Game of Shadows Read Free Page A

called Emily Starks, the director of the agency, and told her he would come back to work on a case-by-case basis. Nothing permanent. And totally off the books. Sean had been fighting it for years. He wished he could do something else with his life, but strange circumstances always came knocking on his door, and in the end he found himself doing what he did best: eliminating bad people.
    Axis wasn't just a group of assassins, but it was one of the things they could do if the government didn't feel like any of its other arms could take care of it. Axis was small, extremely mobile, and no one outside the unit of twelve agents knew who they were. Each agent was assigned a number, and that number became their name. Since their founding, they'd only carried the numbers one through twelve. Because of his status as an external operative, Sean was given the number zero.
    The mission to kill Gerard Dufort was more than off the books. It wasn't even an Axis contract. It was personal; a vendetta against a man who had killed innocent women, sold countless others into a life of rape and slavery, and had never felt the smallest token of remorse for any of it. No, this mission was certainly off the books. And Sean meant to see it through.
    Dufort had been clever in his methods. His multiple passports and seemingly endless array of bank accounts registered under fake names and numbers gave him the option to hide nearly anywhere in the world. He'd chosen Agadir, Morocco, a city somewhat off the beaten path by most standards. The choice of country was good enough. It was fairly close to his native land of France, just a short crossing through the Gibraltar Strait. Morocco was a nation of complex culture and vibrant people, making it a much easier place to live than a third world country. And because it was also a tourist spot, but not as popular as the bigger cities of Marrakech, Tangiers, or Casablanca, Agadir made the most sense. It provided all the amenities and luxuries to which Dufort had become accustomed, but less traffic, fewer people, and a location obscure enough to go unnoticed.
    Only he had been noticed.
    The arrogant Frenchman didn't know how to sit quietly and play nice. If he had retired to a life of ease in Agadir, lived peacefully, and never tried anything stupid, he may well have evaded Sean for much longer, perhaps perpetually.
    But Dufort couldn't help himself.
    After lying low for only forty days, Interpol spotted him coming through a port in Spain. He went through customs with a Spanish passport, probably risking entry into the country so he could get across the border and back into France. For what, Sean wasn't sure. Money stashed somewhere? To reconnect with some of his old cronies? He didn't care why the Frenchman did it. All Sean knew was that it had been the mistake that sealed his fate.
    Emily got the call from Interpol, and she relayed the message to him. She'd been willing to let Sean have a go at Dufort since he was still stinging from letting him get away before. It was time to put a salve on that sting.
    Sean hopped on a plane from Atlanta as soon as Emily could arrange for one. Working for a beyond top secret team had its perks. Sleek, private jets were one of them. It made things much easier when it came to getting through customs and passing through borders. Ten hours after Dufort was spotted crossing into Spain, Sean was on his tail.
    Every day for the last five days, Sean had observed Dufort's every move. He followed Dufort back from Spain, to the Frenchman's condo on the Atlantic. Once Sean knew where the man lived, it was easy enough to procure a room with the perfect angle to observe the target.
    One thing Sean noticed was that Dufort enjoyed a cigar and cognac on the balcony of his penthouse every day in the early afternoon at the same exact time. Some Europeans like to have coffee and cake in the afternoon. Others preferred tea. Dufort chose a cigar and cognac.
    It didn't matter to Sean what the man was