Work Text
Berkshire, England
A woman exits her car and walks up to the front door of her modest home. Her red pea coat fights off the British winter chill and keeps her enormous yellow scarf from swallowing her whole. From the bags under her eyes, unkempt hair, and morose expression, it looked as if she wouldn’t mind if it did. Bits of ceramic handmade decorations dot her flower beds under a blanket of snow. Holiday lights of red and green line the house in an artistic manner that adds to the unique garden decor. The sound of a phone’s default ringtone cuts through the winter silence like an annoying fog horn.Keys jingle in her hands as she tries to find the right one and opens the front door. Before entering, she notices a stack of envelopes in front of her. These aren’t the regular length of business envelopes that encase bills, they’re all shapes, sizes, and colors. She picks up the pile, still ignoring the phone, and moves into the house. She bumps the door closed and some letters shift out of the pile on her hand. Groaning, she ignores them. The woman shuffles into her kitchen and dumps the letters on a counter. Sniffing, she pulls out her phone and notices the caller: Unknown. She cancels the call and the phone informs her she’s missed seventy-three calls. Instead of checking the list, she opens her contacts and hunts down Trevor Burke. Once hitting the phone icon to call him, she props the phone on her shoulder and starts opening letters with a butter knife. The first one, a red envelope, has a plain sheet of folded paper in it. She opens it and scans the text. Her jaw drops. “Burke speaking.” A man on the other line greets. “What did you do?” The woman snaps. “I’ve got vets and families and-and-and…” She tosses a folded child drawing that she pulls from another envelope. The drawing is of a sad child holding a poppy. “Children! They’re writing and calling and -”The sound of a window shattering distracts her. “Calm down, Paige. It’ll all blow over in a week.”Paige walks cautiously into her living room where a brick sits on her carpet with glass fragments littered around it. A jagged hole in her window where the pane used to be. “Someone just threw a brick in my window! I’m getting threats, Burke! What did you do?” The call disconnects and Paige looks down at the screen as it confirms he hung up.
***
Portland, Oregon
Paige sits at a four-top table in the Bridgeport Brew Pub. Her dark hair is tied back into a sloppy bun and she retreats like a turtle into a large white sweater with a rose pattern on it. Parker sits across from her with a notepad while Eliot brings over two steaming coffee mugs. He sets one down in front of her. “My great grandfather was a World War I vet, my grandmother was in the Nurse Corps that’s how they met actually... my father was a soldier in the Gulf war and my brother was in Afghanistan. I have the utmost respect for men and women in the British armed forces…” Paige reaches forward, pleading. “That’s what inspired it! My art installation! I have been involved with charities with my art for years, but I wanted to do more.” Paige frantically rifles through her canvas bag and pulls out crumpled newspapers and plastic gallon bags with letters, envelopes, and handwritten notes in angry scrawl safely sealed away. She unfurled some newspaper clippings and pushes them at Parker. “I had this idea for a sea of poppies like a moat of blood at the Tower of London. You know, the remembrance poppy?”Eliot nods. “It’s an artificial flower that’s been used to honor fallen soldiers since the twenties. They were first used in America, but now their most popular in the UK during Armistice day.” Parker looks at the newspaper clippings. “Your art installation seems like it was a success. All of these headlines praise your work.” “I couldn’t do it on my own.” Paige confesses. “I’m terrible with planning and I wanted to be able to donate any and all proceeds to charities relating to veterans and their families. The money only comes after the exhibit is done, so I needed independent finances to support my work in the meantime. Buy supplies and all that. ” Parker nods. “This is where Trevor Burke comes in.” Paige’s face crumples into an expression of regret. “He was this ex hedge-fund guy who said he had lots of money. Wanted to ‘give back’. Even offered to take care of all of the planning. Said I just had to focus on the art.” Eliot shakes his head and sets down his coffee mug. “It’s like war profiteering decades after the fact. He knew almost everyone has been affected by war and would pay to have a piece of the art installment honoring them or a loved one.” “I made over eight hundred thousand ceramic poppies. It took me years to complete. Each poppy represented a fallen World War I soldier. We had local volunteers and charities devoting unpaid time to plant them, the first poppy was planted on July seventeenth, the one-hundredth anniversary of World War I and the last one was just last month on the eleventh…”“Armistice day.” Eliot mentions. Paige nods. “All of this unpaid time and effort into the installation, but I was so proud. Burke told me the poppies were sold out after a week of the exhibit being completed.” “And then things went sour.” “I didn’t know until the first phone call from the war widows charity. They did the math and didn’t receive the money they were promised. The poppies should have made twenty-three million pounds in total and all proceeds should have been divided up between six charities. They only got one million. Same with the other six.” Parker chews on the end of her pen. “So Burke pocketed seventeen million pounds?” “He claimed it was for all sorts of expenses… distribution and sales costs, administrative fees, cost of materials that I used, even said that he had to pay me! I didn’t see a dime of the money! I didn’t want to. It was supposed to go to the charities.” Paige slouches in the chair and pulls the collar of the sweater up to her chin. “It got out to the local press that the charities were stiffed and everyone assumes I’m to blame! My name was all over the exhibit. They think I did it on purpose. I can’t sell my work and my art that has been up in a few galleries in Oxford and Glasgow have been taken down due to the controversy.” “Do you have someplace safe to stay?” Eliot asks with concern. Paige nods. “I have an aunt who lives here who is taking me in for a while. She’s a bit eccentric, but there won’t be any bricks through her windows.” Parker smiles and finishes a note on the pad. “We’ll do what we can to get that money to the charities and clean up your reputation.” Eliot helps Paige clear up the items on the table as they get up. “Can you do something else? If it’s not too much?” Paige asks as Eliot hands her the canvas bag. “What is it?” Eliot asks. “Make him hurt.” Paige says with a nervous glance around her. “Just a little. I know it’s not a nice thing to say, but I’ve had harassing phone calls and someone slashed my tires… I want him to understand what he’s done. It’s not right.” Eliot looks to Parker and they share a smile. “It’s our specialty.” Parker says.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hardison paces in front of the projection screen while Eliot sits on a stool behind the table and Parker sits on the edge of the table. The brick-and-wood rustic setting of their Portland headquarters is open and, with only three members of the original team, seems a little too empty. “Where is she?” Parker groans. They both look at Eliot. He shrugs. “I sent her the text twenty minutes ago. It might take her a while to get here.”Hardison shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. She could have bailed.” He shrugs. “It’s not like we need another hitter. We need a grifter.”“She’s not just a hitter. She’s a specialist.” Eliot corrects. Parker turns to Eliot. “An accident specialist. How does someone decide to do that?” Eliot shrugs. “Ask her yourself.” Hardison rolls his eyes. “If she gets here.” The door connecting the pub opens and Jack storms in, motorcycle helmet in her hands. “Traffic.” She signs and plops down in a seat. Eliot translates. Hardison looks at her skeptically. “Really? Traffic? Midday?” Jack kicks her feet up onto the counter and crosses her arms, decidedly not signing anything. “Just get on with the briefing.” Eliot growls. Hardison clicks the remote and photos of the art installation decorate the screen in a bright red hue with an instagram image of the artist, Paige, among her ceramic poppies. “This is what we know: Paige Kay, a British artist, wanted to do some good. Naturally, someone decided to profit off it.” An image of Trevor Burke, covers the previous photos. “Trevor Burke.” Parker says. “This rich boy grew up with money and loves to spend it. Look, here’s his social media,” Hardison points out as images of Burke over the years crops up: expensive cars, watches, parties, drinking, you name it. “Went to an Ivy League college for the connections, barely left with a business degree. Of course, Daddy sets him up in his hedge fund business and he spends his time moving around money in the comfort of a London skyscraper.” Parker edges off the table and moves toward the screen. “Ooo, the Osbourne building. Second tallest building in London.”“Sorry to disappoint you, babe, but I don’t think you’ll be jumping from this one.” Hardison says. Parker smirks. “Maybe not for the con…”Eliot looks over at Jack who looks on at the briefing with boredom. Slight bags under her eyes are noticeable. He taps her shoulder. “What’s up? You look tired.”“I did what you said. No other jobs. Not while I work here…” Jack signs with a look of reluctance and bitterness. “No.” Eliot points out. “No contract jobs. No killing.” Jack shrugs. “Same thing. To keep sane I’m working on a small project. Something personal.”“I know this may seem… boring to you at the beginning, but what we do --”“Do you mind?” Hardison interrupts. “Y’all got something you want to share with the class?” Eliot groans and sits back up in his seat attentively while Hardison continues. “I know this isn’t as much fun as punching, Eliot, but I try to --““Can you just get on with the briefing?” “Oh now you want to pay attention?” Parker steps in between them and takes the remote from Hardison. “What we were discussing was Burke recently set his sights on a new project: a renovation project in the Tower of London.” “What’s with this Tower of London thing?” Eliot asks. “Wasn’t the art installation there?” “Yeah, and it may be official called ‘Her Majesty’s Royal Palace’, but that doesn’t mean the Queen of England lives there.” Parker comments and then mutters under her breath, “Stupid mistake.” Parker starts pressing buttons on the remote, pictures of all kinds start flying on the screen. Ceramic poppies, newspaper headlines about Trevor Burke’s success over the years, logos of companies linked through his hedge fund business named Miller & Burke, and the Osbourne building. She continues to flip through photos and mash buttons for the sheer enjoyment of it. Jack perks up when she notices a map with the Osbourne building location marked on it. Near Charing Cross station with a view of the Thames… and the Hungerford Bridge. Or as it’s sometimes affectionately known as: the Charing Cross bridge. Hardison nods. “Burke did actually do some of the administrative duties for the poppy installation including shmoozing the History Royal Palace charity that helps maintain and fund the tourism at the Tower of London.” Jack pulls out her phone. “What’s the project he’s working on now?” The mechanical voice reads. Hardison snatches the remote from Parker and adjusts the settings. He presses a button and a few newspaper clippings and renovation concept sketches appear. “It doesn’t look much different.” Eliot comments. “It’s not.” Hardison agrees. “Burke has convinced the board that the Tower of London needs a good scrub. Due to the amount of pollution in the air, yeah, he can make a case for it, but it’s a ploy to siphon more money out of the charity.” “Wait, he convinced them to wash the Tower of London… in December?” Eliot asks. Hardison shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe he made a case for the low dip in tourists and it being the best time to do it. All we need to know is that it worked and the project has been going for a few weeks.” Invoices and billing statements appear. “He’s got his buddies who run window washing companies and know how to point a power washer pocketing double the price they would normally charge under the pretense of “preserving historical landmarks” and other nonsense.” “Why do we care about the renovation? Don’t we just want to get this artist their money back?” Jack asks. They all share a glance, unsure if explaining the answer to the question was going to need an entire revisiting of the briefing in more detail. Parker steps forward. “We’re not just out to correct one problem and call it a day. You don’t just treat the symptoms, you cure the disease. In this case,” Parker brings up the picture of the arrogant Trevor Burke, “we’re going to stop this scum from continuing to drain charities of money that would help others.”“Why?” Jack signs. “No one else will.”
***
Trevor Burke strides through the Osbourne building with a sleek Bluetooth earpiece attached to his ear. The tailored suit draped around his body is flashy, but his overly casual stance makes it sloppy. The wrinkled button down underneath clashes with his classical suit. A boy wearing his father’s clothes and playing dress-up. “No, you listen to me, Calinsky. Charities. It’s the perfect side business.”Burke enters a glass office with a breathtaking view of the Thames. He gazes out the window and checks his reflection, grinning at himself. “They rake in massive sums, are tax exempt, and you get gold stars on your reputation. I’ve got a little project going with restoring the Tower of London. Yeah. Big names. All for - what? - a little bit of soap and water.” Burke waits, listening, a smile spreading across his face. “Exactly! You won’t regret this, my man.” He taps a button on the side of the ear piece and the call ends. Burke punches the air with energy of success. “Mr. Burke.” A voice calls from the doorway.
Without turning around, Burke addresses the voice. “What do you have for me, Angie?” He asks. Angelina Turner enters the office and drops three manilla folders on his desk. “Just the usual monthly reports, a request for a progress report from the Historical Royal Palace, and client applications that completed screenings.” Burke turns around and looks at the folders. “Sounds boring. What are you up to, Angie?” Angelina rolls her eyes. “Work.” “Aw, c’mon.” Burke chides sitting on his desk with what he thinks is a sexy look. “We could take lunch early.” She turns on her heels and walks out of the room, clearly used to his antics. Burke sighs with distaste as he looks at the folders on his desk. This isn’t the part of the job he liked.
“Do I need to point out where the chair is, Trevor?” A stoic man in the doorway asks. He was everything that Trevor tried to express: serious, impressive, successful, and confident. Things that just seemed absolutely unattainable for Trevor, so he substitutes with being deceptive, spoiled, and overconfident.Burke jumps to his feet. “Ah! N-n-no, dad. I was just…”“Did you see the new client list?” The older, more imposing Burke asks. “I sent some important profiles. I want to see if you can get the job done.”Burke scoops a folder off his desk. “Yes. It’s right - no wait.” He sets the folder back down and picks up another. His father rolls his eyes and says, “Don’t embarrass me.” “Wait, dad, I wanted to -” But his father is down the hall before he can finish his retort. Burke channels his anger into punching his fist onto his desk. He takes a moment to calm down, then looks at the clients on the list.Turning to the computer at his desk, he pulls up the complete file on a client and dials a number. “Hello, Mr…” Burke hesitates and grimaces at the name. “.... Rag-ni-vald-er-son?” “It’s Ragnvaldsson.” The male voice on the phone corrects sharply in a Swedish accent.
***
Parker stands at the gate to the Tower of London looking around with the scrutinous gaze of an experience thief casing a mark. Wearing an outfit that screams ‘art history major’, complete with hipster glasses, vintage blouse, knee-high socks, and a thick coat, Parker looks ready to spout useless facts about British history.“Abigail McClain, is it?” Asks a voice as strict as the woman’s white hair pulled back into a flawless bun. Parker turns to identify the source of the voice to be a tall woman with a stern face bland like her grey suit. The absolute epitome of a strict British housekeeper. “Y-yes. Abigail. Abby. That’s me.” Parker sputters and holds out a hand to the woman. She doesn’t even acknowledge the gesture. “You must be Mrs. Stanton.” Mrs. Stanton whips out a small booklet and starts walking through the gates into the main grounds of the Tower. Parker hesitates, not sure of the abrupt movement, but quickly follows. “Your resume was impressive and your former employers highly recommended you.” Mrs. Stanton says, keeping a brisk pace. “However, I am much harder to impress. All of the tour guides on our staff are of the highest caliber. I hope you read up on the Tower’s history because this is your trial run. I’m an entitled family of tourists and I want to be entertained.”Parker follows Mrs. Stanton into the White Tower. “Hardison, I need some help here.” Hardison, dressed head to toe in medieval costume. “Y-you need help? Woman, I look like an extra from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” Hardison turns to box of props hidden behind a screen of sackcloth. “Why am I dressing up as cheap LARPer anyway?”“Because I can’t do the speaking parts and we need someone to watch the courtyards. Check for suspicious activity.” Jack’s mechanical voice says over the comms. “You better not be touching my setup.” Hardison whimpers. In the silver van parked along Tower hill, Jack sits in Hardison’s usual seat, albeit cleaner. Instead of orange soda bottles with varying levels of beverage inside them, Jack has a single reusable water bottle. “Do you want me to run tech or not? I can be deadweight if that suits your ego.” Jack types on the keyboard and sends her computerized voice through the comms. “What I want is to be back doing my thang, not reenacting shakespeare in a halloween costume.” Hardison complains. Parker turns away from Mrs. Stanton who is currently distracted with another colleague. “No, no, no! I need Jack to feed me all the info on this stuff or my future access to the Tower is burned.” “Quit it, Hardison!” Eliot snaps. Among the scaffolding set up along the north side of the Tower, Eliot wears a hard hat and warm Carhartt overalls over a thermal shirt. He walks through the other construction men with suspicious scrutiny. “This was the best way and you know it. Now man up!” The scaffolding runs from the Martin Tower to the Beauchamp Tower. A network of platforms to give the workers access to the outside and inside of the outer fort wall of the Tower of London. Eliot walks, keeping his head down to minimize suspicion, but appraising the operation.Halfway across the scaffolding, he stops at a more secured section. Wrapped tight in an environmental controlled plastic seal like a quarantine zone with two guards posted outside a single door. A supervisor notices Eliot’s lingering stare. “Move along! Authorized personnel only!” Eliot trudges on, but looks behind as two men in suits enter with a scan from a key card. “Something weird is going on. There’s hired security, two guys, former British military standing outside a door. A door that leads straight into where the Crown Jewels are held.” Jack types commands into the computer and images of documents appear. “Apparently that’s part of the renovation: the windows and exterior walls of the house for the Jewels. It seems only authorized personnel are allowed inside.”“These guys were in suits. They didn’t look like window washers or carpet cleaners.” Eliot notes. “What else is in there besides jewels?” Eliot asks. “Diamonds...” Parker sighs with longing and then remembers Mrs. Stanton. “...like the famous Koh-i-noor diamond set in the crown of Queen Elizabeth which we will get to when we go see the Crown Jewels.”Mrs. Stanton remains stone-faced. “Yes, but I’m a tired mother who just wants to know what’s around me right now.” She gestures to the mannequin horses dressed in armor. “The children with me have now heard about the diamonds and want to skip this part of the tour to see them, annoying everyone else in the group.” She scribbles furiously into her notebook. Parker grits her teeth and forces a smile. “Thank you! I love feedback!” “Can you guys keep it down?” Hardison whispers. “I gotta remember my lines!” Hardison turns back around and sees the other actors looking at him expectedly with some embarrassment. “Ah! Yes! The - the - the White Tower! Does anyone here know why it’s called that?” A teenager at the front, wearing ‘fashionably’ torn jeans and clearly cold under his ‘cool’ leather jacket rolls his eyes. “Because it’s white, idiot.”Hardison struggles to hold back. “You’re - you’re close.” He says, keeping a false cheer in his voice. “It’s because…” “...it was originally built out of timber but at the end of the eleventh century, it was fortified with white stone. It’s the earliest stone keep in England.” Parker informs Mrs. Stanton as they stroll out of the White Tower. Mrs. Stanton nods. “Very good. A segue into Bishop Ranulf Flambard as the first prisoner would lead us from here to the Bloody Tower with stories of torture and incarceration...” “I was thinking of moving to the crown jewels next.” Parker says and continues her straight path to the Waterloo block. Mrs. Stanton scribbles in her book and clicks her tongue with disapproval. “The jewels are always saved last since it’s the main attraction. Everything you show them from here will seem… mundane.” “Actually,” Parker argues. “It’s a little after noon which means most tourists are enjoying their lunch and the line will be the shortest now than when we circle back later. Besides, I have some enthusiastic kids to silence.” Mrs. Stanton face tightens with interest. “Not bad, Miss McClain.” Parker leads Mrs. Stanton into the building that houses the crown jewels and tries to hide her excitement. The first room displays posters detailing the history of the jewels and a path that curves around and around, clearly a point for tourists to line up when it started to get busy. Through the doorway of the next room, Parker sees the glint of overhead light off the gems. “I can take it from here, Jack.” Parker whispers with a smile growing on her face.
***
The furniture in the living room area of the hotel suite has been pushed to the side and the small dining table from the kitchen area moved into the center. Scattered on the table are blueprints, legal document copies from Miller & Burke, photographs of the Tower of London renovations, and take out containers of fish and chips.“Hardison. Hardison!” Eliot shouts from the table as he and Parker stand around it. Hardison is off to the side on one of the pushed away couches on his computer. “Quit playing your video games and get over here.”“It ain’t video games, man.” Hardison grumbles and sets aside his computer. “I’m just checking it.” “Checking for what?” Parker asks as the sound of a blender whirrs in the background. Hardison looks around and scratches at his head. “I was… I was checking to make sure it hadn’t, you know, been tampered with.” “Tampered with?” Parker repeated, still not understanding. Jack returns with a glass of thick green liquid and looks expectedly at the others. “What?” She asks with one hand while drinking from the glass in the other. “Huh? What? It’s nothing.” Hardison says and then notices the drink. “What is that? It smells nasty.”Eliot grits his teeth and is barely able to restrain himself from shoving the table over onto Hardison. “Focus! C’mon! We gotta figure out how to take down Burke before all the money goes away.” “He’s been investing a lot of money into other charity schemes.” Parker adds. “Burke’s growing the scheme, but he’s not improving it. If he makes a wrong move or someone catches on, he could lose it all or get it tangled up in court.” “I was out there. So far it seems like their scrubbing the outside of the building the jewels are held in, but it’s not a hard job. They’ve already finished most of the buildings in the last few weeks. After this week, they’ll be packing up and shipping out. We don’t have long to get him.” Eliot explains. “What do we have? Any violations? Safety issues? Malpractice we can use? We could do an easy Broken Wing scam. Get the money through the settlement.” Parker asks. Eliot shakes his head. “It’s soap and water. Scaffolding is secure. They’re here for the money and they clearly don’t want to mess it up.” Parker groans with frustration and grabs a handful of papers to shuffle through. “What about the suits?” Jack signs and sifts through photographs of the renovation site before picking up one with two men in suits. The photo was actually one Eliot took of crate of supplies, clearly showing it’s generic soap and the label doesn’t list any harmful chemicals. In the corner, the two men in suits shake hands outside the door that accesses the crown jewels. A tall Indian man with flawlessly styled hair, sunglasses, and a suit that accents his broad shoulders and tight torso shakes hands with a man a foot shorter and wearing off-the-rack button down shirt and slacks. “I know this guy. The one on the right.” Hardison says and points to the shorter man. “He’s with the charity. Historic Royal Palaces. He’s one of their recruiting dudes for big money. Probably brought this rich guy through the back door to avoid lines and give him a VIP tour.” “So we swept the place. Despite Burke’s seemingly terrible skills, this is a clean operation.” Parker says. Eliot looks at the documents and information on the table. “Then maybe this isn’t Burke’s show. He could have someone else running it.” “What do we know about his staff?” Parker asks Hardison who dashes over to his laptop.After a few moments of typing, a page begins to print out from the printer. Parker snatches it the moment it clears. “This list isn’t long.” Parker comments and places it on top of the table. “Just a secretary and one intern.” Hardison shrugs. “Seems like daddy doesn’t trust him with a grown man’s work. Has him on sales. Probably breaks his heart he isn’t bossing people around.” “Wait!” Parker picks one document out from the bottom of the pile. “Wait, the Tower of London is a World Heritage Site, isn’t it?” Hardison nods. “Yeah. I don’t think they needed UNESCO to declare it one. It’s kinda a huge deal in British history. You know, what with the prisoners and torturing and ravens or whatever.” Eliot raises his eyebrows at Hardison. “What, man? I learned a lot as a performer. I learned people are terrible.”“I’m thinking a small variation of the Wooden Nickel.” Parker says with a grin. Eliot and Hardison both look at each other with confusion and say, in unison, “With the Tower of London?” Hardison steps back. “It’s - it’s like a national treasure. It’s… the history… everything is… babe…”“You’re crazy.” Eliot says and Parker’s smile widens.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Angelina sits at her desk outside the glass windows of Burke’s office. The morning light filters through as employees do the same, each armed with a cup of coffee.If checking Burke’s calendar and starting to type up reports first thing in the morning wasn’t bad enough, the sound of loud music blasting through earbuds announces her boss’s arrival like an annoying fanfare. Before Trevor Burke could slip into his office, Angelina shoves folders at him. “Reports from yesterday.” She says. He pulls out one headphone and loudly screams, “What?” with all the grace of a child who can’t read social cues. The way even lower tier sales associates grimaced at him, it was clear what everyone’s stance on nepotism was. “Yesterday’s reports.” Angelina repeats. “Oh, cool.” He nods and hesitates. “Hey, Angie. Would you like to go get coffee -”Angelina holds up her coffee cup. “Listen, Trevor, you’re my boss and all this flirting is getting old.”Burke looks around to make sure no one heard that and fights the feeling of blood rushing to his face with a cough. “Actually, I was going to ask if you could go get me coffee. I was running late and - “She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Triple vanilla mocha?” He nods. “See? You’re so incredibly smart and - “Angelina holds up a hand. “Don’t you ever stop? Please?” Burke pops his earbuds back in and closes his office door behind him. Grabbing her purse she gets up from her desk and is about to head to the door, when an excited-looking young woman approaches her. Dressed like a business student on a budget, Angelina stops in her tracks. “Who are you?” Parker grabs the ID pinned onto her blazer. “Abigail McClain. Intern. Part of the co-op program with Imperial College London.” Angelina smiles, but is still confused. “Have you been assigned a sales associate?” “They told me in HR that I was to look for Trevor Burke.” Parker leans in forward with feigned anxiety and excitement. “He’s not the Burke? Like in the name?” Angelina laughs. “Oh, no! Don’t worry. You won’t have too much to handle.” She says and scribbles something down on a sticky note. “However, your first mission is to go fetch Mr. Burke his coffee. Here’s the card you can use for it.” Parker takes the credit card and tries not to look too happy about how many ways she can abuse this responsibility. “Okay! Anything else?” Angelina plops down at her desk and indulges in a self-satisfied grin. “Don’t you worry. You bring back that coffee and I’ll have a lot more to keep you busy.”“This is going to take forever.” Jack complains over the comms. “What we do has more moving parts than a simple hit, Jack.” Eliot explains as he finishes replacing labels onto the buckets of soap in the crates. “Just watch.” Eliot ducks out of the way as Hardison enters, wearing a suit, a badge with UNESCO’s logo and the United Nations. A small, classic mustache sits above his top lip. He holds a clipboard and walks around, inspecting materials and the building. The recruiter with the Historic Royal Palaces that was seen before giving access to the suits appears as one of the workers points out Hardison. “That’s the man who’s been asking questions.” The recruiter takes a breath and composes himself before approaching Hardison. “Excuse me!” He calls out to Hardison and catches up to him. “I’m Carter Haines, associate director with the Historic Royal Palaces. You shouldn’t be here, this is off-limits to civilians.” Hardison flashes his badge at Carter. “I’m Adrien Martel,” he greets in a snobbish French accent. “I am with the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization.” “UNESCO?” Carter says, startled. “This is - why didn’t you call my office first?” “So you could get rid of the evidence?” Hardison asks and points at a bucket of soap. “Do you know what that is?” Carter shrugs. “Soap?” He sighs. “Listen, all of this was approved by my staff. Let me just call…” “This soap has vinegar in it!” Hardison claims. “Do you know what these walls are made out of?” “V-vinegar?” Carter repeats. “That’s harmless!” Hardison points to the walls. “These walls are constructed of Kentish ragstone and caen stone. Do you know what that means? Limestone!” Carter blinks, the gears in his head are covered in cobwebs. “Vinegar is a diluted form of acetic acid. Limestone is a base. What happens when they combine?” Carter shakes his head. “I’m - I’m not sure -”“Corrosion!” Hardison shouts. “While vinegar is a diluted version, you are slowly destroying this building! Weakening the walls! What else have you washed with this ‘soap’?” Carter, now thoroughly startled, stammers, “E-everything.” Hardison shakes his head and writes down on the clipboard. “I need this operation to be shut down immediately. Call whoever you need to. This restoration is destroying one of the most complete eleventh-century palaces in Europe.” Cell phone in hand, Carter starts relaying the information that Hardison told him. “A-all operations on the restoration need to stop.”“I’ll need to do a complete survey of the area to make sure nothing has been permanently damaged.” Hardison states walking toward the guarded door into the building that houses the crown jewels. “What work have you been doing in there?” The nervous Carter hangs up his phone after delivering several orders. “Window refitting and small renovation. We’re opening a new exhibit - ““I’ll need access to that too.” Hardison claims. Carter scoffs. “Only authorized personnel…” Hardison glares at the charity’s associate director until he caves. “Fine. I’ll get you a pass. I just… I need to make a few more phone calls.” Carter sulks off, dialing another number on his phone and gesturing at workers to stop what they’re doing. “The restoration is officially suspended.” Hardison says to the team with his normal voice. “Good. Your French accent is terrible.” Jack responds. Hardison’s smile fades. “Well, your computerized voice makes you sound like an off-brand GLaDOS, but you don’t hear me complaining.” Eliot follows the other workers being escorted away from the premises. “How long until the news reaches Burke?” Parker sits at a table in a conference room with tons of paperwork and armed with a stapler. “Not sure. I’ve been making copies of all the current charity projects Burke has been working on…” Parker informs them and staples together a thick packet of papers and sets it on a stack. “They’re everywhere and he’s dipped into some major charities. The Church Commissioners for England, the Robert Bosch Foundation… he’s supporting or creating projects and asking charities for funds and hides the fact that he’s making a profit off it. He’s even got this architectural monument project that hasn’t even been fleshed out that he’s pitching to the Realdania in Denmark for funding. Some war monument or something.”Papers scatter as Parker rifles through looking for a specific document. “And here. He’s pulling the same thing like he did with Paige Kay. He’s giving money to artists with art installation ideas to support their expenses. When the art is sold, a sum is supposed to go to the charity, but only after he pockets more than half with fees.” “What happens to those projects if we stop Burke?” Jack asks. “Won’t someone else just take over?”“We need to choose who that is.” Eliot says, entering the van with Jack. “What are our options?” Jack quickly types on the keyboard with precision as small bios fly through the air. Most disappear as Jack runs through filters. “Looks like his secretary, Angelina Turner. She has the most knowledge of the operations, does volunteer work on the side, and seems to have a clean record.” Parker nods. “Yeah, Angelina seems to loathe Burke. She’s practically running the charity functions already.” Eliot shakes his head. “There’s something about this job that bothers me. It breaks his pattern. Burke usually funds someone and then pockets half the profits. This restoration won’t bring in that much. It’s more hassle than usual.” “I agree.” Parker says. “I’ll do more digging here.”Carter returns, making his way toward a man he thinks is an UNESCO agent named Adrien. “I’m about to get an all-access pass to the crown jewels so I’ll do some snooping over here.” Hardison supplies. “Here.” Carter hands Hardison a badge with “ACCESS LEVEL 4” in red letters across it. Hardison clips it to his lapel and moves toward the doors. Carter follows. “Excuse me, sir, but I wouldn’t want my routine check to keep you from your phone calls.” Hardison says, hoping to relieve him of Carter shadowing him. Carter shakes his head. “Sorry, Mr. Martel. I need to supervise you inside this building security reasons. You understand?” “But of course.” Hardison says and steps aside. “Après vous.”Carter heads into the Jewel House attached to Martin Tower. Hardison rolls his eyes and follows. They pass through a hallway with newly installed windows, their edges marked with tape and ready for some finishing touches of paint. Crates, still nailed shut, line the bare walls of a large open room. “We have a new exhibit coming in soon. A wealthy adventurer and philanthropist found the lost jewels of King John of England and has agreed to give them back to England. They are to be housed here in a new exhibit next year.” Hardison nods with a newly found curiosity about the contents of the crates. “The very same lost to the bogs of eastern England?” Hadison asks. “They’ve been lost for eight hundred years. Remarkable. Did the donator mention where they were found?” Carter leans close to Hardison with the air of imparting an important secret. “This exhibit has been kept secret for months. I trust you, but if I have to get you to sign a Non-Disclosure, I won’t hesitate.”“My lips, as you say, are sealed.” Hardison says with a hand over his heart and continues to look around the room with his clipboard in front of him, trying not to stare at the crates.
***
Parker returns to the hotel with the others, exhausted and holding a few packets of papers. “This is why I don’t work a normal job.” She groans and throws the packets onto the table. “The entire day is sitting, looking at words on paper and highlighting and it’s awful. I think I have a cramp.” She complains. “What did you find about the restoration? Anything weird about it?” Jack asks, using her phone’s voice. Parker grabs the top packet of paper and flips a third of the way in and points to a highlighted name. “Advik Iyer. He heard about Burke’s charity work, supposedly through a friend, and hired him to do a restoration job on the Tower of London.”“Why?” Eliot asks. “And who is this Advik anyway?” Flipping through a few more pages, Parker finds the bio for him. "There's nothing here about him that could help. Just that he's a donor who likes his privacy." "Wait..." Hardison takes a look at the image on Parker's bio page and hunts through the cluttered table for something specific. “Calm down, Hardison, what are you doing?” Eliot asks, trying to keep clear off the mess that Hardison is making. Hardison jumps up, holding the photograph from before with the suits. “This guy. The one in the sunglasses. Check him out.” The photograph is placed next to the image on the bio page of Parker’s packet. The images looked strikingly similar despite one being a blurry zoomed in photo with the subject wearing sunglasses, the resemblance was enough. “So the same rich guy who is opening a new exhibit of lost jewels hired our hedge fund boy to run a scam on a charity using… using a restoration?” Eliot asks. “Something doesn’t make sense.” Hardison flips over a document to show it’s blank back. He pats himself down. “Anybody got a pen?” He asks. Both Eliot and Parker start to look, but Jack pulls one out of an inside pocket on her jacket and hands it to him. Hardison is hesitant to take it. “Is this gonna kill me?” “Dammit, Hardison. Just take the pen!” Eliot snaps and Hardison complies. He starts to shakily draw a room and its layout. “Inside the doors is Advik’s showroom. Where he’s going to display the lost crown jewels of King John.” Hardison explains and makes crude outlines of crates and windows. “The room is relatively unsecure. There are three security cameras but they aren’t installed yet. There’s access to a vent here -” He points to a spot on the drawing. “And I can only imagine where it leads.”Parker slides the drawing closer to herself. “Easy. Swipe a key card, gain access, climb these two crates and use the vent to access the crown jewel displays. They don’t allow you to take pictures inside, but - “ Parker taps her head. “I’ve already been inside. I remember the layout. The best area to go that would take the least amount of time and would have the best chance of escape would be … either prying the Koh-i-noor diamond off the Queen Mother’s crown or the Cullinan I off the Sovereign’s Sceptre. There’s also the Stewart’s Sapphire and the Black Prince’s ruby, but those are farther away and are riskier.” Jack shakes her head. “It doesn’t make sense. Why donate ancient stolen jewels worth a fortune to steal one gem? A famous gem like that would be too hot to sell for years and it won’t sell a fraction of the price this operation cost.”Eliot crosses his arms. “The Koh-i-noor diamond. It has more than just a monetary value.” Eliot grabs a photo of Advik. “He could be working on the behalf of India, stealing back a diamond that was taken back during British occupation. Other countries like Pakistan and Afghanistan have also claimed a right to it, but the British don’t give up anything. Especially rare gems.”“So if it’s stolen, it could lead to Britain lashing out at whoever they think is responsible,” Parker surmises. “Creating an international incident.” “And any of these countries would pay a fortune to have the diamond in their possession.” Jack adds. “The restoration is supposed to complete this week. He must be going through with the heist some time soon.” Eliot mentions. “He probably put a crew together.” Hardison nods and reaches for his laptop. “I can check my channels. See if there are any familiar criminal faces popping up here.” “We’ll do the same.” Parker says and Eliot nods an agreement, Eliot pulling out his phone to call contacts and Parker texting some of her own. Jack stays by the table as the others move to other sides of the room. She picks up the packet of information opened to the Advik bio and stares at his face with a confused look of familiarity. She remembers a similar face, seven years younger, with a champagne glass and a smug grin. “I don’t believe we’ve met…” He says, holding out a hand to take hers. His British accent heavily applied for an air of wealth and intelligence. Jack offers the hand with a smile. “Mariya Selena Vyacheslavovna.” she replies, her Russian accent barely noticeable except in the cadence of her pronunciation. The man laughs with a bright humor. “And I thought my name was difficult to pronounce. I’m Advik Mehra. What brings you to Bahrain?” “Work.” Jack says, intentionally mysterious. The party was very formal with a mix of the attendees being wealthy foreign elite or wealthy Arabic locals. Jack blends in with her striking black dress and a gold cape cascading down one shoulder. Advik flashes a skeptical grin. “A woman like you? Work? It must be fashion. Are you a model?” Jack’s smile fades and she rolls her eyes. Without gracing those questions with a response, Jack moves toward a different group of people. Advik grabs her elbow. “Come on. You can’t blame me for trying.” Advik complains. “Besides, I was just hoping it was modelling. If you tell me you’re a scientist or government official, I’d have to confess I know little to nothing about anything outside the realm of business and tea.” This piqued Jack’s interest. “Tea?” Advik loses his confident exterior for a moment as it melts into slight frustration. “Yes. Tea. My family is the Mehra family. Of Mehra Teas. I know a nauseating amount about tea.”“I prefer coffee.” Jack shrugs. “I do too.” Advik says and they share a laugh. Jack snaps out of her memory and grabs her own laptop. Typing quickly, she looks up information on Advik on the web. Advik Iyer was the same as Advik Mehra, of Mehra teas. “I know Advik.” Jack informs them. Parker and Eliot pause their communications. “And he won’t need a team.” Hardison looks up from his screen. “Are you saying he’s gonna do this on his own?” Jack shrugs. “Everything is in place. All that’s needed is his escape.” “How do you know this guy?” Eliot asks. A memory flashes through her mind of running out of a lobby, her hand clutching the gun in her purse just in case. The top floor of the building she’s escaping from with the rest of the building’s occupants that could flee fast enough, erupts in flame. Jack looks around for Advik, but he’s nowhere to be seen. “A job. One that went wrong in my favor.” She types in her phone. “If I recall correctly, some very important paintings were lost that day in the fire. Along with a certain Lieutenant General.”Parker crosses her arms. “How do we stop him?” “Why should we?” Hardison asks. “If the theft happens and the police take a closer look at Burke’s operation and its financials. Maybe they’ll make the same connections we did. Take both of them down.” Jack shakes her head. “That’s not how it works. He probably left a trail to Burke. He’s a parasite. He layers his unassuming crime in with another one that is more obvious so that when he pulls off his, it’s the other one that takes the heat when the investigation begins.” Jack explains. “He tried to piggyback off of one of your hits?” Parker asks. “He tried.” They regroup around the table and Hardison picks up a tourist map of the Tower of London. “If this happens soon, we’ll be shut out of the Tower. No one will be able to get in or out. They’ll question anyone they can find who was on the premises that day.”“It’s all going to be backlogged behind police procedural. Burke hid everything under several shell companies, just to be sure. We need to take him down fast and soon.” Eliot adds.
Parker slams her hand on the table. “We need to remember why we’re here.” She says, catching their attention. “Paige. The threats. We need to clear her name.”Hardison shakes his head. “We need to expose Burke before the heist is pulled or he’ll be pushes aside while an international incident overshadows him.” “Someone needs to stall Advik.” Parker agrees and turns to Jack. Jack shakes her head. “I have an idea.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Just as the sun is rising, the staff of the Beanstalk coffee shop move about in their opening routine. The high-end coffee shop boasts polished reclaimed wood for their bar and tables. Wrought iron designs and gleaming floor-to-ceiling windows give the coffee shop a greenhouse feel to it. Several plants from elegant peace lilies to blossoming bird of paradise are scattered around the coffee shop, soaking in the sun and benefiting from the used coffee grounds.Located on top of Needle and Thread, a famous atelier that has been tailoring outfits for the elite for over a century, the Beanstalk gets a good view of the Thames and Shakespeare’s Globe theater. However, the patronage of the Beanstalk is an exclusive few. The kind that spend pocket change at the atelier and decide to have an espresso while their purchases are being packaged. Of course, the occasional dignitary or wealthy traveler that hears of the Beanstalk is welcome to pass the time or their wait out their layover in peace away from the tourists. They have no advertising except by word of mouth and only one sign on the top floor of the atelier pointing toward the entrance with one word: “Coffee”. Jack was working off a hunch, but she knew three things about Advik from her encounter: he squeezed the most he could out of his social status, he loves coffee, and he can’t stand silence. She struts through the Needle and Thread, heading toward the antique elevator in the back. Wearing knee-high leather boots, a simple red wool dress, and a light cream jacket that did little against the cold, but Jack’s Russian blood kept her warm. The staff greeted her without any suspicion. Jack grins, knowing everything she was wearing she stole from their stock room earlier this morning. The elevator opened on the top floor, where most of fittings happen, and she follows the singular sign to the Beanstalk. Sitting in a corner booth, scouring a newspaper, was Advik. The barista perks up at the sight of Jack. “What will you have, miss?” She asks with a bright British accent. Advik looks up from his newspaper at the rare occasion of a newcomer and attempts to settle on an emotion between fear and false confidence.Jack ignores the barista and sits down at Advik’s table as he folds up the newspaper and takes a sip of his italian roast. “Of all the things I’ve done I never expected anyone to send you after me.” Advik says and laughs. His warm British accent carrying a rebellious Hindi lilt. “Talk about overkill. Any thug could do me in. I’m not exactly threatening.” Jack looks out the window in the direction toward the Tower of London.“You know about my operation, don’t you?” He asks and moves his coffee cup as far away from her as he can. “Or your employer does.”Jack holds up a hand to get the attention of a waiter. He arrives and she points on a small menu card for a moroccan blend. “Sugar and cream?” The waiter asks and Jack shakes her head. Advik squirms in his seat. “I hate silence, you know.” He complains. “This is your way to get me to talk? You need some sort of information? Is that it? Can’t kill me until you get it? Well, it won’t work.” Jack snatches up the newspaper Advik had been reading and starts to scan the headlines. Advik’s leg begins bouncing with nervous anticipation. “I haven’t already been dosed or anything, right? I’m not dying, yet?” A smile stretches across Jack’s lips, but she doesn’t look up from the newspaper. The waiter returns with the coffee and Jack nods her thanks before taking it. “Is this about Bahrain?” Advik asks, leaning closer. “Because you left me no choice. I thought you were any other thug. I didn’t know you were some kind of specialist. I needed something big to cover my exit.” Jack sips her coffee and flips the page of the newspaper. “I saw the Lieutenant General dead of an overdose in his bathroom and what was I supposed to do? I thought you’d just shoot him! You had a gun.” Advik says and lowers his voice. The Beanstalk prizes its discretion with whatever meetings take place behind the glass, but one can never be too sure. “It wasn’t enough... sensation… surprise! to get away.” Advik finishes his coffee like a man knowing it would be his last. “I avoided any of your exploits in the future. You’re bad for business and frankly, quite terrifying.” Jack opens to a buried newspaper article about the problems with the restoration at the Tower of London. She lays it out on the table so he sees it. “Burke. Do you work with Burke? No. There’s no way he can afford you.” Advik rambles. “He wouldn’t even know how to hire a hitman. Can’t do anything himself. His secretary does all his heavy lifting.” Jack takes a napkin, writes a few words on it, and slides it across the table to him. Advik looks at it and scowls at the phone number written. He pushes it away. “So you do know. Who’s this? Your employer.”Jack nods. “And if I decide not to share?”She takes her pen and slips it into an inside pocket of her jacket revealing a rather large knife sheathed underneath.Advik groans. “Of course. The moment I planned my dream heist after years of --” he says and shakes his head. “Nevermind.” He pulls out his wallet and drops a handful of pound notes onto the table. Advik grabs his coat and hat. “You’re just doing your job, I’m sure.” Turning to leave, Advik hesitates and turns once more to Jack. “No offense, Mariya, but I hope to never see you again.” Jack smiles as she tilts back her cup and finishes her coffee.Hardison, stationed in his van with and orange soda in one hand and a bag of gummy frogs in the other, shrugs. “Alright, I’ll admit, that was pretty cool. Dude is talkative as hell.” A screen flashes and the sound of a phone call blares. “He’s calling.” Eliot, seated next to Hardison, presses a button on the bluetooth earpiece around his ear. “I’ve been waiting for your call.” Eliot says with a heavy Arabic accent. “Iranian? Afghanistan? Stop me when I get close.” Advik says on the other side of the line. “None of your business.” Eliot says with a menacing growl. “But I know all about this plot of yours. I’m interested in an item you can procure.” “The Koh-i-noor, I’ll bet?” Advik assumes. “Well, it’s going to have a huge price tag.” “How about not dying? I’m sure you’ve met my woman.” Eliot says. Hardison makes a face at Eliot and mouths “Your woman?”. Eliot threatens Hardison with a tightened fist. “She’s cute. If you can pay her, you can pay me.” Advik replies. Eliot is about to retort when the call ends. “Did he just --?” Hardison asks. “Don't call him back. Let him stew. I'll shadow him a bit, get him paranoid. ” Jack says her eyes on the Hungerford Bridge.Parker groans. “We don't really have time. Burke’s father is not happy about the restoration issues.” Parker stands outside the door to Burke’s office as his father’s shouting reverberates out. “Apparently his dad didn't know about the charity work he's been doing in the company name.”“You’re a disgrace!” Burke’s father shouts. Every employee within earshot is watching with anticipation. “When were you going to tell me about this mess? After I read about it in the newspaper?” “That’s good for us, right?” Jack asks. “He gets fired and we all go home?”Eliot shakes his head. “We need to make sure the Poppy art exhibit money is returned to the charities and Paige’s name is cleared.” Hardison groans. “This Advik guy and his heist is complicating everything.” Parker hands Angelina a thumb drive. “Here are all the digitized files you asked for.” “Thanks. Can you put those files back and grab the next stack to digitize? I’ll have the drive to you by then.” Angelina asks. “Sure.” Parker says in a fake perky manner, but the moment she turns around, her face drops into frustration. “I am so done with boring paperwork, guys. Let’s get this over with.”Hardison types commands on his keyboard. “Did you give her the drive with the trojan horse on it?” Parker looks back over her shoulder as Angelina inserts the drive. “Yeah. Please tell me the documents are in there.” “I’ll let you know. She’s got a lot of files.” Hardison says. “For a secretary, she’s got a lot of … oh no.”“What?” Eliot demands. Hardison continues to open files and skim their contents. “If I’m reading this correctly, Angelina has all the files of the charity scams on her computer.”“That makes sense, Burke barely reads. Angelina does all the work.” Parker says. “Advik even saw that.” Jack adds. Hardison shakes his head. “Yeah, but there are files of scams that go back years. The art installation scam with Paige’s poppies was just the first one funded by Miller & Burke.”Parker looks back as Burke’s father exits and Angelina hurriedly sneaks into Burke’s office. “Burke’s just funding for her.” Eliot leans back. “Burke is a mark to her.” he groans. “If we take down Burke, then she picks a new one and moves on.” “We’ve got to get her.” Parker concludes and runs into the conference room where all the files are and the laptop she used to digitize them. The program Hardison made to take photos of the documents and write them was open on the screen. Parker moves the files and papers aside and pulls out a large legal pad. She flips it to a fresh page. “What if we use the heist?” Hardison continues his search through Angelina’s hard drive. “I’m not following, babe.” “The restoration project is the fall guy to the Advik’s heist to begin with.” Parker says. “We just need to have infallible proof that lands into Angelina’s hands.” Eliot leans forward, looking over Hardison’s shoulders. “Why has she been pulling these scams? We learn that, we can find a way to hook her in.” Hardison gestures to the screens. “Look, man, I don’t know. These jobs are clean. They’re almost perfect. She’s been doing this for years.” He clicks a few links and types into a browser, bringing up Angelina’s social media pages. “It started when she was actually volunteering for a charity. Some sort of book drive.” He follows the rabbit hole down until an article pops up. “It was closed down for fraud right around the time our little profiteer jumped ship.” Hardison takes a handful of gummy frogs. “With a degree in accounting, she knows numbers.”“She knows how to manipulate those numbers.” Eliot says. Hardison clicks back through the files. “She’s kept her hands clean. No incriminating evidence is on her computer, just files and logs that could be tied to Burke. She must be keeping it on a separate drive. Something she could get rid of in a pinch.” Parker sighs. “And by being the accountant or secretary, she always has the ability to make it look like they were given to her or dictated.” Parker taps the small spider web-like map she created. “She’s logical and competent. The worst mark.” She scoops up the files and, on her way to the cabinets to return them, she peeks into Burke’s office. Angelina has her head in her hands with a look of restrained anger while Burke mopes, slumped in his chair. “These schemes only get her a few thousand after dividing it up between sponsors. What do you think she’d do for a multi-billion dollar payout that got rid of Burke?”“You think she’d go for that?” Eliot asks. “Her operations are clean and methodical. She’s always in control and gets out before things get ugly. This is quick and unplanned.” “Burke’s on thin ice,” Parker says. “If she doesn’t get out soon, she’ll be set back without the money from the restoration. Her other scams don’t pay off as well without Burke. She’ll want a quick buyout for her troubles.” Hardison scratches his chin. “And you think she’ll go for a diamond?”Parker grabs the next stack of files and brings them back to her table. “She makes friends easy. I bet she has a fence on speed dial. Not all her scams pay out in cash.” Parker surmises. “I can plant some info for her to find. Ways to help her make connections. She’s already met Advik and set this whole thing up with him. All she needs is a whiff of the planned theft and his history.” Hardison says as he starts typing. Eliot leans over his shoulder. “How are you gonna do that without tipping her off?” Hardison points to the screen. “She scours a lot of news media, especially charity stuff looking for her next target or even competitors.” Hardison quickly creates a graphic image and drags it into an ad on the news page he was showing Eliot. “See, I’m going to place it in her peripherals. I have headlines of thefts that were Advik’s in the graphic on the ad for the newspaper and then links to those specific articles. If she’s smart, she’ll put two and two together.” “Jack, we need you to clone Advik’s phone so we can know when Angelina calls him and what the terms are.” Parker says. The comms are silent as all three wait to hear back from Jack. “Jack?” Eliot asks. Hardison pulls up a tracking program and puts in Jack’s earpiece number. “She’s out by the Embankment station.”“She could be tailing Advik and gone underground.” Eliot suggests. “Make sure she gets the message when she surfaces.” Parker says.
***
Jack stands on the north side of the Thames looking east toward the Palace of Westminster. She holds up her phone with an image of the Monet. The two towers over the bridge on the right match up with the Westminster towers.The painting is straight on as if painted from a boat in the middle of the Thames. Jack looks out over the murky, toxic waters. There’s no way she was going to dive for something she wasn’t even sure was there. Besides, how was she even supposed to see?She stares at the painting some more. The secrets have to be somewhere on it or in it’s history. Jack had looked at it under black light, made sure to check it for anything hidden under it’s oil paint, but still nothing about the cryptic clue. Jack pulls out her phone and opens an encryption app where she types a message to the only contact.
I was promised information and all you’ve given me are riddles.
An answer quickly appeared. If I give you what you want, nothing will make sure you repay me.
Why the Monet?
I told you that you already had the information. What you incorrectly assumed was that it was the painting.Jack turns off the phone and restrains from chucking it into the Thames
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hardison and Eliot wait in the hotel room impatiently. Eliot paces while Hardison stares at his computer for the incoming download. “Has Jack not sent anything?” Eliot asks. Hardison rolls his eyes. “For the third time in five minutes no. I will let you know.” Hardison leans forward. “Are you absolutely positive we can trust her? She hasn’t just… I don’t know… bailed?”Eliot restrains himself. “If she bails, it’s because you keep thinking she’s trying to kill you.”Hardison leans back in his chair. “I’m just saying, we needed a grifter , not another hitter.”“The only thing she can’t do is grift. Just take the win.” The front door opens and Parker barges in. “Angelina didn’t come back from lunch. I don’t know where she is. Did Jack get the clone in yet?” “Nope.” Hardison informs her. “We’re still waiting.” Parker checks her watch. “It’s been two hours!” Hardison nods at Eliot. “That’s what I keep telling him.” Bing. Hardison’s computer chimes as he receives a file. Eliot and Parker gather around the computer set up as Hardison focuses. “Is it his phone?”“No. The file’s too small.” He opens the file and a photo from Jack’s phone appears. A photo of Advik and Angelina at lunch. “Looks like Angelina found the bait. Jack didn’t get to his phone in time.”“We need to know what they’re planning.” Parker gumbles.
***
Advik leans back in laughter while Angelina forces a smile. “That wasn’t a joke.”“I’m sorry.” Advik says, wiping away tears from his eyes. “I wasn’t laughing at your proposition, I’ve just had a very strange day.”Angelina pulls out a thumb drive. “Like I said, all the information the police will need to see to connect you to the theft is on this drive. You either give me a cut of the profit or I tell them how you set this whole thing up.”Advik sips his wine and grimaces at Angelina. He waves for a waiter. “This is appalling. I’m never letting you pick wine again.” Angelina waves the thumb drive. “Hello! This is jail time! A lot of it!” She places it back into her purse when the waiter returns and Advik barters for a better wine, arguing about taste and tannins. He turns back to Angelina once the waiter storms off. “Look, I’m not the one who messed up the restoration work. I don’t see why you’re looking at me for a payout.”“I know exactly what you’re up to and if I go to the police with this information, your plans are ruined.” “And you don’t get paid.” Advik says. “Your little restoration project tanks, you alert the police, I don’t show up and then they look into you and why you have this information. Sounds like either way, I walk away free. You hold absolutely no cards whatsoever.” Angelina tries to smile to break the uneasy tension, but it falters. “You’re not used to this, are you? You work in the shadows and change some numbers around, make a profit. You’ve never had to play verbal chess with someone or negotiate for anything other than vacation days, am I right?” Advik asks. Angelina remains quiet. “You’re young, you’ve got drive and potential. Anyone can see that.”Advik taps his fingers together and leans forward. “How about you think of this as your first lesson in being a grifter, hmm? The pay is better, so are the hours. And you don’t have to deal with jerks like Burke. And there are a lot of fun fancy events.”Angelina brightens. “I’ve had a little snag in my plans that I was going to just improvise in the moment, but since the plan is tonight and you seem like you could use the experience, how about you give me a little helping hand?”“Of course!” Angelina says, trying to downplay the eagerness in her voice. Advik nods with a smirk. “Good. I need two things I won’t be able to sneak in on my person. A crowbar and a pair of work gloves. I’ll need you to bring them to the back entrance near the new annex at nine forty-five sharp. Can you do that?”
***
Jack watches as Advik exits the Goose and Cauldron from an internet cafe across the street. She shuts down the computer and removes a thumb drive from the computer.As she approaches the Goose and Cauldron, Angelina exits. Jack bumps into her as she moves to enter the restaurant. “Watch it.” Angelina snaps before strutting off. Jack watches Angelina head toward her office building and she pulls out her phone to check the messages. Advik steps up beside her. “You should learn to look where you’re going.”
***
Jack opens the door to the hotel room. The team jumps to their feet.“We’ve been trying to reach you for the last half-hour, Jack ---” Parker begins, but falls silent when she sees Advik standing behind her. “Sorry about that,” he says as he pushes in, taking in their operation. “I asked her not to reply seeing as it would be difficult to respond.” Hardison leans back in his chair and shakes his head at Eliot. “You said we could trust her.”“You want your charity scammers to go down. Doing some good out there, huh? Thumbs up. However, leaving the bread crumbs for Angelina to find was a dirty trick. Don’t blame Mariya here, I am capable of figuring things out as I go.”Eliot crosses his arms. “What makes you think you can make demands and get out of here free and clear?” Jack closes the door and stands between him and the exit. Advik holds out his hands. “Look. This was a small pet project. A little brain teaser I put together to dust off the old grey cells. I’ve been out of the gig for a while and the siren call of stolen goods was becoming an itch I needed to scratch.” Hardison rolls his eyes. “Slow down there, Shakespeare.” “What I’m trying to say is that my goal was just to have some fun. That’s gone now. If you think you can make something out of this, sure. But you’ll have to work with me to pull this off. I’ve been planning this for years.” Advik explains. “I’m your best chance at taking them down.”Advik shrugs. “Besides. I’ve heard of you guys. You took down those awful factories in Wisconsin, right? It would be nice to work with some professionals that have some decency - there was this one team I put together that was --”“Okay! Fine!” Parker interrupts. “Hold up, wait.” Hardison cuts in. “Shouldn’t we discuss this? You know, as a team?” “You’re the one who keeps saying we need a grifter.” Parker checks her watch. “And It’s almost three o’clock. We don’t have time. If we piggy-back off his theft, we can draw attention to Burke and Angelina's scams.”Advik nods. “The Tower closes to tourists at four thirty. My plans takes effect at nine thirty during the Ceremony of the Keys.”“That gives you five hours to fill us in and get in place.” Eliot says. “Starting now.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A blanket of darkness attempts to settle over London, but the street lights, headlights, and LEDs push back, turning the sky a muddy brown in the conflict. Howard sits at his guard post near the middle drawbridge of the Tower of London with a paperback mystery novel bent in his hands, curling the pages. He snickers at the detective when he gets stumped and the criminal gets away. Everything has been obvious so far. Of course, the maid is responsible. He digs his hand into a box of crumpets and shovels a few into his mouth, brushing the crumbs off him, but not the pages of his book. How he can even call that dog-eared, stained, and rolled spine abomination a book and not evidence against his ability to care for the slightest thing is the real mystery. It’s no wonder he didn’t notice a vehicle approach the gate as he audibly scoffed at the detective’s deduction again, wishing he had someone to discuss his theories with so he wasn’t the only one who knew just how underappreciated his intellectual prowess is. “Hey, excuse me. Sir.” Advik says leaning toward the plastic partition between him and guard gate. The muffled noises sound like a gust of wind and nothing more to the great Detective Howard Jameson. His concentration on the coroner’s evidence is derailed by the sound of knocking on the partition. Howard sits up in his chair, crumbs cascading down his uniform. Lucille, with a stick-on logo for “Zippy Shipping” on the side of the van, idles in the darkness waiting for the guard to open the gate. Howard slides open the door. “What? The Tower is closed.” Howard snaps. “We have last minute orders to bring in some materials needed for the new wing. Something about the wrong light bulbs… I don’t know I wasn’t really paying attention. I was just told to bring it in.” Advik drones with an exhausted look, dressed in a stained delivery uniform. “You’re my last stop before I can go home. Please.”Howard sighs and places his book pages down on the sticky guard table to save his spot. “Let me see your papers.” Advik rifles through Lucille’s glove compartments and the passenger seat. All of it covered in clutter from empty soda bottles to balled up food wrappers. “Yeah. I got it here somewhere.”“I can’t believe we let him trash Lucille.” Hardison groans from the back of the van. “Relax.” Parker says. “He’s been planning this for years.” Junk flies in the air and Advik pulls out what looks like a wrinkled document. “Ah! This is… not it. Hold on. I think it may have just shifted under the seat.”Advik bends forward and roots around in the trash heap near his feet. Howard sighs. “Look, I get it. Deliver those bulbs. You can hand me the document on the way out.” Advik flashes a big thankful grin at Howard and reads his name tag. “Thanks… Howard. You’re alright. I’ll find you those papers for you. Might need a shovel though.” They both laugh as Howard lifts the gate with the push of a button. Howard shakes his head. “Been there with you. Cost me a job once. Be more careful next time, alright?” “Of course, of course! See you in a while!” Hardison said, waving out the window as they pulled forward into the outer wall area of the Tower of London where the workers park.After the first turn, the partition between the back of the van opens. Jack is incredulous. “I can’t believe that worked.” she signs. “What’s more important is how we get out. We don’t have any paperwork” Eliot says. Advik grins. “I’ve been watching Howard for a long time. I’m the one who sent him those crumpets anonymously. In five minutes, tops, he’ll be asleep.”Eliot leans forward. “Let’s just focus on the current plan.” Advik pulls Lucille up behind the scaffolding outside the Crown Jewel annex door. “Alright. Let’s go.” They head up to the door and Advik holds a hand out to Hardison. “The access cards have unique RFID codes. You said you received one as a fake UNESCO officer, yes? Wouldn’t want this traced back to me.” “No, that would be tragic.” Hardison says with dry sarcasm as he pulls out the key card and swipes it. The doors unlock. The group hurries in, closing the door behind them. Advik turns to Eliot. “You have the crowbar?” Eliot hefts it onto his shoulder. “You need to stop asking questions you already know the answer to.” Advik turns to Hardison and tosses him a small Gameboy. “This is an EMP generator I made. It’s very small so it’s range is short. The generator that powers the tech is in the basement --”Hardison snatches the Gameboy out of Advik’s hand. “Yeah, I get it. Just give me directions and…” He holds the Gameboy. “Can I keep this?” Advik shrugs. “I just watched a YouTube video. It’s incredible what information people share for free on the internet.” Advik points at the Gameboy. “Do you know the Konami Code?”“Of course.” Hardison says with a grin. “Well, then you’re a nerd. Congrats. You just need to press the ‘start’ button for the pulse, but it only has one charge in it. Don’t mess this up.” Advik turns to Jack. “The guards that are not in the barracks will be doing the Ceremony of Keys with around fifty tourists. Keep them as distracted as you can. Massive chaos.”Jack lifts a gas can in her hands with a smile. He turns to Parker and hands her a large glinting fake Koh-i-noor diamond. Her eyes light up as she takes it. “This is… this is an amazing fake.” Advik shrugs while the praise goes straight to his head. “I’ve spent years perfecting it. Forgery is my forte.” Hardison grimaces in the background. “At ten o’clock exactly, when the Last Post is sounded, Hardison sets off the EMP and we’ll have minutes to complete the escape plan.” Parker looks at her watch. “Nine forty. Let’s go.” She jumps up on the crates under the vent, opens the creaking doors and disappears within, Hardison heads down a hallway and leaps down some stairs, Jack puts on a pair of leather gloves as she exits the building, and Eliot starts prying open the crates with a crowbar. Parker moves through the air vents with ease while Advik whispers to her the directions, Jack heads toward the Byward Tower, and Hardison mutters the directions to himself as he navigates the maintenance rooms under the jewel house. Five minutes pass and Angelina sneaks in past the sleeping Howard clutching a crowbar in her gloved hands. Jack finds a huddled group of tourists all watching the Byward Tower with excitement and apprehension that can only be created by finally getting to see the event that you reserved tickets to a year in advance for. Eliot tosses out the packing materials and surveys his work, the boxes looked looted and rifled through. “All set here. Bit of a shame the crown jewels of King John are still lost.” “Nonsense.” Advik says into the ear piece. “I had to convince them I had them, right? Bribes only go so far.” Parker stops in her tracks. “Wait. So the sword of Tristram --”“Later, darling.” Advik says. “We have other more pressing matters.” Both fall quiet as they reach the vent into the crown jewel room. Shrouded in darkness, the only lights visible are the blinking dots on the night-vision cameras. “I’ll lower you down. Get into place before the power is shut off.” Advik instructs as Parker carefully opens the vent screen. They wait with bated breath as the camera slowly rotates away from their position and Parker slips to the floor, unnoticed. The moment she hits the ground, something feels wrong. She looks around, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. “Advik…” Parker whispers and looks back at the dark vent. Empty. “Advik!” Hardison turns a corner and makes it to the generator and checks his watch. Nine fifty-five. “I’m in position. Hello? Hello?” Hardison taps his ear piece before shrugging. Must be something in the jewel house above or the tunnel’s metal reinforcements blocking his signal. Jack walks with the tourists, puffing clouds of breath like baby dragons entranced with the key ritual. They walk up Water Lane and halt with the rest of the military escort around the keys outside of the Bloody Tower. “Halt! Who comes there?” Calls the sentry with his scripted line. “The keys!” The Chief Warden responds. “Whose keys?” The sentry questions. “Queen Elizabeth’s keys!” replies the Chief Warder and Jack rolls her eyes. This is not what she thought her part would be in this plan. Parker quickly dives into a camera blind spot as the camera turns back toward her. “We have a problem. Advik led me into the wrong room, I’m supposed to be next door. And now he’s gone. I’m trapped.” Eliot checks his watch. Nine fifty-eight. “Jack, get to Hardison. Something must be interfering with his comms. I’ll get Parker.”Jack looks around and pulls out her phone amongst the other tourists snapping photos. She types back, “I can’t make my move before ten or we show our hand.” Jack slowly makes her way toward the front of the group behind the lantern-wielding escorts. “Just don’t kill anyone.” Eliot reminds her. The Chief Warder and the escort line up at the bottom of the Broadwalk Steps with the main tower guard. Almost all of the security in one place. Chief Warder yells, “God preserve Queen Elizabeth.” “Amen!” respond the guard in unison. The Waterloo Barracks clock strikes for ten o’clock and the Last Post bugle sounds. The tourists start clapping and Jack pushes on the tourist in front of her into one of the escorts. “Hey!” The tourist shouts and Jack knocks the lantern out of the escort’s hand. It crashes to the ground, shattering on the pavement. Little puddles of water from the morning’s drizzle, mixed in with the ethyl alcohol Jack sprinkled around. It immediately catches into flames that curls all around up to the steps and over the grass. Panic sets in just as Jack sneaks away in the chaos. “On my way to Hardison.” Jack types in. The lights shut down and everything goes dark except for the flames in the courtyard. “Hurry. Advik’s probably on his way out.” Eliot tells Jack. Parker crawls over to a door. “I’m by the east exit by the weapons room. Hurry.”Eliot dashes down a hallway. “I’ll get to you before the warders realize Jack’s fire is just a distraction. After that, I’m not sure.” “We have to leave Lucille, if Advik hasn’t already used it to escape.” Eliot turns a corner and arrives in the hallway between the weapon room and the jewel rooms. “Parker! Parker! Stand back!” Parker moves out of the way as Eliot kicks the door. “Why can’t you learn to pick a lock!?” Parker complains. With one more kick, the door splinters at the deadbolt and opens. Eliot grabs Parker’s hand. “Could you pick a lock that fast?”“Over here!” A voice down the hall shouts. “No, but we wouldn’t have gotten caught!” Parker snaps as they take off running down the hallway. “We all need to head to the Northeast Tower.” Hardison checks his watch as he reaches a door that reads ‘EXIT: PARKING’. “Hello? How is everything? Everyone at the van? I think the EMP messed up my comms.”Shuffling out into the parking lot, Hardison stops dead when he sees Advik sitting in the driver’s seat of Lucille, all her delivery logos peeled off. “I owe you one. Cheers.” He shouts to Hardison as he peels away in the van toward the exit. Before Hardison can react, Jack appears behind him and grabs him by the arm. “What the hell is going on?” He shouts. Jack releases Hardison’s hand and takes two thumbs up and moves them from her chest in the ASL sign for ‘follow’. Hardison stops dead in his tracks. “Where are the others? Parker? Eliot?” Jack growls and restrains herself from choking Hardison. Instead she takes out her earpiece and hands it to Hardison. “Ew, what? No!” But Jack forces it into his ear. “Guys, we’re almost to the Northeast Tower. Where are you?” Eliot demands through comms. “We’re on our way now.” Hardison says as he follows after Jack leading him up the scaffolding. They arrive at the Tower and rush in. “Where are you guys?” Hardison asks. Eliot runs along scaffolding toward the Northeast Tower with Parker ahead of him. Yeoman Wardens rush after them, burdened with their heavy dress. “We’ve got more pressing matters, Hardison!”Hardison turns to Jack, but she’s gone. “Jack?” Eliot and Parker stop short of the tower when the scaffolding runs out. “There’s no time, we have to jump!” Parker says to Eliot. Eliot cracks his knuckles and rolls his shoulders, turning to face the oncoming security. “Climb down. There’s no way we’re getting out of here if you break your legs.” The guards, wearing red-and-black outfits look like a ridiculous flurry of out-dated fashion, brandish their batons as they run at Eliot shouting. Eliot twirls the crowbar in his hand and deflects the first two blows from the Beefeaters. He knocks two of them off the edge and others stumble, losing their balance. Suddenly, the scaffolding starts to shake and bend under the swarm of Beefeaters. Through the scaffolding, like metal on metal. One short, three long. Two short, one long. Two long. One short, two long, one short. The scaffolding starts to shake. Eliot catches a glimpse of a figure running on the scaffolding platform underneath.. He snaps out of his stance and dives off the unsafe structure just as it folds on itself, scattering Beefeaters.Eliot lands on Jack as she also exits the collapse. When they both are able to get back up, Jack signs, “Is that how you thank me?” “C’mon. You told me to jump.” Eliot gasps, one hand clutching his ribs and the other grabbing Jack’s arm. Parker holds the door open as they rushed in. “Can someone tell me why trapping ourselves in a tower far from the exit is a good plan?” Hardison asked. Parker grins and starts feeling one of the stone walls behind the informational posters on the history of the formerly named “Robyn the Devil’s Tower” and how it was now named… Devereux. “Something this old and used for such terrible means, there has to be secret passageways, right? One that goes to the chapel, one that goes to the next tower and…” Parker finds a stone in the flooring that stands out. She gestures to Eliot. He fits the crowbar between the stone slab and the wall and pushes. It pries up, unleashing stale swampy air and revealing a rusty staircase underground. They stare down the hole. “And one that leads outside.” “How did you figure all this out?” Hardison asks. Parker shrugs. “I knew with a tower named Devereux, it was going to have more than one secret that could benefit us.” They disappear down the hatch with Eliot placing the stone back in place behind them just as the bedraggled Beefeaters enter, gasping and clutching their sides and heads. “Hey! Out here!” A Yeoman Warden shouts from outside. The others follow the cry to the parking lot. “Let go of me!” A female voice shouts. They arrive as the Warden cuffs Angelina. “I found a crowbar and some gloves on her. The crates of lost jewels have been pried open and contents are gone.” “I don’t have anything! Check my car!” Angelina offers. “She must have stashed them somewhere on site. Sweep the whole area.” The Warden commands. One of the Beefeaters gestures to the Devereux tower. “We chased a few suspects to Devereux. We should start there.” “It was them! It had to be!” Angelina shouts. The Warden pulls Angelina away. “Save it for the judges.”
***
The Tower Hill Memorial stands against the darkness like an old sentinel still proud of its purpose.Out in the grounds, a clod of grass and dirt pushes up from the ground like the start of a low-budget zombie movie. Hardison makes one last push and the trap door swings open free of dirt and grass. “Hey, you try opening a rotted wooden door covered in grass with a grumpy jerk shouting at you.” Hardison helps Parker and even Jack out of the hole, but walks off when Eliot struggles on the slippery metal rungs. “Hardison!” Jack lends Eliot a hand. Once they closed the door behind them and covered it sufficiently with dirt, they turned to look toward the Tower. “That was a mess.” Eliot mutters clutching his ribs. “I lost Lucille again.” Hardison groans. “I didn’t even get to hold the diamond.” Parker whines, clutching the fake Koh-i-noor. Jack sighs, but looks off in the direction of the Charing Cross Bridge.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Portland, Oregon
Jack stands at the printer in their offices behind the bar and pulls out a photo once it finishes. “Hey, Jack....” Hardison says, startling Jack. She quickly folds the photo to hide the image.
Hardison backs up, hands out. “Whoa whoa, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” Jack moves her hand away from her waistband. “Was there - were you reaching for a knife?”Jack crosses her arms and stares at Hardison. He shrugs. “Look, I wanted to apologize for my… for not trusting you during the last mission. I was so busy keeping an eye on you, that I ignored Advik.” Hardison explains. “Apology accepted.” Jack signs, but Hardison stares blankly. Jack rolls her eyes, forces a grin and a thumbs up. Hardison pulls Jack into a hug, despite her clear resistance. “Welcome to the family, Jack.”
He suddenly springs back, revealing a small pocket knife in Jack’s hand. “Dammit, woman. I’m trying to be nice!” Eliot enters the back office. “Just gave Paige the good news.” “And the money from Burke’s business account?” Parker asks, thinking about how easy it was to get the business card’s credit card information from Angelina. Eliot nods and sits down at the briefing table with a beer. “She can repair her window now, hell, she could buy a whole new house.” “Check this out” Parker says, turning on the news. Hardison enters the room and stands behind Eliot and Parker as a British news anchor appears. “The world was shocked today as the lost Jewels of King John, a secret new exhibit planned for the Tower of London, are lost again.” Mugshots of Angelina and Trevor appear next to the news anchor. “Angelina Turner was found at the crime scene with a crowbar, was seen dining with a known thief, and paid thousands of dollars to an off-shore account from the business accounts of Miller & Burke. More surprisingly, she had a drive on her containing evidence of scams she was running through charities with associate, Trevor Burke.”The images swap out with security footage of blurry figures. “The lost jewels are supposedly in the hands of Burke and Turner’s hired thugs who managed to escape the grounds. Scotland Yard is asking --”Eliot shuts off the TV. “Thugs. Insulting.” “Guess we have to lay low for a while…” Hardison sighs. “Of course not!” A familiar British voice chimes in. All three turn to see Advik standing behind them. He tosses a set of keys to Hardison. “Sorry about taking your van, but as an apology, she’s been completely cleaned and I even upgraded some of your equipment in there. Complete with mini-fridge!”Hardison stares at Advik not sure what to say. “You leave us behind in one of the most guarded places in England and just think you can just apologize with a van upgrade?” Eliot demands. Advik steps back, clearly not understanding the hostility. “Look, you guys are the ones who said you needed a grifter. You wanted to test me, I wanted to test you. I wasn’t going to join a weak team and you handled yourselves really well back there.” Eliot grimaces, but Parker nods. “Fair.” She holds out a hand to shake Advik’s hands, but pulls away at the last second. “Where is it? The Koh-I-Noor?” Advik shakes his head. “I don’t steal and tell.” Advik grins. “But it’s safe.” They shake, but Parker leans forward, staring down Advik. “No diamond is safe from me.”
Advik laughs. “Good luck. I wish you the best.” “And how did Mariya know about Angelina’s drive? Where is she?” Advik checks over his shoulder. Eliot, Parker, and Hardison look around for her. “Jack? She was here.”
***
The White Star, a noisy night club where the lights are dim enough to hide physical imperfections, but bright neon lights add a magical shine to every person. For a few hours, liquid confidence and altered perceptions of the dancers around you creates a mysterious, ethereal experience.It also creates a blanket of obscurity for those who don’t want to be noticed or recognized. Jack, wearing a modest black dress, slips into the shadows along the edges of the dance floor away from the bar. She makes her way toward a table where a man, dressed in a completely black suit with no tie lounges. The glint of the light against the suit buttons and cuff links are the only color added to him. Jack sits and slides the photograph across the table to the mysterious man. He unfolds it revealing an image of the girl from the mission in Russia, the one who Linster had been seen with.“Congratulations.” The man says. “You’re finally on the right track.” He slides a drive across the table to her. “Here is the next step.” Before Jack can take it, he pulls it away. “I don’t want just the three you’re working with. I want Nathan Ford and Sophie Devereux. Especially them. That drive contains a job I think they’ll all take. Once they’re in place, I’ll give you your next instructions.” Jack takes the drive and the man leans into the light. “I’m not a patient man, Kira.” Damien Moreau threatens. “And neither is your father.”