Free Overkill (The Mammoth Book of Special Ops) by E. C. Sheedy

 
    “I want your best man, Holister. And that’s Tanner Cross.”
    “Impossible. He’s in the Congo.” Holister tightened his grip on the phone, unable to believe what he was hearing.
    “Then get him out of the Congo and have him in London tomorrow.”
    “I need to get this straight. You want Cross to come to London... to kill you.”
    “Call it ‘euthanize’ if that goes down easier. Or better yet ‘neutralize’.”
    “Jesus.” Holister didn’t like this order one bit even though it did come from Joseph Derek, his boss, and the man who, twenty years ago, founded the Raven Force. Financed by Derek’s billions, the Ravens were a covert, privately controlled, government-sanctioned squad created to destroy illegal weapons cartels.
    “Joe, be reasonable. Chances are you’ll come out of this better than new.”
    “They’re opening my skull, Holister. Poking around in my brain—and they won’t give me any guarantees.   There’s a chance of dementia, loss of memory, altered personality. Who the hell knows what else.”
    “I’m just saying, what you’re proposing? It’s overkill.”
    “It’s also an order.”
    “At least wait until after the surgery—see how it goes.”
    When he spoke again, Derek’s words were still heavy with intent, but more personal. “You think I want this? Going under and not knowing if I’ll wake up with the intelligence of a cabbage or, worse yet, not be in control of information that—if it fell into the wrong hands—would put all of the Raven Force at risk?” A pause. “I’d prefer not to wake up at all.”
    “There has to be another way.”
    “There’s no other way,” Joe said. “Let me know when Cross will arrive at Heathrow. My daughter will see that he is picked up. I’ve told her I’m expecting a replacement on my personal security team. That’s all she knows—make sure you keep it that way. The surgery is Thursday.”
    “Can I ask you this, Why Tanner Cross?”
    “Because he’s a lot like me. He thinks, but he doesn’t blink.”
    He was right about that. Tanner was stone-cold effective working in the field, Raven’s best operative. But he was also unpredictable and insubordinate when it suited him.   “I think—”
    “Don’t think, Holister. Just do.” A beat of silence. “And don’t let me down. Please.” Derek hung up, leaving Holister with no other option than to deploy his killer. He got up from his desk, paced for ten minutes—cursed the room blue—then picked up the satellite phone.
     

     
    “This is a joke, right?” Tanner Cross sat on a cheap bed in an even cheaper hotel in Loubomo in the Congo Republic. He was counting money. He was also naked, tired, and as of two minutes ago, when he’d stepped out of his first shower in two weeks, actually clean. A month of sleep, a haircut, and he’d be human again, although last he heard humans weren’t called on to kill their superiors. Holister had to be smoking something. Either that or he was speaking in code.
    “No joke. Book a flight. Laine Derek will have you picked up and taken straight to Derek’s home in Mayfair. Security knows you’re coming in as a guest. And it’s best you stay clear of Laine. She’ll ask questions. The woman is a tiger when it comes to her father’s security.”
    “No problem. I prefer my tigers in my gas tank—or better yet, my bed.”
    “Funny.”
    “I take it she doesn’t know what her father does when he isn’t making billions for Derek Industries.”
    “No. And it’s your job to keep it that way.”
    Jesus! He tossed a wad of hundreds on the ‘counted’ side of the bed, and ran a hand through his wet, tangled hair.
    He’d been with Raven Force for eight years, run ops from the seething East-bloc to war-infested Africa, but he’d never received an assassination order before. Abort mega weapons deals and kill the bad guys, sure. And get their money—that was the best part. But terminate the man who masterminded Raven Force? A man