Operation Leap of Faith

Chapter 6

Present day - USA, Minnesota

It had been three days since he returned from his mission Three days that Glaz spent in relative calm, keeping his head low and waiting. Three days of nerve-wracking silence from the rest of the cell. Shrike's last orders were to wait, but Damien hadn't called him once in all that time, and that wasn't like him. Did they know about Kapkan yet? Perhaps they investigated them in depth, and some part of their fake profiles didn't hold to their scrutiny. Or maybe they had discovered that Morgan Hayes wasn't dead. Perhaps they knew about who Glaz really was. It was doubtful this was the case; otherwise, he probably wouldn't still be breathing.

However, after stewing in doubt for three days, Glaz was nervous walking into the viper's nest again. The atmosphere in the chalet was charged with expectation, people forming small circles talking in hushed whispers to each other. Damien was nowhere to be seen, and Glaz felt oddly uneasy without him; the man was a good company if you didn't count the fact he was a terrorist. Leaning against the fireplace, Glaz observed the movement of people going from one small group to another. He caught someone staring at him, only to look away quickly when caught doing so. It was the woman that had seen him talking with Kapkan. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and Glaz nearly jumped in surprise. Either he'd been to absorbed in his thoughts, or Damien could move silently when he wanted.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"Ah, I missed you too Idri!" Damien chuckled. "I was away from the city. Shrike had me playing delivery boy for Vaas' group, but I couldn't say no; my brother works with them."

"I understand. I wouldn't pass up an opportunity to see my brother if I could." Glaz had no siblings, but Idrisov supposedly had had a younger brother. Damien patted his shoulder in support, and Glaz felt a pang of regret for lying to him, which was stupid, but he honestly thought Damien could make a good friend if the circumstances were different. To distract himself from that, he pointed at a certain person and said, "She won't stop staring at me."

"Of course," Damien sounded amused, gleeful even. "Gia has the hots for you, she's been heartbroken since she saw you talking to, and I quote, 'that dark-haired hottie'. But she says you looked so cute with your... what is he? Your boyfriend? Your fling?"

So gossip spread fast, as he imagined. Glaz answered with a noncommittal noise, avoiding a direct answer. He had no idea of what he would say. Damien pressed the issue.

"Is that why you were so secretive about your booty call the other day? Nobody here will care you're into men. Except maybe Gia, but if you offer us details about your love life she won't mind."

"I'm not the type to kiss and tell."

Damien's reply was forestalled by the deathly silence that took hold over the room when Shrike appeared. She carried something in her hands, a collection of shards and splinters of something that might one had been white or dark grey. She left it on the table, arranging the pieces in a certain order, and Glaz realised it was the remains of one of their plastic white masks. The man Glaz knew as the boss came into the room, suited to the nines like the other time he'd seen him. Looking at them all from the other side of the long table, he looked like a priest about to launch into a sermon.

"We will strike soon, and the boss wants all of us in it. Tomorrow morning there's a program being filmed in this little town. A history documentary of sorts. One of the interviewed guests has something they stole, a piece of technology in the form of a ring. We have to take it back and make our message be heard." The man paused, pointing at the broken pieces of plastic. "This is all we could find of Johan and the reason we avoid using bomb vests. But this ring is a special prototype and a bomber will be the only chance."