“Yes, I can see the next post.‘Just killed the head of the Bratva! Come celebrate with us at the pub.’”I throw my hands up and do my best Thomas impression.
Thomas pouts, unamused, but Mum and Mother’s laughs echo through the phone.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Mum praises. “What about things with Kingsley?”
Thomas and I share a look. I’m not exactly eager to share how little progress we have made with Kingsley in the week and a half. The guy is the epitome of silence. We’re lucky if we can get more than a couple of sentences out of him, besides the ones we have him say for the camera.
The only time I’ve had a meaningful conversation with him is when I made a snide comment back at mini golf, and it sparked a reaction out of him. Since then, we’ve talked a bit, but it was never a smooth conversation. Same for Thomas.
I never was good at making friends.
“He’s a tough guy to get close to,” I admit. “But I’m working on it.”
“We need updates sooner rather than later.”
“But you haven’t even explained what we’re supposed to learn about him,” Thomas complains. “Don’t you think it’s difficult and dangerous to gather intel, having no clue what we’re looking for?”
The only instruction we got for this mission was “get close and learn about him.” They provided us with hardly any background information on the Beaumonts, saying it would make sense eventually. I tried to figure out why the Requiem has been so secretive about this mission, but if they don’t want me to know, it’s almost impossible for me to find out.
Mum sighs heavily. “I wouldn’t put you boys in unnecessary danger. What exactly you’re looking for isn’t important yet.”
“No, I have to agree with Tommy,” I say. “It will be easier to figure out how to get to him if we knew what we need him for.”
A forceful slam rings through the phone, followed by a rattling that sounds like a table. Knowing better than to say more, Thomas and I let silence fill the space between us.
“That will only make it worse. End of discussion,” she states.
An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. What the fuck are they hiding from us?
The tension still lingers when she speaks. “We love you, boys. Make us proud.”
The phone hangs up instantly.
“Rip,” Thomas utters quietly, sliding his phone into his pocket. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”
I don’t know, but we’re sure as hell going to find out.
In the mirror, I adjust the cuffs and tie of my suit. Man, I can’t get enough of how well suits snug my torso and outline my muscles, giving me a dangerous, yet classy feel. When I first joined the Requiem, I looked up to the men who walked around in suits every day, strutting around like they were above all of us dressed in rags.
Funny. Now I’m one of the suit and tie men.
In the mirror, Thomas appears beside me, smoothing his black suit jacket. “So this is it.”
I face him. “What?”
“Xavier Beaumont’s words tonight decide whether we get to keep this job, or if we get to go home as failures.” Thomas takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to be a failure.”
Me neither. No one back home will ever let us live it down if we come back after two short weeks and nothing to show for it, and we can kiss goodbye to ever getting another job like this one. Not that I’d complain. I don’t think the spy shit is up my alley.
“We’re Redgraves, and Redgraves don’t fail.” He winces when I punch his shoulder. “Even if Xavier tries to cut us loose, you’ll convince him to change his mind.”
Thomas rubs his shoulder. “Oddly optimistic of you.”
“Someone has to be.”
He gives a weak smile. “Clicks and engagement for the mini-golf ad seem to be pretty good based on what I read. It’s all thanks to my killer filming and scriptwriting skills.”
“And Jordan’s editing,” I add.
