Ice Storm (Ice 4)

“No. He’s got a gash on his forehead and a broken arm. Maybe a concussion, but there was no way we could keep him in hospital. We figured it would be easier to keep an eye on him if we had him with us—otherwise he could be nothing but trouble.”

“‘We?’”

“Bastien’s here. He brought Chloe and the children—they’re staying in the Golders Green safe house with Genevieve. Someone tried to take them out, back in the States.”

“No one could get through the kind of security he had set up there,” she said, her voice flat. “No one even knew where he was, outside the Committee.”

“Exactly.” Peter pulled a small piece of equipment out of his pocket and set it on the table. “The kidnappers left a GPS with instructions. Killian’s supposed to follow it, alone, and they’ll let Mahmoud go.”

“Why would they think he’d do that?”

“Why would he insist on bringing the kid halfway across the world with him? It doesn’t matter why, only that he hasn’t let go of him and isn’t about to.”

“Were you able to download the information from the GPS?”

“Not yet. But Bastien figured out the coordinates. It’s someplace in Wilders.”

“Shit,” Isobel said, as things fell together in her mind. “Have we been complete idiots all this time? That’s where Harry Thomason’s country house is. But why? He’d kill all these people because of his hurt pride?”

“Oh, it’s more than that,” Peter said. “I expect he wants to take over the Committee again, and the best way to do that is to prove how incompetent you are. Operatives dying under your watch is a perfect example.”

“Hell, he put out termination orders on half the people working under him!” Isobel snapped.

“I don’t think he’s planning to give you a chance to argue. These attacks on Serafin—Killian—have been just as dangerous for you. I think you were the real target.”

“I already told her that.” She hadn’t even heard Killian come into the room. He was dressed, his hair still wet from the shower, his eyes hooded. She could see the mark her mouth had made on the side of his neck, and she turned her face away, shivering. “Isobel didn’t want to believe it.”

Peter looked at Killian for a long moment, sizing him up. “You haven’t given us much reason to believe you in the past. I’m Peter Madsen, by the way. I’m one of the people who carried you up here. If you’ve got a few bruises you can thank me for them.”

“Oh, I think Isobel contributed her share,” he said, casting an oblique glance in her direction. She ignored him, keeping her expression stony.

“How long have you been listening?” Peter said, his voice cold.

“Since you got here. They have Mahmoud and they want me in exchange. Simple enough.”

“Not so simple. They really want Isobel.”

His smile was slow and cool. “It’s still simple. He’s the bad guy. We don’t give him what he wants. I go get Mahmoud and you keep her here.”

“You think you can just waltz in there and pluck Mahmoud out?” she asked, her calm cracking. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be fool enough to underestimate an enemy.”

“Sounds like he’s more your enemy than mine,” Killian said. “And I never underestimate anyone. Except you, perhaps.” The enigmatic words hung in the air. “I’m quite good at ingratiating myself with bad people, Isobel. Like to like. I’ll tell him that I’ll set you up if he gives me Mahmoud.”

“Would you? Give up Isobel for Mahmoud? Why?” Peter didn’t bother to disguise his hostility.

“I didn’t say I would. I’m not very trustworthy,” he said with a wry smile. “Once Mahmoud is safe, you and whatever operatives you have left can go in and clean up the mess.”

“I’ve got an old friend of yours downstairs,” Peter said. “Bastien Toussaint.”

Killian didn’t even blink. “It’s been a long time.”

“But Bastien has a long memory.”

“As do I.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Isobel demanded. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Peter glanced at Killian. “You want to enlighten her? Or shall I?”