“The Rose is out.”
“I’ll have Harbinger call you if there are problems, Val.”
“Cool. CCS, is it possible to get an earpiece sent to me?” She didn’t know what the logistics were like right then.
Anubis answered, “I have spare earpieces here for each of you. It’ll be a day or two before it gets there. We’re still pretty scrambled logistics-wise.”
“Thank you.”
“Ethan had a great idea. We’ll jump into the earpiece via MI5’s intranet. If he’s there, he should be able to hear us, and we should be able to hear him. It’ll only work in the building, though.” CCS informed them.
“I’ll take that call,” Anubis replied. “Val, play change up.”
“Roger that.” She glanced at the clock. “We’ll need our luggage from the flight.”
“I can do that. I’ll have them delivered. You said room nine-forty-five, right? What alias?” There was typing in the background as the woman asked.
“Yes, that’s the correct room number.” Val then gave her the name she’d registered under.
“Okay. I’ll put the orders into the airline’s system. Oh, gotta go. Toodles.”
Smoke chuckled. “Val, if you need anything, you call.”
“That’s my line,” Anubis chided the other assassin.
“Figured you’d have your hands full with the response to this shit storm,” Smoke said.
“True. If she calls you, send me a brief or voice message.”
“Deal,” Smoke agreed.
“Well, then, if you’ll all excuse me, I need to become someone else.” Val ended the call and closed her eyes. “Don’t give up on me, Smith.”
5
Smith sat in an eight-foot by eight-foot office and waited patiently. That was his forte. Patience. He’d developed the skill of waiting into a fine art. He could see through the window in the door and watched as a huddle of men had a heated discussion in the hallway. By their mannerisms, he knew who was the superior, who was not, and who was continuing the argument when the others obviously disagreed with him. The only thing he didn’t know was what organizations they were from. But that information would come in time. Val's earpiece was silent and had been since about five minutes after the plane stopped. That conundrum presented several vectors for him to follow. The earpieces could have a limitation on distance, or because of the construction of the MI5’s building, the signal could be blocked. Then again, it could be that Val had cut comms with him. The men stopped arguing, and he lifted his eyes back to the door. A gentleman removed himself from the conversation and opened the door to the room where Smith sat.
“Mr. Young, I’m Abe Clearwater, CIA liaison to the British Security Service.”
Smith nodded. He hadn’t been asked a question and was damn good at keeping his mouth shut.
“Can you tell me the events as they occurred on the aircraft?”
Smith leaned back. “I’ve already given my statement.” He’d excluded Val’s presence except for her helping the downed crew member. The last time he’d seen her, she’d wrapped her hair in a hijab and looked nothing like the woman with whom he’d entered the aircraft.
“Yes, I know, and I realize it’s been a long day for you, but if you could tell me exactly what happened again, I’d appreciate it.”
The man sat down across from him, and Smith narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“There are some inconsistencies we need to clear up.” The man leveled his stare at Smith. “Like your relationship with the woman you said assisted you and slipped through our fingers at the airport. The one who aided the crew member that was shot, as your statement indicated.”
“There is no relationship.” And wasn’t that the absolute truth. Damn, he wished Val was in his ear, but he had his orders, didn’t he? Keep her out of any inquiry. He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “I talked her up. She’s beautiful.”
“Did you get her name?”
“Sarah, I think she said. She didn’t offer a last name, and I didn’t push for it.” Smith leveled a stare at the CIA liaison. “Have you called my handlers?”
The man cleared his throat. “Yes.”