Chapter 24
Dumbledore popped a Lemon Drop into his mouth as he stared pensively out the window. The school year had only just let out, and it was time to begin getting things ready for young Harry's arrival in September.
It was a risky move, certainly, but he really had no other choice; everything depended on it. On Him. What he needed was the right sort of bait; after all, one doesn't catch a Great White Shark with a worm.
White tufted eyebrows rose slightly as an idea began to form. Perhaps it was time to pay his old friend Nicolas a visit.
Vahan strode into the meeting room behind Mr South, his Hounds following closely.
"So," Harry asked politely when the door was shut. "What can I do for you?"
The older man's frozen expression thawed microscopically as he gestured for his guests to seat themselves on the stiff leather chairs.
"Vahan, it's good to see you. It's been too long." His lips twitched very slightly.
Grinning back cheekily, Harry tilted his head in a parody of coyness. "Why, Mr South, anyone would think you missed me!"
Huffing faintly in amusement, Mr South handed the boy a tumbler of scotch, raising an enquiring eyebrow to Alex and Sergei. At their quiet refusal, he carried his own over to his seat and settled with a small sigh, crossing his legs elegantly.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice, but I have a matter that I'm hoping you can help me with." He paused, taking a sip from his tumbler. "I've attempted to resolve the issue on my own, but it's resulted in the loss of four of my best assets. As failure is not an option, I thought it time to bring in the only people that I'm certain will get the job done. If anyone can pull it off, it would be you."
Harry raised an enquiring eyebrow, sipping his own drink. "You're being unusually liberal with the praise. Must be big if you're going out of your way to flatter my ego."
Mr South sighed tiredly and handed over a file.
"Over the past six weeks, several of my informants have disappeared. Fourteen to be exact. Now, normally this wouldn't be an issue, except one was found still alive three days ago. Before he died from the truly horrific injuries he'd sustained during his incarceration, he told us what he could of his captors. I've included it all in the file, as well as anything else we've managed to dig up on them, but that's only part of the issue." He paused, contemplating his drink. "What I am about to tell you I expect you to keep as private as the information I hold on you."
Harry nodded in acceptance.
"They've taken a fifteenth informant. One that I absolutely must get back before they discover her true identity." He took a deep breath. "I only have one living relative in this world, Vahan. My niece; and they took her."
Pursing his lips, Harry thought for a moment. "And you want me to retrieve her?"
Mr South nodded grimly. "As I mentioned, I've already lost four of my best attempting to do just that, but I thought you might meet with better success given the skillset of both yourself and your men. Not to mention your personal stake in the issue."
Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Personal stake?"
The older gentleman's voice sounded heavily in the quiet office. "They're looking for you, my friend. And they're tearing my network apart to find you."
Smirking wolfishly, Harry drained the last of his scotch and set the glass on the coffee table. "Well then, perhaps I should go and introduce myself."
Harry passed the file from Mr South to Shot, demanding everything she could pull together in the next two hours. Leaving the startled girl behind, he made his way to The Nest, feeling the need to spend some time with Alice.
It had been close to a year since the redhead had joined them, and her steady nature and easy acceptance of the rather odd life Harry led had been an unexpected blessing. Harry hadn't intended to spend any more time than necessary with the young woman, but after a while he'd found himself seeking her presence when stressed or plagued with too many thoughts. While she never overstepped the bounds that separated employer and employee, the boy would - with prompting that might or might not involve sharp objects and blunt force trauma - admit that he considered her a close friend.
"Alice," he greeted as he threw himself into the comfortable chair in front of her desk, tapping his fingers irritably on the armrest.
Lifting her head and leaning back in her chair, the girl casually tossed her pen on the desk.
"Sir. Is everything alright? You feel agitated." Her hazel eyes assessed him calmly before she quietly called Twirly to bring some herbal tea.
Harry flicked his fingers dismissively. "I'm fine. Just got an urgent job to do for the boss, and I have a bad feeling about it. We don't have much prep time, and something like this needs it. There's nothing that can be done since it's time sensitive, but I just can't shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong." He sighed and ran his fingers through his shoulder length hair, pulling the hair tie free and redoing his standard ponytail.
"I see," she murmured, pouring him a small cup of her favourite blend of lemon and chamomile, sweetened slightly with honey. "Any clue beyond that?"
Shaking his head, Harry sipped his tea, relaxing as Alice's ability worked to soothe his jagged nerves. "No. I just wish I had the time to do my own recon for this. I hate having to rely on other people for that, it never ends well."
Alice nodded in agreement, sipping her tea delicately.
As a comfortable silence fell between them, Harry thought it was remarkable how different Shot and Alice were. Where Shot was messy and sarcastic, lacking in any form of refinement despite Alex's almost hysterical attempts, Alice could give Narcissa a run for her money. Witty, graceful, and with a genuine interest in her charges, Harry couldn't have found a better Nest Mother. The fact that she kept the house running smoothly and managed all of the paperwork and household accounts with seeming ease was just the icing on the cake as far as Harry was concerned.
The two sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea and enjoying the quiet company, before Harry shifted slightly.
"Have you seen Shot lately?" It was a never ending source of amusement to those in the know that Alice and Shot were constantly being 'mistaken' for sisters, and just as Harry had predicted, people always assumed Shot was the younger; something which drove the tech genius spiralling into sugar fuelled fury. Despite that, the two were practically joined at the hip, their close friendship a blessing for both hurting women.
Alice shook her head. "No, we haven't had much time lately. I've been here dealing with the kids and paperwork, and she's been buried up to her eyeballs in some project or another. The last time I saw her, she was muttering something about liquid grenades." Seeing Harry perk up with interest, she shook her head. "I didn't ask."
Harry subsided with a pout. "What about the Nestlings? I know you've been sending me regular reports, but it's not really the same. Any problems you haven't mentioned?"
Thinking for a moment, Alice tapped a manicured fingernail gently against the desk. "Elise is missing you fiercely. Being so much younger she doesn't really get the opportunity to spend as much time with you as the others. She feels a bit left out when you take the older kids out for lessons."
Harry shook his head slightly. "She's too little to be out on jobs yet, even just a lookout. I'll try to make some time to take her out, even if it's just an observation lesson or something."
Alice nodded gratefully. "She'd love that. All the kids are devoted to you, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if Elise decides she wants to marry you when she grows up. She's bordering on a crush already." She giggled slightly at Harry's pained and revolted look. "Don't worry, I'm sure she'll grow out of it. Maybe."
Harry scowled. The idea of pairing up with anyone made his skin crawl. He knew he was young yet and that it might change when he was older, but he honestly couldn't understand the appeal. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Right. Anything else?"
"Mark has been giving me a little trouble lately. He's absolutely devoted to you - no worries there - but he needs a very firm hand or else he gets out of control." Alice reluctantly admitted.
"In what way?" Harry frowned, sitting up attentively.
Screwing up her face thoughtfully, she opened her draw and pulled out Mark's file and flicked it open. "It's hard to define, really. He does as he's told, usually, but there's definite attitude behind it. I don't really know what to do about him. I'm unwilling to punish him for anything because he hasn't done anything, but…" She chewed her lip lightly, delicate brows pulled together in frustration.
Harry tilted his head as he ran through his mental file on the boy. "He's what, twelve now?"
"Nearly thirteen."
"How do you think he would handle responsibility? Particularly if it came from the boss man?"
Alice thought about it carefully. "What did you have in mind?"
"I've been thinking about setting the Nestlings into teams as an experiment. The older kids will be out working as they get older, and having practice with small jobs in teams while they're young will give us a chance to pick out the ones worth training up as leaders, and who works better alone."
"And you're thinking of giving Mark command?"
"Do you think it would work?"
"Actually, I think it might." She picked up her pen and began doodling absently. "I mean, he's just hitting puberty, so his emotions are all mixed up right now, but giving him a specific task, and holding him accountable could work. You'd have to monitor him very closely though to make sure he doesn't bully who you team him with. Did you have any ideas for his team?"
"I was thinking Lewis and Lizzie? Sophie and Brian would be another team."
Alice nodded. "That would work well. Make Lewis 2IC. He's calmer and very dependable. Lizzie has a lot of potential but she's too young for much responsibility yet."
Harry nodded in agreement. "Is Brian still the leader out of him and Sophie?"
Waving a hand in a see-saw motion, Alice shrugged. "It varies. Brian is more task oriented, Sophie does better with people. I'd say that if you kept them as a unit, switch the leader depending on the job. Their dynamic is pretty fluid and I'd be very surprised if you had any resentment issues between those two, as long as you didn't introduce a third element. If you team them with anyone else I'd say make that other person their superior."
Making a mental note of that, Harry smiled. "Alright. I'll set up a couple of beginner jobs and see how the teams go. Don't say anything to them about it yet."
"Not my area, Sir." She smiled, standing when Harry did.
"Thanks for the visit," Harry smiled, lightly holding her hand for a moment. "I feel much better."
"Good luck with the job, Sir. Hope everything goes well despite your misgivings."
Harry grimaced slightly at the reminder. "Thanks. Here's hoping!"
Harry cursed under his breath as he threw himself behind a pew, covering his head as bullets ripped through the wood and peppered him with debris. His ears were ringing from the loud gunfire echoing around the beautiful building, and he could feel the ache of a massive bruise already forming on his shoulder where it had clipped a kneeling bench on his way down. He scowled fiercely; he fucking hated churches. Actually, he hated every damn thing about this fucking job. Insufficient intel, no time for recon, deeply entrenched enemy; yeah, this was an epic clusterfuck, and there was no way it was going to end well.
A small group of religious zealots calling themselves The Acolytes - who fancied themselves part Witch-Finder and part Crusader and had all the toys to match - had decided that God wanted them to track down those that Man's Law could not touch, and punished them for their sins. They'd apparently caught his name after what had become known as Vahan's Massacre - the violent silencing of anyone who'd fingered Tiny as an associate of the then barely known crime lord. Vahan's reputation and budding empire since then had only cemented their determination to remove such a villain from the picture. Harry was vaguely flattered that they chose to target him over someone like Mr South, but he was more pissed at the inconvenience than anything else. He had other things to do, damn it! He'd had to cancel his planned afternoon with Connor, and that left a sour taste in his mouth when he remembered the boy's disappointed look.
"I hate vigilantes," Harry muttered to himself as he army crawled to better cover, taking shelter behind a statue of St Nicolas. He smirked at being protected by the Patron Saint of pharmacists and repentant thieves. Apparently the repentant part was a bit flexible.
Harry glanced around, spotting Sergei, Alex, and Captain pinned down in various places around the walls. Huffing in irritation, he shifted position behind the statue to get a better view of where the shooters were. The acoustics in the church bounced the sound around, making it difficult to pinpoint their location.
"The Choir Loft." Harry grumbled into his earpiece, even as he rubbed his sore shoulder. He couldn't get a clear view, but he estimated at least two shooters, which left the other four Acolytes in the basement with Mr South's niece. Harry frowned and made a mental note that he should have picked her name out of the file. Oh well, next time.
Carefully aiming his latest Berretta, Harry squeezed off a couple of rounds at what he thought was one of the people currently pissing him off, ignoring how the recoil painfully jarred his injured shoulder. Grinning at the following thump and groan, he scanned what he could see of the Choir Loft for the second shooter. A couple of rounds from Captain into a corner that Harry couldn't see, and the suppressive fire fell silent. Harry rubbed at his shoulder again, cautiously poking his head from behind the statue.
When no further bullets came flying at them, the men crept forward into the echoing silence, scanning their surrounds with the paranoia of trained soldiers. Captain remained behind to keep their egress clear.
Sergei was the first down the stairs and to the door leading into the basement room where the hostage was being held. They could hear muffled thumps and groans that didn't bode well for the girl, but they were slightly reassured to hear one of the Acolytes questioning her between thuds.
Pausing at the door, the men listened carefully.
"It would be easier to just tell us, you know. Why are you so important to them? None of the other people we took warranted one rescue attempt, let alone three, so clearly you know something, or you are someone. Which is it?"
Sergei didn't give the girl a chance to answer, kicking in the door and diving to the side as bullets zinged past his head to pepper the door frame. Harry and Alex darted through after him, the two older men engaging the Acolytes while Harry dashed to the girl and sliced through her bonds. Smiling reassuringly, he pulled her to the ground and started ushering her to the door.
"Hi, my name is Irrelevant, and I'll be your rescuer today," he joked, quickly eyeing her to make sure she wasn't going to bleed out from her injuries before he got her safe. She was in bad shape, but he couldn't see anything immediately life threatening. Blonde and in her late teens, if one overlooked the injuries she could have passed for one of those cliché American cheerleaders. The fighting behind them was loud enough to make him wince as they made their way to the door.
"What?" The girl asked, confused. She kept shaking her head as if to clear it, and listing slightly to one side.
Harry frowned as he realised that she was drugged. That complicated things. Before he could alter their escape plan to account for that, he was kicked in the ribs and sent sprawling, his gun flying from his hand and coming to rest against the wall. His head ached dully from where it impacted the floor.
Scrambling to his feet, he eyed his opponent carefully. Lefty. Knuckles bloodied but flattened from regular impacts. Boxer or some sort of combat sport likely. Well trained, but not as well as the others. Holy shit, he's dressed like a Priest?
He was distracted when Sergei yelped in pain a little way behind him where he was grappling with a mountain of a man even larger than the Russian. The fleshy thuds as the two titans landed hits was enough to make even Harry cringe, or he would have it he hadn't just been punched in the face during the moment his focus wavered. Staggering back with blood pouring down his chin, Harry tripped over a prone Alex, who'd just been knocked on his arse as Sergei and his opponent barged into him as they threw each other around the room. Crashing to the floor on top of the soldier, Harry and Hound struggled to detangle themselves while avoiding being stomped by their opponents.
Harry's vicious cursing went unheard in the cacophony of grunts, thuds, and crashes, and as he rolled clear of Alex and scrambled to his feet, he took a moment to observe the mess this mission had become.
It was chaos.
There was a motionless body by the door leaking blood from a bullet wound, the other Acolytes engaged in an all-out brawl with his Hounds, and Harry realized no assistance would be coming his way anytime soon. Shouts and grunts of pain reverberated through the tiny basement room as the five older men flailed at each other, weapons forgotten or knocked clear. Leaving his Hounds to do what they did best - even if they currently seemed to be on the receiving end of a rather brutal beat down - Harry darted around the room, dodging wild swings and sweaty bodies. It seemed that nobody had any particular targets, everybody just swinging madly and hoping they didn't hit an ally. Crouching next to the semi-conscious girl, he reached out to pull her arm over his shoulder, only to be jerked violently backwards by his collar.
"Oh no you don't, boy!" The Priest snarled, and Harry recognised the voice that had been questioning the hostage.
Oh lovely, Harry thought sarcastically. His head snapped back as his nose crumpled under the man's fist. A Matthew Hopkins wannabe with a crime fixation and a Scottish accent!
He grunted as he was thrown bodily against the wall, his head still ringing from the blows. He could feel blood trickling down his chin from his nose, matched by the one making its way down the back of his neck from where his scalp had split on contact with the wall.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, OW, Harry groaned mentally as he staggered to his feet, throwing himself at the man who was trying to pick up the girl over his shoulder while everyone else was distracted.
He swung wildly, knowing that he was barely bruising his opponent despite his training; he had no idea what had happened to his weapons, he could barely think well enough to remember that he'd had any in the first place. A careless backhand sent him crashing into a table against the wall, slumping groggily in a pile of splintered wood and a few religious knickknacks. His fumbling fingers found something solid and heavy, and he grabbed it blindly from the wreckage, swinging it with all his strength at the man, even has he flung himself back into the fray. His arm shuddered painfully with the heavy impact, and he grinned manically as the man slumped to the ground, his head partially caved in. Harry whacked him a couple more times just to be sure - and vent some annoyance - then spat the blood pooling in his mouth onto the floor with a chuckle. Looking at the object in his hand, he giggled when he realised he'd just beaten a Priest to death with a golden crucifix. Blood and a little brain matter coated the figure of Jesus, adding a macabre element that Harry personally thought improved the tacky ornament dramatically. He felt the urge to say something pithy to the corpse at his feet, but his head hurt too much to think of any decent witticisms so he kicked it instead.
Staggering as he turned to check Alex and Sergei, he raised an eyebrow, wincing as it pulled and leaked more blood into his eye. Alex had managed to pull a knife from who-knows-where and was currently doing his best Master Chef impersonation, carving deeply into his target with savage glee. Harry spat another mouthful of blood, and made a mental note to stop watching so much television.
Sergei had managed to get an advantage over the bear-like Acolyte that had been giving him trouble, and was straddling him and pounding his face into pulp with his bare fists. The watching boy laughed wetly; he could well imagine that Sergei hadn't taken kindly to not being the toughest bastard in the room. He'd be a demon to train with for the next couple of months.
Turning back to the semi-conscious girl, he pulled her up and draped her arm over his aching shoulders. He pulled her close with a careful arm around her waist, and the two staggered from the room and up the stairs. Harry could barely see between his concussion and the blood pouring down his swollen face, but they managed to make it to the main church and towards the waiting exit.
Captain's eyes widened when he saw the brutalized figures shuffling painfully towards him, and he hurried forward to take the weight from Harry's slumped shoulders.
"Sir?" He enquired when Harry staggered.
"'M fine," Harry waved away his concern, raising a wrist to gently wipe some blood from his chin. "Get her out of here." His voice was thick and muffled, distorted by the injuries to his face. Gingerly shifting to hold a hand to his ribs, he realised he'd probably managed to crack a few of those too at some point. He stifled a sigh with a wince.
Alex and Sergei staggered up the stairs behind them, covered in blood - some of it their own - and heavily injured. While Alex had come out of his confrontation in a better state than any of the others, even he looked like he'd just crawled out of the Pits of Hell. Harry noted the irony with a mental snort before pushing it aside to focus on his task.
"Egress is clear, Sir." Captain reported. "No sign of movement from the shooters, but kills have not been confirmed."
Harry scowled as best his mangled face would allow. "Confirm them," he snapped as he made his way painfully through the ruined pews to the door. Marcel was going to flip when he saw them, but he fully intended to drop the girl off to Mr South before heading home to his fussing peacock of a Healer. Business before showers and all that, though he considered the effect returning from such a mission apparently unscathed might do for his reputation. Perhaps a shower and healing first after all.
Alex and Sergei moved to do as he ordered, Sergei taking the basement room while Alex braved the narrow stairs to the Loft. Captain hovered close to Harry, still supporting the sagging girl against his side. They were both aware that Alex and Sergei wouldn't have followed him upstairs if they hadn't confirmed their kills, but Harry was pleased that they took him seriously enough to double check anyway.
As he waited by the main doors his sensitive ears picked up a faint scuffling sound and a wordless cry a split second before something heavy crashed onto his slender frame, knocking him to the floor and crushing all the air from his battered lungs. He heard the wet snap of at least one of his injured ribs give way under the sudden weight, and if he'd had any breath left he would have screamed at the agony suddenly flooding his side.
As he fought for breath and tried to ignore the black spots clouding his vision, he could hear gunfire followed by another thud as if something meaty had fallen from somewhere high. Dimly, he realised that one of the shooters must have still been alive until a few seconds ago. They'd probably fallen from the Loft after Alex had opened fire.
The crushing weight was pulled off him a few moments later by a frantic Alex and Sergei, and Harry finally saw what it was. Captain lay on the floor where he'd been rolled, panicked eyes wide and blood bubbling wetly from his lips.