Chapter 05: The Long Game
Paris, 10:00 PM
The door crashed open with a deafening bang, sending the men inside scrambling for cover. Hawke was already in motion, his body low and fast, eyes scanning the room for threats. The dim light from a single hanging bulb barely illuminated the faces of the men around the table, their eyes widening in shock as they reached for their weapons.
The room, a makeshift office cluttered with maps, dossiers, and old coffee cups, erupted into a blur of movement. Evelyn, positioned at the back, immediately secured the rear exit, her silenced pistol in hand. Hawke’s heart raced, but his training kept him calm. He’d been in situations far worse than this.
Two of the men stood in an instant, their hands moving toward concealed weapons. But Hawke was faster.
He dropped to one knee and fired two shots in rapid succession, both men crumpling to the floor in a quiet collapse. The third man, older, graying hair at his temples, froze in panic. His gun was halfway out of its holster when he saw the muzzle of Hawke’s weapon trained directly on him.
“Don’t,” Hawke said, his voice cold, every word measured. “Sit down. Slowly.”
The man hesitated for a heartbeat, then obeyed. Hawke’s eyes never left him as he made his way toward the center of the room, stepping over the bodies of the fallen.
Evelyn was already working her way around the perimeter, checking for any other threats. The sound of her footsteps against the floor was the only noise in the room, other than the ragged breathing of the remaining man.
Hawke turned to him, his gun still raised. “Who are you working for?”
The man’s face was pale, sweat trickling down his brow. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Wrong answer,” Hawke said. “Try again.”
The man visibly flinched. His hands trembled, but he knew better than to reach for his weapon again. “I… I was just here to make sure the deal went smoothly.”
“Who are you working for?” Hawke repeated, his voice a sharp whisper of steel.
The man swallowed hard. He was about to break.
“I told you,” he said, his voice shaking. “I don’t know much. But the buyer—he’s someone high up. Someone with connections. Powerful.”
Hawke leaned closer, his expression unwavering. “Give me a name.”
The man’s eyes darted nervously toward the door, but there was no way out. No one would be coming to help him.
The air in the room felt thick with tension as the man gave in. “Voss,” he muttered, his words barely audible. “Rainer Voss.”
At the mention of the name, a chill ran through Hawke’s veins. Voss—the man he thought had died years ago. A legend in covert operations, a name that haunted the darkest corners of the intelligence world. A man who had the ability to shape the course of history from the shadows.
“Where is he?” Hawke pressed, moving even closer now, his voice a dangerous whisper.
The man shook his head desperately. “I don’t know. But… but there’s a meeting. Tomorrow. At a villa in the south of France. That’s all I know. I swear.”
Hawke studied him for a moment, weighing his options. He could kill the man, end the information trail right here, but there was too much at stake. He needed to know more about the operation, about who was pulling the strings—and how deep this conspiracy really went.
He glanced at Evelyn, who was now at the door, scanning the street for any signs of activity. No one had noticed the disruption yet. They still had time.
Hawke looked back at the man. “You’re coming with us.”
The man opened his mouth to protest, but one look at the barrel of Hawke’s gun was all it took to silence him.
The next few minutes passed in tense silence as they carefully retraced their steps through the building. They moved quickly, using the shadows to their advantage, knowing that time was running out. The meeting was still happening—if they moved fast enough, they could catch whoever was responsible for orchestrating it.
Outside, the streets of Paris were eerily quiet, the sound of distant traffic the only reminder that the city was still alive. They made their way to the car parked around the corner, its engine already running.
Evelyn was behind the wheel, her eyes scanning the rearview mirror every few seconds, always alert.
“South of France,” she said, her tone calm but with an edge. “We’re going after Voss.”
Hawke nodded, sliding into the passenger seat. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were playing into a trap, but they had no other choice. They had to stop Voss before he could bring whatever plans he was concocting to fruition.
And yet, as they drove through the empty streets of Paris, the feeling that they were being watched lingered in Hawke’s mind, gnawing at him. The shadow of the conspiracy was growing, and it was following them every step of the way.
Villa, South of France, 2:00 PM
The villa was nestled in the hills outside Nice, a sprawling estate hidden behind high iron gates. The kind of place where the rich and powerful gathered to seal deals in secrecy, where the beautiful landscapes were mere window dressing for the dark dealings that took place within.
Hawke and Evelyn arrived just as the sun reached its zenith, casting long shadows across the grounds. They parked a few hundred meters away from the gates and approached on foot, moving through the underbrush that lined the edge of the property. They knew they had to get inside without drawing attention. The last thing they needed was to trigger a security alarm or be caught by the guards.
Evelyn checked her earpiece. “The place is crawling with security. Cameras, guards, the works.”
Hawke nodded. “We’ll find a way in. They don’t know we’re coming.”
They skirted the perimeter of the villa, avoiding the well-lit paths and staying in the darkness. The villa was quiet, too quiet for their liking. But it didn’t matter.
This was where it would end.
They reached the back of the villa, finding a maintenance door hidden in the shadows. Hawke quickly disabled the lock with ease, using the tools he had long since mastered.
Once inside, they moved through the darkened halls, staying low and keeping silent.
The echo of footsteps ahead sent a chill through Hawke. It was time. They were close.
But as they rounded the corner, a voice broke through the tension—a voice that caused every muscle in Hawke’s body to tense in recognition.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
It was Voss.
And they were too late.
