said.
âI can count on your support?â
âOf course, Jim. Always.â
President Havers exhaled. âThank you, Julia. We need a joint intelligence meeting. To figure out where we go from here.â
âAgreed.â
âHow soon can your guys be in Washington?â
âI think, under the circumstances, Jim, it makes more sense for your guys to come to London. Donât you?â
Julia Cabot smiled. It felt good to have the upper hand with the Americans for once. Right now she was the only friend Jim Havers had in the world and he knew it. She must play her cards for all they were worth.
âIâll see what I can do,â Jim Havers said gruffly.
âWonderful.â Julia Cabot hung up.
EXACTLY ONE WEEK LATER, four men sat around a table in Whitehall, eyeing one another warily.
âGood of you to come, gentlemen.â Jamie MacIntosh rolled up his shirtsleeves and leaned forward, smiling amiably at his American counterparts. âI know you must both have had a difficult week.â
âThatâs an understatement.â Greg Walton of the CIA looked desperately tired. He resented being summoned to London, especially at a time when his beloved agency was being ripped to shreds by Congress back home. But he made an effort at politeness. Unlike his FBI colleague, Milton Buck.
âI hope you have something important to add to this operation,â Buck snarled at Jamie MacIntosh. âBecause frankly we donât have time to waste on handholding you Brits.â
Sitting beside Jamie MacIntosh, Frank Dorrien stiffened. âWell, quite,â he said sardonically. âAfter the mess you made of what should have been a perfectly simple rescue mission, based on our entirely accurate intelligence, I imagine you want to devote as many man-hours as possible to training your own men. Heaven knows they need it.â
Milton Buck looked like he was ready to throw a punch.
âAll right, thatâs enough.â Jamie MacIntosh glared at Frank Dorrien. âNone of us have time for chest beating. Letâs leave that to the politicians. Weâre here to combine our resources and share information on Group 99 and thatâs what weâre going to do. Why donât I start?â
Greg Walton leaned back in his chair. âGreat. What have you got?â
âFor starters, weâve got a name for Captain Daleyâs killer.â
Walton and Buck looked at each other in shock. âSeriously?â
Frank Dorrien pushed a file across the table.
In the top left-hand corner was a photograph of a handsome, dark-skinned man with a strong jaw, long aquiline nose, and hooded, distrustful eyes. There was a detached air about him and a certain watchful hauteur, like a bird of prey.
âAlexis Argyros,â Jamie MacIntosh announced. âCodenamed Apollo. One of Group 99âs founder members and a thoroughly unpleasant piece of work. Grew up in foster care in Athens. Possibly abused. A high school dropout but brilliant with computers and obsessed with violent video games from his early teens. Hates women. Sadist. Narcissist. All this is from his social workerâs reports.â
âCriminal record?â Greg Walton asked.
âOh yes. Petty theft, vandalism, arson. Two years in youth custody for rape. And he was suspected in a hideous case of animal cruelty where a cat and kittens were burned alive.â
âYou only get two years for rape?â Greg Walton asked.
âThe Greeks canât afford to run their prisons,â Jamie MacIntosh said matter-of-factly. âNot since austerity. Anyway, we believe Argyros was the man who pulled the trigger in Daleyâs execution video. He was running the camp you raided, and his star is on the rise within Group 99. For months now heâs been trying to steer the group towards more violent methods, battling against the moderate elements within 99. Argyros appeals to disaffected young males in the