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The little girl looked so much like Siren that it took my breath away. She had dark black hair and pale blue eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder if Siren and I were together, if our child would look like Doc and Merrigan’s daughter.
Doc’s wife and I cheek kissed, and then she and their children left us alone to talk.
“What have you got for me?” I asked.
“You know Sumner Copeland, right?”
“Very well.” Cope, as he was known, was a handler for the CIA. One of the best in our business. It wasn’t long before I left the agency that he’d brought down the then director, a man considered to be the most corrupt in Washington, and who many held personally responsible for the deaths of some of the finest, most professional agents I’d ever worked with.
“He’s convinced there were others working with Fisk, bigger fish.”
“There isn’t anyone who can get him to talk?”
“According to Cope, his fear of whomever the mystery accomplices are, is greater than a prison sentence.” Doc leaned forward. “There’s another reason I’m asking you to take this on.”
“And that would be?”
“I’m pushing hard for Cope as well as his wife, Ali, who you probably know is a former investigator for the CIA internal affairs, to come on board with K19.”
I laughed. “Rile isn’t going to like that.”
“It’s more Decker Ashford I’m worried about.”
“Are you aware he just finished installing a security system at my ranch?”
Doc laughed like I had. “It would be a hell of a lot easier if K19 and the Invincibles just joined forces.”
I shook my head. “You can’t be serious. You know Rile would never let go of that ridiculous name.”
“No, you’re right. Too many generals, not enough soldiers. What about you, Smoke? Are you still independent?”
“Sure am, and I plan to stay that way.”
“Tell me about Siren.”
I took a deep breath and looked into Doc’s eyes. “Not a subject for discussion.”
“Fair enough.” Doc told me he’d be right back and went inside. When he came back out, he handed me a folder. “I received this brief from Cope. If you’re willing to take this on, I’ll put you in direct contact with him, on behalf of K19, of course.”
“Copy that,” I mumbled. Opening the file, I skimmed the first page. “Fuck,” I moaned. “Seriously?”
“You can still decline.”
That’s exactly what I should do. I should leave the folder on the table and walk out, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I wasn’t in the habit of turning down missions, especially ones that involved the murder of several of my fellow agents.
I took a second look at the three men Cope had named as primary suspects, all of whom were top-ranking officials at Interpol—the International Criminal Police Organization—headquartered in Lyon, France.
The first, Secretary-General Kim Ha-joon, was the former head of South Korea’s National Intelligence Service. Second listed was Boris
Antonov, Interpol’s Vice President, who many believed would eventually be the successor to the current head of United Russia. The last name on the brief was the one that gave me the most pause. Daniel Byrne, the organization’s president, was the head of Irish Military Intelligence—Hughes’ boss and the man who’d originally recruited Siren.
“Now you understand why I asked about Gallagher.”
“Tell me there’s nothing in here that suggests she’s involved.”
“I assure you there isn’t.”
“Byrne was her mentor.”
