He turned and glanced at the signal now traced to Europe. Alex Cross breathed slowly and, following the caller's lead, asked, "Your people?"
"Correct," the voice replied. "The team leader is Lena. She'll handle the transaction in full. Of course, I sincerely hope we can conclude this deal amicably…"
The mysterious speaker finally gave a name — but the name only tightened Alex's frown. Even groggy from sleep, he searched his memory and found no Lena among the people who had crossed paths with John Wick. He checked Becky's screen again; the locator now pinned a city — Prague, Czech Republic — but offered no further detail.
"Since you won't give your name, at least tell me something about the deal. Or are you expecting me to buy whatever you're selling sight unseen?" Alex pressed.
The man laughed from the other end. "Heh heh. Mr. Cross, my people are on their way. No need to rush. As for whether the deal goes through, we'll see." Then the line went dead.
The call dropped. Alex's smile vanished. Becky's screen showed only a rough triangulation — Prague, and a radius too wide to be definitive. "Sorry, Mr. Cross," Becky said, apologetic. "They cut the call at the exact moment. We can only trace to within a hundred meters of the signal."
"That's enough," Alex said, reaching over to tousle her hair and shake his head in mild amusement. Prague—of all places—was a clue. In his memory, Prague burst into the John Wick series only once: the Continental Hotel in John Wick: Chapter 3 — Parabellum. There was one organization that had caught his attention there: nameless in the texts, led by an old man, its killers bearing an 'X' scar on the inside of their forearms. Five years from now, that faction would be wiped out by a newly risen assassin girl - Eva Macarro. An organization the High Table had once tolerated, a killer tribe with which Rome's clan signed a non-aggression pact.
Alex's mind snapped to attention. Whoever had woken him up and traced his number to Prague was not insignificant. His eyes hardened. He was already thinking about how to erase them.
Morning routines followed. He washed, ate a quick breakfast, suited up in a bulletproof suit, and descended with Anna, Fox, and Nikita to Susie's office. No sooner had he sat down than a messenger arrived to report: "Mr. Cross, five or six assassins are at the door. Their leader calls herself Lena. They say they've come to discuss business with you."
He checked his watch—exactly ten minutes had passed since the call. "Punctual," he murmured.
"Bring them in," he said.
A moment later three women and two men entered, escorted by the staff. Anna, Fox, and Nikita's gazes hardened, taking in the newcomers with the cool appraisal of professionals. The newcomers stiffened under the attention. Tension threaded the air.
Alex sat back in his chair and watched them. Lena's face and name snapped into place the instant he saw her; nothing surprising there. But another man in the group snagged his attention—Daniel Pine. Alex remembered the reports: a senior killer who'd later be purged when his daughter defected with another faction. By the timeline, the daughter would be around two years old now.
Alex's lips curved in a casual, unreadable smile. He lifted the cup Susie had prepared and took a slow sip of coffee before speaking.
"Mr. Cross," Lena said with a polite, practiced smile, "I'm Lena. I represent our organization. We'd like to propose a business arrangement…"
Alex made no immediate reply. He continued to sip his coffee as if he hadn't heard her. Lena kept her composure and waited, smile intact.
After a long beat, Alex set the cup down and asked in a neutral voice two blunt questions: "What is your organization called? And who called me?"
The smile on Lena's face stiffened; she answered politely but evasively. "You don't need to put me through that. I can't disclose our name or our leader."
"Alright." Alex didn't press. He changed tack. "What do you want to buy from me?"
Lena's posture straightened; she leaned forward as if the moment had arrived to make her pitch. "Our organization wants to purchase… your Lighthouse Organization's training methods for the ten 'Slaughter Warriors.'"
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If you're interested, you can read advanced chapters:
pat reon .com / Samorash