more to it than that. For a moment I thought you recognized Stefn.”
“Every man recognizes the woman in his dreams. She’s got looks, a helluva body and a mind.”
“And she’s good in bed,” Merrick added. “So what’s the problem? If Polax’s candy queen appeals to you, then pick her. The nights in Austria are going to be damn chilly and I know how you hate cold weather.”
Bjorn glanced at his boss. “Advocating I use a Quest agent as a bed warmer, Merrick?”
“If that’s the only way you can keep an eye on her every move, yes. The goal is to get our hands on Holic’s kill-file. Whatever you have to do to achieve that goal is acceptable.”
“What’s Quest’s interest in Reznik?”
“The same as ours. They’re worried that some of their agents have been sanctioned. That’s why it’s so damn urgent that we get that file. Who knows who’s all on it?”
“If this is so urgent, my first thought is we’re two days off the pace. We know Holic flew to Austria, so stopping off in Prague to pick up—”
“—your partner—”
“—only puts me further behind.”
“I know that, but the Agency—”
“Is kissing Quest’s ass for some reason,” Bjorn said. “I sure would like to know why that is.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that. They just feel this will be advantageous for a future mission.”
The “they” Merrick was referring to were the top brass in the upstairs office at Onyxx. The big boys who made the final decisions—right or wrong, smart or stupid.
“These spy games are never black and white, Bjorn. The Agency is still upset that the Chameleon’s death hasn’t slowed down the anarchy, and they’re feeling pressured to turn things around quickly.”
“Will we ever get rid of the Chameleon?” Bjorn mused out loud. “He’s dead, and yet he lives.”
“It’s certainly the truth. We have the son of a bitch’s corpse under lock and key in the Agency morgue and still we don’t know shit about who he is…was.”
“No confirmation yet?”
“No. And I’m told it’s going to be a while. We know the body underwent multiple plastic surgeries. His goal was to clone Paavo Creon. Our experts have even timelined those surgeries. But some things still don’t add up. We just have to be patient.”
Bjorn glanced at Merrick, noting the conviction in his commander’s voice. If anyone deserved peace of mind where the Chameleon was concerned, it was Adolf Merrick. The Chameleon had killed Merrick’s wife years ago. He’d strapped C-4 to her curvy body and sent her to hell while Merrick had watched it unfold on the computer screen in his office.
Bjorn suspected his commander still blamed himself for his wife’s death, and it was that blame that continued to drive him where the Chameleon was concerned. Even though his longtime enemy had been killed weeks ago, he wanted the man’s entire international operation wiped out.
“Then you believe everything Eva Creon said?” Bjorn asked.
“Yes, I do. She said the Chameleon admitted to her that he had purposely stolen her father’s face. He admitted to cloning Paavo Creon’s likeness surgically, and slipping into his life for the sole purpose of revenge.”
“A lot of trouble to go through for a little revenge.”
“My question is, who is he and why? There are days when I think he’s laughing at me from the grave,” Merrick admitted. “It’s not over yet. Hell, maybe it’ll never be over.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Something Sly McEwen said before he took off to go fishing.” Merrick stopped and looked at Bjorn. “McEwen said I shouldn’t put off my surgery. I should have the operation because I was going to need to be a hundred percent soon. I think he was hinting that when we get the identity on that body, all hell is going to break loose.”
“You think he knows who it is?”
Merrick shook his head. “If he does, he’s going to have a helluva a lot of explaining to do when he decides to surface with Eva.” He rubbed his jaw. “I’m tired of this shit. I’ve been playing this game with the Chameleon for fourteen years and I’m ready for it to be over. I want to bury it along with him, and his identity, whoever he turns out to be.”
“Have you decided to have the surgery?”
“Not yet, but…” Unconsciously Merrick moved his hand to his left temple. “I haven’t had a headache in a week. Maybe once this assignment is in the bag I can take a month off. But right now I can’t afford to be on my back while you’re in Austria. I’ve decided that I’ll be your controller on this one. While you’re in the field you’ll report directly to me instead of to one of the technicians in the Green Room. Anything you need, I’ll see that you get.”
Merrick had been diagnosed with a brain tumor and had put off his surgery too long, Bjorn thought. Bjorn had noticed certain things in the past week, the way his boss blinked more and squinted in bright light. The temple massaging.
It all added up to one thing—the tumor was growing, and putting pressure on the retinal nerves behind his eyes. To tolerate the pain he had started mixing pills and booze. That wasn’t smart, but there would be no convincing Merrick to have the surgery until he was ready.
They started to walk again. “Ordinarily I’d remind you that personal contact with an associate or suspect is frowned upon at Onyxx,” Merrick said, “but on this mission anything goes as long as we recover the file and Holic Reznik ends up on a slab next to the Chameleon. There is some concern that Holic might contract out the assassinations in that kill-file. That is, if he doesn’t get the use of his hand back. You’ve profiled him. What do you think?”
“If there’s killing to be done, and he’s capable of doing it, Holic’s going to be the one pulling the trigger. The question is, will his hand be up for it? Multiple fractures and nerve damage…” Bjorn shrugged. “It doesn’t sound good. If there’s a God upstairs, Holic’s assassination days are over. If not, at least his victims will be up against better odds. Holic’s MO is taking out his victims with one shot.”
“He could decide to contract the work out.”
They had been strolling through the museum, and so far neither had looked at a single painting. Bjorn, still matching Merrick’s steps, said, “That would mean he would have to trust someone. From what I know about him, Holic trusts damn few. That’s why he’s been so elusive.”
“Then if he doesn’t hire someone to pull the trigger, what do you think he’ll do? A useless hand isn’t going to get the job done.”
“He’ll retire. He’ll find a buyer for the kill-file, sell it for a few billion, then enjoy his money and his myriad of mistresses until he’s too old to find his zipper.”
Merrick stopped in his tracks. “Sell the file? You think
