The Treadstone Exile by Joshua Hood

Author:Joshua Hood [Hood, Joshua]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

27

BRATISLAVA, SLOVAKIA

After conducting an SSE—or sensitive site exploitation—of Malicar’s camp, Cyrus Vandal headed east to the flat he’d rented near the Medická Záhrada—the park behind the hospital. Inside the safe house he burned the clothes he’d taken off one of the dead gangsters, and after thirty minutes in the shower almost felt clean.

While he was sure the local authorities wouldn’t shed a tear over Ján Malicar’s untimely demise, the same could not be said for his associates, and Vandal knew he had to get out of town.

Using a tube of concealer, he did what he could to cover the bruises and then dressed quickly in a muted gray sports coat and blue slacks, grabbed his bag, and headed for the door. Out in the street, Vandal donned a tweed newsboy hat, pulling the brim low over the pair of wraparound shades that covered his eyes.

Twenty minutes later he arrived at Petržalka station, just another face in the crowd as he crossed the platform and climbed aboard the 11:20 to Vienna. He locked the door behind him and settled into his seat—out of danger—but was unable to relax until the train crossed the border into Austria.

Vandal felt the tension easing from his muscles and was about to open the paper when he felt the persistent buzz of his phone in his jacket pocket.

Now what?

“Go secure,” an electronically modified voice said as soon as he answered.

“Going secure,” Vandal said, activating the encryption package and waiting for the green box to appear around the edge of the screen before returning the phone to his ear.

“There is a problem in Africa you need to deal with,” the voice advised.

“What’s the problem?”

“Someone needs to go away.”

A termination order. Okay, this could be fun.

“Where is the target?”

“Last contact was in Morocco, but target is currently on the move.”

“On the move? You mean you don’t have an active location?” Vandal demanded.

“Affirmative. This is a very fluid situation, but it came from the top. All information has been uploaded to your computer and necessary assets are being moved into place. You just worry about getting there.”

Vandal glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost noon. Assuming he got a flight on the first thing smoking it would be at least sixteen and a half hours before he got on the ground. Add an hour for customs and arranging transportation, then however long it took to get on the road, and the target could have a full twenty-four-hour jump on him.

“By the time I get in play, the target could be anywhere.”

“Just get there,” the voice said.

“Fine,” Vandal said, and then as an afterthought, asked, “who is the target?”

“Adam Hayes,” the voice answered, and then the line went dead.

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