Page 8 of Silent Comrade
The exposed, open-air stairwell made hisskin crawl, and he brushed his hand over the hidden sidearm on thehip. As if a gun would help. Long rows of open passageways invitedLequire’s guys to set up sniper nests in any number of buildingsacross the street. The odds were stacked against Britt and anyoneelse they targeted.
Time to even up those odds. He schlumpedalong with his fake, weapon-filled paunch down the row of apartmentdoors to peer down the next stairwell. Forget one point of ingressand egress—this place was a literalchoose-your-own-kill box.
No way could he secure the building or evena single apartment. The best protection Red could offer wassurveillance cameras and a ring of perimeter security alarms togive him a head start if Lequire or his people went for her.
Actually, no. The best chance he had was ifLequire ignored Britt altogether and focused on her sister, Reagan,or the McNeill sisters’ father.
Better yet would be if Lequire gave up hisvendetta against all the McNeill family and shoved his corrupt assback under the rock he’d slithered out from. Red couldn’t hitch hismission success on that lousy hope.
As for Britt’s safety now, Red was only oneman. More boots were needed on the ground to provide adequateprotection. The Morpheus Squad was spread too thin. Like hisSpecial Forces brothers, Red would improvise.
Not only had he planted cameras at herworkplace, the Mellow Bean, but also at the other café where shenow waited for him. He swiped on the screen of his cell phone. Asharp color image of the shop filled the screen. He focused onBritt, a small figure sitting alone at a small table, toying withher phone and glancing at the door every time a customerentered.
A nasty acidic taste crawled up his throat.He couldn’t care how she felt, as long as she survived. Britt’ssafety was all that mattered. Not her feelings.
He had to keep Britt safe from the goonsworking for Beaumont Lequire, the nasty CFO of Fallen Comrades, afake charity that siphoned millions in donations into Lequire’spockets. Britt’s sister, Kiera, had discovered the truth aboutLequire, and now that asshole Lequire wanted revenge. The bastardhad tried to kill Kiera two nights ago. Luckily, Kiera and her babysurvived.
Kiera had the goods on powerful andpolitically connected Lequire, and if she made that informationpublic, Lequire and his complicit Senator father would be ruined.Lequire would do anything to silence her, include leveraging herfamily members’ lives.
Britt.
If one believed the threats—and Red had zero reason not to—then the next McNeill that Lequire targeted wouldsuffer.
The thought of Britt’s face, twisted inpain, while that sick bastard hurt her? He stopped short of puttinghis fist through the wall.Breathe: in, out, in, out. Thehumming tones in his head faded away to allow him to focus andfilter natural sound in his environment.
Time to finish this surveillance project sohe could go back to being in physical proximity to Britt. He’d alsohave to eat some crow for standing her up.
He knocked loudly as the cable guy, thenused his pick device. A quick flick of his wrist gained him accessto the small apartment. After another glance across the front doorwalkway balcony, ridiculously exposed to the parking lot, he easedinto the living room.
Every color of the rainbow assaulted himfrom every corner of the space. Mismatched pillows of all texturesadorned a threadbare love seat. He ducked into one bedroom andgasped. If he wore pearls, he’d be clutching them. It was a scenestraight out of that hoarding TV show. What he’d give to discarditems and organize the space. Color and fabric combinationsassaulted him. Pictures and art hung everywhere. Bare wall was arare commodity.
At least he could easily hide a bug. Godknew what else could hide in the wall-to-wall towers of moveableplastic storage. The space was clean, but cluttered. Quickly heplanted a device under a lamp base, tucked one into a window frame,and another on top of the closet. Red backpedaled out of thespace.
The next room? Total opposite.
Neat and tidy. Sparsely furnished. The quilton the bed appeared lovingly made but worn. Homemade floralcurtains hung from a plain metal rod over a small window. On a woodlaminate nightstand sat a picture of Britt with her two sisters andher brother, Brady.
Family. Something Red had never trulyexperienced. Oh, sure, his teammates made for a motley group ofbrothers, but it wasn’t the same as growing up together. Theever-changing foster siblings didn’t count. He stared at thepicture of four similar smiles.
Brady. He was a wounded vet and Red’sbrother-in-arms, who Lequire had killed for uncovering the truth ofthe Fallen Comrades charity.
A prickle on Red’s shoulder bladesaccompanied a flash of anger, but he easily regained control overthe impulse. At least he’d finally taken his regular antidote doselast night and slept for a few hours. The antidote was a bummer forhis hearing acuity, but better for his self-control.
His cell phone rang as he planted a devicehigh on top of a doorjamb. No way five-foot-nothing Britt couldreach up there.
He thumbed to answer the video call.“Yeah.”
“Ready to link up?” Stumpy’s goateed face,lit in eerie blue light by monitors, filled the screen. Computergenius and handsome bastard, but wounded in combat. Badly. Didn’taffect his ability to work miracles with a surveillance system,though.
“Roger.” Red walked to the living room andattached a tiny button microphone to the back of a printed andplexiglass-framed Mia Vesper NYFW picture filled with brightly cladmodels. “How’s the feed working?”
“Give me a sec. I’m doing this from amakeshift setup. We only occupied this space a few days ago.”
“Hunt told me.” Hunt. Their Special ForcesCO both before and after the entire team had been inoculated. “TheBryson City compound was reduced to rubble, I heard.”
“Great fun for demo man, Curly.” He rubbedhis dark facial hair with one hand. “Got it.” He pointed at thescreen, his illuminated face turning up, down, and side-to-side.Then Stumpy sat back. “Multiple feeds are online. Good job there,Red. Almost as good as I could do.” He whistled low. “Holy fuck,that other room is a mess.”
“You’re not wrong. At least things hiddenthere will stay hidden.”
