FIVE
Asher knewhe’d struck a nerve.
Anger darkened Harry’s glare. “My government—”
“Lied to you. Not just your government, but many countries. They tell you each assignment is a terrorist or war monger. But no. We’ve been taking out political chess pieces. Under-the-table deals to line the pockets of politicians and get rid of competition.”
Harry recoiled, offended, hurt.
Asher had to strike while the iron was hot. “You wanted to know why they put a hit out on us? To get rid of evidence. They either kill you or they make you the scapegoat. If it goes public, they’ll say you went rogue and carried out unsanctioned hits to justify your death.”
“No.” He shook his head, disbelieving. Asher saw him mentally flicking through memories, trying to piece it together, looking for proof to say otherwise.
“They used you,” Asher said quietly. “And me.”
Harry’s jaw bulged, his nostrils flared. “What proof do you have?”
Asher took out his phone. “To start, this.” He showed the screenshot of the assignment with their photos, names, locations. “Who knew you were in Madrid?”
He was about to answer, ‘no one,’ Asher was sure of it. But after a pause, he blinked. “My handler.”
“No one else?”
Harry shook his head. “There isn’t anyone else.”
“So your handler knew you were there. They sent me to the same location, then put out a job on both of us, hoping to clean us both up in one fell swoop. They sent me there to kill you, and if your handler was the only one who knew where you were, it had to be them.”
“Maybe they tailed me. Maybe they tracked me. Hell, maybe they’re still tracking me. To here.”
“No one followed you,” Asher said quietly. “No one followed us here. They knew you were in Madrid because your handler either told them or he put the order out himself, Harry. I’m sorry.”
Harry shook his head again. “No.”
Asher opened a document on his phone and began to read. “Emir Yilmaz, shot to death in Turkey, four years ago. Waleed Sadeer, shot and killed outside his family home in Beirut, four years ago. Traeger Mayer, found with a bullet hole in his forehead outside his office building in Munich, three years ago. You’ve been very busy. Paris, also three years ago, Martin—”
“What’s your point?” Harry snapped. “Yes, those are my assignments. What of it? Should we start naming yours?”
“Doctor Emir Yilmaz,” Asher shot back at him. “One of Turkey’s best biotechnicians had just released a study on petroleum engineering which saw the end of a rather large contract with Australia, Japan, and the US.”
Harry was stock-still.
“Waleed Sadeer, financial business manager of National Bank of Lebanon, extensive oil finance portfolio.”
Harry stared at him.
“German biotech genius, Traeger Mayer, was about to launch a renewable energy solution project—”
“Enough.” Harry’s voice was detached, quiet, and final. “I don’t ask for personal information on any assignment. I’m not asking for it now.”
“But these are not terrorists or bad people, Harry. They’re not brokering deals with terrorists or any threat to national security. You can see that, right?” Asher scrolled the page on his phone. “There’s more.”
“No. I said enough!” Harry stomped off into the small bathroom and closed the door a little too hard, and the shower turned on a few minutes later.
Asher wasn’t bothered by the outburst. Or by the size of him. Asher had met plenty of men as big as Harry. Some were even almost as capable. And a few of them had even made Asher wary, but not Harry. He didn’t feel threatened at all.
Plus, he could understand why Harry was pissed off. He had every right to be. Heshouldbe angry.
His government had lied to him.