Night's Favour (46 page)

“Ok, Bond.
 
You keep your spy craft quiet, and wait here.”

“Copy that, Gold Leader.”

“That’s Star Wars, not James Bond.”

“Whatever.”

The woods were cool, a quiet escape from the morning.
 
The sun had come out, burning away Val’s doubts.
 
The day was hot already, climbing into shorts and T-shirt temperatures.
 
He was sweating through his new clothing — John’s idea — already.

“No, really.
 
Army surplus.
”
 
John had nodded to a store they’d walked past.

“What?
”

“It’s practical.
 
Not like that shit you’re wearing now.
”

“It’s not like Danny has an extensive men’s wardrobe at her place.
”

“I’m not saying it’s her fault.
 
I’m saying you look like a hobo
.”

Like that, they’d kitted themselves out with more rugged clothing.
 
John was wearing a digital camo sleeveless vest —
“Guns, bro — chicks dig the guns,
”
 
— and Val had opted for a simple black T.
 
John had wanted to get some weapons too, but Val had talked him down.
 
The way Val saw things, if they needed weapons they’d need something bigger than whatever could be grabbed over the counter at an army surplus store.

If they needed weapons around Adalia, something had gone badly wrong, and that couldn’t be allowed.

Google Maps showed him a generic forest — no Street View cars could get in here, that’s for sure.
 
Val walked on ahead through the woods, his feet crunching on the forest floor.
 
He wasn’t trying to keep his noise down — quite the opposite.
 
Surprises were bad for everyone, and —

A flash of fire.
 
He swatted the puny thing aside, grabbing the man —

— he didn’t want to be shot again.
 
It didn’t matter what they’d said to him — being told you were a werewolf was one thing.
 
Walking the walk was quite another.

Val stepped into a large clearing.
 
A helicopter sat —
that might be a wee fly in the ointment —
silent and empty, in the centre of the clearing.
 
A man was seated on a fallen tree, wearing a cashmere sweater and slacks.
 
He started upright as Val walked through the trees.

“Uh.”
 
The man swallowed a couple of times.
 
“Mr. Everard?”

“Sam.”

“Ah.”
 
Sam’s forehead was sweaty.
 
“Yes.”

“I appreciate you doing this.”

“You — you do?”

“Sure.”
 
Val smiled, showing teeth.
 
“You’ve taken a hell of a risk.”

Crush it.
 
It has our cub —

“But,” said Val, flexing his hands, “You know that already.”

Sam swallowed again.
 
“I assure you, Adalia is quite all right.
 
For now.”

“Now that’s just plain nasty, Sam.”
 
Val let his teeth show some more, but it had stopped being a smile.
 
“Why would you say something like that?
 
We could have such a good thing going on here.
 
You know, I get a bit unpredictable — jumpy, almost — when I get angry these days.
 
I’m under a lot of stress.”

“I only meant —”
 
Sam started again.
 
“I meant that we’ve taken good care of her.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”
 
Val clapped a big hand on Sam’s shoulder, hitting him a bit too hard.
 
Then he looked at his hand, pulling it back.
 
“I’m sorry, Sam.
 
I hate bullies myself, and this situation’s just bringing out the worst in me.”
 
He offered his hand.

Sam looked at it like it was a pit viper, then gingerly took it, returning the shake.
 
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Everard.
 
I regret —”

“Look, save it.
 
It’s a shitty situation.
 
I’m here for one thing, and I bet you are too.”

“Yes.”
 
Sam nodded towards the helicopter.
 
“Shall we?”

“Sure.”
 
Val walked towards the helicopter.

“Mr. Everard.”

Val stopped, turning.
 
“Yes?”

“I mean it.”
 
Sam looked at his hand, still held out.
 
“I really am sorry.”

Val nodded.
 
“Sure, Sam.
 
So am I.
 
But I appreciate you saying that.
 
I’ll remember it.”

“For what, Mr. Everard?
 
I — Elsie — Ms. Morgan, that is —”

“I know, Sam.”
 
Val considered the man.
 
“You’re a very loyal man.”

“Ms. Morgan and I go back a long way.”

We will destroy their pack, tear it down —

“Yeah.”
 
Val clenched his teeth.
 
“Sometimes we don’t get to choose, do we?”

Sam looked at the forest floor.
 
“No, Mr. Everard.
 
Sometimes there’s no choice at all.”

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

Sam looked up at him.
 
“What for, Mr. Everard?”

Val smiled, but there was no joy in it.
 
“For the way the day is going to end.
 
Come on.
 
Let’s get on.
 
Got to pay the boat man.”

Sam laughed.
 
“You have no idea.”

“What?”

“She says that same thing.”

“Well, that’s the only thing Elsie and I have in common.”
 
Val grabbed at the door of the helicopter.
 
He checked his phone, then dropped it in his pocket before hopping in.

Sam took the pilot’s seat, putting on a headset and handing a similar one to Val.
 
“You’re an honourable man, Mr. Everard.
 
I’m sorry for the way the day is going to end too.”

Val nodded, looking out at the forest edge.
 
He couldn’t see John anywhere.
 
Exactly as planned.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

John watched the helicopter take off through the trees, the beating of the rotors causing him to squint as bits of forest tried to get into his eyes.
 
Despite having a physique that made heads turn, he never thought of himself as an outdoorsy type.
 
There were insects and serial killers and, well, werewolves outside.

It was best to stay inside.

He fished his phone out of his pocket, tapping on Find My Friends.
 
John had been nagging Val to get setup on the app for ages.
 
It seemed all it took to get Val to do something was threaten the lives of people he cared about.
 
Useful to know.
 
The app tracked Val as the helicopter took him out over the forest.

John shut the app down, then started to dial.
 
A crack off to his left made his hand freeze.

“Is not as planned?”
 
The accent was thick, sounding like all the corny Russian mobster movie roles John had ever seen.
 
John instinctively hunkered down against a tree.

“No.”
 
Spencer.
 
John wouldn’t forget that voice in a hurry.
 
The captain followed the big Russian into the clearing, checking his watch.
 
“It’s not going according to plan.
 
They were early.”

“Ah.
 
You should never trust a woman.
 
I tell you this.”
 
The Russian was familiar, and John squinted at him, trying to pick where he’d seen him before.
 
His walk was slow, and he winced before he spoke again.
 
“The past is behind us.
 
We are friends now, you and I.
 
But you do not listen to your friends.”

“It’s fixable.”
 
Spencer spat into the grass of the clearing.
 
“It’s not good though.
 
If she told me the wrong time, it means my position is compromised.”

“What is this
compromised
word you use?”

“She doesn’t trust me either.”

“Ah.
 
She is not your good friend, captain.”
 
The big man stretched his side, a grimace crossing his face.

“She’s my employer.
 
I don’t know what it’s like in mother Russia, but we don’t usually get cosy with the boss.”

The big man looked around the clearing, and John got a good look at his face.
 
Fuck
, he thought,
It’s that janitor from the hospital.
 
What are the odds?
 
“Is not so different.”

“Figures.
 
Volk.”
 
Spencer looked back at the big man —
Volk
.
 
“You need to pay up.”

Volk smiled.
 
“Captain.
 
It is not as simple.
 
We are friends, of course.
 
But we have deal.”

“The deal was I help you kill Everard —”

“
Da
.
 
I remember.
 
In return…”
 
The man trailed off, looking at the sky.
 
“They really flew.
 
Is amazing, this world.”

Spencer looked at the sky.
 
“You’ve never seen a helicopter?”

“Heli.
 
Copter.”
 
Volk tried the word on for size.
 
“I have been away a long time.”

Spencer frowned.
 
“Whatever.
 
Volk, we have a deal.
 
If you don’t pay your half, I don’t pay my half.
 
It’s as simple as that.”

“Of course.”
 
Volk walked up to Spencer, clapping him on the shoulder.
 
“But you haven’t paid your half either.
 
We are still even.”

“I brought you to Everard.”

Volk’s smile faded.
 
“Do you take me for simple man?”

“What?”

“Because of English.
 
Is bad, I know this.”

“No.”
 
Spencer frowned.
 
“Why do you ask?”

“
Xorošij
.”
 
Volk smiled again.
 
“You brought me to here.
 
To many trees.”

“Forest?”

“
Da
.
 
Forest.”
 
He beamed.
 
“A new word.
 
Is marvellous!
 
But there is no one here.”

“They just left!”

“
Da
.”
 
Volk nodded, gesturing around at the clearing.
 
“No one here, no gift.”

“Christ.”
 
Spencer rubbed his face.
 
“I figured you’d do it here, and we could deal with Everard together.”

“Together?”
 
Volk seemed to think about this.
 
“No.
 
We are good friends, Captain.
 
We are not good enough friends to hunt together.”

John could see Spencer’s jaw clench.
 
“Christ.
 
I don’t want to go big game shooting.
 
I want to put that rabid dog down.
 
He’s killed my men!”

“Rabid?”
 
Volk frowned.
 
“I do not know this word.”

“A disease.
 
Sickness.
 
Dogs get it.”

“Ah, Captain.”
 
Volk sighed.
 
“This man you hunt —”

“Everard.”

“This man you call Everard, he is not a dog.”

Spencer shrugged.
 
“Looked like a dog to me.”

“Hah.
 
Reminds me of funny joke.”
 
Volk cleared his throat.
 
“Would you like to hear it?”

“How do you know any English jokes?”
 
Spencer checked his watch again.
 
“You’ve been in a hole in the ground since baby Jesus walked the Earth.”

“
Da
.”
 
Volk grinned.
 
“One of your men told it to me.
 
On the way here.”
 
The grin faded.
 
“I think he thought to take my mind off the pain.
 
He was the first to die for it.”
 
The grin returned.
 
“But I remember his joke.”

John thought Spencer turned a little pale at that.
 
“He died for it?
 
The joke?”

“No.
 
The pain.”
 
Volk shook his finger at Spencer.
 
“You will understand, soon enough.”

“When you turn me.”
 
Spencer nodded.
 
“I get it.
 
No more silver jewellery.
 
It doesn’t really go with the uniform.”

“Turn?”
 
Volk rubbed his chin.
 
“I had not thought of it that way before.”

“What would you call it?”

“
Bratstvo
.”

“What?”

“I do not know English.
 
Is
bratstvo
.”

“Whatever.
 
Call it what you like.”
 
Spencer checked his watch again.