stuck them in Ash’s face. “That’s Felton Chanler with his wife, three kids and their dog. This one, Jazmin Grant, was the best damn agent I’ve had in years. Twenty-eight is too damn young to die.”
That was for damn sure, Ash thought staring at the beautiful blonde. “I’m sorry about your agents.”
Stillman slid the pictures back in his pocket. “I don’t want your condolences, Kelly. I want your hide. But since I won’t get away with skinning you alive, I’ll settle for my second choice.”
“And that would be?”
“You’ll know soon enough.”
Stillman hit the button on the elevator and it took off. Within minutes they were walking down the corridor side-by-side, headed for Merrick’s office.
The SDECE commander knocked, then swung the door open as if he owned the agency and every man in it. He stepped inside the room just as Merrick hung up the phone.
Adolf Merrick arched his gray eyebrows over his chilly blue eyes. “You’re early. I didn’t expect you until this afternoon.”
“I met your firecracker, Merrick. He wouldn’t be hard to pick out in a line-up. He fits your MO.”
“My MO?”
“Oui. Your recruits are a bunch of marauders. Criminals, every last one of them.”
“My agents don’t have a particular MO, except one, Stillman. They know how to survive. That’s what it takes to be successful in this business. Maybe if your agents were made out of similar stuff, they’d still be alive.”
“That’s a helluva thing for you to say to me.”
“Sit down, Ash. Stillman, if you’d like to take a seat down the hall in the waiting room, I’ll have a cup of coffee brought to you.”
Stillman pulled out the chair in front of Merrick’s desk and sat. “I’ve never taken a number in my life, Merrick, and I don’t plan to start now. Your errand boy can wait outside, or stay since he’s the reason I’m here.”
Ash waited to be dismissed.
Merrick said, “Kelly, take a seat.”
Ash made himself comfortable on the couch along the wall. He’d keep his mouth shut. Speak if he was engaged. If not, he’d just take up a little space and oxygen, and enjoy the showdown between Stillman and Merrick. It was going to be entertaining. The temperature in the room was as chilly as the weather outside.
“I’ve talked with my supervisors about this situation,” Merrick began, “and we’re sympathetic. No agency likes investing time and money and coming up short. And when agents don’t come home, it makes it worse. But that’s the business we’re in. Sometimes we win big, and sometimes the losses are hard to swallow.”
“Save your pat speech. An apology won’t fix this, and it’s not why I’m here. I want compensation. My number one agent is dead.”
“Onyxx is under no obligation to compensate the SDECE. We sympathize,” Merrick said again, “but we never make restitutions or apologies. I don’t know of any agency that does. We all know the score when we send our men and women into the field.”
“You command a gang of fugitives. A well-kept secret that I’m sure the NSA would like to keep hidden in the closet. What do you think the media would do with that kind of information? What do you think the public would say if they knew their tax dollars sanctioned a bunch of criminals?”
Ash said nothing, but he was thinking that for Stillman to know so much about Onyxx, he’d gone digging. All the data on Onyxx and its agents were kept confidential—sealed under lock and key within the Green Room upstairs. No one could access the file without an authorization number. Hell, they couldn’t even get through the door without proper ID.
“You mentioned compensation. What is the SDECE proposing?” Merrick asked.
Stillman grinned. “I knew you’d come around, mon ami. Adolf Merrick, hotshot assassin for the NSA who doesn’t know when to retire and go home, so they hand him a desk job. You’re no better than your men. You were once a criminal yourself. Sorry, a survivor.”
“We all have a past.”
“Baggage in this business can be deadly. You had a beautiful wife once. A pity she died so young and so senselessly. But as you say, that’s the business we’re in.”
Ash winced. Stillman had just crossed the line into forbidden territory. No one at Onyxx talked about Johanna Merrick and her tragic death at the hands of the Chameleon. Merrick’s arch enemy was still out there enjoying the fruits of his debauchery, and so far no agency had been able to stop him. He had more hideouts than a centipede had legs.
Merrick leaned back in his chair. “You’re a reckless sonofabitch, Stillman. The worst kind of loose cannon. Say what you came to say, then get the hell out of my office.”
“You left a loose end in Italy when you pulled out. Yurii Petrov’s brother escaped Nescosto before you leveled it.”
“We’re aware that Filip got away.”
“Are you going after him?”
“We know where he’s at, and he’s being watched.”
“A nice way of saying you’ve learned something that makes him more valuable alive than dead.”
Merrick didn’t dispute Stillman’s claim.
“Unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of sitting back and watching. My superiors are demanding answers for the deaths of Chanler and Grant.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. Not unless you’d like to tell me what your agents were doing at Nescosto.”
“That’s classified.”
“Even to your superiors?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. The bottom line is your timing at Nescosto couldn’t have been worse. Your victory has destroyed any chance for me to get mine. So you can understand why dropping a bomb in the middle of your agency would make me feel marginally better.”
Merrick sat back in his chair. “I don’t think this has anything to do with the SDECE wanting restitution. I think this is about you, and what you need to save your ass. I’d say your superiors didn’t sanction the mission you sent your agents on, and now that they’re dead, you’re scrambling to salvage a piece of the pie to save your job.”
“A colorful scenario, mon ami, but untrue. What I came here for was to ask you to—”
“Ask? Let’s be clear, Stillman. You came here to muscle me, not ask. I can’t bring your agents back. As much as I’d like to, I don’t have that kind of power.”
“But you do have the power to gift the SDECE with a replacement agent. After all, it was your firecracker who killed mine.”
Ash had been in the middle of a yawn when Stillman dropped his bomb. He glanced at Merrick and saw that his boss was just as surprised as he was.
Merrick had sacrificed everything for Onyxx—over twenty-five years of his life. His personal happiness. His comrades.
His wife.
His current status was an extension of those sacrifices, and it went far beyond sitting behind a desk in a cushy office.
The bottom line was, he’d earned the right to be whatever he chose to be, which was a supremely confident, fearless commander. He was unflappable and possessive, and some days a real ornery sonofabitch. But Ash had never met a more honest man.
“You want me to hand over one of my men?”
“You’re lucky I’m not asking for two. Chanler was a loyal agent, and he will be missed. But Jaz Grant was irreplaceable. Since it was the Ashtray’s trigger finger that took her from