Ian said, laying a gleaming leather briefcase on the kitchen table. Günter nodded. He knew the drill. It was half past three in the morning, and they were due to leave in forty-five minutes for the airport where they’d emerge from a private airplane hangar, supposedly fresh off a redeye from New York. With Simon already in London, it’d be only Günter and Jenny in the car from the airport to their hotel. “You briefed Ms. Ainsley on the drop points?” he asked, thumbing the case open with a quiet snick. If they came up with any intel, she’d need to use some errand as a pretext to get a coded thumb drive to MI-5. “We did.” Ian’s dark eyes pinned him with a pointed stare. “And you did what you had to do?” “You already know I did,” Günter said, checking the lining for tracking devices or other devious MI-5 tricks that might get him killed if discovered by the wrong people. “But I wouldn’t have if I didn’t want to.” “So long as you can act the part,” Ian warned.
