to move their way again, and Angelie tensed. Just as quickly, he turned and made his way to the office. They both relaxed. Now was their chance.
They ran on quiet feet, Taylor up the stairs with Angelie covering her, then Angelie.
No shouts. No bullets. They’d made it.
The plane’s capacious interior was dim; the lights from the hangar illuminated the interior through the windows.
Angelie was already moving, pulling tools from her bag. She had gotten downright chatty at this point, something Taylor recognized from their operation in Geneva. She talked when she got nervous. Nervous wasn’t the right word, of course, Angelie Delacroix was not nervous. Excited, maybe. Channeling the lightning passing through her synapses as she weighed every possible permutation. When she was alone, it must be a party in her brain. She moved through the plane’s luxurious living room past the stairs that led to the second deck, gear in hand, mouth going a thousand miles a minute like they were chatting over coffee.
“As I was saying, you are just a plain old-fashioned hero. You are boring. Predictable. And your predictability will get you killed. Your enemies know how you will react in any given situation. You will always hesitate. You will consider the consequences before you act. You will only do what you believe is right, what is just. Those traits may seem noble to you, but to someone like me, someone who understands the need to act—”
“Without conscience, without honor, without any semblance of decency?”
“You are quite judgmental, do you know this? Also what makes heroes boring. As I was saying, I understand the need to act and can do so without peppering my soul with a million questions as to the legality and/or the morality of the given situation. It is why I am still alive.”
“So now you’re giving me morality lessons?”
“I am simply making an observation.”
A noise sounded behind them, and Taylor turned just in time to see a guard sticking his head inside the plane’s door with a look of utter incredulity on his face.
“Watch it,” Taylor said, and Angelie shot him from fifty feet, dropping him where he stood. They ran back to the door. Taylor stepped over the body of the guard, careful not to get blood on her shoes, and looked out to see if anyone else was coming. Nothing. The hangar was silent again.
“Pick up his arms, s’il vous plait. Merci.”
They dragged him inside the plane and set him gently against the first leather sofa.
Damn it.
Angelie blew out a breath, put her hands on her hips, and assayed the scene, toeing the guard’s shirt with her boot. “This man, for instance. I didn’t want to kill him. He was in our way and a danger to our mission. Eliminating him was logical.”
“And what about his family? His wife? His kids? He was just doing his job, and you ended his life because he was in your way.”
“I’ve told you before, that sort of thinking will drive you mad,” Angelie said softly. “The painting will be in the bedroom. It’s in the nose, under the cockpit. Follow me.”
They started toward the bedroom again, but there was a noise behind them. Taylor swung around, her own weapon at the ready this time. It was one of their pilots from the Gulfstream. Angelie rushed past her and seized his arm.
“What are you doing here? We—”
“We have a problem. They know we’re here.”
Angelie huffed a deep and angry breath through her nose. “Merde!”
Taylor knew this was not good. It was one thing for the hangar guards to go on alert. But the pilot was supposed to be with their jet. That was their way out. Without him, without the plane…
Angelie had her comms up to Santiago. Taylor was wearing an earwig too, but it was around her neck. She plugged the plastic into her ear to hear Santiago’s voice running, smoothly excited but totally professional, no different from the comms of any op she’d ever been on with her own team when something went awry.
“—breaking into the Northolt air traffic control now and altering the flight plan, getting you clearance for takeoff. I will make it apparent the bank is taking the plane and they won’t stop you. That was the original cover, you’re just going to have to make it happen. We’ll forfeit the Gulfstream for now, we can circle back for it.”
Angelie was a blur of motion.
