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“Crazy bastard signing us up,” said Chuckles, and Richards was laughing, too.
Their voices became echoey as they left the roof and went back indoors where the reception was obviously lousier.
He’d known they would relish the chance to take out some Russian scum.
But nobody could know.
They weren’t active soldiers, just independents, but, they were going to be paid by the British government for coming at Caelan’s behest. And they were all ex-forces. Trained in the UK.
As Cain shouldered the Russian out, Eric approached Caelan and tried to speak, but again, Caelan wouldn’t allow a word from him. Eric kept shooting warning signals, until at last, Caelan could hold in his fury no longer. He pinned his eyes to Eric and whispered, “I will find out everything. Everything.”
Eric appeared shocked more than guilty. Maybe it was Caelan’s coldness, but probably, it was his very presence here. Perhaps Eric had been close to escape and now, Caelan had ruined everything. Caelan doubted Eric had been at all close to resolving this. He knew something festered in that man’s heart. Had done for years.
Caelan looked over his shoulder and Cain nodded that he had this. He’d see it done.
Minutes ticked by, then Richards and Chuckles entered the room; the screech of tyres in the street down below told them that Cliff had his cargo safely on its way.
“Now, then, where do we start?” asked Caelan, a wolfish smile accompanying his new tone of voice. Amused, but deadly.
Even as Richards and Chuckles appeared at first glance to be the most brutish of the three British men standing in the room, anyone really looking into Caelan’s eyes would’ve seen the killer hiding inside that cold, calculating stare.
A killer who’d get no pleasure from killing with a gun or machete. Not even a knife. Only with his bare hands would he ever truly enjoy it. And only after he’d psychologically reduced his enemy to near rubble before that last, vicious swipe came.
“Well, my friend,” said the Ukraine man, squaring his shoulders in the face of potential doom. “Shall we have a drink, then maybe we can have some fun?”
“The Ukraine sense of humour is undimmed, I am happy to discover,” snickered Caelan. “It will serve you well, believe me.”
A ripple of nervous laughter rang out in the room, and in those short moments, it was immediately established who now held all the cards.
Part of Caelan had only agreed to this because he’d missed it, badly—and he could see these people needed him.
They needed hope.
They needed fighters.
And Caelan?
He needed the truth… and knew he would only find it here.
Chapter Six
The odd couple left Caelan’s side the next day. By “absconding”, the cave dwellers wouldn’t be getting paid as such, and if they were here just for some fun, Caelan figured that was okay and not a potential threat to international diplomacy—if they were independents merely getting paid in food and drink. Caelan had known they’d slip off eventually—and it might as well be to hunt Russians. They were headed east to the more contentious zones with some of the Ukrainian men who were in awe of their skills. Something about the deadness in Richards’ eyes as he’d left told Caelan that he was on the hunt for rapists, especially.
Meanwhile Caelan followed the leader of the gang who’d kidnapped Eric and soon found himself in Kiev speaking with military leaders who needed his advice. He listened to everything they said, a translator explaining all strategy in great detail. It seemed to him they were already doing everything they possibly could and there was nothing else they could do within the limits of international law. Nor could Caelan be seen to lead missions or execute even one person. Someone like him launching into battle would be an absolute declaration of war. The most renowned SAS man of his time. He could do nothing.
At best he could go home and plead Ukraine’s case, but…
The UK was already doing so much for the country.
An island nation in enough hot water as it was!
In the end, Caelan told the president’s military advisors that their best bet was someone like Ogarkov, who would be questioned thoroughly on his return to Britain and would hopefully yield something of importance. Maybe something even he himself hadn’t yet realised to be significant. Caelan didn’t tell them Ogarkov was probably one of dozens. To these Ukraine’s a Russian was a Russian as far as they were concerned.
Lviv being so close to the border, as soon as the asset was in Poland, that would be it. Russia had no jurisdiction. No powers, unless, they wanted to start WWIII over one traitorous spy. Caelan hadn’t got word Cain and Cliff had successfully escaped Ukraine with their two assets in tow, but since nobody had heard anything at all, it seemed safe to assume they’d made it.
To appease the Ukraine’s for having stolen vengeance from out of their grasp, Caelan offered all he had to give, telling an assembled room of military men and women, “I will visit your fighters,” he told them, “and I will tell them I admire them, and I will inspire them to keep going, never accept defeat. I will show them how to fight. I will show them how to win.”
Cheers erupted in the room and Caelan felt a thrill he hadn’t felt in so long.
