Big Bang Fic: The Tangled Web Job, Part 8/10
Title: The Tangled Web Job
Authors: scout_lover and telaryn
Artist: alinaandalion
Disclaimer: Not mine, making no money. I write only from a sad, fannish devotion to the characters created by John Rogers, Chris Downey, Dean Devlin and the amazing writers of Leverage.
Characters/Pairings: Team, Damien Moreau, Director Conrad, Sterling, Nana, all canon pairings
Rating: PG-13 leaning over the fence and shaking hands with R
Genre: Gen, drama, angst, team!fic
Warnings/spoilers: Set after the events of The Last Dam Job, the story is directly drawn from events in The Experimental Job.
Word Count: 50,069
Summary: The threat issued by CIA Director Conrad at the end of The Experimental Job proves to be anything but idle. The team is blackmailed into working for the CIA to help gain control of the major nuclear pipeline into Iran. To accomplish this and keep their loved ones safe, they are forced to work with an old enemy towards a common goal.
What the CIA fails to realize is that catching the Leverage team and holding them are usually two different things.
What Nate fails to realize is that the price for squirming free of the government's grasp is likely to be higher than he expected.
Link to Art Post: Here
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Annie, hold up!”
Sophie glanced over her shoulder and saw Eliot jogging lightly down the hall to catch up to her. “That must be some message you’re carrying, Mr. Spencer,” she said lightly as soon as he reached her. It was only partially guesswork - she had seen him talking with Damien Moreau in hushed tones as she’d made her excuses and her escape.
He looked confused for a moment, and then shook his head. “No message - can I walk with you for a bit? I know you need to start getting ready …” His voice trailed off uncertainly.
She wanted to tell him no - wanted to grab every minute to herself that she could before they dove into the heart of everything that had brought them to this point - but there was something in his eyes that held her back. “Of course,” she said as easily as she could manage.
“Has Nate talked to you today?” he asked, falling into step with her as she resumed heading towards her bedroom.
Confused, Sophie shook her head. “Not privately no. I’ve been getting tortured in the same briefings Conrad’s been putting the rest of you through. What’s going on?”
Eliot didn’t answer her at first. They were almost at the base of the stairs before he spoke again. “Soph, before I ask you this, please don’t get offended because you’re frighteningly believable when you get going …”
“Eliot …” Reaching out, she laid a hand on his arm. Their eyes met and she said with as much conviction as she could manage, “I’m not planning on running off with Damien Moreau.”
She saw the flash of uncertainty in his expression, saw the muscles of his throat work as he swallowed nervously, and was only partly surprised when he asked her, “What if I am?”
It was a full minute before she could trust herself to speak again. “Walk,” was her first word; grabbing Eliot’s arm, she forcibly turned him towards the stairs. “What happened?” she asked, when they were halfway up the steps to the second floor.
By the time they reached her bedroom, Sophie realized she was looking forward to her shower even more than when she’d left the dining room. She needed time to relax and get back into character, otherwise she was going to confront the lot of them and let them know exactly what she thought of how twisted up this whole mess had become.
In lieu of that … deal with what’s in front of you. “You need to trust Nate,” she said gently, cupping Eliot’s cheek in her hand and trying to ignore the tangle of emotions in his expression. “Interpol has the authority to end this on all fronts, and you know Sterling will jump at the chance to put another feather in his cap.”
Taking her hand in his, Eliot turned it palm up and pressed a gentle kiss to her skin. Sophie shivered, suddenly very aware of how close the hitter was standing to her. “As long as he’s alive,” he said softly, “somebody’s going to be trying to get their hands on him. It’s never going to be over, Sophie - not until I end it.”
She felt the chill of metal in the palm of her free hand and looked down to see Eliot passing her the switchblade she’d used on Moreau what seemed like a lifetime go. “I’ll protect you as long as I can,” he said, and she felt the weight of an oath in his words, “but once the assassin makes his move you need to be ready to defend yourself.”
Meeting his eyes, Sophie nodded. “I will, so long as you promise me that when things get crazy you’ll remember who you are and where you belong.”
*~*~*
The car pulled through the heavy iron gates and Damien relaxed back into the soft leather seat, a slight smile teasing his lips. So had it begun. The compound that had been his prison was behind him, the embassy that would be the gateway to his freedom lay ahead, and out there the world waited for his return.
All was exactly as it should be, as it should always have been.
He relaxed further and let the familiarity, the rightness, of it all wash over him. He’d lived this moment a thousand times before, this quiet, restful pause just before his next step in obtaining his latest prize. Money, power, the acquisition of an ally, the destruction of an enemy - all had waited for him at the end of drives such as this, and tonight would be no different. He had only to be patient, to pretend to play his part in Conrad’s little game, to wait for his moment and then to seize it when it came.
There was a power in waiting-
“You look quite pleased with yourself.”
Annie’s voice broke into his thoughts and he turned his head, his smile broadening at the sight of her. She had worn the red dress as he had suggested, and it did, indeed, suit her magnificently. Enzo had also fashioned a matching headscarf that satisfied the requirements for modesty yet also managed on her to look most alluring, drawing attention to her dark eyes while also highlighting her full red lips.
“And why should I not, when I am in such exquisite company?” he asked, reaching for her hand and raising it to his lips, brushing a light kiss across her knuckles. “I will be the envy of every man at the embassy.”
She arched a brow at him, yet he couldn't help but feel the subtle tightening of her fingers about his. “Just remember, Damien, I’m no man’s ‘arm candy,’” she warned. “It’s full partner, or nothing.”
He chuckled. “Of course, my dear! And I look forward eagerly to our partnership. A most agreeable mix of business and pleasure,” he breathed, kissing her hand again. He felt the faint shiver run through her, saw the color rise in her lovely face, and felt an answering heat kindling in himself. She would definitely be a prize worth winning.
“It does have possibilities,” she agreed, her dark eyes gleaming warmly.
“Would you like some champagne?” he asked, gesturing toward the bottle chilling in the silver cooler before them. The embassy would be serving no alcohol tonight, in deference to the religious sensibilities of the Muslim guests, but he had seen no reason that prohibition should extend to his car. Annie nodded with a smile, and he released her hand to lean forward, retrieving two flutes from their protective case. He filled and handed her a glass, then filled one for himself and sat back, raising it with a smile. “To possibilities,” he toasted.
“And partnerships,” she breathed, touching her glass lightly to his.
He watched as she raised her glass to drink, and let his gaze wander slowly over her, allowing himself to imagine - and quite enjoying - the various forms that “partnership” might take. “I asked at dinner last night if you’ve ever been to Tehran. It would be my honor, and my pleasure, to show you the city as one who truly knows it.”
She arched a brow again, this time in seeming surprise. “You know it well?”
He nodded. “I have a villa there. One of the very few the various governments around the world haven’t managed to seize.” He winked. “I am told the Iranians rather enjoyed denying the requests for search and seizure of my assets.”
She laughed lightly as he sipped from his champagne. “One of the benefits of doing business with a rogue state,” she teased. “But I wouldn’t expect them to be so protective of, how shall I put this, a man of such Western influences?”
“Ah.” He sipped again from his champagne, then leaned closer to her. “You see, my dear, the mullahs are many things, but they are not stupid. They understand the language of money as well as any other government. And as more and more avenues of commerce and technology are closed to them in the world, they appreciate, and welcome, those who are not bound by such mundane political conventions.” He smiled broadly and lifted his glass. “Men such as myself.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I have discovered over the years that governments are able to overlook a great many things when their own interests are at stake.” He smirked. “Look at Director Conrad, for example.”
Her lips twisted into something very like a sneer. “Conrad,” she spat, contempt dripping from her voice. “That bastard should be shot! He doesn’t care who he hurts-” She looked sharply at him. “You know he’s simply going to stand by and allow one of the guests to try and kill you-”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not worried, my dear.” He gestured toward the front of the car. “Eliot will be there. My guardian angel, sheltering me beneath his protective wings.” He gazed at the back of the head of the man he knew had to be listening but gave no sign of hearing. Just like the old days. “I learned long ago that I need never fear when Eliot is around. His skills are second only to his devotion. He has fended off many a would-be assassin, even to the point of taking bullets meant for me. Conrad’s assassin doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Even after what you tried to do to him in Washington?” she asked pointedly. “You did send men to kill him, you know.”
He shrugged again. “I had to. He had turned on me, was working against me. I could not afford to let his actions go unpunished. It was nothing personal. He understands that.”
That dark brow flicked upward again. “You sent an army after him,” she reminded him. “That sounds very personal.”
He laughed. “My dear, when the target is Eliot Spencer, only an army will do.” He frowned and shook his head slightly, remembering how certain he’d been he’d found a way to punish Eliot for his sins, and how badly he’d underestimated the man. “Looking back, perhaps I should have sent in some air power as well,” he mused only half jokingly. His gaze slid again to where Eliot sat in unresponsive silence. “He is a man of formidable talents,” he sighed. “And he was impossible to replace.”
She stared intensely at him, her eyes searching his. “You’re fond of him,” she said, clearly shocked by the revelation. “In spite of everything, you’re truly fond of him.”
He returned her gaze in surprise. “Shouldn’t I be? We have shared so much- He was never just a ‘hired gun’ to me,” he said, a trace of anger sharpening his voice. “From the beginning, I could see his potential, and I made it my task to cultivate that potential, to show him what he truly could be. I had all the ‘dumb muscle’ around me I needed. With Eliot, I got intelligence, wit, a shrewd tactical sense and even a strategic sense that needed just a bit of encouragement for it to blossom. In return, he gave me unyielding loyalty and absolute honesty, both very rare in my world. I trusted him as I could no other, relied on him as I could no other.” He smiled coldly, almost cruelly. “You will forgive me, but your Mr. Ford doesn’t strike me as a man who fully understands or appreciates what having someone like Eliot at his side truly means. Eliot deserves respect, not simply the dismissive or condescending manner of a master toward his dog. He deserves someone who truly knows how to use his unique gifts.”
“And you do?”
He smiled. “Of course I do. He came to me as raw material, and I shaped him. Taught him. I made Eliot Spencer. And he helped make me. Together, we built an empire. Jupiter and Mars ruling over Rome.” He took her hand again, holding it tightly, and leaned in close. “Come with me,” he whispered intensely, seeing a whole new empire unfolding before him. “Add your gifts to ours.” He searched her lovely face with his gaze, but saw so much more than mere beauty in her. “Imagine what we could all create together. Jupiter, Mars and now Juno, with all the world at our feet!”
She gave a breathless, shaky laugh and tried to pull her hand away. “Damien-”
“Imagine it, Annie,” he pressed, refusing to surrender her hand. “A world where anything, everything you want is at your fingertips! A world made in your image. Wealth, power, influence, all yours for the asking. For the taking! And,” he added in a whisper, “everyone you love protected, safely beyond the reach of anyone who might threaten them. Young Mr. Hardison and his family, Parker,” he hesitated, then forced himself on, “and even your Mr. Ford. Come with me, and they need never fear anything or anyone ever again.”
A soft gasp escaped her and a shiver ran through her, but she said nothing.
“We will be at the embassy soon,” he said. “And you will have to decide. Come with me, Annie. Be my Juno.” He dropped his empty flute to the floorboard and lifted his hand to stroke her cheek, then slid it around to the back of her neck and pulled her slowly into him. “Let me show you,” he whispered, “what it is to rule an empire.”
His lips claimed hers, softly at first but with growing hunger and intensity, until she was in his arms and matching his passion with her own. He could taste her answer in her kiss, in the way her body responded to his, and knew he had won.
He was Damien Moreau. And the world would be his again.
*~*~*
“Hardison-”
“Nate, I swear to God, if you ask me if I’ve got ’em one more time, I’m gonna have to hurt you,” the hacker grumbled, never looking up from his computer.
Nate sighed and turned away, knowing he was pushing and telling himself, yet again, that he had to let them do their jobs. Hardison had tapped into both the embassy’s security feed and Conrad’s surveillance measures, and Parker, sent in as one of the wait staff, was planting her supply of bugs and microcams around the ballroom and even on various guests, as directed by Hardison. Sterling and his men were in place, and Nate tried to convince himself not to worry about any threat from that flank. Damien Moreau was a big enough prize, even for Jim Sterling, to guarantee that, this time, the man wouldn’t try to screw them over.
He hoped.
The door opened and Conrad entered the room. “They’re here,” he announced. “One of my men just parked their car.”
Nate snorted softly. CIA agents as valets, Parker and Interpol as wait staff, criminals and terrorists on the guest list … he began to wonder if anyone here was actually who they were supposed to be.
“Show time,” Hardison said softly, bringing Nate and Conrad both immediately to his side. They stared down at Hardison’s computer screen and saw Eliot enter the ballroom, followed by Damien and “Annie.”
“Parker,” Nate said, lifting a hand unconsciously to his earbud, “they’re here. Get the tracker on Moreau. And on Eliot,” he added, ignoring Hardison’s disapproving look.
Conrad smirked. “So you don’t trust Spencer either,” he said mockingly.
Nate ignored him as well. He didn’t for a moment believe that Eliot would turn on them. He was far more worried about how far the man intended to go to save them.
*~*~*
Fifteen minutes into the thing, Eliot remembered just how much and why he hated these affairs. The embassy was hosting the reception for participants in a UNESCO conference on sustainable energy, which explained Dr. Shahriari’s presence. It also explained the presence of at least a hundred and fifty other people, all milling about a room that was lit more for warmth and ambience than actual illumination. While the lighting might create an atmosphere of intimacy among guests, it made it damn hard for him to scan faces and look for weapons.
To make matters worse, Damien - or Anton Andric, as his forged credentials read, a Croatian businessman seeking investment and development opportunities - had abandoned the “low-key” approach and was making his presence known. He’d come here expressly to meet with Shahriari, but he’d also clearly done his homework on some of the other guests and was seeking out those who might prove useful to him. As he and “Annie” moved through the crowd, Eliot ghosted along with them, missing the days when he would have had five or ten men under his command stationed around the room, lending their watchful eyes to his.
But at least he had Parker, all but invisible in her role as catering staff, and Hardison’s voice in his ear.
“No sign of Shiruyeh yet,” the hacker said. “Not that I’m sure we’d recognize him if he was here. Oddly enough, our friend Director Conrad wasn’t able to come up with anything more current than a ten-year-old grainy satellite photo that makes convenience store video look state-of-the-art.”
“Great,” Eliot grumbled. “How the hell am I supposed to protect Damien from an assassin I can’t even identify?”
“I’ll keep workin’ on it, man,” Hardison assured him, “see what I can come up with. Meantime, keep your eyes open. And heads up, here comes Shahriari.”
“Yeah, I got him,” he breathed, seeing the Iranian approaching and instinctively stepping closer to Damien. “Now, keep your eyes open. If Shiruyeh’s here, this might flush him out.”
Damien had seen Shahriari, too, and stepped smoothly forward to intercept him, smiling and extending a hand. “Dr. Shahriari,” he greeted warmly. “You may not remember me, but I am Anton Andric. We met a few years ago at a conference in Zagreb.”
Shahriari seemed momentarily confused by his old friend’s change of name, but then understanding dawned in his eyes and he shook Damien’s hand. “Mr. Andric, of course I remember,” he said smoothly in accented but flawless English. “I am delighted you are here and that we might continue that conversation. As I recall, your ideas were most intriguing. I would very much like to hear more.”
“Of course,” Damien agreed. “But first,” he set a hand to the small of Sophie’s back and smiled down at her, “may I present the lovely Annie Kroy, a business associate from London? Annie, this is Dr. Majid Shahriari, one of the world’s leading experts in nuclear power.”
Eliot felt a sharp twinge of anger as he watched Damien with Sophie, as he noted the light but possessive touch of his hand to her back. He’d seen that gesture so often before, knew only too well what claim was being exerted, and prayed Sophie would resist it. Instead, she smiled and stepped in closer to Damien.
“Lovely to meet you, Dr. Shahriari,” she said with Sophie’s dazzling smile and Annie’s accent. “Anton has told me quite a bit about you and your work, though I can’t say I understood any of it.” She wrinkled her nose. “Never really got into science,” she admitted. “My interests have always been much more - how shall I say this? - practical. But,” she smiled slyly, “even science needs funding, yeah?”
Interest flared in Shahriari’s dark eyes. “Of course,” he agreed. “Without the practical, the theoretical remains simply … a theory.”
“Yes, well,” Damien said, “Miss Kroy and I are very interested in seeing your work progress from the theoretical to the practical. It’s why we are here. We believe we can help you resolve some of the difficulties you have faced in that particular regard. Miss Kroy brings a rather extensive network of connections to the table, and I believe you already know what resources I can offer.”
Shahriari looked sharply at Damien at that and frowned slightly. “You will forgive me, D- Anton,” he said, stumbling over the unfamiliar name, “but I had heard that you have recently suffered … setbacks?”
Damien chuckled quietly, and Eliot felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. “My dear Majid,” he said gently, “you must never believe everything you hear. Yes, I did suffer some losses, but, I assure you, I am far from destitute.” He winked. “Governments can’t seize what they can’t find.”
“I ain’t the government, you son of a bitch,” Eliot heard Hardison grumbling in his ear, “and I will find every penny you’ve squirreled away and put it in a trust for Nana and her kids.”
Damien’s words seemed to reassure Shahriari, and he smiled with obvious relief. “I am truly happy to hear that,” he said. “And if that is the case, then perhaps we should talk. You have always proven a generous partner in the past.”
Damien smiled broadly. “That is why I am here. Let us find a quiet corner and talk.”
Taking Sophie’s hand in his, Damien led the way toward an empty table in the far corner of the room, and Eliot had no choice but to follow. As they sat down and began to talk, he turned away and focused his attention on the room, trying to sort through the crowd of guests to find one lone assassin. “Hardison, anything?” he asked softly, sweeping the room with his gaze. Shiruyeh could be anywhere-
“Nothin’ yet, man,” the hacker answered. “If he’s tryin’ to blend in, he’s doin’ a hell of a job.”
“Yeah, I don’t think he would’ve gotten too far if he’d come dressed as a Taliban commander,” Eliot sighed. “Would’ve helped us, though.”
“Wait,” Sterling’s voice chimed in, “I’ve got movement near the center of the room. Tall fellow, pushing past the Indian delegation, wearing loose white trousers, long dark jacket and one of those flat-topped caps-”
“Of course,” Eliot sighed, fighting the urge to kick himself. “He’s Pashtun.” He turned to look for the man, but too many guests stood in the way, obstructing his view. “Parker, I need more eyes!”
“On my way,” she said.
Eliot swore under his breath. The room was too dimly lit, too crowded, and his instincts were beginning to shriek in alarm. He knew Shiruyeh was near, could feel him; he just couldn’t see him. He needed to get Sophie and Damien out of here now.
He strode to the table where they were in deep conversation with Dr. Shahriari and stopped behind Damien, setting a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. Leaning down between Damien and Sophie, he said in a low, hard voice, “I’m callin’ this. We need to go.”
Damien looked up sharply, irritation pulling his mouth into a scowl. “We are not finished-”
“Yes, you are,” he countered firmly. “Miss Kroy, I need you to find Parker, your escort, and go upstairs to Mr. Ford-”
“She’s not leaving,” Damien countered just as firmly, locking gazes with Eliot. “She came in with me, and she will stay with me. Your job is to keep both of us safe, and I expect you to do that job.”
“Damn it, Damien!” Eliot ground out, his temper rising. “Shiruyeh is here-”
“Then find him and take care of him,” Damien ordered. “Isn’t that what you do?”
“I can go,” Sophie said, starting to rise.
“No-”
“Yes!” Eliot hissed. He straightened up and took Sophie’s elbow, then turned just in time to see Parker approaching. “Go with her,” he breathed into Sophie’s ear. “And if you’ve still got that switchblade, now would be a good time to get it out.”
“Damn it, Spencer!” Damien seethed, shooting to his feet and grabbing Eliot’s arm to jerk him around to face him. “You seem to have forgotten who gives the orders here-”
“And you seem to have forgotten that those orders are to protect you-”
“Eliot, Parker!” Hardison shouted across the comms. “Shiruyeh’s comin’ up behind you-”
Eliot shoved Damien down and spun around, thrusting his hand into his jacket and closing it around the gun holstered there. He saw Parker push Sophie out of the way, saw Shiruyeh lunging forward and reaching into his own jacket-
“Die, you Western dog!” Shiruyeh snarled, drawing his gun.
Two shots exploded almost in unison, screams and chaos erupted-
And all at once the ballroom went dark.
Part 9
Authors: scout_lover and telaryn
Artist: alinaandalion
Disclaimer: Not mine, making no money. I write only from a sad, fannish devotion to the characters created by John Rogers, Chris Downey, Dean Devlin and the amazing writers of Leverage.
Characters/Pairings: Team, Damien Moreau, Director Conrad, Sterling, Nana, all canon pairings
Rating: PG-13 leaning over the fence and shaking hands with R
Genre: Gen, drama, angst, team!fic
Warnings/spoilers: Set after the events of The Last Dam Job, the story is directly drawn from events in The Experimental Job.
Word Count: 50,069
Summary: The threat issued by CIA Director Conrad at the end of The Experimental Job proves to be anything but idle. The team is blackmailed into working for the CIA to help gain control of the major nuclear pipeline into Iran. To accomplish this and keep their loved ones safe, they are forced to work with an old enemy towards a common goal.
What the CIA fails to realize is that catching the Leverage team and holding them are usually two different things.
What Nate fails to realize is that the price for squirming free of the government's grasp is likely to be higher than he expected.
Link to Art Post: Here
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Annie, hold up!”
Sophie glanced over her shoulder and saw Eliot jogging lightly down the hall to catch up to her. “That must be some message you’re carrying, Mr. Spencer,” she said lightly as soon as he reached her. It was only partially guesswork - she had seen him talking with Damien Moreau in hushed tones as she’d made her excuses and her escape.
He looked confused for a moment, and then shook his head. “No message - can I walk with you for a bit? I know you need to start getting ready …” His voice trailed off uncertainly.
She wanted to tell him no - wanted to grab every minute to herself that she could before they dove into the heart of everything that had brought them to this point - but there was something in his eyes that held her back. “Of course,” she said as easily as she could manage.
“Has Nate talked to you today?” he asked, falling into step with her as she resumed heading towards her bedroom.
Confused, Sophie shook her head. “Not privately no. I’ve been getting tortured in the same briefings Conrad’s been putting the rest of you through. What’s going on?”
Eliot didn’t answer her at first. They were almost at the base of the stairs before he spoke again. “Soph, before I ask you this, please don’t get offended because you’re frighteningly believable when you get going …”
“Eliot …” Reaching out, she laid a hand on his arm. Their eyes met and she said with as much conviction as she could manage, “I’m not planning on running off with Damien Moreau.”
She saw the flash of uncertainty in his expression, saw the muscles of his throat work as he swallowed nervously, and was only partly surprised when he asked her, “What if I am?”
It was a full minute before she could trust herself to speak again. “Walk,” was her first word; grabbing Eliot’s arm, she forcibly turned him towards the stairs. “What happened?” she asked, when they were halfway up the steps to the second floor.
By the time they reached her bedroom, Sophie realized she was looking forward to her shower even more than when she’d left the dining room. She needed time to relax and get back into character, otherwise she was going to confront the lot of them and let them know exactly what she thought of how twisted up this whole mess had become.
In lieu of that … deal with what’s in front of you. “You need to trust Nate,” she said gently, cupping Eliot’s cheek in her hand and trying to ignore the tangle of emotions in his expression. “Interpol has the authority to end this on all fronts, and you know Sterling will jump at the chance to put another feather in his cap.”
Taking her hand in his, Eliot turned it palm up and pressed a gentle kiss to her skin. Sophie shivered, suddenly very aware of how close the hitter was standing to her. “As long as he’s alive,” he said softly, “somebody’s going to be trying to get their hands on him. It’s never going to be over, Sophie - not until I end it.”
She felt the chill of metal in the palm of her free hand and looked down to see Eliot passing her the switchblade she’d used on Moreau what seemed like a lifetime go. “I’ll protect you as long as I can,” he said, and she felt the weight of an oath in his words, “but once the assassin makes his move you need to be ready to defend yourself.”
Meeting his eyes, Sophie nodded. “I will, so long as you promise me that when things get crazy you’ll remember who you are and where you belong.”
*~*~*
The car pulled through the heavy iron gates and Damien relaxed back into the soft leather seat, a slight smile teasing his lips. So had it begun. The compound that had been his prison was behind him, the embassy that would be the gateway to his freedom lay ahead, and out there the world waited for his return.
All was exactly as it should be, as it should always have been.
He relaxed further and let the familiarity, the rightness, of it all wash over him. He’d lived this moment a thousand times before, this quiet, restful pause just before his next step in obtaining his latest prize. Money, power, the acquisition of an ally, the destruction of an enemy - all had waited for him at the end of drives such as this, and tonight would be no different. He had only to be patient, to pretend to play his part in Conrad’s little game, to wait for his moment and then to seize it when it came.
There was a power in waiting-
“You look quite pleased with yourself.”
Annie’s voice broke into his thoughts and he turned his head, his smile broadening at the sight of her. She had worn the red dress as he had suggested, and it did, indeed, suit her magnificently. Enzo had also fashioned a matching headscarf that satisfied the requirements for modesty yet also managed on her to look most alluring, drawing attention to her dark eyes while also highlighting her full red lips.
“And why should I not, when I am in such exquisite company?” he asked, reaching for her hand and raising it to his lips, brushing a light kiss across her knuckles. “I will be the envy of every man at the embassy.”
She arched a brow at him, yet he couldn't help but feel the subtle tightening of her fingers about his. “Just remember, Damien, I’m no man’s ‘arm candy,’” she warned. “It’s full partner, or nothing.”
He chuckled. “Of course, my dear! And I look forward eagerly to our partnership. A most agreeable mix of business and pleasure,” he breathed, kissing her hand again. He felt the faint shiver run through her, saw the color rise in her lovely face, and felt an answering heat kindling in himself. She would definitely be a prize worth winning.
“It does have possibilities,” she agreed, her dark eyes gleaming warmly.
“Would you like some champagne?” he asked, gesturing toward the bottle chilling in the silver cooler before them. The embassy would be serving no alcohol tonight, in deference to the religious sensibilities of the Muslim guests, but he had seen no reason that prohibition should extend to his car. Annie nodded with a smile, and he released her hand to lean forward, retrieving two flutes from their protective case. He filled and handed her a glass, then filled one for himself and sat back, raising it with a smile. “To possibilities,” he toasted.
“And partnerships,” she breathed, touching her glass lightly to his.
He watched as she raised her glass to drink, and let his gaze wander slowly over her, allowing himself to imagine - and quite enjoying - the various forms that “partnership” might take. “I asked at dinner last night if you’ve ever been to Tehran. It would be my honor, and my pleasure, to show you the city as one who truly knows it.”
She arched a brow again, this time in seeming surprise. “You know it well?”
He nodded. “I have a villa there. One of the very few the various governments around the world haven’t managed to seize.” He winked. “I am told the Iranians rather enjoyed denying the requests for search and seizure of my assets.”
She laughed lightly as he sipped from his champagne. “One of the benefits of doing business with a rogue state,” she teased. “But I wouldn’t expect them to be so protective of, how shall I put this, a man of such Western influences?”
“Ah.” He sipped again from his champagne, then leaned closer to her. “You see, my dear, the mullahs are many things, but they are not stupid. They understand the language of money as well as any other government. And as more and more avenues of commerce and technology are closed to them in the world, they appreciate, and welcome, those who are not bound by such mundane political conventions.” He smiled broadly and lifted his glass. “Men such as myself.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I have discovered over the years that governments are able to overlook a great many things when their own interests are at stake.” He smirked. “Look at Director Conrad, for example.”
Her lips twisted into something very like a sneer. “Conrad,” she spat, contempt dripping from her voice. “That bastard should be shot! He doesn’t care who he hurts-” She looked sharply at him. “You know he’s simply going to stand by and allow one of the guests to try and kill you-”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not worried, my dear.” He gestured toward the front of the car. “Eliot will be there. My guardian angel, sheltering me beneath his protective wings.” He gazed at the back of the head of the man he knew had to be listening but gave no sign of hearing. Just like the old days. “I learned long ago that I need never fear when Eliot is around. His skills are second only to his devotion. He has fended off many a would-be assassin, even to the point of taking bullets meant for me. Conrad’s assassin doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Even after what you tried to do to him in Washington?” she asked pointedly. “You did send men to kill him, you know.”
He shrugged again. “I had to. He had turned on me, was working against me. I could not afford to let his actions go unpunished. It was nothing personal. He understands that.”
That dark brow flicked upward again. “You sent an army after him,” she reminded him. “That sounds very personal.”
He laughed. “My dear, when the target is Eliot Spencer, only an army will do.” He frowned and shook his head slightly, remembering how certain he’d been he’d found a way to punish Eliot for his sins, and how badly he’d underestimated the man. “Looking back, perhaps I should have sent in some air power as well,” he mused only half jokingly. His gaze slid again to where Eliot sat in unresponsive silence. “He is a man of formidable talents,” he sighed. “And he was impossible to replace.”
She stared intensely at him, her eyes searching his. “You’re fond of him,” she said, clearly shocked by the revelation. “In spite of everything, you’re truly fond of him.”
He returned her gaze in surprise. “Shouldn’t I be? We have shared so much- He was never just a ‘hired gun’ to me,” he said, a trace of anger sharpening his voice. “From the beginning, I could see his potential, and I made it my task to cultivate that potential, to show him what he truly could be. I had all the ‘dumb muscle’ around me I needed. With Eliot, I got intelligence, wit, a shrewd tactical sense and even a strategic sense that needed just a bit of encouragement for it to blossom. In return, he gave me unyielding loyalty and absolute honesty, both very rare in my world. I trusted him as I could no other, relied on him as I could no other.” He smiled coldly, almost cruelly. “You will forgive me, but your Mr. Ford doesn’t strike me as a man who fully understands or appreciates what having someone like Eliot at his side truly means. Eliot deserves respect, not simply the dismissive or condescending manner of a master toward his dog. He deserves someone who truly knows how to use his unique gifts.”
“And you do?”
He smiled. “Of course I do. He came to me as raw material, and I shaped him. Taught him. I made Eliot Spencer. And he helped make me. Together, we built an empire. Jupiter and Mars ruling over Rome.” He took her hand again, holding it tightly, and leaned in close. “Come with me,” he whispered intensely, seeing a whole new empire unfolding before him. “Add your gifts to ours.” He searched her lovely face with his gaze, but saw so much more than mere beauty in her. “Imagine what we could all create together. Jupiter, Mars and now Juno, with all the world at our feet!”
She gave a breathless, shaky laugh and tried to pull her hand away. “Damien-”
“Imagine it, Annie,” he pressed, refusing to surrender her hand. “A world where anything, everything you want is at your fingertips! A world made in your image. Wealth, power, influence, all yours for the asking. For the taking! And,” he added in a whisper, “everyone you love protected, safely beyond the reach of anyone who might threaten them. Young Mr. Hardison and his family, Parker,” he hesitated, then forced himself on, “and even your Mr. Ford. Come with me, and they need never fear anything or anyone ever again.”
A soft gasp escaped her and a shiver ran through her, but she said nothing.
“We will be at the embassy soon,” he said. “And you will have to decide. Come with me, Annie. Be my Juno.” He dropped his empty flute to the floorboard and lifted his hand to stroke her cheek, then slid it around to the back of her neck and pulled her slowly into him. “Let me show you,” he whispered, “what it is to rule an empire.”
His lips claimed hers, softly at first but with growing hunger and intensity, until she was in his arms and matching his passion with her own. He could taste her answer in her kiss, in the way her body responded to his, and knew he had won.
He was Damien Moreau. And the world would be his again.
*~*~*
“Hardison-”
“Nate, I swear to God, if you ask me if I’ve got ’em one more time, I’m gonna have to hurt you,” the hacker grumbled, never looking up from his computer.
Nate sighed and turned away, knowing he was pushing and telling himself, yet again, that he had to let them do their jobs. Hardison had tapped into both the embassy’s security feed and Conrad’s surveillance measures, and Parker, sent in as one of the wait staff, was planting her supply of bugs and microcams around the ballroom and even on various guests, as directed by Hardison. Sterling and his men were in place, and Nate tried to convince himself not to worry about any threat from that flank. Damien Moreau was a big enough prize, even for Jim Sterling, to guarantee that, this time, the man wouldn’t try to screw them over.
He hoped.
The door opened and Conrad entered the room. “They’re here,” he announced. “One of my men just parked their car.”
Nate snorted softly. CIA agents as valets, Parker and Interpol as wait staff, criminals and terrorists on the guest list … he began to wonder if anyone here was actually who they were supposed to be.
“Show time,” Hardison said softly, bringing Nate and Conrad both immediately to his side. They stared down at Hardison’s computer screen and saw Eliot enter the ballroom, followed by Damien and “Annie.”
“Parker,” Nate said, lifting a hand unconsciously to his earbud, “they’re here. Get the tracker on Moreau. And on Eliot,” he added, ignoring Hardison’s disapproving look.
Conrad smirked. “So you don’t trust Spencer either,” he said mockingly.
Nate ignored him as well. He didn’t for a moment believe that Eliot would turn on them. He was far more worried about how far the man intended to go to save them.
*~*~*
Fifteen minutes into the thing, Eliot remembered just how much and why he hated these affairs. The embassy was hosting the reception for participants in a UNESCO conference on sustainable energy, which explained Dr. Shahriari’s presence. It also explained the presence of at least a hundred and fifty other people, all milling about a room that was lit more for warmth and ambience than actual illumination. While the lighting might create an atmosphere of intimacy among guests, it made it damn hard for him to scan faces and look for weapons.
To make matters worse, Damien - or Anton Andric, as his forged credentials read, a Croatian businessman seeking investment and development opportunities - had abandoned the “low-key” approach and was making his presence known. He’d come here expressly to meet with Shahriari, but he’d also clearly done his homework on some of the other guests and was seeking out those who might prove useful to him. As he and “Annie” moved through the crowd, Eliot ghosted along with them, missing the days when he would have had five or ten men under his command stationed around the room, lending their watchful eyes to his.
But at least he had Parker, all but invisible in her role as catering staff, and Hardison’s voice in his ear.
“No sign of Shiruyeh yet,” the hacker said. “Not that I’m sure we’d recognize him if he was here. Oddly enough, our friend Director Conrad wasn’t able to come up with anything more current than a ten-year-old grainy satellite photo that makes convenience store video look state-of-the-art.”
“Great,” Eliot grumbled. “How the hell am I supposed to protect Damien from an assassin I can’t even identify?”
“I’ll keep workin’ on it, man,” Hardison assured him, “see what I can come up with. Meantime, keep your eyes open. And heads up, here comes Shahriari.”
“Yeah, I got him,” he breathed, seeing the Iranian approaching and instinctively stepping closer to Damien. “Now, keep your eyes open. If Shiruyeh’s here, this might flush him out.”
Damien had seen Shahriari, too, and stepped smoothly forward to intercept him, smiling and extending a hand. “Dr. Shahriari,” he greeted warmly. “You may not remember me, but I am Anton Andric. We met a few years ago at a conference in Zagreb.”
Shahriari seemed momentarily confused by his old friend’s change of name, but then understanding dawned in his eyes and he shook Damien’s hand. “Mr. Andric, of course I remember,” he said smoothly in accented but flawless English. “I am delighted you are here and that we might continue that conversation. As I recall, your ideas were most intriguing. I would very much like to hear more.”
“Of course,” Damien agreed. “But first,” he set a hand to the small of Sophie’s back and smiled down at her, “may I present the lovely Annie Kroy, a business associate from London? Annie, this is Dr. Majid Shahriari, one of the world’s leading experts in nuclear power.”
Eliot felt a sharp twinge of anger as he watched Damien with Sophie, as he noted the light but possessive touch of his hand to her back. He’d seen that gesture so often before, knew only too well what claim was being exerted, and prayed Sophie would resist it. Instead, she smiled and stepped in closer to Damien.
“Lovely to meet you, Dr. Shahriari,” she said with Sophie’s dazzling smile and Annie’s accent. “Anton has told me quite a bit about you and your work, though I can’t say I understood any of it.” She wrinkled her nose. “Never really got into science,” she admitted. “My interests have always been much more - how shall I say this? - practical. But,” she smiled slyly, “even science needs funding, yeah?”
Interest flared in Shahriari’s dark eyes. “Of course,” he agreed. “Without the practical, the theoretical remains simply … a theory.”
“Yes, well,” Damien said, “Miss Kroy and I are very interested in seeing your work progress from the theoretical to the practical. It’s why we are here. We believe we can help you resolve some of the difficulties you have faced in that particular regard. Miss Kroy brings a rather extensive network of connections to the table, and I believe you already know what resources I can offer.”
Shahriari looked sharply at Damien at that and frowned slightly. “You will forgive me, D- Anton,” he said, stumbling over the unfamiliar name, “but I had heard that you have recently suffered … setbacks?”
Damien chuckled quietly, and Eliot felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. “My dear Majid,” he said gently, “you must never believe everything you hear. Yes, I did suffer some losses, but, I assure you, I am far from destitute.” He winked. “Governments can’t seize what they can’t find.”
“I ain’t the government, you son of a bitch,” Eliot heard Hardison grumbling in his ear, “and I will find every penny you’ve squirreled away and put it in a trust for Nana and her kids.”
Damien’s words seemed to reassure Shahriari, and he smiled with obvious relief. “I am truly happy to hear that,” he said. “And if that is the case, then perhaps we should talk. You have always proven a generous partner in the past.”
Damien smiled broadly. “That is why I am here. Let us find a quiet corner and talk.”
Taking Sophie’s hand in his, Damien led the way toward an empty table in the far corner of the room, and Eliot had no choice but to follow. As they sat down and began to talk, he turned away and focused his attention on the room, trying to sort through the crowd of guests to find one lone assassin. “Hardison, anything?” he asked softly, sweeping the room with his gaze. Shiruyeh could be anywhere-
“Nothin’ yet, man,” the hacker answered. “If he’s tryin’ to blend in, he’s doin’ a hell of a job.”
“Yeah, I don’t think he would’ve gotten too far if he’d come dressed as a Taliban commander,” Eliot sighed. “Would’ve helped us, though.”
“Wait,” Sterling’s voice chimed in, “I’ve got movement near the center of the room. Tall fellow, pushing past the Indian delegation, wearing loose white trousers, long dark jacket and one of those flat-topped caps-”
“Of course,” Eliot sighed, fighting the urge to kick himself. “He’s Pashtun.” He turned to look for the man, but too many guests stood in the way, obstructing his view. “Parker, I need more eyes!”
“On my way,” she said.
Eliot swore under his breath. The room was too dimly lit, too crowded, and his instincts were beginning to shriek in alarm. He knew Shiruyeh was near, could feel him; he just couldn’t see him. He needed to get Sophie and Damien out of here now.
He strode to the table where they were in deep conversation with Dr. Shahriari and stopped behind Damien, setting a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. Leaning down between Damien and Sophie, he said in a low, hard voice, “I’m callin’ this. We need to go.”
Damien looked up sharply, irritation pulling his mouth into a scowl. “We are not finished-”
“Yes, you are,” he countered firmly. “Miss Kroy, I need you to find Parker, your escort, and go upstairs to Mr. Ford-”
“She’s not leaving,” Damien countered just as firmly, locking gazes with Eliot. “She came in with me, and she will stay with me. Your job is to keep both of us safe, and I expect you to do that job.”
“Damn it, Damien!” Eliot ground out, his temper rising. “Shiruyeh is here-”
“Then find him and take care of him,” Damien ordered. “Isn’t that what you do?”
“I can go,” Sophie said, starting to rise.
“No-”
“Yes!” Eliot hissed. He straightened up and took Sophie’s elbow, then turned just in time to see Parker approaching. “Go with her,” he breathed into Sophie’s ear. “And if you’ve still got that switchblade, now would be a good time to get it out.”
“Damn it, Spencer!” Damien seethed, shooting to his feet and grabbing Eliot’s arm to jerk him around to face him. “You seem to have forgotten who gives the orders here-”
“And you seem to have forgotten that those orders are to protect you-”
“Eliot, Parker!” Hardison shouted across the comms. “Shiruyeh’s comin’ up behind you-”
Eliot shoved Damien down and spun around, thrusting his hand into his jacket and closing it around the gun holstered there. He saw Parker push Sophie out of the way, saw Shiruyeh lunging forward and reaching into his own jacket-
“Die, you Western dog!” Shiruyeh snarled, drawing his gun.
Two shots exploded almost in unison, screams and chaos erupted-
And all at once the ballroom went dark.
Part 9