The Paris Betrayal by James Hannibal (the dot read aloud .txt) 📗

abandoned him. Ben’s vision swam. Until that moment, he’d fought off his suspicions—ignored the signs and clues. He really had fallen down a rabbit hole.

“Calix?”

“I . . . I don’t know. I did nothing wrong.”

The sniper answered with another shot, close enough to Ben’s foot to let him feel it. “Lies bring death, my friend. We all know this truth.”

Ben dragged himself deeper into the furrow. He gritted his teeth against the stench of rotting moss and toadstools. “I swear.”

“The Company does not put innocents on my list, Ben. Please. Did you sell a secret? Is the pay no longer satisfying? Or is this some clash of ideals? Confession is good for the soul. Let me be your priest.”

“And my executioner.”

“If you persist. Tell me your sins, walk away, and live. Remain silent, or approach the house, and die.” To emphasize his point, Sensen fired off another round. He could do that all day. Ben imagined he had stacks of his special ammunition up there.

Carefully, Ben checked the pine’s lengthening shadows. One more minute. Maybe two. “There’s another option. A frame. My mission went south. Massir, the Algerian who gave me the intel that led us there, showed up unannounced.”

“Can you produce him for interrogation?”

“I kind of set him on fire.”

Crack. A rock exploded. A chunk of it sliced Ben’s arm. Behind him, the setting sun shined up the valley, a blinding white winter sun—Ben’s only chance at survival. He made his move.

A string of shots missed wide, hitting rock, tree, and mud. Most importantly, they were all low. The sun’s glare had stolen Sensen’s ability to gauge depth and range. Ben might just have a chance. He shifted his vector with every third footfall, moving from cover to cover, but always advancing. A hundred meters from his goal, the light faded. The sun had outpaced him. Ben fired at the tower window and heard his own ricochets through the earpiece.

“You think you can kill me?”

Ben kept running up the hill. “I’m not here to kill you. I want to talk, find out what’s going on. You have to trust me.”

“I can’t take the risk.” The voice came from the rocks and trees to Ben’s right, not his earpiece.

Sensen remained invisible until he moved, stepping forward with his rifle aimed at Ben’s head. He wore full camouflage with mesh veil beneath his hood—a faceless tactical reaper. “As I said. You are so predictable.”

Ben had been sure the shots were coming from the chalet’s tower. “How?”

“Remote control, Calix. What century do you think we live in?” Sensen took another step. “Last chance. Confess and walk away.”

Ben wheeled a hand upward and caught the long barrel as a bullet traveled through, turning his body at the same time. He heard a window shatter.

He raised the Glock, but Sensen released the rifle and punched his arm to spoil his aim. The German kept punching, hitting him with a double body shot, then drew a larger Glock from his hip. Each man brought his weapon to the other’s head, and each caught the other’s wrist. They fell and rolled, wrestling on the hillside, firing off rounds to no avail.

“Stop!” Clara appeared from the trees, covering her head and pointing the revolver at the two men. She growled at both of them. “If either one of you hits my dog, I’ll kill you. Weapons down!”

Neither man argued. Ben, underneath Sensen, cocked his head and grinned. “I might be predictable. She’s not.”

25

“Look what you did.” Sensen thrust his chin at the chalet’s ornately carved oak door. Three bullets had lodged themselves in the wood. “Do you know how long I worked to restore that piece? It is one solid section of Belgian honey oak.” He pushed it open and waved Ben inside while Clara covered them both with the revolver.

“Those are your rounds,” Ben said, removing his shoes before proceeding into the living room. He remembered Sensen had a thing about that.

“Your assault. Your fault.”

“I’ll cover the damages.”

“How will you pay? From where I’m standing, you’re out of a job.”

“I’ll get it back.”

“We’ll see.”

“Hey!” Clara entered behind them with Otto at her heels. She waved the gun and widened her eyes as if to say I’m still in charge and don’t you forget it.

The two men shared a look, then both laid their Glocks on a long entry table built from the same oak as the door. Sensen set his rifle in a hall closet and peeled off his top layer of camouflage. “Is she always like this?”

Ben made a calm down motion to Clara. “We’re good, okay? Nobody’s getting shot. Like I said”—he shifted his gaze to Sensen, who still had half his body in the closet—“I’m here to talk.”

“And this is why you brought backup?”

“For what it’s worth, I told her to stay in the car.”

“She didn’t listen.”

“She never does. But if we want to split hairs, she gave me the advantage. I could have finished you off just now. I chose not to.”

“All right.” Sensen stepped away from the closet and showed Ben two empty hands. “You spared my life, as I spared yours. For now, we are even.” He walked into the kitchen and picked an apple from a wicker basket, taking a bite before continuing. “But I don’t buy into your plea of innocence. The Director does not cut a man off without cause.”

The Director. Cut off. Those words spoken together drove a spike of ice into Ben’s heart. He shook his head. “Our comm network is compromised. Has to be. It’s why my phone went crazy just before you shot at me in the alley. It’s how Massir and Hagen set us up in Rome. This is all a misdirect by an entity called Leviathan, framing me to break us up from the inside.”

The name sent a flicker of recognition across Sensen’s features. Clearly he’d heard the rumors about Leviathan too.

The moment passed, and his expression hardened. “Are you so important, Ben? We are all type T personalities with