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  “Adams said Greenland?” I asked, feeling the anger rising at being manipulated. “Those were his exact words?”

  “His exact words were: Tell him to remember the jewels of Nuuk. Remind Shepherd about Greenland if he proves difficult and resists. I don’t know what it means, but I’m sure you do.”

  “I do,” I answered, semi-stunned. “Anvil?”

  “Adams must want Victor badly if he said this,” Anvil said. “I will confirm.”

  I nodded in silence and let out a long breath.

  “I’m guessing you did your homework,” I said. “So, you know who we are, right?”

  “RHINOS,” Bullock answered, and shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid most of the information on your team and past ops are above my pay grade, sorry.”

  “Above your pay grade?” Bella scoffed. “Why would HALO send this rookie? Who did you piss off?”

  I doubted the information was above Bullock’s pay grade. In fact, I was pretty sure he knew as much as anyone could possibly know about every member on the team, including our past operations. Feigning ignorance was an excellent move. It made people underestimate you.

  If Adams gave him the Greenland message, Bullock was more than he appeared, and Adams was letting me know. The Greenland message meant I had no choice. I had to do this op, and my team would never let me go alone. Adams counted on this. I hated being predictable.

  As the HALO Division Head of Covert Operations, Adams had considerable influence within the organization. He wasn’t the Director, but when it came to black ops, no one, not even the Director of HALO, told him how to run his division. This meant he had an unprecedented amounts of latitude, privilege, and enemies. Inside and outside of the organization.

  “That should tell you something,” I said, keeping my voice even and an eye on any sudden movement from Bella. “Every person here was briefed on the kind of team they were joining, and still wanted to be part of the Recon Heavy Intervention & Neutralization Operations Squad”—I gave him a hard look—“maybe they aren’t the ones that need checking? I already know they’re insane.”

  “Do we have a timetable?” Anvil asked, defusing the tension somewhat. “How imminent is this threat?”

  “A week…two on the outside.”

  “Is there a target?” I asked. “Two weeks gives us a small window.”

  “More like an impossible window,” Bella grumbled. “In a place like New York? Two weeks gives us enough time to be there for the fallout. No wonder no one wants to touch this op…it’s poison.”

  “I don’t like it, Shep,” Anvil said. “Too many variables we can’t control. If we miscalculate, we get burned, blamed or worse.”

  Bullock cleared his throat with a short cough again. I was about half a second away from pounding a lozenge down his throat to help him with that cough.

  “We think we have a target and a more specific timeframe—if that will help.”

  “What is it?” I asked. Piecemeal feeding of information was typical with these agencies. Everything was need to know. The problem was they never let you know the information you needed. “Sharing that would assist us.”

  “We have solid intel that the target will be Bryant Park. The summer festival.”

  “That narrows it down,” I said, nodding as I stood. “Give me a day. Let me discuss it with my team. Tell Adams I said ‘fuck you’ for using Greenland.”

  “He said you’d say that too,” Bullock said, nodding as he stood. “Guess he knows you pretty well.”

  “This would be a good time to leave—before you get shot,” Bella said, escorting Bullock to the door. “Now.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” Bullock called over his shoulder when he reached the door. “We don’t have much time.”

  He headed out of the space. I looked at TwoCans. “Make sure he wasn’t followed and doesn’t backtrack. The rest of you—I have a feeling Mr. Bullock isn’t done. Get ready for the audition.”

  “I’m on it,” TwoCans said. “Meet you at Bravo?”

  “Copy,” I said, looking at the rest of the team. “How soon can we prep?”

  “Two days, max, to get everything in place,” Anvil said. “Bryant Park is large, but it’s not Central. We can manage it if we use Monk and the Street Team.”

  “Do it. Get them in place today.”

  Monk nodded. “They will be ready,” Monk said. “The usual?”

  I nodded. “Have an extra contingent prepped. Something tells me HALO is looking for someone to burn. Especially after Istanbul.”

  “Istanbul was all them,” Bella replied. “They jumped the gun and nearly got us erased. This op smells just as bad.”

  “We may want to consider walking away from this one,” Anvil said, shaking her head. “I don’t like it. I say we go after Victor on our own terms. Even if Adams is using Greenland as a bargaining chip.”

  “We have no choice on this one,” I answered. “If he’s pulling the Greenland card, this is serious and HALO may be compromised.”

  “It doesn’t mean we can’t be prepared.”

  “True,” I said. “Make sure Plan B is in place. We need to cover ourselves.”

  “Can we burn Victor this time?” Bella asked, making a fist. “Before the collateral damage?”

  “You know how he operates,” I said. “He won’t show his hand until it’s too late to stop him.”

  “We knew,” Anvil said. “He may have changed. We haven’t faced Black Wolf in some time.”

  “You’re right. Psych eval on Black Wolf?” I asked. “Do we have anything current on them?”

  “Nothing recent,” Anvil answered. “I’ll get Cans on it. He can get us current intel.”

  “Good,” I said. “Let me reach out to Alphabet City and find out why this is so toxic. If we’re heading into seppuku, we walk away. Greenland or not.”

  “You really think Bullock is going to try an audition?” Anvil asked. “He seemed fine with your answer.”

  “Won’t stop him from testing us,” I said. “He’s new and won’t believe the reports. That type needs to be certain. They need to see, not just be told.”

  “Of course,” Anvil said. “Get ready.”

  TWO

  “You have incoming,” Cans said over the com. “Guessing it’s the second half of the audition?”

  “Never fails,” I muttered, checking my watch. “That was fast, Bullock must be desperate. How many?”

  “Why must they always engage in this foolishness?” Anvil asked. “Bella, can you show them the error of their ways?”

  “With pleasure,” Bella shot back with a laugh. “I’ll make sure they walk funny for a few days.”

  “Bella, easy on the crotch shots,” I said with a wince. “They’re just doing their jobs.”

  “I’ll make sure to leave them mostly functional, boss.”

  “I have eyes on two unmarked vans,” Cans said. “Do you want me to jam their coms?”

  “Where’s the challenge in that?” I asked. “Don’t discourage them. Do we have a headcount?”

  “About ten operatives,” Cans added. “Looks like a live ammunition exercise.”

  “They only sent ten?” Bella complained. “I won’t even get warmed up with ten.”

  “Bella,” I said, using my warning voice, “hurt them, but no casualties—non-lethal rounds.”

  “Seriously? After he said we were expendable?”

  “Seriously, no casualties,” I said. “Everyone else, Chameleons set to riot control. I’m not in the mood to clean up a bunch of corpses—only thing dying today is a bunch of egos.”

  “Fine,” Bella said in a huff. “Switching to riot control rounds.”

  “Let’s not disappoint,” I said. “Mr. Bullock wants to see if we live up to our reputation.”

  Chameleons were special issue modified ammunition revolvers based on the Chiappa Rhino 40DS frame. They were redesigned to ten-shot beasts that could easily stop a bear. Everyone on my team was rated proficient in its use and c
arried one.

  Bella, Anvil, and Monk were the only exceptions. In addition to the Chameleons, Anvil preferred to get up close and personal with her Strider Karambits. Bella could cut you in half with her Barrett M82 .50 cal from over a thousand yards away. Monk, given enough time, could make anything explode.

  “What reputation?” Anvil asked as we took the stairs down to the rear of the building. “Few know we exist. Those that do, know better than to share anything about us—if they want to keep breathing without assistance.”

  “Intern, get medical ready,” I said over the com. “I have a feeling there will be ample doses of pain and plenty of injuries.”

  “I’m on standby,” Intern said. “Lower level. We’re prepped and ready.”

  “Cans, do you have a location on Bullock?” I asked. “How far away is he?”

  “He’s about a block away in a control vehicle,” Cans said. “Guess he doesn’t like to get his hands dirty.”

  “Send it to my Eagle,” I said. “I’m going to pay him a visit.”

  Eagle Eyes were our next gen corneal HUDs. They used nanostructures to focus light in something called a flat meta-lens. Eagles were several generations ahead of anything in use currently. Our tech was produced by Quemi, head of RHINOS R&D department. She was particular about our use of her tech designs and wanted us to test everything to breakpoint.

  “Bella won’t be able to handle them all,” Anvil said as we reached the ground floor. “I’ll leave a few for you.”

  “That’s generous of you,” I said, “but I’m going to pay Bullock a visit, I haven’t hit anyone today.”

  “You’re probably overdue, then,” Anvil flicked her wrists and produced two curved blades, whirling them—her Karambit fighting knives she christened Widowmakers were dangerous in anyone’s hands. In hers, they were absolutely lethal. She smiled when she saw my expression darken. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to share my point of view with them—literally.”

  “Anvil…”

  “No killing. I promise.”

  “You’re bringing knives to a gunfight?” I said, pointing to the Chameleon holstered on her thigh. “It would be easier if—”

  “You have it wrong,” she answered, chilling the air around us. “They brought guns to a knife fight.”

  She stepped outside. Ten seconds later, I heard the first scream.

  THREE

  I made my way to an alternate exit, following the information on my Eagle.

  There was a good chance Bullock was probably using a drone to keep track of his team. If I intended to surprise him, I needed to approach undetected.

  “Cans, is he using aerial surveillance?”

  “Two drones. One over his team and one over the control vehicle,” Cans answered. “Maybe he’s worried you’ll go pay him a visit?”

  “He’s smart,” I said. “Just not smart enough. Loop the feed of the drone over the control vehicle and make sure he’s only using two.”

  “Confirmed, only two—shit.”

  “What?”

  “The drone over the control vehicle just went dead.”

  “Clarify,” I said. “What do you mean ‘dead’?”

  “Dead, as in, the feed I was looking at a second ago is gone.”

  “Trace the drone and see if there’s an interrupting signal,” I said. “I’m coming up on the control vehicle and I’ll check the physical locat—goddammit.”

  Tucked away, out of sight, behind a building and partially in an alley, I faced the control vehicle. It was a standard SWAT armored truck—or rather the burnt out husk of what used to be the SWAT control vehicle. I drew my Chameleon and approached what was left of the large truck. I noticed the remains of a drone scattered across the street as smoke wafted out of the rear of the vehicle.

  “What is it, boss?” Bella asked over the com. “Did you accidentally on purpose shoot Ballsack?”

  “Someone else got to him first,” I said, looking into the rear of the truck. “Everyone, eyes sharp, we have another player on the field, and he’s playing nasty. Looks like Victor.”

  “Victor?” Anvil asked. “Did you see him?”

  “No, but I recognize his handiwork,” I said, flexing my left hand. “It was definitely Victor.”

  In the rear of the control vehicle, I saw the bodies. Four men, four broken necks, each with a gunshot wound to the temple—Victor’s way of making sure you were erased. I remembered his words: A broken neck can be survived, a bullet to the brain has been known to not get the job done. But both at once? One hundred percent dead.

  Surprisingly, Bullock was slumped over one of the small tables, neck intact, brain unperforated, unconscious and barely breathing. One of the monitors flickered to life as I started dragging him out of the truck.

  “Hello, Shepherd,” the image on the screen said. I couldn’t make out the face, but the voice…the voice flooded me with memories…Victor. “It’s good to see you’re keeping fit. Your response time was superb.”

  “Everyone disengage…now,” I said over the com, before turning to the screen. “Victor—I hear you’re still in business. Looks like you’ve been keeping busy.”

  “You know how it is,” Victor replied. “Always someone with disposable income wanting to make a point or start a cause.”

  “And like a whore—you and your group are for sale to the highest bidder,” I spat. “Nice to know some things don’t change.”

  “And like a whore—I like to think we provide an essential, but disliked service to the community,” Victor replied calmly. “Something you were the best at.”

  “Just like sewers,” I said. “You’re full of shit.”

  “I’ve missed your honesty, brother.”

  “I’m not your brother. You chose money over the team.”

  “Team looks solid now. Going to be a shame when I take them from you.”

  “I’m going to make sure you stay dead this time.”

  “Promises, promises, brother.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Someone has a real hate on you, Shep. You and your team are a loose end.”

  “And they called you to clean house?”

  “No,” he answered with a short laugh. “Where’s the fun in that? My job is to hurt you first. Kill everything you love…then erase you.”

  “Who called you?”

  “You’ve made some powerful enemies. Someone with deep pockets wants me to shake up your life, and nothing shines up a halo like death.”

  “I should’ve opened your third eye when I had a chance…with a bullet.”

  “I did miss your wit,” Victor answered with a short laugh. “I’d hurry if I were you. Would hate to see you out of the game before we even begin. Shoot you later.”

  The screen flickered and then a counter appeared. It started counting down from thirty seconds. It was BS. Victor would never put an accurate counter on a bomb. He specialized in misdirection. Make you look left, while sliding a blade into your right.

  “Shit.” I maneuvered Bullock into a fireman’s carry, exited the truck and made my way to some parked cars. I crouched behind them and dropped Bullock next to me. A few seconds later, the SWAT truck exploded, becoming a large grenade and sending pieces of armored shrapnel in every direction. I looked over at the destroyed vehicle. “Thirty seconds, my ass.”

  “Shepherd?” Anvil’s voice came over the com after my ears stopped ringing. “What the hell are you doing over there?”

  “Intern, send a bus to my location,” I answered. “You have four down, one wounded”—I looked over at Bullock—“doesn’t look critical, but he’s banged up.”

  “On my way,” Intern answered. “Do you need medical attention?”

  “Only for my brain. I should’ve anticipated this.”

  Bullock groaned next to me.

  “What happened?” he asked groggily. “The truck…my men.”

  “Gone. You, however, managed to do something rare—you faced Black Wolf and lived to talk about
it.”

  “Are you okay?” Anvil asked over the com with a slight inflection that gave away her concern. “What the hell was that?”

  “Several pounds of explosive wired to a SWAT control truck,” Monk said. “From the sound of things.”

  “I’m good,” I said. “Victor and I were just getting reacquainted.”

  “Reacquainted?” Bullock asked incredulous. “That madman killed my men and blew up my truck!”

  “You nearly went with them,” I said, still looking at the destruction. “Is the audition over? Or would you have preferred I left you”—I pointed over to the crater that used to be a SWAT truck—“in there?”

  Bullock’s gaze followed my finger to the charred metal in the middle of the street. He grew silent as he took in how close he was to being a memory.

  “Can you stop him?” Bullock asked, his voice low. “I mean really stop him…permanently.”

  “Isn’t that why HALO came looking for me and my team?”

  He gave me a brief nod. “Yes. Victor and Black Wolf need to be deleted. Not apprehended—eliminated.”

  I returned the nod, turning to face him. “First, we need to find out what he wants to destroy, then we erase him. Seeing as how you’re still alive, I’m going to go out on a limb and say I and my team passed your interview process.”

  “How did he know?” Bullock asked. “We were secure. No one knew about today…except your team. I called in my squad after I left the meeting.”

  “Don’t make me regret pulling you out of that truck. If my team wanted you dead…I’d be sponging you off the street right now.”

  “I was just saying how—”

  “Don’t ever question my team again—ever.”

  “No one knew about our meeting, Shepherd,” Bullock protested. “I made sure of it. No one.”

  “You’re going to need to reevaluate your modus operandi. Victor and Black Wolf are not amateurs. Your men…could use a few more years of training—at least those who are still among us.”

  “This…this is a disaster.”

  “No. This is your one and only wake up call. Study it, use it, and learn from it. Next time, someone may not be there to pull your ass out of the fire.”