Page 18 of Skotos
“Washington thinks we spooks fuck up their diplomacy.” Red shook his head, then shrugged. “And they’re probably right. Either way, the big guy only gets involved if we do the aforementioned fuckery.”
I nodded as though I followed. I wasn’t sure I did.
Thomas glanced at me, then back to Red. “Let’s hear what they’ve got.”
Red handed me the receiver. The moment I pressed it to my ear, the secure line crackled and a familiar voice came through, clear and commanding.
“This is Manakin. You’re likely still standing because you’re fucking stubborn. Emu, sit your ass down. With what I am about to tell you, you’ll need your ass in a chair.”
Thomas cocked his head.
“He says we need to sit,” I said, motioning to the chairs. Once seated, I said into the phone, “All right. Good to hear your voice, too. We’re sitting.”
I could practically feel Manakin’s wry smile, though he said nothing to acknowledge my quip.He spoke for a long moment, barely breathing between statements. When he paused, I said, “Hold on,” then turned to Thomas. “Washington thinks the deaths of the Greek King and Swiss President might be linked. They don’t know how and don’t have any leads, but their nerds have a ‘gut feeling,’ for what that’s worth.”
Manakin’s voice barked through the receiver.
“He says their gut is right more often than not,” I relayed, rolling my eyes in the process.
Another three minutes passed with Manakin speaking with barely a pause. Thomas’s face, already lined with concern, grew positively grave watching me as I listened to what our handler had to say.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“What?” Thomas asked.
“He says they’ve intercepted chatter—or the French have; I’m not sure of the source—that indicate whoever is behind all of this isn’t finished. Heads of state across Europe are canceling plans and hardening their security.”
“The Swiss President was killed only hours ago. They’re already—?”
Manakin’s voice snapped as the phone line crackled.
“The Brits are buzzing. Even the Italians are losing their minds, and they’re sympathetic to Moscow. This is so fucking bad,Thomas.”
Manakin spoke again, his voice taking on a commanding edge.
“Sorry, sir,” I said. “Keep going. I’ll fill him in after you’re done.”
Another few minutes passed with me listening. I motioned for Thomas to scoot closer and held the earpiece up so each of us could get an ear close enough to hear.
“Condor is here, sir,” I said.
Manakin didn’t hesitate, his tone shifting into the clipped formality of a military leader. “By order of the President, you are now authorized for active pursuit under Operation Skotos. I repeat, this is a Tier One directive. Your priority is identification, interdiction, and neutralization of individuals or groups responsible for the assassinations of King Paul and President Petitpierre. You will operate under deep cover. Chief Brody has your briefing packets. Full discretion is granted within operational bounds.”
The phone crackled as Manakin paused. Silence lingered long enough that Thomas cocked a brow as if to ask, “Is that it?”
Then Manakin spoke again, “If these attacks continue, gentlemen, we’re looking at something bigger than Soviet games. This could destabilize half the continent. Hell, it’s already shaking the world’s foundations. Keep your heads down, your wits sharp, and if you find the bastards responsible—you end it. Quietly, efficiently, and without a damn trace.”
11
Thomas
Will hung up the phone, his face drawn tight, as though the voice on the other end had spoken some final judgment neither of us could refute. We sat in silence, staring across Red’s desk while seconds ticked by.
Red broke the quiet with a snort, folding his arms. “Well, that sounded like a hell of a vacation you two just got assigned. What’s the story?”
I exhaled slowly, still absorbing the weight of Manakin’s words. “They’re not treating this like a one-off anymore.”
“No,” Will said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “They’re treating it like a war without a name. Tier One directive? We’ve never been given one of those.”
