The Spy With The Silver Lining. Wendy Rosnau
Ever hear of a man named Yurii Petrov?”
“The Russian mobster, oui, I’ve heard of him. He’s doing time in a Czech prison.”
“Was. He escaped a week ago.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“I don’t have all the details. What I do know is that since he’s been in prison his operation has still been running smoothly. We know he’s the prime source for laundering the Chameleon’s money. Last week someone pulled off a billion-dollar weapons deal with the Russians. We believe it was the Chameleon.”
Pierce shifted in his chair and crossed his jean-clad leg over his knee, his frustration in check.
His comrades had given him the name Sleeper years ago because he seldom showed an ounce of emotion, or revealed what he was thinking. His self-control was what had kept him alive for thirty-five years. His lazy brown eyes gave the impression that even if his balls were on fire, he wouldn’t reach for a water glass.
He said, “You think he’s going to contact Petrov to clean his money?”
“He probably already has. Polax tells me Yurii Petrov keeps sophisticated records on all his clients. That means he’s got data on the Chameleon. We want it.”
“Do we know where Yurii Petrov keeps this data?”
“We think he has a command center somewhere in the Mediterranean. But so far we haven’t been able to lock in on the location. To infiltrate his core and retrieve the data we need to uncover his hideout. He calls it Nescosto Priyatna. Quest has been under some heavy ridicule since Petrov’s prison break. Polax is looking to redeem his agency. We’re looking for data on the Chameleon. I’ve met twice with Lev Polax and we’ve come up with a plan.”
“If you don’t know where to look, how are you—”
“Petrov has a score to settle with Quest. Polax believes he’s going to go after one of his operatives. The agent responsible for his seven months in prison.”
“How do I fit in?”
“When agencies work together good things can happen. The Austrian mission was proof of that. I’ve never been too proud to join forces with another agency if we can score a victory. Shutting down Petrov’s cartel would be a big perk for EURO-Quest. And I don’t have to tell you what it would mean to Onyxx if we can draw the Chameleon out of hiding to get another crack at him.”
Pierce could see that the idea thrilled Merrick. And why wouldn’t it? The Chameleon had been a dagger in Merrick’s side for fifteen years. This went far beyond just business with his boss. Everything involving the Chameleon was personal to Merrick.
“We’ve got the Chameleon’s original kill-file now. We’ve defused an international disaster and made friends along the way. It’s a victory, but what I…Onyxx wants is the Chameleon. I’d like to have been there when he learned that we had commandeered his kill-file. That bastard has been dogging me…the agency for too damn long.”
It was a fact, and Pierce understood Merrick’s frustration. His commander had been living with a sour taste in his mouth for too long. After all, the Chameleon had killed Merrick’s wife.
“I’d like to nurture this neighborly relationship with Quest. It’s been working to both our advantages.” Merrick tossed a file across the desk. “This is what we’ve got on Yurii Petrov. He’s a leading force in the Red Mafia, but he’s much more than that. He’s been a busy man over the past twelve years.”
Pierce reached for the file and opened it. First off was a picture of Petrov, along with the stats. Five feet nine inches, weighed two ten, brown eyes, black hair. In the picture he was dressed like a tycoon. He looked in good shape for a man headed for fifty.
He skimmed the pages of information. Later he would read them through. He closed the file.
That was when Merrick dropped the bomb. “What I want from you is to play house with Polax’s bait. It’s only a matter of time before Petrov makes a move on her. How long has it been since you were back home?”
The question caught Pierce by surprise. “Home? You mean Louisiana?”
“Le Mystère, to be specific.”
“Four or five years, maybe.”
“How’s Saber Lazie doing these days?”
Pierce arched an eyebrow. “He’s still on his feet, kicking it around.”
“So you two are still on good terms?”
“Oui.” Where was this going?
“You still have that house near Bayou Lafourche?”
Pierce uncrossed his legs and sat up a little straighter. “What are you asking of me, Merrick?”
“This is a bodyguard job with a twist.” Merrick slid another file across the desk. “Polax’s agent. The one you’ll be playing house with until Petrov makes his move. She comes with baggage.”
“What kind of baggage?”
“Her mother.”
Pierce reached for the second file and opened it, and there staring back at him was the mouthy little bitch he’d encountered months ago in Austria. The woman he’d been tempted to shove out of the helicopter if only one of his bullet wounds hadn’t dislocated his shoulder in the process.
He closed the file. “Balasi put Yurii Petrov in prison? How did she manage that?”
“She used her charm. You know the standard for Quest agents. They’re trained specialists in the art of seduction.”
The woman he’d met didn’t know the definition of charm, Pierce thought.
“This particular agent is an expert in bringing a man to his knees. Polax tells me Petrov fell in two months. So hard he declared his love, gave her a ring and asked her to marry him.”
Casmir Balasi, wife material? A two-headed viper would be more fun.
“This isn’t going to work.” Pierce closed the file. “We didn’t get along in Austria.”
“Then you know her?”
“She was the agent that doubled for Nadja Stefn that day in Austria on Glass Mountain.”
“If you had a conflict with her, why isn’t it in your report?”
Because he had never expected to ever see her again, Pierce wanted to say. He didn’t. Instead he made a suggestion. “Maybe Ash Kelly could take this one. I hear he’s been back a few weeks.”
“It’s true Ash has returned from his sabbatical. He seems a hundred percent, but I’d hate to find out otherwise on a mission of this importance. To be honest, he never made the list of candidates. After I discussed potential operatives with Polax, he picked you as the lucky winner.”
Pierce muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Indigestion.”
“This mission will require a man who can stay focused and in control.” Merrick grinned. “We both know you have a knack for that. You’ve proven to us more than once that you can straddle an electric fence in a knife fight and never break a sweat. That’s your gift, Pierce—patience and adaptability. Not to mention your dead aim. I’ve never seen a man who can keep a cigarette lit in the eye of a hurricane better than you can. How many times have you been shot now?”
“I’ve lost count.”
“My point. It’s that resilience that I’m counting on.”
Bad weather, he could handle. Eating a bullet, no problem. But babysitting a bitch with more attitude than brains… He’d volunteer for a bullet in the middle of the Arctic any day.
In his