Disciples of the Serpent: A Novel of the O.C.L.T. by Williams Sidney

Author:Williams, Sidney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction, occult
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2017-03-04T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Seven

Freya approached Mike quietly, stepping near his left shoulder, not getting too close before she spoke. She’d learned that before he was the head of their security team, he’d served in the American military police, then been a cop before going private, so he had surveillance experience on his resume.

With his background and training, she didn’t want to trigger any reflex responses she’d regret. If her nerves were tense, and her reflexes coiled, she could imagine his were even more likely to flare.

“I hear you,” he said.

He’d picked up some subtle trace of her approach and sensed her caution. He turned with a quick, grim upward tick of one corner of his mouth to relieve her. Then it was gone and calm stoicism returned.

“Our man’s in a coffee shop over there. Liking the free WiFi, I suspect.”

Now that she was aware of it, she could almost feel his military confidence and read the underlying power in posture. Not terribly tall but solid.

“He looked nervous when he went in,” Mike said. “Looking over his shoulder. Didn’t see me.”

“Alone?”

One quick tick of the head affirmed.

“My recommendation’s follow for a while.” He kept his gaze trained on the front of the shop. “We need a professional approach.”

Freya felt her jaw lower in quiet shock, but she held back words and avoided turning his way. No need to give him a reaction or a personal defense. Nor to remind him of the assault at the hotel and that failure. She could tell he’d just grunt his response and disapproval or remind her that the hotel attackers had been freelancers. Help wasn’t always all it cracked up to be.

“I agree,” she said. “Do you have the manpower in town to handle this?”

“Got a guy on the back door. Another at the corner. We’ll find whatever rock this is the bosses are so sold on.”

“You’re gonna be surprised,” Freya said. She let her accent go full force. She hoped that carried a subtext of contempt, though she mouthed a focáil leat only in her head. Why did it have to be an American?

She pushed back her annoyance as the African emerged from the shop door. He checked both directions, but didn’t look their way. After a second of looking like he would head up the sidewalk, he stepped to the curb and lifted a hand.

A little silver car marked TAXI cruised to a stop. No one ever got a car that quickly. Freya felt panic start to rise, but as the silver compact pulled away, a small black sedan slid past after it, and in the same second a mobi chirped in Mike’s pocket.

“Got ’em? Good.”

He broke the connection and hit the phone face again with his thumb and waited just a second.

“Pick us up.”

Freya swore silently again. A little black sedan was pulling to curbside in a few seconds. The son of a bitch really was efficient.

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