Free Enemy Agents by Shaun Tennant Page B

sometimes if the man’s authority was derived more from that desk than from his rank.
    Once the door was shut, Ringmaster flipped a switch and the light above the door turned from green to red. There was a subtle sound of machinery near the door as it locked and sealed, making the room soundproof.
    “So what have you got to say for yourself, Triple-Eight?”
    “Well, sir, I was wondering how I could get Ms. Halstrom to type up my debriefs for me.”
    “Triple-Four lost two fingers last week. He’s still working on his typing skills so I had him record his debrief on tape. So I suppose if you want to cut off a few fingers we could arrange something.”
    “Down to eight fingers? Well you do call me Triple-Eight. Might be fitting.” Thorpe smirked, but Ringmaster was having none of it. “Tell Four I hope he gets better.”
    “Or perhaps you could tell me how you managed to get an informant killed, let Sidorov’s shipment vanish and lose both Sidorov and Morris all in one night? Or perhaps explain how you managed to get captured and forced me to send a team into the Continent. Were you going for some kind of record for the how many different ways you could botch the same mission?”
    “That yacht should have been loaded. The girl gave me the details. Morris handling the whole thing himself…”
    “You’re off Sidorov.”
    Thorpe reddened. “Sir—”
    “I said you’re off it!” Ringmaster stood up behind his giant desk.
    “He starved me for days, sir.”
    Ringmaster ignored Thorpe’s insistence. “Ms. Cashmere, I’m putting Triple-Eight on the job you have Triple-Seven working. Give him the details.”
    Kathy hesitated, she was struggling to find the right words, and finally said, “Sir, isn’t that a bit… well it’s… a conflict of interest?”
    “Do you think letting him go back after Sidorov after three days of torture would somehow b e les s a conflict of interest? Your job is to do what I tell you with my agents, not to second-guess me. Tell Thorpe what you know then go reel in Triple-Seven, got it?”
    “Yes, sir.” She turned to Thorpe, her behaviour was still strange, awkward. “William, it’s Martin Mercier. He’s back.”
    Thorpe froze up. Just the mention of Mercier’s name made him tense. “Mercier? We finally got something on the bastard?” Thorpe wasn’t sure if he was grinning or grimacing, but just the thought of running down Mercier made his heartbeat a little faster. He’d gladly forget about Sidorov for a shot at Mercier. Sidorov had tortured him for days. Mercier had tormented him for decades.
    Cashmere continued her debrief: “Not much, frankly. Triple-Seven was looking into the theft of information from one of our contractors. Globection Corp. We use them to communicate with bases in Afghanistan, and someone’s been listening in. Triple-Seven picked up some stolen information. Some paperwork printed from Globection’s secure servers. He ran fingerprints and…”
    Ringmaster cut in, “Martin Mercier has his fingerprints all over stolen intelligence. Seems he’s been digging into the satellites GX built for our Army comms. It’s the first time his name has even come up in twenty years, and I need my best man on the job.”
    “He does mean hi s bes t man, William.” said Cashmere. “Which means you’ll have to keep a clear head about things.”
    “But you will send me.” Thorpe was looking at Ringmaster with such intensity that he expected to be admonished for it. He wanted Ringmaster to know that even if he was removed from this assignment, he would be hunting down Mercier anyway.
    “We’ll send you. Mercier tore this agency apart for almost ten years before he disappeared. I don’t intend to let him come back and do it again. I need someone to track him down and kill him, and that’s where you come in,” said Ringmaster. “And I’m right, aren’t I?”
    “Oh yes. I’ll hunt him like a damned fox. And kill him like one.”
    “Good. We’ll fly you