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

to the four already there. The newcomer wore no lab coat and held a dachshund in her arms.

“Tess,” Ben said.

“Otto!” Clara abandoned her patient and scooped the dog from Tess’s arms. She rubbed her forehead against Otto’s, earning a low groan from the dog—something between satisfaction and annoyance.

Tess brushed brown hairs off the front of her dress with perfectly manicured fingers. “Sorry it took so long. The Swiss claimed they still needed him for evidence. When I pulled him from the cargo kennel, I found a Ziploc taped to the back filled with unit patches, photos, and one Swiss National Police Service Medal.”

Clara didn’t seem to hear her, speaking a kind of baby Slovakian to the dog. Ben watched her, mulling over the reaction. “So, I guess Otto was yours before Hale recruited you.”

She shook her head and set him on the floor. “Not at all. Otto arrived on my doorstep the day after I moved into your building—with a big red bow on his back and a state-of-the-art GPS tracker in his collar.”

“The collar.” Ben slapped his forehead. “That’s how the French police found us in the park. The Company pulled the GPS track from Otto’s collar and made an anonymous call to the cops.”

Clara made kissy faces at the dachshund. “Yes they did. Didn’t they, Otto?”

The head Company doctor watched all of this with no amusement on his features. He removed his glasses and walked out. “I think we’re done here.”

A car waited in the parking lot to take Ben to his new DC apartment. Clara said her goodbyes next to the sedan’s open door, including a surprise kiss on the cheek, but left without giving him her number.

Tess lingered, waiting for her to go.

“You have something you need to say?” he asked.

“I have something you need to hear.” She pressed a paper sack of pill bottles into his hands. “You’ll be taking these for months. But when they’re gone . . .”

“I know. The kick. If what you said is true, I’m an addict now.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t feel like an addict.”

“Some wounds you picked up out there won’t ever leave you.” She swallowed hard, twisting her features and fighting to smooth them out again. Tess had never been one to show emotion. “The kick was one of those wounds, Ben—maybe the worst of them. And I’m the one who gave it to you. I’m sorry.”

“Did you know? About the reason for the severance, I mean.”

“At our meeting in Brussels? No. But Hale briefed me before I came to you in Mount Vernon.”

“So the kick was the Director’s choice, not yours.”

She shrugged one shoulder, as if that was poor consolation.

The kick had saved Ben’s life, enabled him to complete the mission he hadn’t known he’d been assigned. He should be thanking her, not accepting an apology. “Tess, I think you’re—”

“Listen.” She wrapped her hands around his, holding the bag of meds together. “You use these exactly as prescribed. And when they’re gone, you take things day by day. When you feel the withdrawal coming—and you will—you call me. Wherever I am. Whatever I’m doing. I’ll be at your doorstep in hours.”

“To bring more drugs?”

She let out a short, sad laugh and released him, turning to go. “No, you idiot. To keep you alive.”

He watched her go, smile fading. How bad could it be?

Once she’d disappeared into the hospital garage, Ben lowered himself onto the sedan’s pleather seat and shut the door. “Where to?” he said with a laugh. He motioned between the driver and himself with both hands. “You see what I did there? Swapped . . . roles . . .”

The driver rolled up the tinted barrier and cranked the engine.

Out on the highway, Ben noticed they were headed west, deeper into the DC metroplex. The apartment Clara had told him about was supposed to be east, across Chesapeake Bay. He tapped on the glass. “Hey, driver. Where are you taking me?”

The barrier rolled down. The Director glanced in the rearview mirror to meet Ben’s gaze. “Haven’t you learned anything?”

“Boss?”

“Let’s stop by the office. I’ve got things to show you. Do you mind?”

Ben shook his head.

“Good answer.”

He made Ben wait ten minutes or more before he spoke again. “I’m moving you up, Ben. We just had to get through that little hiccup.”

“So you could catch Jupiter?”

The Director raised an eyebrow.

Ben shrank into his seat. “I mean, if you want to tell me. If not, that’s good too.”

“Yes. To catch Jupiter. And I’m glad I can finally tell you. All this started after the attack in Tokyo. We needed a fall guy, one we thought could endure the worst. Hale put your name up for the job. After that, we put out the whispers that we had big plans for Ben Calix—that I had big plans for you. In doing so, we made you a prize Jupiter couldn’t resist—not with our history together.”

“He was a Company man.”

“Once. A long time ago. One of my best. But arrogant.” The Director shifted his eyes to the road, signaling for a lane change. “It’s almost painful for me to say, but I know him better than he knows himself. I hung you out like bait on a hook. He gulped you down, thinking he’d arranged the whole meal, and we reeled him in. It’s that simple.”

Bait on a hook. Ben noticed the Director never apologized. At least he’d told Ben his purpose. This time.

“So now what?”

“We check out your new corner office. As it turns out, I really do have big plans for you. A supervisory role. More responsibility. Bigger picture. Start thinking about who you want on your new team. Any names come to mind?”

Ben had a few—one in particular.

“If you say Clara, I’ll reach back there and smack you. You know what happened last time you started a relationship with a teammate.”

Ben nodded, bouncing his head for emphasis. “Right. But what about Clara. She’s—”

“Special?”

“You could say that. If she can’t be part of my new team, what will she do? Will we work