"Karamov."
"We have to do it now, while his goons are out of the picture."
"He'll have kept some with him," Morgan objected.
"Only a couple," Belle said. "We can handle them."
Tomas saw Morgan shiver, and he couldn't say he liked the thought much himself. He hadn't enjoyed watching what the little girl did to Karamov's man - no one saw another man's secrets being ripped out of him without thinking of his own.
"And after we find Karamov?" Morgan asked.
Tomas shrugged. "We take the book back to the Division."
"Shouldn't we find out more about it first, work out what it says?"
"Karamov -"
"But he's not gonna tell us everything, is he?" Morgan cut across him. He was speaking quickly now, almost stumbling over his words. "It's not like we can get him to translate the whole thing for us, is it? And that's assuming he even knows how. How can we take the book back before we know what it really is? We risked our lives for the fucking thing - don't we deserve to know why?"
"We're not here for our own amusement!" Tomas snapped. "We completed the mission, now we take a bow and go home."
"What's the matter, more than your job's worth?" Morgan snarled. "Listen, if it's too much effort -"
"There's always your German contact, this Anya Friedman," Belle interrupted loudly. "She might have some information for you, right?"
Morgan looked suddenly alarmed. "Shit! Weren't we supposed to meet her an hour ago?"
Anya was still waiting for them when they finally entered the huge, rococo interior of the Café Gerbeaud. Her long red hair flamed a beacon across the room as they squeezed between tables filled with lounging tourists.
Tomas smiled as he approached her, but her sour expression didn't soften even slightly.
"What have you morons been playing at?" she said before they'd even sat down. She was quite a beautiful woman, Tomas thought, a few years younger than him, but her anger made her unattractive.
"And it's lovely to meet you too," Morgan said.
She ignored him. "I want an answer - what the hell did you think you were doing this morning?"
"There was a last-minute change of plan," Tomas said.
"No kidding."
Tomas saw Morgan twitch a smile, then quickly drop it when Anya glared at him.
"We had to act," Tomas said. "We were in danger of losing the... the target object."
Morgan's hands folded reflexively over the waistband of his jeans, where he'd tucked Nicholson's book before they left the labyrinth.
Anya saw the telltale rectangular bulge hidden beneath his t-shirt and frowned. "Did it not occur to any of you amateurs that we might already have Karamov under surveillance? That we might, in fact, be perfectly capable of acquiring the target object ourselves at a time and place of our choosing? Maybe somewhere a little safer - and a little less bloody conspicuous!"
Tomas shook his head. "We couldn't take the risk."
"Yes, clearly risk-reduction was a very high priority for you. You alerted Karamov to our presence, scared off his buyer and almost got yourselves killed into the bargain. You couldn't have made more of a mess of this if you'd tried!"
"On the plus side," Morgan said, "we got a free tour of Budapest's premiere subterranean tourist attraction."
Anya's face flushed red with suppressed rage. Tomas knew he should be trying to control Morgan, but a part of him was enjoying watching the young man push the German agent's buttons.
Anya clearly sensed that she was getting nowhere with Tomas and Morgan and turned to Belle instead. "And what," she said, "are you doing here?"
"I came to help, Miss Friedman." Belle offered her small hand over the table.
Anya rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you did. I'm sure the CIA are involved in an entirely charitable capacity."
"I've confirmed her role with London," Tomas said. "Giles spoke to Washington and it seems the Yanks have been following the same breadcrumbs we have. They've asked us to pool resources, at least until we locate Karamov's buyer."
Anya shook her head. "I don't
"We have to do it now, while his goons are out of the picture."
"He'll have kept some with him," Morgan objected.
"Only a couple," Belle said. "We can handle them."
Tomas saw Morgan shiver, and he couldn't say he liked the thought much himself. He hadn't enjoyed watching what the little girl did to Karamov's man - no one saw another man's secrets being ripped out of him without thinking of his own.
"And after we find Karamov?" Morgan asked.
Tomas shrugged. "We take the book back to the Division."
"Shouldn't we find out more about it first, work out what it says?"
"Karamov -"
"But he's not gonna tell us everything, is he?" Morgan cut across him. He was speaking quickly now, almost stumbling over his words. "It's not like we can get him to translate the whole thing for us, is it? And that's assuming he even knows how. How can we take the book back before we know what it really is? We risked our lives for the fucking thing - don't we deserve to know why?"
"We're not here for our own amusement!" Tomas snapped. "We completed the mission, now we take a bow and go home."
"What's the matter, more than your job's worth?" Morgan snarled. "Listen, if it's too much effort -"
"There's always your German contact, this Anya Friedman," Belle interrupted loudly. "She might have some information for you, right?"
Morgan looked suddenly alarmed. "Shit! Weren't we supposed to meet her an hour ago?"
Anya was still waiting for them when they finally entered the huge, rococo interior of the Café Gerbeaud. Her long red hair flamed a beacon across the room as they squeezed between tables filled with lounging tourists.
Tomas smiled as he approached her, but her sour expression didn't soften even slightly.
"What have you morons been playing at?" she said before they'd even sat down. She was quite a beautiful woman, Tomas thought, a few years younger than him, but her anger made her unattractive.
"And it's lovely to meet you too," Morgan said.
She ignored him. "I want an answer - what the hell did you think you were doing this morning?"
"There was a last-minute change of plan," Tomas said.
"No kidding."
Tomas saw Morgan twitch a smile, then quickly drop it when Anya glared at him.
"We had to act," Tomas said. "We were in danger of losing the... the target object."
Morgan's hands folded reflexively over the waistband of his jeans, where he'd tucked Nicholson's book before they left the labyrinth.
Anya saw the telltale rectangular bulge hidden beneath his t-shirt and frowned. "Did it not occur to any of you amateurs that we might already have Karamov under surveillance? That we might, in fact, be perfectly capable of acquiring the target object ourselves at a time and place of our choosing? Maybe somewhere a little safer - and a little less bloody conspicuous!"
Tomas shook his head. "We couldn't take the risk."
"Yes, clearly risk-reduction was a very high priority for you. You alerted Karamov to our presence, scared off his buyer and almost got yourselves killed into the bargain. You couldn't have made more of a mess of this if you'd tried!"
"On the plus side," Morgan said, "we got a free tour of Budapest's premiere subterranean tourist attraction."
Anya's face flushed red with suppressed rage. Tomas knew he should be trying to control Morgan, but a part of him was enjoying watching the young man push the German agent's buttons.
Anya clearly sensed that she was getting nowhere with Tomas and Morgan and turned to Belle instead. "And what," she said, "are you doing here?"
"I came to help, Miss Friedman." Belle offered her small hand over the table.
Anya rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you did. I'm sure the CIA are involved in an entirely charitable capacity."
"I've confirmed her role with London," Tomas said. "Giles spoke to Washington and it seems the Yanks have been following the same breadcrumbs we have. They've asked us to pool resources, at least until we locate Karamov's buyer."
Anya shook her head. "I don't
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