Undercover Nightingale. Wendy Rosnau

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Undercover Nightingale - Wendy Rosnau


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six years. She was the most fearless, skillful agent the SDECE has ever recruited. To me the Ashtray is nothing but a criminal who likes to play with fire. Grant was peerless.”

      “What Ash is, for the record, is the number one explosives expert in the country. Onyxx trained him, and he belongs to me.”

      “Don’t you mean he belongs to Onyxx?”

      “I am Onyxx, Stillman. If you’ve read up on me, then you know that. Contrary to the gossip that continues to question who and what I am, and the one mistake I made sixteen years ago, I still call the shots at this agency. And unlike you, I don’t have to check with my superiors every time I blow my nose or scratch my ass.”

      “Lose one man, or lose your integrity, and the future of Onyxx? You know how it works. How the media loves a good scandal. I guarantee the leak will result in a lengthy investigation. When they’re finished the world will know what your men eat for breakfast, how often they piss, and every dirty secret you’ve covered up to bring them into this agency.”

      “You’re blackmailing me?”

      “I’m sure you’ve done worse to get what you want. One man to replace the two he killed. That’s my deal. It’s a small price to keep Onyxx the NSA’s best kept secret, don’t you think?”

      “And you plan to send one agent after Filip Petrov.”

      “What I plan to do with him is no concern of yours once he’s mine, mon ami.”

      “My answer is no. I won’t hand him over so you can send him on some suicide mission.”

      “You don’t sound like you have much faith in your man. As you said, he’s no ordinary agent. He’s a survivor.”

      “You have my answer.”

      “Then this is the end of Onyxx, Merrick. I promise you I won’t rest until I’ve exposed you, and every man in this agency.”

      Ash expected his boss to counter Stillman’s threat with one of his own, or maybe offer a more reasonable solution. But Merrick only watched as the Frenchman stood and headed for the door.

      Ash sat forward and cleared his throat.

      Merrick looked at him, shook his head—a warning to keep his mouth shut. But how could he do that? They were about to be crucified by the media. Onyxx would be flushed down the toilet, along with every man with a checkered past. And that would be Merrick’s entire team of rat fighters—his team.

      “I’ll do it,” he said.

      “The hell you will.” Merrick’s fist crashed down on his desk. “I won’t agree to it.”

      “I can opt out of my contract,” Ash reminded. “I’ve put in my seven years. I’m a free agent if I want to be. I can leave any time.”

      “We’ll discuss it later.”

      “It won’t change anything.” Ash stood and faced Stillman. “I’ll be your dog under one condition.”

      “You’re in no position to make demands, Kelly.”

      “If you want me, then put in writing that the SDECE doesn’t hold Onyxx responsible for the deaths of their two agents, and they have no plans to undermine Onyxx in the future in any way. Once Merrick receives the document and approves it, I’ll be on the next plane to France.”

      Stillman grinned. “Your trigger boy is smarter than he looks. Or should I say, my trigger boy. The paperwork will be on your desk in two days. Au revoir, Merrick.” He turned to Ash. “Welcome to the SDECE, Mr. Kelly. À bientôt.”

      Two days later, with a crust of snow still blanketing the ground, and a gray sky threatening more of the white stuff by noon, Ash arrived at Onyxx and went straight to Merrick’s office. When he stepped through the door he saw his boss studying a document on his desk.

      Burgess Stillman hadn’t wasted any time. It looked like he should start packing for Paris.

      He wasn’t happy about that, but if it guaranteed that Onyxx wouldn’t be exploited, he’d make the sacrifice. He owed Merrick more than just his life.

      “Have a seat, Ash. I’m sure you know why I called you in.”

      “How does it read? Will it keep Onyxx out of the hot seat?”

      “It will.” Merrick leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “We could refuse the letter and let whatever happens happen.”

      Ash sat. “Call Stillman’s bluff? I don’t think so. My take on him is that he doesn’t make idle threats. Besides, Onyxx can live without me. One man doesn’t make an agency.”

      “You hated what Onyxx stood for when I brought you in. Now you act as though you actually like us here.”

      “I didn’t have a choice back then. But today I know it was the best thing that could have ever happened to me and my family.”

      “I needed you back then, and the agency still needs you today. Contrary to what you think, you won’t be easy to replace.”

      Ash grinned. “You’ll find another criminal in a tight spot. Someone who wants a second chance.”

      “I told Stillman it takes an outlaw’s mentality to survive in this business, but it takes a helluva lot more than that. It takes a man who values loyalty and is willing to bet his last breath on himself and his comrades. It’s true my men have traveled both sides of the line, but that’s just a small part of who they are.”

      Merrick steepled his fingers on his chest. “I know why you did this. You blame yourself for the deaths of those two French agents, just like you still blame yourself for Sully’s death in Greece. But you can’t fix this any more than you can bring those agents back, or Sully.”

      “I won’t pretend that it doesn’t bother me that Stillman’s agents are dead. Or that one was a woman, and that it was my bomb that killed her. Had we known they were there, they could have gotten out in time.”

      “I don’t want you going into this feeling guilty. Guilt eats at a man, and it can make him take chances he wouldn’t normally take. So don’t make this personal.”

      Merrick chastising him for living with guilt—that was choice, coming from a man, who after seventeen years, continued to carry around an acre of blame over his wife’s death.

      They were more alike than anyone knew, perhaps more than any of the other rat fighters. They were both recovering alcoholics, both had lost family and close friends, and both felt responsible for their deaths.

      Guilt, the blood-sucking parasite that no amount of therapy or alcohol could suffocate.

      “As callous as this is going to sound, we deal in casualties every day here. On the other hand, I don’t want you becoming one more statistic for the SDECE. Use everything you’ve learned to stay alive. It could take some time, but I’ll find a way to get you out from under Stillman’s thumb. Only a handful of people know who you really are. Your survival in that stink hole prison in Chihuahua gives you an edge. Anything Stillman throws at you I know you can survive.”

      “Then don’t worry about me.”

      “I’m not worried, I’m pissed off.”

      “You have a right to be. Stillman is an unlikable sonofabitch.”

      “On a lighter note, did you get to see your family while you were on sabbatical?”

      “Yes. I spent a few weeks in Mexico, then bought a boat and sailed to Spain. It was good to see my mother. She seems happy. Robena, too. My little sister is getting married in a few months.”

      “And your cousin?”

      “Naldo… He’s not doing as good as I’d hoped. He misses the old life. Probably always will.”

      “Do you miss it?”


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