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I had just gotten her back, as well… and there was no way I would lose her over a worthless pissant like Alistair.
So I contented myself with knowing he would spend the rest of his life in jail.
I hoped, anyway.
Rachel pulled her phone out from under her dress, where she’d taped it to her body. “Did you record all that?”
“We did,” her former colleague said. He was about 30 with close-cropped hair. “Where’s the sniper Alistair sent after you?”
“Tied up in a stairwell across from the Gore Hotel on Queen’s Gate,” she replied. “Might want to take a medic – he’s been shot a couple of times.”
“By you?” he asked, then glanced at me. “Or you?”
“By somebody,” Rachel said mischievously. “Cheer up, Sean – you just exposed one of the worst corruption cases in the agency’s history. I’m sure there’s a big promotion in your future.”
“Yeah, well… until we figure out exactly what’s going on… I’m sorry.”
At that exact second, I felt the barrel of an assault rifle jab into my back, and another agent grabbed my gun arm. My pistol wasn’t even up – I had it pointed at the rooftop.
“Don’t,” the agent warned me as he took my Glock.
“Uh… Rachel?” I asked in surprise as they cuffed my hands behind my back.
“Sean, what the fuck are you doing?!” she cried out as other agents took her gun.
“It’s only temporary,” he assured her. “Just cooperate, and this’ll go a lot easier on both of you.”
“You fucking asshole!” she yelled at Sean, then looked at me in panic.
“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “Just do what he says.”
The MI6 agents forced me down the stairwell at gunpoint. The last image I saw of her was the door closing on her frightened face.
172
Ihad no idea where they took me. All I know is that they put a hood over my head at the bottom of the stairwell, pulled me out of the building, and shoved me into a van.
Then they drove for half an hour, at which point I was taken out of the van and marched into another building.
When they removed the hood, I was standing in a small concrete room with a cot, a sink, and a toilet.
They frisked me, took all my possessions, and uncuffed me.
“Don’t go anywhere,” one of the agents said drily as they slammed the metal door shut on me.
I was pretty sure I was in a ‘black site’ – one of the ‘off the books’ facilities for questioning suspects during the War on Terror.
Which made me a little nervous.
I figured they wouldn’t hurt Rachel – but I wasn’t so sure what they’d do to me.
And I wasn’t too eager to find out.
Turns out, there wasn’t anything to be worried about. No torture – just a lot of boredom. Plus the fact that they had me prisoner.
That was okay. I’d been a prisoner before – and under much worse circumstances.
I wasn’t allowed to see Rachel, but I’d expected that.
