Rogue Page 7

  “I think they bugged you through the food or drink. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. And if they put that tracking shit in your system, it could be over a week before you’re clear.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “We have to keep moving,” she said. “We need a car.”

  “And those cops are too close for comfort,” Tom said.

  At least two police vehicles had swept by in the last few minutes. Rogue nodded. “It’s not all bad. The police presence will make it harder to track us.”

  They kept moving from shadow to shadow and street to street. As they dashed away from her building and the beach area, Tom quickly explained everything.

  “Six months ago, I knew I had to leave. I’d grown tired of the killings, necessary or not. The collateral damage. The unfathomable murders and incidents MI6 were being forced to instigate.”

  “Why did it take you so long?”

  “Because they’re so bloody infrequent. You know how it is – we’re always on a mission. The Hellfire Club ones weren’t even on a monthly basis. I almost reached out to you then.”

  Rogue said nothing, suspecting he was looking for sympathy.

  Moments later, after they negotiated a couple of down-and-outs sucking on half-empty bottles of cheap wine, he continued.

  “Remember Geneva?” he asked. “That was four years ago now. Probably the best hit we ever pulled off. And from a moving car. We were on the train to Paris eight minutes later. They never figured out which car the bullet came from nor where the hitters went. The stuff of legend,” he sighed.

  “The target was a banker funding ISIS,” Rogue recalled. “That was a good hit.”

  “Yeah, one of the few I remember. Everything’s gone to shit now.”

  She let him rant for a while, waiting.

  “They drew me into their confidence. Explained everything through an anonymous source. The new mission is to kill seven men, all treasurers, or accountants, for some of the world’s largest crime families. We’re talking Mafia, cartel, big gangs. Syndicates of drug runners, arms smugglers and human trafficking rings. The worst scum of the earth. It’s nothing to do with MI6. Three assassins have been greenlighted to take out treasurers so that the Old Men can insert three deep cover agents of their own. It’s for the Hellfire Club. They will own the criminals, or their monetary affairs at the least. Which, I guess is the same thing. They will gain control of billions, in a quiet way, and be able to push the money where they want.”

  “The deep cover agents are the new treasurers?”

  “That’s the plan. Glorified accountants. Anyway, I’m one of three assassins. I was supposed to start in Miami, then move on to Tijuana. Blake Mclean is another, and Nathan is the third. You know both of them.”

  She did. She nodded silently in the dark. Both had tried and failed to bed her in the past. She put it down to the loneliness that came as part of a spy’s life. You took solace and comfort where and when you could get it.

  And how had Tom been any different?

  Well, right there. That was the perfect word. Different. And he was proving it right now whilst Blake and Nathan followed orders.

  “I have four days left to make the Tijuana kill, though I’m guessing they’ll have replaced me by now. The other accountants they’ve identified live in New York, Vienna, Naples, Amsterdam and Los Angeles.”

  “All right.” She processed this information carefully. She could see how the Hellfire Club would profit. She even saw the irony of an organisation like MI6 not knowing they were in control of the Mafia’s money.

  But it wasn’t MI6, she reminded herself. It was the Hellfire Club.

  And that was entirely different. Tom hadn’t stopped talking; the doors to all his indignation and anger thrown wide open now. “I mentioned Juliani earlier,” he said. “He might be a criminal, he might work for the Romulus crime syndicate, but he’s helped us selflessly in the past. He’s a friend and we both know they forced him into their fold. They threatened his family when they found out how good he was at cooking the books.”

  “I know,”

  “Well, his daughter’s just finding her feet at college. His son’s starting high school. They have no idea he was pressed into working for the second biggest crime syndicate in the United States. I want to help him, but we’re gonna have to be quick.”

  “That syndicate has its hooks embedded much further afield than the U.S.,” Rogue said. “The U.K. Germany. Eastern Europe. And I’m guessing we’re on a deadline due to the new shooter you mentioned?”

  “Yeah, they must have a replacement for me. And after all this shit here I’m sure they’ll send him to kill Juliani.”

  Rogue agreed. And she liked Juliani. He was a good source; he had a loving, unsuspecting family. It tore her up to leave the haven that was Cocoa Beach, but the thought of Juliani being murdered in cold blood upset her even more.

  “Wait,” she stopped and put a finger to her lips. “See there?”

  Tom’s eyes followed her gesture. She nodded at a sign that read: Long Stay Parking. It was their best option in this neighbourhood, and the lot was three-quarters full.

  “Holidaymakers?” Tom asked.

  “Yep. They leave their rentals here for three or four days rather than pay exorbitant hotel or beachfront parking fees. If we’re lucky they won’t even report the car missing until after we reach Miami.”

  Together they stole across the road and underneath the single red and white barrier that blocked the exit of the parking lot. It was unmanned. Rogue found an eight year old Ford with a three day parking pass in the windshield. She smashed the lock, then exposed two wires before twisting them together and starting the ignition.

  Tom leaned inside the car. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re driving.”

  “No, you can drive,” she said with a honeyed smile. “So long as you follow my directions.”

  Tom pulled out of the lot. Rogue sat low in the passenger seat. To any passing goon it would look as if there was only one person in the car. It wasn’t fool-proof but every little helped. Maybe she could relax now. Tom might be on twenty-four-hour scrutiny, but it wasn’t as if the Hellfire Club could operate inside the United States with impunity. Their operatives were subject to the same law as any other criminal.

  Tom looked over. “How the hell can you go through all that and still look the way you do?”

  “I guess I could say the same,” she said. “But I’m still not happy with you.”

  “Hey, you know you’re gonna jump my bones the first chance you get.”

  “Maybe,” she admitted. “But only because you’re familiar. And easy.”

  He frowned. “Shit, Rogue, you have to work on those compliments.”

  She watched the streets as they crossed three junctions and then waited at a set of traffic lights. The only things moving were typical civilians, on foot and in their vehicles.

  “To be fair,” she said. “You performed quite well back there.”

  “Why thanks.”

  “I wish I could switch off,” she said. “I’d like nothing less than to kick back and let someone else take the lead. But that… that gets you killed.”

  “I was trained that way too,” Tom replied. “But I learned to adapt.”

  She slammed the dash hard. “And your parents weren’t gunned down in front of you. You weren’t saved by a policeman’s bullet the instant before your assailant fired. You didn’t see his finger tightening on the trigger, his evil twisted grin. And you weren’t ten when it happened.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  He knew the worst of her past. He wouldn’t call her on it. Deep inside she knew she could rely on Tom Freeman, and that she could relax now they were mobile. And she wanted badly to help Juliani.

  “I wish I’d gotten out two years ago,” he said. “With you.”

  “Me too, Tom. Me too.” She knew from her own experience that now Tom had grown tired of all the killing and wanted out, he wanted to
vent. But most of all, he needed absolution. He wanted her to listen, but she couldn’t do that right now.

  She couldn’t give him what he really wanted.

  She had more than enough issues of her own to deal with.

  CHAPTER TEN

  They drove south along the A1A and then took Pineda Causeway to the I95 south. This kept them closer to the east coast and avoided the Everglades area. It also kept them in the thick of traffic, and away from quieter roads. Rogue’s sat-nav promised them a four-hour journey, but Tom took it steady most of the way. Occasionally, he sped up and then slowed right down to draw out a tail, but they saw no obvious signs of pursuit.

  When they passed Boca Raton, Rogue turned to Tom. “How are you going to contact Juliani?”

  “There’s a protocol. I have to call him from a Home Depot payphone on the outskirts. He’ll know the number. Then there’s a couple of passwords.”

  “I hope we’re in time.”

  Tom didn’t answer. Rogue watched him for a moment. His face was bathed in the flickering silver headlights of cars passing on the opposite highway. There were laughter lines at the corner of his mouth. His knuckles, gripping the steering wheel, were scarred. As long as she’d known him, Tom had been trying to help someone. An older brother. A struggling family. A dog shelter that would have had to close its doors. Back in his youth he’d been privileged, born of a wealthy family. Tom had always been embarrassed about that, and, in his mind, strove constantly to make up for it.

  She wondered if coming for Juliani was, in part, his effort to save her too.

  The miles flowed by. They stopped three times, once for food and twice for coffee. They took turns driving. They didn’t want to arrive tired and they couldn’t get hold of Juliani before 8 a.m. That was part of the protocol. At every stop they checked for a tail but saw nothing obvious.

  “They know where were going,” Tom reasoned. “They don’t have to be close.”

  “But your protocol isn’t known to them?” She assumed as much, but knew she had to check.

  “Of course not.”

  It was six a.m. when they approached the Home Depot. It sat at the heart of an out-of-city shopping area that included a Walmart, several restaurants and a row of local shops. Tom cruised the area before choosing to park ten miles away, outside a 24-hour Denny’s, where they could watch the main road in either direction. Assuming he was still being tracked anyone watching would believe they were eating breakfast, and still en route to Juliani’s.

  “What’s the plan?” Rogue decided to test him, see what he came up with. “For us, I mean?”

  “We have to disappear. That’s a given. I was thinking a complete makeover and then to L.A.”

  “Why me? Why did you track me down specifically to help you?”

  “I thought you knew. I can’t save Juliani on my own, not against the Three Old Men’s resources. I need help. And we have a past that is . . . totally unresolved. Look, Rogue, I can’t do this without you.”

  “But you already have plans after we’re done?”

  “Not really. But we’ll both have to disappear. Why not do it together in L.A.?”

  “What are we? Movie stars?”

  “It’s big, busy and brash. You can wear sunglasses every day. Change your hair. Nobody cares who you are. It’s one of those cities where people look away from you, rather than at you. I think it has a shot. What about you?”

  “I was thinking a secluded stretch of beach on the remote side of a big island. Somewhere exotic.”

  “Yours does sound better,” he admitted. “Do we share a tent?”

  She laughed. Tom was one of the few men she’d met who could put her quickly at ease. It was something she’d forgotten and something she now realised she’d missed. And, if she was being honest with herself, Rogue did respect his experience and skills. He was a world-class operative, and reliable. Now, if they could just get Juliani out safely, she thought they might have a chance.

  “Seven forty-five,” Tom said. “You ready?”

  “I wish we could leave you here,” she said. “Or maybe driving around to throw them off the scent.”

  “I know,” he nodded. “But Juliani is strict with the protocol. He’ll only stay if he sees me. Changing that puts everyone in danger.”

  She hefted the go-bag, inserted fresh mags, readied her knife and adjusted the straps of her backpack. Soon, Tom was pulling up outside the expansive DIY store. Several vans and vehicles were already parked up.

  “Assuming they’re tracking me,” Tom said. “We need to move.”

  “Is it the payphone on the right there?”

  Tom nodded and climbed out. Rogue pulled on her backpack and followed him across the vast lot. Already, the temperature was rising and a blue sky sparkled above. The weather was balmy, the views clear and crisp. The only sounds were the distant hum of traffic along the main road and the rumble of trolley wheels as a couple headed into the enormous warehouse. Tom picked up the payphone and dialled a number he’d long since committed to memory.

  “Juliani?” he spoke a few seconds. “It’s Tom Freeman.”

  Rogue leaned in to listen, still watching the parking lot.

  “Tom? It’s been a long time. Do you still follow soccer?”

  “Football,” Tom went through the protocol. “I follow football.”

  “Ah, yes,” Juliani sounded even more wary than Rogue remembered. “And the team . . . it is Manchester United still?”

  “City,” Tom had no interest in English football whatsoever, but the names and the debate would always be current. “It’s City.”

  Juliani’s tone of voice instantly changed. “What do you want?”

  “To talk. Right now. Usual place.”

  “I don’t have time right now.”

  “Make time,” Tom said. “Your life and the lives of your family depend on it.”

  A charged silence followed. Rogue watched their surroundings. A white van was heading their way, but it pulled up in a parking bay before ejecting a decorator and his assistant, both dressed in white overalls.

  “This had better be serious,” Juliani hissed.

  “Are you kidding? I was almost killed more times than I care to remember yesterday trying to get here to talk to you. Listen . . . you are a target. Go to your car. Drive straight here. Do nothing else. And for all our sakes – be quick.”

  Tom hung up, then turned and shrugged at Rogue. “If they were listening, we’re blown,” he said. “But then we’re blown anyway.”

  She agreed. “It’ll still take them time. What’s next?”

  “Well, this isn’t the meeting point,” Tom told her. “It’s over there.”

  She followed his gesture, eyes taking in the huge Walmart. “It’ll be hard to stay covert, and stupidly dangerous in there.”

  “Agreed, but it’s what we decided. Neither of us imagined we’d have an army on our tails.”

  “I meant dangerous for the public.”

  “I know what you meant,” he looked at her with a small smile. “I know you care.”

  They waited ten minutes, still seeing no signs of interlopers, before crossing over to the Walmart. Juliani should be approximately five minutes out. They entered together, feeling exposed beneath the bright lights and quickly made their way to a high row of shelving. Tom led her to the DVD section and shrugged.

  “They moved it again,” he said. “But I guess he’ll find it.”

  Five minutes later Rogue tensed as a figure appeared. Juliani was a short, wide man who wore a thick, black coat even in Miami’s pleasant climate. His face was continually scrunched up, and there were deep lines across his forehead. He projected an attitude of irritation, of displeasure, but Rogue knew it was used entirely for outward appearance and never for friends and family.

  “This had better be good,” he huffed, stopping before them. Rogue noted the briefcase he carried in his right hand which he now placed on the ground.

  “It’s good to see you ag
ain,” Tom grabbed the man’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. Rogue flashed a genuine smile.

  “How’s it going, Juli?”

  “Better seeing you, that’s for sure.”

  “You’re a target . . .” Tom quickly explained the situation whilst Rogue drifted up and down the aisle, on watch. She returned to hear Tom say: “My betrayal appears to have affected the hit on you. They’ll have called in a replacement, which takes time. But it could be any minute.”

  “Well, aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine, “Juliani glanced left and right in a conspiratorial fashion, as if expecting to see assassins creeping up on them. He couldn’t realise how close to the truth his paranoia was. “What’s the play?”

  Rogue nodded softly, appreciating the lack of melodrama. Tom placed a hand on Juliani’s shoulder.

  “We extracted you fast so that your family would be safe. They are not the target, so if you’re not at home, the new assassin won’t be concentrating on them.”

  “You think?” Juliani looked anxious.

  “It’s how the Hellfire Club work,” he said. “If they’re in the way – yes they can be collateral. But if you’re somewhere else entirely they won’t be harmed. Hellfire Club assassins won’t take unnecessary risks, but they will clean a scene of witnesses if they think it’s warranted.”

  Juliani flicked his gaze between them. “And you’re both Hellfire Club assassins?”

  “Not anymore,” Rogue said forcefully. “Never knowingly, and not for a long time, actually.”

  “I heard you’d . . . disappeared.”

  “You know us,” Rogue said. “You’ve helped us. We all work for corrupt organisations. I’ve been forced to do things for the Hellfire Club under the guise of MI6 that will haunt me forever. I didn’t know I was doing them at the time. I can’t change that history, but I can do something about the future. I’m here to help you and thwart their plans. And I’m here as a friend.”

  “And me,” Tom said. “I have a lot to make up for.”

  Then, beside her, Tom tensed. She looked away from Juliani.