Reign of Evil

Laws laughed; then he called over to Trevor, “You got a winner here, kid. The girl’s a keeper.”

Trevor looked up from stuffing the kit into his bag. “What’d she do?”

“She made Ian lose his composure.”

Ian turned, his face once again composed. “She did not. I might have been a little surprised, but then I only hire the very best.”

Laws nodded slowly. “Right. Just surprised. Right.” He dramatically looked at the floor by Ian’s feet. “Oh look, there’s your jaw….” Then Laws glanced up at Ian’s face. “Nope. You’re good. You got it.”

CHAPTER 30

POINT BRAVO, WARWICK, ENGLAND. AFTERNOON.

The air inside Saffron Gold smelled of curry, turmeric, and a dozen other spices, which made Walker’s mouth run with anticipation. Indian food was Walker’s culinary kryptonite and Preeti’s cousin had once worked at Saffron Gold. Although all the way out in the Midlands, it frequently made England’s “Best Indian Restaurants” list and was a go-to destination for culinary enthusiasts. It was also a go-to restaurant for special operations teams trying to hide under the radar.

A sweet Indian girl, who could easily be the next target of the Wild Hunt, packed four bags into a box and stuffed napkins in between them.

Walker thanked her, pulled his skullcap over his head, and turned up his collar. He headed out the door, then turned down Friars Street. About a half block down on the right was a sign that read: “St. Paul’s Church.” Built in 1824, it was a small stone chapel with yellow construction tape across the front and a sign that said: “Grand Reopening Next Easter.” He followed a path along the right-hand side of the church. A construction tent stood around back that hid the SUV.

Genie met him at the back door and relieved him of the food. Walker secured the door, then followed the Navy chief down the stairs into a long and wide basement which had become their new operational HQ. Pews had been dragged down from the chapel and were being used as couches, chairs, and cots. A table scrounged from the sacristy held Preeti’s computers and monitors. Van Dyke occupied a pew in the very back of the space.

They’d been lucky to find T1 lines already installed, due entirely to the previous friar’s love of soccer. He’d been known to disappear for hours, only to be found downstairs on the couch watching Premier League soccer, or passed out from too much alcohol—which was where they found him one morning when he didn’t show up for mass. Whether it was West Brom beating Manchester by four goals or too much wine, his heart gave out, which left the archdiocese with the decision to either close the church or remodel, since no significant work had been done to it since 1932.

Ian had already arranged for this or an abandoned home in Brighton to be available if they needed a temporary HQ. Preeti had her brother wipe away any record of the location.

Walker wasn’t sure if it was the smell of the food or the sound of the box hitting the pew, but everyone suddenly took notice.

“About time you got back. Getting hungry in here.” Yank rubbed his hands together, clearly no worse for wear from being dragged away by a Wild Hunt hound other than a concussion.

“We could have done a cover stop at any number of fast-food joints.” YaYa elbowed his way past Yank. “I still want to try those ketchup-flavored crisps to see what they taste like.”

“Probably like ketchup and potato chips.” Laws pulled the smaller enlisted man back and stepped forward.

Soon everyone was pushing and prodding. Unsure if it was a game or survival of the fittest, Walker found himself in the middle, scrabbling for a samosa.

“Stop!”

Everyone turned to see Holmes standing with hands on his hips. “Let the young lady get in there before you men start grazing.”

Everyone glanced at one another, then backed away.

Preeti smiled, then began to load a plate. Walker could have sworn she was taking her time. Probably hadn’t had this sort of deference and positive attention from so many in a long time. He sighed. His stomach could wait if it meant something good happening to her. Not only was he empathetic for her injuries, but he saw a mirror image in the relationship she had with Trevor with the one that he’d had with Jen.

Plus, Preeti and her brother had arguably done more to move the mission forward than SEAL Team 666, Section 9, and a certified witch.

During their four-hour surveillance detection route, she’d explained her sleuth work and how she’d figured out how to track the mystery woman. With brains and guile, she’d found a location whose address matched a name from a list of Bohemian Grove donors. If he wasn’t involved, he’d have to know someone who was.