“Last chance.” Ethan glanced over to Harold, who ignored him completely as he typed on his phone. “One day you’ll have to tell me what’s so important.”
“Is this the Dragon or Agent talking?” He put the phone in his pocket, and shifted until he could look at Ethan.
They were in the car, parked down the street from the abandoned airport, waiting for verification that everyone was in position, before turning themselves in.
“Both.” The Dragon was itching for information, but the Agent was beyond curious what would get the US Government to steal a Dragon to catch a ‘helpless’ older gentleman. If it was to control Reese he could understand. John was a formidable Dragon. He had done damage to the Axis Powers during the war, and his skills as a spy were legendary.
“Information.” He said simply. “It’s as simple as that.”
“Information they want.”
“They want the ability to get the information, to do with it their will. As I’m sure you of all people understand the detriment of too much information. The very idea that the government, no matter the country, or an individual with access to unlimited information is scary.”
“Yet you have it.”
“I do.” Harold gave him a small smirk.
“John knows all about it.” Ethan paused at Harold’s nod. “Then he trusts you with this information, which means I’m going to trust that you know what to do with it. If everything goes to shit, which it will likely – stay behind me.” He held up his hand to stop Harold’s argument. “This isn’t about you being capable. This is about protecting a fellow Dragon’s Mate. I, nor my siblings haven’t been fortunate yet to find one, but I know how powerful it is, just by looking at my parents. John is not a Dragon any of us are prepared to take on, especially if he loses his Mate.”
“I’ll protect my Dragon,” Harold said with convection.
“Then stay behind me.” Ethan smirked as he started the car, then tapped his ear piece. “Are we good to go?”
‘Everything is in place.’ Benji confirmed. ‘Tell Mr. Finch I love his system and want to marry it.’
“You may get visiting rights.” Ethan chuckled. “Connor, Aveline?”
‘We’re good. If a hair is harmed on Harold’s head, I’m blaming you.’ Aveline’s tone indicated she wasn’t kidding.
“How did you get an overprotective assassin?” Ethan asked as they made their way to the gate. Harold shrugged, still not sure how exactly that happened, then watched in fascination as Ethan shifted into a burly bodyguard. He looked like everyone he had ever hired before: tall, bulky, nondescript features, wearing a black suit and dark sunglasses.
“This is a restricted area.” The guard leaned down to the driver’s window.
“Mr. Finch has an appointment.” Even the voice was deep and held an air that all bodyguards had, bored yet being paid well.
The guy looked into the car, down at his clipboard, then back at Finch.
Harold pulled out his phone, typed a few things before speaking. “Tell Mr. Greer I’m here. They aren’t paying you enough to think beyond that.” He continued to read The Machine’s messages, and watch video of his team.
“You heard him.” Ethan pushed the guard back and rolled the window up, ending the conversation. “IMF should hire you.”
“Irony, Mr. Hunt I was thinking the same thing about you.”
***
Greer stepped out of his office and walked down the stairs to the main hangar bay. He signaled his men to surround Reese weapons raised. Root stood right next his snout, patting it while talking a mile a minute on how amazing it was going to be to finally be reunited with Harry.
Westen couldn’t roll his eyes hard enough.
From the snort coming from the Dragon neither could Reese.
Every instinct was telling him, that this was going to go to shit in a spectacular way, and if he didn’t play his cards right he would end up as dead as the idiots, caring shock batons and guns, surrounding a twenty foot plus Dragon who was pissed as hell.
It reminded him of Jurassic Park.
It didn’t end well for the humans in that one either.
He stayed on the catwalk that was the length of the hanger bay, watching the proceedings below. Michael was curious on who this Mr. Finch was, and if he lived up to expectations. He wasn’t expecting the small demure older gentleman with a limp, wearing a trench coat, scarf and fedora.
Maybe it really was George Smiley come to life.
Westen leaned against the railing, as he watched the ‘exchange’ go down.
He couldn’t help the smile …
… Greer was so fucked.
I just love Mr. Finch! Cool, calm and collected as always: Greer is SO fucked…
More, please?
—Naj
Awww, and then you stopped? Please 😉