Page 40 of The Player

Satisfied that Valente was secure, Seth climbed into the driver’s seat, his mind already focused on the next step. He had to get off this field, had to find a place to regroup and figure out how to get Valente out of the country. Seth considered Baker Street, but only for a moment. The cartel would be watching them. As secure as it was, they wouldn’t want to start an all-out street fight in the middle of London. That left only one sensible option—the Eurotunnel Le Shuttle, the fastest way to get from the UK to France without raising suspicion.

Seth started the engine, the SUV roaring to life. He drove off the field, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement. The field was eerily quiet, the only sound was the rumble of the engine as he sped away from the scene of the carnage.

The SUV's tires crunched over the gravel as Seth guided the vehicle off the field and onto a narrow, dirt road that wound through the English countryside. His senses were still on high alert, every nerve attuned to the possibility of pursuit, but for now, the night was eerily quiet. The adrenaline that had surged through his veins during the confrontation with Valente and his men was beginning to ebb, leaving behind a cold clarity that sharpened his focus. He had one objective now: to get Valente out of the country and into Cerberus’s hands before the cartel realized what had happened.

As the SUV bumped along the uneven road, Seth glanced at the rearview mirror, his eyes locking onto the still figure of Nero Valente outlined by the blankets, unconscious in the cargo area. The cartel leader’s breathing was slow and steady; the tranquilizer Seth had administered, ensured that he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. But the clock was ticking. They needed to be across the Channel and en route to a safe location before Valente even had a chance to stir.

A flicker of movement caught Seth’s eye, and he slowed the SUV as a small farmhouse came into view, nestled among a cluster of trees. It was dark, the windows boarded up, the roof sagging under the weight of neglect. Perfect. Isolated and abandoned, it was exactly the kind of place where he could regroup and make the necessary preparations for the next leg of the journey.

Seth turned into the overgrown driveway and parked the SUV out of sight behind the farmhouse. He killed the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening after the roar of the vehicle. For a moment, he sat there, his hands still gripping the steering wheel, his mind racing through the next steps. Everything had to go according to plan—there was no room for error.

He got out of the SUV, moving quickly around to the back. Opening the rear door, he checked on Valente, making sure the cartel leader was still out cold. The man’s face was pale, his chest rising and falling with the slow rhythm of deep sleep. Satisfied, Seth grabbed a small kit from the back seat, pulling out another syringe filled with a potent tranquilizer. He carefully injected the drug into Valente’s arm, ensuring that he would remain unconscious for several more hours.

Once that was done, Seth began to rearrange the cargo area. He grabbed a few crates that were already in the SUV, stacking them around Valente’s body to conceal him from view. He then rearranged the blanket over the crates, better hiding any evidence that there was a person underneath. Satisfied that from the outside, it looked like nothing more than a disorganized load of supplies—a perfect cover.

Seth stepped back, surveying his work with a critical eye. Satisfied that Valente was well hidden, he shut the rear door and walked back around to the driver’s side. The next step was getting across the Channel without drawing attention, and for that, he would need to take the Eurotunnel Le Shuttle—a train service that transported vehicles from the UK to France via an undersea tunnel. It was the quickest and most discreet way to get to the continent, and from there, he could make the final arrangements for Valente’s extraction.

Seth started the engine and drove back onto the road, keeping his speed steady and his eyes on the surroundings. The roads were empty at this hour, the countryside bathed in the pale light of the moon. He had to be careful—while the cartel might not yet realize that Valente was missing, it wouldn’t take them long to figure it out. He needed to stay ahead of them, keep moving, and get Valente out of the country before they could mount a response.

It wasn’t long before Seth reached the entrance to the Eurotunnel terminal. He paid the fare at the booth, maintaining a calm demeanor as the attendant handed him his ticket. There was no indication that anything was amiss—just another traveler making the late-night crossing. He pulled into the queue, waiting for his turn to board the train that would take him and the SUV across the Channel.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness as the cars ahead of him were loaded onto the train. Seth drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his gaze flicking between the line of vehicles and the rearview mirror. Valente remained hidden, the crates and blanket obscuring any hint of the dangerous man lying unconscious in the back.

Finally, it was his turn. Seth cleared border control and drove the SUV onto the train, guiding it into one of the long, narrow carriages designed to hold vehicles during the crossing. The attendant directed him to park, and Seth complied, pulling the vehicle to a stop and shutting off the engine. The train car was dimly lit, the sound of metal clanging as the doors were secured echoing through the space. The journey would take about thirty-five minutes—just enough time for Seth to finalize the next phase of his plan.

Once the train was underway, Seth pulled out his phone and dialed the secure line to Cerberus. He kept his voice low as he spoke, not wanting to draw any attention to himself.

“This is Newcomb,” he said, his tone clipped and professional. “I have Valente. We’re en route to Calais via the Eurotunnel. I’ll need extraction as soon as we arrive.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of rapid typing. “Copy that, Newcomb,” the voice on the other end replied. “We’re arranging for a pickup at a private airstrip outside Calais. Sawyer will meet you there with the necessary papers. ETA for extraction is ninety minutes.”

“Understood,” Seth replied. “I’ll be there.”

He ended the call and leaned back in his seat, his mind already calculating the next steps. He would need to be quick and efficient once they arrived in Calais—there would be no time to waste. The airstrip was only a short drive from the terminal, but every minute counted. Valente was a high-value target, and the longer they stayed in one place, the greater the risk.

As the train sped through the undersea tunnel, Seth allowed himself a brief moment of reflection. The op had been dangerous from the start, but it had become even more so after he’d made the decision to leave the helicopter and take Valente on his own. He knew Hope had been terrified for him, but he also knew she understood why he’d done it. There was no room for hesitation in their line of work—decisive action was often the difference between success and failure, between life and death.

And now, as he sat in the quiet of the train car, the enormity of what they had achieved began to sink in. They had infiltrated the heart of the Obsidian Cartel’s operations, taken down some of their most dangerous men, and captured their leader. It was a major victory—one that would send shockwaves through the criminal underworld.

But the op wasn’t over yet.

The train began to slow as it approached the terminal in Calais, the wheels screeching softly as they ground against the tracks. Seth straightened in his seat, his mind snapping back to the present. He needed to stay focused—there were still risks ahead, and he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

As the train came to a stop and the doors were opened, Seth started the engine and carefully drove the SUV off the train. The terminal was quiet at this late hour, with only a handful of vehicles making the crossing. He followed the signs directing him to the exit, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of trouble.

The streets of Calais were nearly deserted as Seth navigated through the city, heading toward the airstrip on the outskirts. He kept his speed steady, blending in with the few other cars on the road. The cargo area was silent, the crates and blankets concealing Valente’s unconscious form.

Finally, the lights of the airstrip came into view, a small beacon in the darkness. Seth slowed the SUV as he approached the gate, which was already open in anticipation of his arrival. A figure stood just inside the gate, illuminated by the headlights—Sawyer.

Seth pulled up next to him, rolling down the window as Sawyer approached. The Cerberus operative’s face was set in a grim expression, his eyes sharp and focused.

“You made good time,” Sawyer said, his voice low.

“Had to,” Seth replied, cutting the engine. “He’s in the back, sedated and hidden. Everything go smoothly on your end?”

Sawyer nodded. “We’re clear for takeoff as soon as we load him up. The plane’s waiting just down the strip.” He handed Seth a small envelope. “Here are the forged papers. They’ll get you back into the UK without raising any red flags. I’ll handle Valente from here.”

Seth took the envelope, his fingers brushing the edge of the papers inside. “You know where to take him?”

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