Page 76 of The Shadow Friends

“You weren’t there, in France. You didn’t see that poor girl bleed to death. Or what they did to Gordon and Simon. To the families they left behind. We’re closing in on this killer. I can feel it.”

“Why does it have to be you? And why with him?”

“Rodrigo brings the skills. And the resources.”

“You don’t even know who his client is.”

“That’s the point. Deniability.”

“Be honest. Is this really about justice?”

“It is. And it feels good to be useful again. To know there’s still juice in the old engine. To know I can make a difference. While I was planning this op, it took me right back to the game. The sense of purpose, the challenge, the thrill. I’d almost forgotten that.”

“And you miss the excitement.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Don’t you miss being young, taking risks?”

“I may have been young once, but I never took risks. And now that I have, I’m not sure I see the attraction.”

She smiled. “I love you for that.”

“Look, Ingrid, I know I’ll never be like you and Rodrigo. It’s as if I married into a different species. But for the sake of our marriage, I’m ready to do anything. Just tell me what it is. Tell me what I need to—”

Ingrid’s cell phone rang. She looked down at the display. Rodrigo.

Lloyd sighed. “Go ahead. I know you want to answer it.”

She picked up the phone. “Yes?”

“We have their location,” said Rodrigo. “The drone followed the van nine klicks northwest. It’s a detached residence, no nearby neighbors. We’re pulling the team together now.”

“When do we move?”

“We wait till nightfall. About three hours. Meet you back here.”

She hung up and looked at Lloyd. She felt as if she were being torn apart, wrenched in half. Duty lay in one direction and Lloyd in another. “I love you,” she said. “But I need to finish this.” She stood up.

He stood up too. “Then I’m going with you.”

“Since when did this become Take Your Husband to Work Day?” asked Rodrigo as he and Ingrid crouched behind a hedge.

“Lloyd wants to be part of this. What’s the harm? We can always use another pair of eyes, and I promise he’ll stay in the car and watch the road for us.” She raised her binoculars and peered over the hedge at the house at the top of the hill. Night had fallen two hours earlier, and in the darkness, a chorus of insects chirped. The house’s elevation gave its occupants a commanding view of any approaching vehicle on its winding driveway. It stood alone, surrounded by a sloping field of tall weeds that served as a haven for biting insects. Ingrid ignored the occasional sting of a mosquito, the rustle of unseen creatures in the grass, and she stayed focused on the house, where every window was brazenly lit up. This was where they would have brought the real Beatriz, had they managed to snatch her. That house was where they would have tortured and killed her, as a warning to anyone tempted to betray Moscow.

Ingrid lowered the binoculars. “I don’t see movement in any of the windows. Are we sure they’re inside the house?”

“There are two vehicles parked in the driveway. Someone’s at home.”

The voice of one of Rodrigo’s men came over their headsets. “We’re approaching the rear entrance. No sign of life yet.”

“This is strange,” said Ingrid, once again raising her binoculars. “Is there a cellar? Could they be down there?”

“Now at the back door,” the man said. There was a pause. “It’s open.”

Ingrid stiffened. “Pull them back. It’s a trap.”

“There’s blood. I see blood on the floor!”

Ingrid and Rodrigo glanced at each other. “Status?” Rodrigo snapped.