The three remained in a tense stand-off while Feng quietly moaned and cradled his bloody nose.
The youngest of the three, who had been silent until that moment, finally spoke up. “What happens now?”
The senior agent tossed Nash a pair of handcuffs, which he caught with his right hand. She growled, “We take him in and let the higher-ups sort it out.”
Nash thought her course of action wise and well-reasoned. He clicked the cuffs on each wrist and then extended his hands to show they were securely in place. More at ease, both women stepped forward, the youngest holstering her weapon. Both were within arm’s length.
That was a mistake.
Nash attacked the senior first; his right jab to her face stunned her enough that he could relinquish her of her weapon. He aimed it at the stunned junior, who stared open-mouthed at the now unsecured handcuffs hanging from his left wrist.
Nash cracked a smile. “Pro tip. Never trust a man who went to magic camp instead of regular camp as a kid.”
He leaned down and took her unwisely holstered pistol before patting all three down for additional weapons. Finding none, he took their phones, as well as a shortwave comms device. The last thing he did was take off their boots and tie all the laces together.
“You’re… taking our shoes?” the senior woman asked. “Why?”
“It’s harder to give chase without shoes. Imagine you somehow get loose? Further imagine you have enough time to catch up with me? I have no wish to harm you, so, if I’m smart, which I like to think I am, I’m going to do everything I can do to slow you down.” To emphasise his point, Nash waggled the shoe collection at them.
Handcuffing them all in a nearby temple, he hurried back to the centre of town to arrange immediate transport out. He couldn’t afford to go back to his guest house in case it was under surveillance. He would get word to the lovely family to thank them.
As he crossed the bridge, Nash dumped the Chinese weapons, phones and the hiking boots into the river. He had no idea how long he had, but experience told him he had to leave Nepal immediately. His sanctuary had become a cage. He was on the run once more.
If the Chinese could find him in the middle of nowhere, that meant no place on the planet was safe. The time for recovery and reflection was over. It was time to act. He had to contact his team. He had to bring them together. He had to end this once and for all.
Chapter Two
Every part of Nash’s body ached. It had been two weeks since he’d left Kathmandu. Travelling overland from Nepal to Pakistan, he used any conveyance available: local school buses, the back of trucks with a distinct lack of safety features—and functioning brakes—sheep transports and, most painful of all, a busload of singing South African cricket fans. Nash had been through them all and from bunions to scalp, had paid the price. He wasn’t twenty anymore. He couldn’t sleep through hours upon hours of torturous travel over thousands of kilometres of bumpy, unkept roads.
Compared to the last few weeks, the Islamabad Serena Hotel was out-of-this-world extravagance. He’d tried to convince himself he’d booked into one of the city’s most luxurious hotels for the reliable internet connection, but in reality, after weeks of roughing it, he just wanted a very long bath and clean sheets. He’d contemplated utilising the in-house barber, but he needed to fit in with the backpacker set a little longer.
After a ridiculously long sleep on crisp white sheets, he felt like he could take on the world; which was almost exactly what he was doing.
He fired up his laptop, jumped through several hoops of security and waited for the others to join the video conference. Even with notoriously unsecure hotel wi-fi, Harry had assured him there was no way to trace or eavesdrop on their conversation.
Harry’s technical brilliance had enabled her to hack into Tartarus’s systems and uncovered some of their deeply buried secrets. Her actions had come at a cost.
Unsurprisingly, his middle-aged rocker of an IT guru was first to jump on. “You look like shit, Nash.”
“Love you too, Harry.”
The Joan Jett lookalike’s demeanour softened. “Missed your stupid face.”
“I missed your stupid face, too. How have you been?”
“Fine. And by fine, I mean being in this town is like being trapped with a straightlaced family an hour after Christmas dinner but there’s no escape and everyone seems to frown at you if you get drunk and try to have a little fun.” She gazed into the distance contemplatively. “Which is exactly like my family Christmas dinners.”
Having been literally hunted out of her expensive London flat by Tartarus, Harry had been forced into hiding. She was still in Sweden, and evidently still hating it.
Before Nash could reply, a ping indicated another party was connecting. The beaming couple of Eva Destruction and Charles Bishop joined the call, although not as he’d last seen them. Bishop was dressed in beige short-sleeve resort wear and sported a frankly ridiculous bushy moustache. Eva modelled a lightweight shawl over a one-piece bathing suit and was now a blonde.
Harry asked, “Is that an actual backdrop, guys?”
Behind the two former MI6 spies was a lush white sandy beach and a calm incandescent turquoise sea. Eva beamed.
“Yeah, we finally made it to the Maldives. We transited through every airport still using paper processing to get here, avoiding all the big ones. Took us days.” She elbowed her companion playfully. “Totally worth it.”
Bishop rubbed her arm tenderly before leaning over and kissing her cheek. Nash had never seen them so at peace and loving. It warmed his heart. And it only made this conversation more difficult.
Eva’s nose wrinkled. “You’re looking suitably rustic, Nash.”
“What does that mean?”
“You look like a dirty hippie,” Harry answered for her.
“No one travels on in the back of sheep transports for thousands of kilometres in a three-piece suit.”
Bishop folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself.”
Nash chuckled. No matter the circumstance, Bishop was always immaculately dressed. Nash had seen the man descend an elevator shaft dangling from a rope while firing automatic weapons and come out looking like he was ready for the races. He was capital S Style.
There was another ping, and two more faces materialised on-screen. Paul and Nancy Cavendish’s background was not as tropical as Eva and Bishop’s, nor, it seemed, as warm. The two were rugged up in turtleneck woollen sweaters. Behind them was a misty, grey overcast Scottish morning. Thankfully, Islamabad and the Maldives shared the same time zone, but it was first thing in the morning for Harry, Paul and Nancy in their respective countries.
Paul and Nancy’s expressions weren’t as sunny as Eva’s and Bishop’s, either. It was hardly surprising. Nancy and Paul had been married for years, while Eva and Bishop’s relationship had just started. Plus, there was far more for them to be dealing with.
Nash, Eva, Bishop and Paul were all spies. It had been years since Nash had, retired but he still thought himself as a spy. They had all worked under Paul at one point or other. Up until recently, Paul, Eva and Bishop had been happily working for MI6. Then Tartarus came after them.
Although she had never worked in espionage, Harry had been a private detective and had dealt with many undesirables in her time. The woman was as tough as nails. Poor Nancy, on the other hand, had been thrust headfirst into this world without warning, or even a polite request. She’d recently found out not only that her husband worked for MI6, but that Eva, her best friend of many years, was also a spy. And then, because of all their involvements with fighting Tartarus, her husband had been kidnapped before her eyes and she’d been forced into hiding. They’d managed to rescue Paul, but not without cost. Nash could only imagine what the poor woman thought about it all.
