"Miss Lena, why don't you start by telling me about your organization?"
He crossed one leg over the other and sat calmly in the chair, looking down at Lena—her limbs bound, helpless on the bed.
"I'll tell you what I know…" Lena's voice was low. She hesitated, then met his eyes. For the sake of the sister Cross had implied existed and to escape her present predicament, she had to speak.
Alex stayed silent and attentive, giving her space. Lena took a breath and began to unspool secrets about the X-tribe.
"The group I belong to is the Hallstatt clan. Strictly speaking, we're just a branch of a larger network." She forced the words out. "Like the Ruska Roma in New York, we're a splinter of the Ruska Roma under the High Table—tasked with training killers."
She admitted she didn't even know the clan's formal name; the elder had kept certain things from her. Lena went on: the little town of Hallstatt—hidden in the forests and peaks beyond Prague—was a place where the entire community, young and old, were raised as killers.
By now Alex was fairly sure most of what she said was true. As for whether her description matched the "X"–marked assassins he'd heard about, he couldn't be certain yet—but that could wait. He had questions that mattered for his next move.
"How many people in Hallstatt? What about weapons and deployments?" he asked.
"Over eight hundred on paper, but most are scattered across the world. The town itself holds about two hundred fighters year-round. Their weaponry is comparable to what you'd find outside," Lena replied crisply, listing the numbers Alex needed.
Satisfied, Alex rose and walked toward the door. Lena panicked and tugged at her restraints. "You haven't told me about my sister!" she cried.
Alex didn't turn. His hand went to the doorknob. "What you've told me isn't inconsequential. Some of it's even useful." He paused at the threshold. Lena, desperate, rushed to bargain.
"I know the elder's real plans, where they keep their arms cache, guard rotations—tell me where my sister is and I'll tell you everything."
"You don't get to bargain with me," Alex said, his hand still on the knob. He didn't open the door—instead he pivoted slowly and gave her a knowing smile. "But since you've started, let me make a counteroffer."
Ten minutes later Alex left Lena's room with Anna, Fox, and Nikita. Before he went, he topped her up with another dose of sedative. Then he walked down the hall and stopped outside the fourth deluxe single room. He knocked—soft, measured.
Agent 47 answered. "Mr. Cross."
"You should rest. See me tomorrow morning. I have important matters to discuss," Alex said.
"Understood," 47 replied, and closed the door behind him. Alex entered the next room with Anna, Fox and Nikita.
On the bed Daniel Pine lay bound, much like Lena had been. Alex took his seat at the foot of the bed. Anna administered an antidote; within minutes Daniel stirred, groggy and confused. He registered Alex's presence and his expression hardened.
"What is the meaning of this, Mr. Cross?" Daniel demanded.
"Mr. Pine, don't be nervous. I only want to talk—quietly, like civilized men," Alex said.
Alex had respect for Daniel. He wasn't as strong as Caine, but when his infant daughter was threatened he'd chosen to defect—he'd left Hallstatt at great personal risk. That kind of fatherly resolve bought Alex patience.
"What do you want to talk about?" Daniel asked, impatient.
Alex rose and walked to the window, looking out at the pinprick stars. He asked quietly, "As I understand it, you have a one-year-old daughter. Do you want her to grow up as you did—a killer—or do you want her to live an ordinary life?"
The question cut through Daniel like a blade. Hallstatt didn't spare any child; births there were the beginning of training to become a killer. Every child was marked and shaped for that fate.
Daniel looked at Alex's back, then down at the large X scar on his own hand. Something shifted. The truth about the High Table's 48-hour purge—how the Lighthouse had protected Caine and his daughter—pressed on him. A slow resolve settled in his eyes.
He lowered his gaze, then looked up with new composure. "Mr. Cross… I owe you my life." He spoke with quiet respect.
Alex smiled and turned toward the now-subdued man. "Then let's talk about Hallstatt."
The reason for Alex's patience with Daniel was clear: he needed confirmation straight from someone on the inside. Lena had given him maps, weapons caches, guard dispositions—but he had to verify those details. If he was going to strike at Hallstatt, it had to be flawless—and Daniel was the key.
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