Nancy went on. “Normally, I’d fight to stay no matter what.”
“You, fight?” Eva said mockingly. “What?”
Nancy rubbed her tummy. “But it’s no longer just about me.”
Nash was relieved. It was one less conversation he had to have. This was no place for a civilian, let alone a pregnant one. At least Harry was familiar with firearms and had been in her share of scrapes. This was all new to Nancy, and as much as he was growing to know her and thoroughly enjoyed her company, she couldn’t be here when her father-in-law arrived with guns blazing.
After tearful farewells and a lot of hugging, Nancy left and promised to return following a definite victory or meet the team at their designated fallback position. It was heartening to see the love between Paul and Nancy. It almost brought Nash to tears himself. The two were so opposite, yet so thoroughly suited to one another. When she’d left, Nash took Paul aside and threw his arm around the tall man.
“You’ll see her soon.”
“I know.” Paul sniffed. “But it rips my heart out that she has to go because of my own damn father. Like that son-of-a-bitch hasn’t fucked up my life enough already.”
“We do this right, he won’t be causing you grief ever again.”
Paul slapped his hands together. “Well, let’s bloody get to it then.”
Harry’s access to Tartarus had been severed. The hacked IT credentials no longer enabled her free rein in Tartarus’s servers. In the absence of that goldmine of information, they’d pulled together a status through a combination of trustworthy MI6 and DGSE contacts and media coverage following The Vessel attack. Cavendish was making his play for acceptability. A report in The New York Times was the first to announce to the wider world the existence of Tartarus, stating that they’d tried to warn authorities of the imminent terrorist attack in New York but had been dismissed.
There was some fluff about Cavendish himself, the former head of MI6 bringing knowledge, freedom and lollipops to the world. The report stopped short of offering a glowing endorsement, however, expressing concern at the susceptibility of a private spy agency to the whims of its leadership and noting how quickly good intentions—in theory, of course—could be warped into self-interest and manipulated to serve the agenda of the highest bidder.
Nash suspected Cavendish would be seething that the impact of aborted The Vessel attack wasn’t as intended, because the waters had been muddied by the actions of Nash, Bishop and Eva. Although their claimed innocence had been well and truly brought into question after their dramatic escape from police custody.
Sophia was advised by several trusted contacts within the DGSE that Cavendish’s push for Tartarus to have a seat at the table was gaining traction there. As far as she could tell, at least three of Five Eyes’ countries had reached out for preliminary talks, MI6 included. The fact that the meeting in a day’s time was with the heads of MI6 and the Foreign Secretary meant he clearly had some leverage. Cavendish could very well be winning. It stood to reason he had to eliminate Nash and his team to ensure his ascension wasn’t hindered by something as inconvenient as the truth.
Nash paced around the map of Devil’s End they had drawn on a large drop sheet on the floor of the abbey. Paint tins, paint brushes and pieces of masonry represented the parts of the village most relevant to the plan. A toolbox in the centre represented the abbey itself, which would be their communications centre and first fallback if things didn’t exactly go to plan.
He strode over to Harry, who had created a makeshift table and chairs from painters’ planks and empty paint tubs. She was huddled over her laptop.
“How are you holding up, Harry?”
“Fine, fine.” She was distracted by her screen.
“You know you don’t have to be here? This isn’t your fight.”
Now he had her full attention. Nash wasn’t sure he wanted it.
“And you know you can shove a cactus up your arsehole sideways.” Her upturned lips betrayed her true feelings. “I’ve been your man in the chair from the start, that’s not going to change now. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I am.”
“Then we’re lucky to have you.”
“Yeah, you fucken’ are.” She chuckled and asked, “How’d you guys get this place?”
“The abbey? The restoration is being done with the local university, and with the students away for February break nobody will be back for at least two weeks.”
Hawk strode over with cheer in his voice. “All set for the cars. You should have seen the bloke’s eyes light up when I offered him one of your gold sovereign coins.”
“Nice work. Could you help Harry here with the comms check?”
“It would be my pleasure.” He gave Harry a dazzling display of his pearly whites. “What can I do to assist such a capable and handsome woman?”
“Smooth.” She gave a good-natured chuckle. “You sure you’re this idiot’s friend?”
Hawk slapped his big hand across Nash’s back. “Most assuredly.”
It wasn’t the first time Nash thought he’d detected a hint of flirtatiousness between the two. He left them to it, whatever it was.
On the other side of the vast space, Paul, Bishop and Eva worked on their own projects. Paul coordinated their collective efforts with a combination of words of encouragement and jokes to lift the others’ spirits. Even from across the space, Nash could see the bond between them. Sure, they were friends, but it was more than that. They shared a well-honed respect forged in the fires of battle, sometimes literally. Paul had been their superior, Nash’s too, but he had never acted like it. He was the glue that bound them all together.
Paul was next to a half-built scaffold, working head down on his project while Eva and Bishop completed theirs. As Nash approached, Paul let out a cry, then cradled his thumb as he tossed away a hammer. He’d been cutting car tyres into long strips and hammering in large nails. Nash checked out his handiwork.
Lifting one, he assessed the heft. “You need more weights at the end of these. When they’re used, you won’t have time to hope they land the right way up. They need to drop into place instantly.”
Paul shook out his hand. “On it. There are some brake pads over there, I can stitch them into the ends.”
“Perfect.” Placing his hand on Paul’s shoulder, Nash asked, “How you holding up?”
“Fine.”
“Your thumb says otherwise.”
Paul gave a bow of his head, conceding the point. “I’m better knowing Nance is safe, but I want to be here, I need to be here. I need to set things right.” He inhaled and composed himself. “Plus, why would I miss what is destined to be one of the greatest battles in history? Up there with the likes of the Carthaginians versus the Romans, the Greeks versus the Persians, Blur versus Oasis. How could I miss that?”
