FIC: By Necessity (Ch. 6/?) (Burn Notice/Casino Royale)
Title: By Necessity
Fandom: Burn Notice/Casino Royale
Pairing: Michael Westen/James Bond
Prompt: 98 - cubic at tamingthemuse
Warnings: Contains slash relationships.
Rating: Adult
Summary: Some people are friends by choice. Some people are friends by necessity.
Disclaimer: I don't own either fandom, but oh how I wish I did. Also, this is a work of fiction that contains sexual interaction between two male characters. Note the part that says fiction before having hysterics, please.
A/N: The idea of these two together breaks my brain, but in a good way. I had to go there. Thanks to strangevisitor7 for the betas!
I'm so sorry for the delay in this chapter. Real life has been a pain in my backside for the past month. Stupid work.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
*************
Previous Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5.
*************
Ch. 6
I shifted the car into third gear and it surged forward with a growl of power. I laughed and rolled the window down so that the air from the river swept in through the car. I was definitely going to have to have a word with Dan. It was positively criminal that Bond was driving this beauty - a Jaguar XJ8 - and I was stuck in a rental Mercedes.
Of course, Bond usually got the better deal. As spy roles went, I preferred international business man, but I couldn’t deny that mystery hit man certainly had more flare. But, given the circumstances, I was definitely coming out ahead. Still, the fact that I couldn’t open my right eye all the way reminded me that I owed my current good fortune to Bond.
At least part of it. I probably would have gotten out of that warehouse alive. Maybe. Hell, who was I kidding Bond had saved my life and that kind of debt always came due.
I stepped on the gas pedal and the car shot forward. Dan had given me twenty minutes, but I wasn’t going to need it. Three sharp turns and ten minutes later, I squealed into the valet lane and put the car in park. I climbed out and snagged the keys.
“I’ll park it for you, Mr. Webber.” The valet was well trained. He knew English, my name and, from the way he was salivating, he knew his cars.
“I’m only going to be a minute. I just need to clean up.” The valet nodded, tearing his eyes from the car long enough to glance at me. It took him a second, but I saw his eyes widen when he noted the bruises.
“You are injured!”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Too much booze, too many stairs.” I chuckled and he relaxed. “I’ll be back in just a minute.” He was already staring at the car again and I went in through the front door, hoping that Bond’s clothes would buy me a pass without garnering too much attention for the battered condition of the rest of me.
A glance through the lobby told me that it was fairly deserted, which made sense given that it was the middle of the afternoon. There was no one at the front desk which suited me fine. I wanted to make a quick visit to my room before I picked up the package Dan was leaving for me.
The elevator ride only took a few minutes. The doors slid open and I stepped into the hallway, fishing out my wallet and the key card. When I got to my room, I paused. The door was damaged. The lock had been pried off.
Slipping Bond’s gun out of my holster, I pushed the door open slowly. From where I stood, it appeared to be deserted, but the room was a disaster. Wrinkling my nose, I stepped inside, careful not to disturb anything. My clothing was torn and scattered across the floor. The bed had been literally ripped apart. Everything I owned was destroyed and I sighed in frustration.
A good spy never leaves anything that will identify him or blow his cover lying around his room. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t fond of some of those clothes. Stepping around the mess, I swept my eyes across the clutter searching for a calling card.
This felt personal.
Janus.
He was dead, sure, but at least one of his goons had gotten away last night. I hadn’t forgotten that I still owed someone for shooting me in the back with a tranq dart. And Janus had been awfully jumpy about my real reason for being in Prague. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d sent the goon to ransack my room and see if he couldn’t prove that I was out to get him.
Yeah, it was personal. Cursing under my breath, I opened the room safe and grabbed the cash I’d left in it before heading back downstairs. So much for changing clothes. I did pause long enough to grab my sunglasses, which by some miracle had survived the destruction. It would be easier to stay unnoticed if everyone who glanced at me couldn’t tell I’d gotten my ass kicked. Right now, I looked more like a cubic impressionistic art piece than a suave business man. The glasses would hopefully help with that.
Downstairs, I made my way over to the desk and rang the bell. The pretty brunette from the past few days came out from the supply room behind the desk with a hurried smile. “Don’t they ever give you a day off?” I asked, teasing.
“Not lately,” she sighed. “Can I help you, Mr. Webber?”
“I believe that someone has delivered a package for me.” She gave me a flustered smile and bent down to search under the desk. A moment later, she stood up, clearly surprised.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir! This must have been delivered last night. I didn’t notice it before now.”
I grinned. Dan may not spring for the good cars, but his agents were all top notch. I took the envelope with a polite thank you and opened it long enough to pull out a phone and a hand held GPS tracking device.
Fishing around in the bottom of the envelope, I found an earpiece and switched it on, before sliding it into place. Almost immediately, the phone rang. “I lost mine,” I explained to the clerk. Answering the phone with a quick flick of my wrist, I turned away and went back to the door.
“Webber.”
“Your friend has been holed up at the Club Utopia for about the last thirty minutes. What’s your plan?”
“Dan, you think too highly of me.” I jogged down the steps and opened the car door, with the valet still drooling after me. “You know I don’t plan these things.”
“I thought I told you to keep the situation under control.”
“You did,” I countered. “And it’s not my arms dealer that went nuts and lost a bomb. That was Bond’s fault.” The car roared to life again and shot forward with the lightest of touches on the gas pedal. God, I loved this car.
“Michael!”
“Dan! Relax. Bond is a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
Dan paused for a heartbeat. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Michael, because you’re first priority isn’t search and rescue. It’s locate and destroy.”
“I figured as much.” I had known that I couldn’t go charging in to rescue Bond, guns blazing, cowboy hat flying off in the wind, but it still didn’t sit that easily. “I’m heading to the Kozicka Pub now. I figure Pepik might be able to shed some light on our new friends - the Russians.”
“Good idea.” Dan paused long enough that I braced myself. “Michael, be careful.”
I blinked. That wasn’t a good sign. “What’s going on, Dan? You’re never this nice to me.”
“We got a call from Bond’s handler.” I could hear the frustration growling over the phone line. “He’s been tracking down Konstantin for the past month and still hasn’t made the guy yet. They were hoping that Utopia would be their big break.”
I swallowed. “Bond took a job to make a hit - he killed Janus to get into their good graces.”
“Doesn’t sound like it worked out so well, does it?” Dan asked pointedly. When I didn’t answer, he pushed the issue. “You remember your mission.”
“I owe him. He saved my life.”
“Then he has the gratitude of the American people, but Michael - he’s not worth a thousand deaths. Not here. Not in England. Are we clear on that?”
“Chrystal.” I disconnected the phone line and stepped on the gas.
******************
Kozicka Pub actually ran a decent happy hour. It was close enough to the respectable business district that the Czech business class could be found lining the bar and tables and drowning their sorrows in mostly German beer. I figured I had about two hours before things started getting really bad for Bond. Give or take, of course, but I needed information before I cued up the cavalry.
I stood aside politely and waited for a middle aged woman to squeeze by me through the door, but my eyes were already busy scanning the crowd. Katerina was behind the bar again and Pepik was nowhere to be found.
Perfect. I knew he wouldn’t miss the rush hour, which meant that more likely than not, he was running numbers from the keg room in the back. I waved at Katerina on my way past the bar and saw her eyes widen slightly, but she didn’t comment or even break stride when I pushed open the door that led to the keg room.
Cigarette smoke assaulted me the moment I opened the door. Oh yeah, he was doing real good business tonight. There were about five people crowded into the room, all arguing heatedly about something. My Czech sucked, but I heard at least one of them mention football. Pepik sat in the middle of them, taking money and writing names down in his notebook.
I put my sunglasses in my pocket and stood watching for a moment - long enough that at least one of the clients got nervous. He glanced back at me and I smiled, aware that the expression looked grotesque with my face as swollen as it was. He gulped visibly and said something to Pepik before taking his money and going to play elsewhere.
Pepik looked up at me and froze. “Don’t mind me,” I hastened to assure him. “I’ve just come to collect on a few sure bets of my own.”
He slammed the book shut. “I have nothing that would interest you.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.” I moved closer, deliberately letting my jacket flap open and the gun holster peek out. Two more of the clients backed away and left the room in a hurry. “Football, right? Or soccer.” I waived my hand. “Whatever you want to call it! And don’t forget the special bets, right? Like the one where you bet that I’d outlive Janus.”
That did it. The other guests took off for the door. “It’s really your lucky day, Pepik. Because here I am!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The fact that he went completely ashen didn’t give him much credibility in my eyes.”
“You’re too modest.” I pulled the gun from my holster and flipped one of the now empty chairs backwards, so I could straddle it, letting the gun lay heavily and unthreateningly in my hand. Pepik’s eyes widened and he didn’t look away from the gun.
“Janus is dead?”
“As a doornail.” I nodded, a big fake smile twisting my face. “You know, I’ve never really understood that expression. A doornail was never alive. A better expression would be “dead as the last guy who set me up.”
Pepik moved then and he was awfully spry for someone in his late fifties. I didn’t shoot him - I needed him alive to talk to me. I did take a little bit of pleasure in slamming him against the wall, though.
“I didn’t know before, Martin! I swear!” Pepik started babbling and I rolled my eyes before tapping his forehead with the barrel of my gun.
“Pay attention and shut up now. I want you to tell me what you know.”
“It’s the Russians! They come in here and make a sweep of the old businesses. Ah, how do you say, market grab?”
“Uh huh.” I deliberately sounded bored. “And?”
“They take out all the drugs, first. Then the guns.” Pepik’s eyes were glued to the barrel of my gun and I wiggled it to encourage him to keep talking. “Janus, he fight back.”
“How?”
“How else? He stole from the Russians.” Pepik paused and looked up at me. “That’s bad for the life expectancy.”
“What did he steal?”
“I just run the numbers. The woman, from Utopia… she come here a few weeks ago. Met some guy here. Not a Russian.” Pepik closed his eyes for a second then opened them again. “He was maybe British or American?”
“Keep talking.” Bond and Taranova, no doubt about it. This must have been where they met, hooked up from one of Bond’s sources probably.
“Then I hear that someone is gunning for Janus. I figure it’s the guy.” Pepik shrugged, sounding marginally calmer. “But I don’t know for sure.” He looked at my gun pointedly. “And then you show up.”
“And how much did Janus pay you to tell him that I showed up asking about him?” I was cursing my own stupidity. Pepik was a coward, but he wasn’t a fool. He’d double dip until the well ran dry.
“Not enough,” Pepik stuttered, tensing.
“Calm down. I’m not going to kill you.” I stepped back and watched him sag in relief. “Not yet, anyway. Tell me what you know about Konstantin.”
“He’s a ghost. No one knows who he is.” Pepik shook his head, some of the color returning to his face.
“Russian?”
“Maybe. But from what I hear, they don’t know either.”
“Venovich?” I asked, watching Pepik closely, but the Czech just shrugged.
“Even odds that it’s him.” Pepik sighed. “No one knows.”
I didn’t say anything and tried to gather my thoughts. Janus thought I was gunning for him, thanks to Pepik. In truth, Bond had been gunning for him, thanks to Elena. Bond was really gunning for Konstantin. He went to the Russians, because when the Russians showed up, Konstantin the Ghost arrived. Elena knew the Russians. Elena was Venovich’s cousin. The pieces fit.
I’d say that even odds were looking pretty good at the moment. The only question left was where was the bomb?
I didn’t think Venovich had it. If he did, he wouldn’t have gone looking for Bond. Still, I didn’t have a better place to start looking. If I couldn’t find the bomb, I could at least find the places where it wasn’t.
“Where do the Russians store their goods?”
“Just a bookie,” Pepik shook his head and I lifted the gun and sighted it at him.
“I’m not asking you again.”
******************
Back in Bond’s car, I flipped open the GPS system and looked for the blinking red dot that told me where Bond was. After a second, it started blinking on top of Utopia. To my right.
I looked for the address that Pepik had given me.
It was to the left.
I squeezed the steering wheel. Dan was right. Bond’s life wasn’t worth all the death and destruction that bomb would cause. I turned the car left and prayed to a god I didn’t believe in that I’d have enough time to get everything done I needed to.
I arrived at the warehouse Pepik told me about in twenty minutes. By my clock, that gave me just over an hour to find the bomb, find Bond, and beat the bad guys. I’d had harder missions. I think.
Leaving the car in an empty parking lot, I made my way towards the main gates. I could see a guard lounging in the gatehouse, watching a tiny TV. “Excuse me,” I called out and he looked up. “I’m totally lost.”
He said something in Czech and I shrugged helplessly. “LOST. I’M LOST.” I started yelling. Volume is the international language barrier breakthrough. He started yelling back, obviously telling me that he didn’t speak English.
“What?” I demanded, arriving at the window and shaking my head. A quick glance down told me that he was unarmed and the tech on this warehouse was apparently a Commie special - old and pretty damn useless.
“Wait.” I held up a hand, smiling. “That’s all I needed to know.” I moved quickly, clipping him in the chin with my palm. His head and neck snapped back and he went down like a ton of bricks. “Sorry about the headache tomorrow.” I hurried around to the side and swiped the handheld radio and the keys, before hitting the button that opened the gate. Now I had a second clock running in my head. Ten minutes, tops, before I assumed someone knew I was here.
That’s why I took the radio. If someone started squawking, I’d have at least some warning before I was cornered.
Crouching, I ran through the parking lot and to the side of the warehouse. The doors were chained shut, but the keys took care of that. I had a bad feeling already. This was too easy. Where were the high tech locks? Where were the retina scanners? I mean, far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth, but only an idiot ignored the stamp on the horse that claimed it was a present from Troy.
Slipping in through the now unlocked doors, I looked around. It was empty.
Either Pepik was wrong, or he had lied to me. I didn’t think he was stupid enough to lie to me and expect to live until morning. “Damn.” I cursed and started running back for the car. Guess I was wrong he didn’t expect me to live until morning. I really was going to shoot him the next time I saw him.
I slid in behind the wheel just as I heard two sedans screech to a stop near the gate house. I recognized the guys who climbed out. They were Venovich’s body guards from Utopia. I started the car just as they saw me. One of them pulled out a handgun and fired it at me.
Ducking, I threw the car into gear and shot forward. I turned the wheel hard and the car fishtailed slightly, as I sped away from the empty warehouse. Of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy.
They gave chase. It was a good thing I was in Bond’s car. I was in serious trouble.
Fandom: Burn Notice/Casino Royale
Pairing: Michael Westen/James Bond
Prompt: 98 - cubic at tamingthemuse
Warnings: Contains slash relationships.
Rating: Adult
Summary: Some people are friends by choice. Some people are friends by necessity.
Disclaimer: I don't own either fandom, but oh how I wish I did. Also, this is a work of fiction that contains sexual interaction between two male characters. Note the part that says fiction before having hysterics, please.
A/N: The idea of these two together breaks my brain, but in a good way. I had to go there. Thanks to strangevisitor7 for the betas!
I'm so sorry for the delay in this chapter. Real life has been a pain in my backside for the past month. Stupid work.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
*************
Previous Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5.
*************
Ch. 6
I shifted the car into third gear and it surged forward with a growl of power. I laughed and rolled the window down so that the air from the river swept in through the car. I was definitely going to have to have a word with Dan. It was positively criminal that Bond was driving this beauty - a Jaguar XJ8 - and I was stuck in a rental Mercedes.
Of course, Bond usually got the better deal. As spy roles went, I preferred international business man, but I couldn’t deny that mystery hit man certainly had more flare. But, given the circumstances, I was definitely coming out ahead. Still, the fact that I couldn’t open my right eye all the way reminded me that I owed my current good fortune to Bond.
At least part of it. I probably would have gotten out of that warehouse alive. Maybe. Hell, who was I kidding Bond had saved my life and that kind of debt always came due.
I stepped on the gas pedal and the car shot forward. Dan had given me twenty minutes, but I wasn’t going to need it. Three sharp turns and ten minutes later, I squealed into the valet lane and put the car in park. I climbed out and snagged the keys.
“I’ll park it for you, Mr. Webber.” The valet was well trained. He knew English, my name and, from the way he was salivating, he knew his cars.
“I’m only going to be a minute. I just need to clean up.” The valet nodded, tearing his eyes from the car long enough to glance at me. It took him a second, but I saw his eyes widen when he noted the bruises.
“You are injured!”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Too much booze, too many stairs.” I chuckled and he relaxed. “I’ll be back in just a minute.” He was already staring at the car again and I went in through the front door, hoping that Bond’s clothes would buy me a pass without garnering too much attention for the battered condition of the rest of me.
A glance through the lobby told me that it was fairly deserted, which made sense given that it was the middle of the afternoon. There was no one at the front desk which suited me fine. I wanted to make a quick visit to my room before I picked up the package Dan was leaving for me.
The elevator ride only took a few minutes. The doors slid open and I stepped into the hallway, fishing out my wallet and the key card. When I got to my room, I paused. The door was damaged. The lock had been pried off.
Slipping Bond’s gun out of my holster, I pushed the door open slowly. From where I stood, it appeared to be deserted, but the room was a disaster. Wrinkling my nose, I stepped inside, careful not to disturb anything. My clothing was torn and scattered across the floor. The bed had been literally ripped apart. Everything I owned was destroyed and I sighed in frustration.
A good spy never leaves anything that will identify him or blow his cover lying around his room. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t fond of some of those clothes. Stepping around the mess, I swept my eyes across the clutter searching for a calling card.
This felt personal.
Janus.
He was dead, sure, but at least one of his goons had gotten away last night. I hadn’t forgotten that I still owed someone for shooting me in the back with a tranq dart. And Janus had been awfully jumpy about my real reason for being in Prague. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d sent the goon to ransack my room and see if he couldn’t prove that I was out to get him.
Yeah, it was personal. Cursing under my breath, I opened the room safe and grabbed the cash I’d left in it before heading back downstairs. So much for changing clothes. I did pause long enough to grab my sunglasses, which by some miracle had survived the destruction. It would be easier to stay unnoticed if everyone who glanced at me couldn’t tell I’d gotten my ass kicked. Right now, I looked more like a cubic impressionistic art piece than a suave business man. The glasses would hopefully help with that.
Downstairs, I made my way over to the desk and rang the bell. The pretty brunette from the past few days came out from the supply room behind the desk with a hurried smile. “Don’t they ever give you a day off?” I asked, teasing.
“Not lately,” she sighed. “Can I help you, Mr. Webber?”
“I believe that someone has delivered a package for me.” She gave me a flustered smile and bent down to search under the desk. A moment later, she stood up, clearly surprised.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir! This must have been delivered last night. I didn’t notice it before now.”
I grinned. Dan may not spring for the good cars, but his agents were all top notch. I took the envelope with a polite thank you and opened it long enough to pull out a phone and a hand held GPS tracking device.
Fishing around in the bottom of the envelope, I found an earpiece and switched it on, before sliding it into place. Almost immediately, the phone rang. “I lost mine,” I explained to the clerk. Answering the phone with a quick flick of my wrist, I turned away and went back to the door.
“Webber.”
“Your friend has been holed up at the Club Utopia for about the last thirty minutes. What’s your plan?”
“Dan, you think too highly of me.” I jogged down the steps and opened the car door, with the valet still drooling after me. “You know I don’t plan these things.”
“I thought I told you to keep the situation under control.”
“You did,” I countered. “And it’s not my arms dealer that went nuts and lost a bomb. That was Bond’s fault.” The car roared to life again and shot forward with the lightest of touches on the gas pedal. God, I loved this car.
“Michael!”
“Dan! Relax. Bond is a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
Dan paused for a heartbeat. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Michael, because you’re first priority isn’t search and rescue. It’s locate and destroy.”
“I figured as much.” I had known that I couldn’t go charging in to rescue Bond, guns blazing, cowboy hat flying off in the wind, but it still didn’t sit that easily. “I’m heading to the Kozicka Pub now. I figure Pepik might be able to shed some light on our new friends - the Russians.”
“Good idea.” Dan paused long enough that I braced myself. “Michael, be careful.”
I blinked. That wasn’t a good sign. “What’s going on, Dan? You’re never this nice to me.”
“We got a call from Bond’s handler.” I could hear the frustration growling over the phone line. “He’s been tracking down Konstantin for the past month and still hasn’t made the guy yet. They were hoping that Utopia would be their big break.”
I swallowed. “Bond took a job to make a hit - he killed Janus to get into their good graces.”
“Doesn’t sound like it worked out so well, does it?” Dan asked pointedly. When I didn’t answer, he pushed the issue. “You remember your mission.”
“I owe him. He saved my life.”
“Then he has the gratitude of the American people, but Michael - he’s not worth a thousand deaths. Not here. Not in England. Are we clear on that?”
“Chrystal.” I disconnected the phone line and stepped on the gas.
******************
Kozicka Pub actually ran a decent happy hour. It was close enough to the respectable business district that the Czech business class could be found lining the bar and tables and drowning their sorrows in mostly German beer. I figured I had about two hours before things started getting really bad for Bond. Give or take, of course, but I needed information before I cued up the cavalry.
I stood aside politely and waited for a middle aged woman to squeeze by me through the door, but my eyes were already busy scanning the crowd. Katerina was behind the bar again and Pepik was nowhere to be found.
Perfect. I knew he wouldn’t miss the rush hour, which meant that more likely than not, he was running numbers from the keg room in the back. I waved at Katerina on my way past the bar and saw her eyes widen slightly, but she didn’t comment or even break stride when I pushed open the door that led to the keg room.
Cigarette smoke assaulted me the moment I opened the door. Oh yeah, he was doing real good business tonight. There were about five people crowded into the room, all arguing heatedly about something. My Czech sucked, but I heard at least one of them mention football. Pepik sat in the middle of them, taking money and writing names down in his notebook.
I put my sunglasses in my pocket and stood watching for a moment - long enough that at least one of the clients got nervous. He glanced back at me and I smiled, aware that the expression looked grotesque with my face as swollen as it was. He gulped visibly and said something to Pepik before taking his money and going to play elsewhere.
Pepik looked up at me and froze. “Don’t mind me,” I hastened to assure him. “I’ve just come to collect on a few sure bets of my own.”
He slammed the book shut. “I have nothing that would interest you.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.” I moved closer, deliberately letting my jacket flap open and the gun holster peek out. Two more of the clients backed away and left the room in a hurry. “Football, right? Or soccer.” I waived my hand. “Whatever you want to call it! And don’t forget the special bets, right? Like the one where you bet that I’d outlive Janus.”
That did it. The other guests took off for the door. “It’s really your lucky day, Pepik. Because here I am!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The fact that he went completely ashen didn’t give him much credibility in my eyes.”
“You’re too modest.” I pulled the gun from my holster and flipped one of the now empty chairs backwards, so I could straddle it, letting the gun lay heavily and unthreateningly in my hand. Pepik’s eyes widened and he didn’t look away from the gun.
“Janus is dead?”
“As a doornail.” I nodded, a big fake smile twisting my face. “You know, I’ve never really understood that expression. A doornail was never alive. A better expression would be “dead as the last guy who set me up.”
Pepik moved then and he was awfully spry for someone in his late fifties. I didn’t shoot him - I needed him alive to talk to me. I did take a little bit of pleasure in slamming him against the wall, though.
“I didn’t know before, Martin! I swear!” Pepik started babbling and I rolled my eyes before tapping his forehead with the barrel of my gun.
“Pay attention and shut up now. I want you to tell me what you know.”
“It’s the Russians! They come in here and make a sweep of the old businesses. Ah, how do you say, market grab?”
“Uh huh.” I deliberately sounded bored. “And?”
“They take out all the drugs, first. Then the guns.” Pepik’s eyes were glued to the barrel of my gun and I wiggled it to encourage him to keep talking. “Janus, he fight back.”
“How?”
“How else? He stole from the Russians.” Pepik paused and looked up at me. “That’s bad for the life expectancy.”
“What did he steal?”
“I just run the numbers. The woman, from Utopia… she come here a few weeks ago. Met some guy here. Not a Russian.” Pepik closed his eyes for a second then opened them again. “He was maybe British or American?”
“Keep talking.” Bond and Taranova, no doubt about it. This must have been where they met, hooked up from one of Bond’s sources probably.
“Then I hear that someone is gunning for Janus. I figure it’s the guy.” Pepik shrugged, sounding marginally calmer. “But I don’t know for sure.” He looked at my gun pointedly. “And then you show up.”
“And how much did Janus pay you to tell him that I showed up asking about him?” I was cursing my own stupidity. Pepik was a coward, but he wasn’t a fool. He’d double dip until the well ran dry.
“Not enough,” Pepik stuttered, tensing.
“Calm down. I’m not going to kill you.” I stepped back and watched him sag in relief. “Not yet, anyway. Tell me what you know about Konstantin.”
“He’s a ghost. No one knows who he is.” Pepik shook his head, some of the color returning to his face.
“Russian?”
“Maybe. But from what I hear, they don’t know either.”
“Venovich?” I asked, watching Pepik closely, but the Czech just shrugged.
“Even odds that it’s him.” Pepik sighed. “No one knows.”
I didn’t say anything and tried to gather my thoughts. Janus thought I was gunning for him, thanks to Pepik. In truth, Bond had been gunning for him, thanks to Elena. Bond was really gunning for Konstantin. He went to the Russians, because when the Russians showed up, Konstantin the Ghost arrived. Elena knew the Russians. Elena was Venovich’s cousin. The pieces fit.
I’d say that even odds were looking pretty good at the moment. The only question left was where was the bomb?
I didn’t think Venovich had it. If he did, he wouldn’t have gone looking for Bond. Still, I didn’t have a better place to start looking. If I couldn’t find the bomb, I could at least find the places where it wasn’t.
“Where do the Russians store their goods?”
“Just a bookie,” Pepik shook his head and I lifted the gun and sighted it at him.
“I’m not asking you again.”
******************
Back in Bond’s car, I flipped open the GPS system and looked for the blinking red dot that told me where Bond was. After a second, it started blinking on top of Utopia. To my right.
I looked for the address that Pepik had given me.
It was to the left.
I squeezed the steering wheel. Dan was right. Bond’s life wasn’t worth all the death and destruction that bomb would cause. I turned the car left and prayed to a god I didn’t believe in that I’d have enough time to get everything done I needed to.
I arrived at the warehouse Pepik told me about in twenty minutes. By my clock, that gave me just over an hour to find the bomb, find Bond, and beat the bad guys. I’d had harder missions. I think.
Leaving the car in an empty parking lot, I made my way towards the main gates. I could see a guard lounging in the gatehouse, watching a tiny TV. “Excuse me,” I called out and he looked up. “I’m totally lost.”
He said something in Czech and I shrugged helplessly. “LOST. I’M LOST.” I started yelling. Volume is the international language barrier breakthrough. He started yelling back, obviously telling me that he didn’t speak English.
“What?” I demanded, arriving at the window and shaking my head. A quick glance down told me that he was unarmed and the tech on this warehouse was apparently a Commie special - old and pretty damn useless.
“Wait.” I held up a hand, smiling. “That’s all I needed to know.” I moved quickly, clipping him in the chin with my palm. His head and neck snapped back and he went down like a ton of bricks. “Sorry about the headache tomorrow.” I hurried around to the side and swiped the handheld radio and the keys, before hitting the button that opened the gate. Now I had a second clock running in my head. Ten minutes, tops, before I assumed someone knew I was here.
That’s why I took the radio. If someone started squawking, I’d have at least some warning before I was cornered.
Crouching, I ran through the parking lot and to the side of the warehouse. The doors were chained shut, but the keys took care of that. I had a bad feeling already. This was too easy. Where were the high tech locks? Where were the retina scanners? I mean, far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth, but only an idiot ignored the stamp on the horse that claimed it was a present from Troy.
Slipping in through the now unlocked doors, I looked around. It was empty.
Either Pepik was wrong, or he had lied to me. I didn’t think he was stupid enough to lie to me and expect to live until morning. “Damn.” I cursed and started running back for the car. Guess I was wrong he didn’t expect me to live until morning. I really was going to shoot him the next time I saw him.
I slid in behind the wheel just as I heard two sedans screech to a stop near the gate house. I recognized the guys who climbed out. They were Venovich’s body guards from Utopia. I started the car just as they saw me. One of them pulled out a handgun and fired it at me.
Ducking, I threw the car into gear and shot forward. I turned the wheel hard and the car fishtailed slightly, as I sped away from the empty warehouse. Of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy.
They gave chase. It was a good thing I was in Bond’s car. I was in serious trouble.