Chapter 110
110
Once I felt about 60% human, I figured it was time to meet the other person on my itinerary.
I didn’t want to waste any more time, so I went directly to the MI6 building.
From far away, MI6 headquarters looked like a combination of a medieval fortress, a glass skyscraper, and a multi-tiered cake. But from the ground level, when you couldn’t see any of the ornamental flourishes several stories above your head, it looked like any other fancy office building.
I didn’t even bother going into the lobby; I just stood directly in front of one of the surveillance cameras outside and held up a piece of paper with ‘Alistair Webb’ written on it in black sharpie. I stared at the camera for about 15 seconds, then turned and walked away.
I went to the café, where this whole mess had started, and waited 20 minutes until Alistair finally arrived.
He was not happy to see me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarled as he walked up to me.
“Good, you got my message p>
I’d figured that by calling him out on camera, the news would eventually reach him.
Guess I’d been right.
“Yes, I got your ‘message,’” he snapped. “I repeat: what the fuck are you doing here p>
“I was in town. I’m closing the books on everything that happened, so I thought we should have a little chat p>
Alistair looked furious, but he sat down opposite me. “What do you want p>
“I wanted to see your face when I asked you a question p>
“Which is p>
“What the fuck happened in Italy p>
He relaxed a little, but he still looked dour. “Bad fucking luck is what happened p>
“Why did that cop stop me p>
“A mansion in Lake Como got hit while the owner was away. The staff found a couple of Picassos and Rembrandts missing the next morning. When they checked the security footage, the man’s face couldn’t be seen – but a little bit of hair peeked out of his mask, and they could tell he was blond. The servants notified the police, who were ordered to stop every car going in or out of Lake Como and compare the drivers against a mugshot of the prime suspect p>
“If they couldn’t see the burglar, how did they even have a mugshot p>
“He’d been caught in Lake Como eight years ago after a similar robbery p>
“I looked nothing like the guy in the photograph p>
“You were both blond,” Alistair said drily. “To an Italian who sees dark-haired men all day long, you were close enough p>
“And that’s it?” I asked angrily.
“If you’re asking if you were set up, or if there was a mole, or van der Linden somehow arranged it – no. None of that. It was just bad fucking luck p>
I peered into his face long and hard – and decided I believed him.
Which sucked. Because I would have loved to have gotten revenge for everything that had been taken from me…
Like the woman I loved.
…had loved.
“What happened to van der Linden?” I asked.
“That’s classified p>
“After everything I’ve been through,” I snarled, “I think you can indulge me p>
“Let’s just say we couldn’t accomplish what we wanted you to do… so we had to pay out of pocket to get his wares off the market p>
“Sounds expensive p>
“Very,” he said with a touch of humor. “You were the far more economical option. That is, if you’d been able to pull it off p>
I stared at him with full-blown hatred.
I’d just lost the love of my life, and this fucker was making jokes.
When he saw my expression, Alistair hastily added, “I’m sorry it happened. Obviously, I wish it hadn’t. But I told you repeatedly about the dangers if you were caught. You agreed to the terms p>
For the first time since all this shit had started, I realized I was furious with him. Not just for his glibness – but because of the ease with which he brushed it off and made it all my fault.
Before that moment, I’d tried to be professional and rationalize it all away: I’m a soldier. I knew the risks. Shit happens.
I’d accepted that not proposing to Rachel was my fault and my fault alone.
But hearing Alistair talk was infuriating. He was a bureaucrat who’d probably never taken any real risks his entire life.
The night I’d gotten caught, he’d probably eaten at some fancy restaurant, bitched about a ‘tough day,’ and then gone home and slept like a baby.
And in that moment, I remembered another person –
Someone else who would have never let me rot away in jail.
Who would have done everything possible to get me out.
Who’d had my back in San Vittore through thick and thin…
And who had offered me a whole new life if I wanted it.
“If you’re looking for a job, it’s out of the question,” Alistair continued. “I could recommend you to some independent contractors – ”
“I don’t need a fucking job,” I snarled as I stood up.
Alistair looked slightly alarmed as I towered over him. He reached for his wallet. “I can’t authorize agency funds, but if you need some money, I could – ”
“I don’t need your fucking money, either p>
“Then why did you come here p>
“Like I said – to close the books p>
And, true to my word, I walked away…
And I never looked back.
Not at him…
Or the past…
Or Rachel.
As far as I was concerned, it was over. Dead and gone.
Now it was time to move on.