No Fortunate Son (Pike Logan, #7)(124)

They said, “It’s not your call. We have questions. She needs to be debriefed.”

Completely calm, I said, “It is my call. She stays. Or you go to the hospital. It’s your choice.”

The shorter of them said, “You don’t have a say.”

He grabbed her arm, and she whimpered, a sound that cut through to my soul. I slapped his hand away and leaned in, giving him the full heat of my potential for violence. I whispered, “Do you really want to f*ck with me? She doesn’t leave my side. Ever again.”

I felt her wrap her arms around my waist and knew I’d made the right call.

The men were both embassy flunkies, and they’d threatened to contact the Marine security detachment to solve the dilemma, but one look at me and they knew such a decision was ill-advised. No matter who they brought in, the outcome was preordained. And it wasn’t in their favor.

Kylie had remained with me for the rest of our stay.

Jennifer and I had both been debriefed by MI6—the British version of the CIA—and they were nothing but a bunch of suits with sour attitudes and small-dick syndrome. While they were questioning Jennifer, additional men had shown up, from Hereford. They were Special Air Service, and after an initial confrontation, they were much more accommodating, wanting to know everything we had on the RIRA.

They’d entered our holding room giving off the same bullshit bravado of the MI6 guys, only with a little bit of a Commando vibe, something I’d seen for over twenty years. Since they were dressed in civilian clothes, I knew who they were before they even opened their mouths.

They also tried to separate Kylie from me, all hard-ass and full of bluster. I repeated my dance from earlier, and these men immediately recognized the threat, because they held it in themselves. They backed off, and a man entered the room, alone. As soon as I saw him, I knew I was good.

I’d served with him in Iraq, and we’d killed and captured quite a few bad guys together. And lost some mutual friends along the way. He glared at me, a fake interrogator stare, then I saw the recognition in his eyes. He said, “Pike? Pike Logan? Who the hell is Nephilim?”

“That’s my real name. What’s up, Tinker?”

It turned out he was now a squadron sergeant major and looking for information into the new IRA threat. I gave him all I had. When we were done with the intel, he continued, only now we were swapping war stories, Kylie still clinging to me. Someone tapped on the door, and the MI6 guys returned with Jennifer. They saw the camaraderie and got a pinched look on their faces, like they’d both just swallowed a fly. Tinker quit talking in their presence, flicking his eyes to them, then returning to me.

He said, “You fancy a pint tonight? Talk a little more privately?”

“Of course. But I don’t think I’m getting out of here anytime soon.”

He said, “Too bad. Call me when you can.”

I nodded, and Jennifer had sat down, done with yet another round of interrogation with the MI6 suits. Tinker had winked, then said in a loud voice, “Rough this bloke up. He’s holding out.”

I scowled at him, but they’d all left us at that stage. Our trials were over. In the end, after a day and a half of interviews, we were let loose.

Truthfully, the hardest part of the whole affair had been getting Nick back into the fold. Nung had him, and I was the only contact to the psychopath.






89




It turned out that Nung’s idea of protection was stashing the vice president’s son in an Asian massage parlor, where they’d both waited in the back for days, living on ramen. I’d given the embassy his cell, but Nung had failed to answer because he didn’t recognize the number calling. They switched to using my Taskforce phone, but he hung up at the first utterance of the caller. Because he was crazy, but thought he was sane, he’d hear the voice and say, “Stranger Danger.” Then disconnect. I thought it was funny as hell, and eventually, because everyone was in a panic, I’d convinced the dumbass embassy flunkies to let me call.

Nung had answered on the first ring. He heard my voice and said, “What is taking so long? I’m about to fly your friend to Thailand. Go home.”

I’d talked him off the ledge, setting up a transfer. He’d agreed, then said, “Our business is done. Payment in full.”

I said, “What payment? What are you talking about?”

He said, “We are good. Call again if you need my service.”

I had no idea what he was blathering about, but he had been pretty damn crucial to the entire operation, and if he was good, I was good.

I said, “Nung, when are you going to tell me your real name?”

“Maybe next time.”

I said, “Thanks for the help. I mean it. No amount of money could repay what you did.”

“This amount will.”

Confused again, I said, “What money?”

I could almost see his bored grin. He said, “Good-bye, Pike.”

Nicholas Seacrest entered the embassy to great fanfare, almost like a head of state, but he was having none of it. The ambassador was in play, wanting to receive him, and he walked right by, searching the room and stalking straight to me, a guy stuck in the back with the minions.

He said, “Where is Kylie?”

Holding my waist, like she’d been doing since I’d rescued her, she stepped out. I saw the look on his face and I felt whole. Jennifer took my hand, and the failure of losing my family slid away, dropping into the abyss.