On her brother’s orders. After Adam aimed a high-powered sniper rifle at her. And pulled the trigger. Yeah, those two had the kind of sibling relationship that left scars on the people around them.
“So? Why the miracle of resurrection?” JP asked, getting straight to the point.
“I need your help.”
“With?”
“Securing a high-value target.”
“Name?”
“Classified.”
“Sanctioned?”
“Fuck no.”
“Domestic?”
Grant shook his head. “Nope. We’ll be heading west from Alaska.” If he hadn’t known his friend well, he would’ve missed the slight flare of JP’s nostrils, the only tell he had. Yeah, his interest had been piqued. He knew his geography. And he knew the only country west of Alaska was Russia.
“You want to poke the bear.” It wasn’t a question, so Grant didn’t bother to answer as JP’s grin turned wicked and he hitched his chin at the screen. “Is it a matter of global security?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“Twelve of your best guys. A sea-worthy vessel capable of crossing the Bering Strait. A helicopter pilot, preferably with their own bird. And your word this stays deep in the shadows. We can’t afford any leaks, so no hot dogs with big mouths, or we’ll all be taking a permanent nap. You in?”
“Calisse, you want the full Canadian Armed Forces too?” JP shook his head. “You’re getting soft. I’ll give you eight assaulters, one pilot. No fucking helicopters. And I’ll find you a dinghy with a tugboat captain. Plus, you have my word, no loose lips. My guys are solid. You know this is true.”
“Deal.” Grant wasn’t stupid enough to punch a gift horse in the face. He’d known JP would come through. The man couldn’t resist a challenge, and he lived to take risks. And taking on the Russians…big fucking risk. For everyone involved.
“What’s the payoff?”
“Fifty grand each paid upfront via transfer to a numbered account.”
JP whistled. “You’re running with the big boys now, eh? Time commitment?”
“Two days. One for planning. One for execution. When the target’s secure, we kiss and part ways.”
“What about permanent disability?”
“Lifetime pension equivalent to what the Canadian Armed Forces would give.”
“And casualties?”
“Same. Lifetime pension to any spouses or underage dependents.”
JP nodded. “Good deal. Mission date?”
“How quick can you ladies be ready?”
“Sucez mon dick, putain. We were born ready.”
“Your cock’s too small to suck, Betty-Lou. Here’s my email address.” He typed in the hack-proof address managed by Jay and hit the Enter button. “Shoot me a list of account numbers, and I’ll have the money transferred as soon as your team has boots on the ground in Wales. I’ll send you the meeting coordinates by end of day. Need you to be ready to rock and roll by zero six hundred Thursday.”
“You got it,” JP said, unfazed by their entire conversation. “Just like old times, eh?”
