Page 6 of Code Name: Reaper
Like when Blackjack and I burst into the command center earlier, all conversation stopped.
Hornet was the first to speak. “But?—”
“I said I’m going alone.”
Wren studied me for several seconds, then addressed the group. “You heard him. He’s going alone.” She turned to me. “I’m letting you go solo; don’t you dare challenge me on having teams in place if you need them.”
I relented. “Copy that, ma’am.”
Wren glanced at the digital display. “What are we looking at in terms of local support?”
“German intelligence has been briefed on the situation. They’re providing surveillance coordination, emergency backup, and extraction support if needed. Local law enforcement has been instructed to avoid the area unless specifically requested on the scene,” Delfino reported.
“Rules of engagement?” Blackjack asked.
“Agent Black will return Amaryllis alive.” Wren’s voice carried absolute authority. “She possesses critical intelligence regarding Minerva Protocol corruption that could compromise every ongoing operation we’re currently running. We cannot afford to lose that intelligence or the agent who gathered it.”
I grabbed my laptop bag from the floor, adrenaline already building in my system.
“Reaper,” she called as I headed toward the door.
I stopped and she approached.
“Agent Beaudoin has successfully stayed ahead of both our tracking efforts and her enemies’ pursuit for over a week. That level of evasion requires exceptional operational skill combined with extraordinary luck.” Her expression was grim. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that luck will run out. While we have her twenty now, it’s up to you not to lose her again.”
I looked her dead in the eye. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Delfino, continue real-time financial tracking. Any cash transactions, any electronic activity, any financial footprints detected, report immediately to Reaper’s field communication system. Hornet, keep NRO satellite coverage active and focusedon the target building. I want the same timely intelligence on anyone else who approaches that location or shows interest in the area. And, Blackjack?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Get your brother’s ass on the plane, would you?”
My brother tookthe same route we had earlier, except in the opposite direction, while I mentally reviewed everything we’d managed to piece together about Amaryllis’s current situation. She’d uncovered corruption within Minerva Protocol, gathered substantial evidence against Dr. Eleanor Aldrich, and was now positioned in Berlin for reasons God only knew.
My assignment was straightforward—locate and extract her safely into coalition protection before hostile forces could eliminate a valuable intelligence asset.
But knowing Amaryllis, straightforward wasn’t going to be an option. She’d probably have three different contingency plans running simultaneously, each one more complicated than the last. And she’d resist extraction until she accomplished whatever mission she’d assigned herself.
“Weather conditions are favorable,no air traffic delays anticipated, and German authorities have cleared us for priority landing at Berlin Brandenburg. Ground transportation will be waiting on arrival,” the pilot informed me as I boarded.
“Copy that.”
I settled into a seat and used the flight time to study the detailed reports Wren had received from German intelligence and forwarded to me. Building schematics, neighborhood maps, local area photographs, emergency contact protocols, and extraction procedures.
The target building was typical of Berlin’s residential architecture from the seventies. Concrete construction with multiple floors, designed for efficiency rather than aesthetics. Good choice for a temporary safe house—unremarkable enough to blend with the surrounding urban environment.
But it also meant limited defensive positions if things went wrong. If hostile forces located the building, Amaryllis would have few options for holding out until backup arrived—backup I doubted she’d make use of.
Two hours later,Berlin’s sprawling metropolitan landscape spread out below as we descended for landing.
As promised, once we were on the ground, I spotted a black sedan waiting on the tarmac.
“Building surveillance confirms target individual remains inside the structure,” the driver reported in accented but fluent English after I got in and we pulled away from the airport. “No movement detected for the past six hours.”
“Other activity in the immediate area?”
“Normal residential traffic patterns. No suspicious vehicles or foot traffic.”
