The Signal (Delphi Group #1)

by John Sneeden

RUPERT STERLING WALKED through the heavy London snow. His face was set with purpose, and his breath formed billowing clouds that dissipated in the darkness. He glanced up at a street lamp and noticed the flakes swirling around it like white moths.

The Victoria Embankment, which runs along the north side of the Thames, was crowded that night. The snow was the first of the season, and there was excitement in the air. Loud tourists made their way toward Westminster and the historic sites. Locals, usually on their way home after work, swarmed to the local pubs to celebrate winter’s gift.

But Rupert’s thoughts were not on the snow that evening. Instead, they were centered on a text he had received two days ago from a friend who had been out of touch for almost three years. The cryptic message had ...

The old spot didn’t need to be defined. Ian and Rupert had worked together in the early nineties. Ian was an intense workaholic American and Rupert an extroverted free spirit who brought out the fun side of his Yank friend. Having hit it off...

The Shakespeare was one of London’s most beautiful historic pubs. Nestled just two blocks off the Thames in the City district, it had served patrons for over a century. The interior celebrated England’s famous poet, with reliefs of his head and plaques of his writing scattered throughout.

After kicking the snow off his shoes, Rupert opened the heavy wooden door at the front of the tavern. He was immediately met with a rush of warm air and loud noise. Men and women lined the bar directly in front of him. The bartenders pulled taps and rushed about like so many worker ants.

He looked around for any sign of Ian. To his immediate left was a table of American tourists. One of the women hoisted a mug into the air, using a faux-British accent to declare her approval of the pale ale. To Rupert’s right were a man and woman dressed in business attire. The man held a glass of wi...

Rupert pushed his way through the crowd toward the double archway at the back. He had never seen the pub this full. People were pressed together, and the smell of beer hung in the air. After passing through the wooden arch, he looked toward the table in the right corner: their table. His first reaction to the bearded man seated there was one of disappointment—that was, until the man turned toward him and smiled.

Rupert walked over to the table. “Ian? Ian Higgs, is that you?” Ian stood. “Let me guess—the beard and the dark hair were a wee bit of a surprise.” “You never seemed like the facial hair type.” Rupert held out a hand, but his friend hugged him instead. It had been too long for a simple handshake. After several long seconds, Ian finally pulled back and gestured toward the table. “Have a seat, mate. There are some things I need to tell you.”

On a slow night, the man sitting on a stool in the back room of the Shakespeare would have stood out. Unlike most of the patrons, he was alone, and his demeanor made it all too clear that he wanted to remain that way. Only server Vanessa Wells seemed to notice the man’s dark countenance. In fact, she would later tell police that she was uncomfortable in his presence.

He scarcely paid attention as Vanessa Wells handed him his second beer. This would be his last, a self-imposed limit when on the job. The German never broke his own long set of rules. They kept him alive. As his gaze returned to the table across the room, his body tensed. The target had a guest. The German watched as the two hugged, exchanged words, then sat down. He smiled. Everything was falling into place.

There was another long pause before Ian answered. “First of all, I’ve missed you. Other than Amanda, there are very few people I care about more than you. And second…” He swept his gaze around the room then lowered his voice. “Second, I wanted you to know in case something should happen to me.”

“Thank you, friend,” Ian replied. “I knew I could count on you. I’ve been trying not to use my credit card until I’m ready to fly out, and my cash is running low.” “It’s settled then. You can come over tonight and—” “Unfortunately, I can’t come over until tomorrow. I have another meeting tonight, one that may last a while. I think it will help me get some of the answers I’m looking for.” “Who is it?”

The snow was falling even harder than before as Ian exited the Shakespeare. The outdoor tables and chairs looked like white mushrooms growing on a field of white. A group of men approached, talking loudly. They walked past Ian and opened the door to the pub.

The traffic had lightened considerably, and the previously crowded sidewalks were deserted. Ian wondered how hard it would be to find a cab. As he stood there, his thoughts turned back to Rupert. He hated keeping his friend in the dark, and he understood his irritation. But he also had no regrets about holding things close to the vest. The less his friends knew, the safer they would be.

“You didn’t think we’d just let you leave, did you?” The man grinned and lifted a pistol tipped with a suppressor. Ian held up a hand. “I can explain. I only—” “The time for explanations has passed, Dr. Higgs.” Two soft spits sounded, and there were corresponding flashes of light. Ian clutched his chest and sank into the snow. As his world faded to black, he realized he’d never see Amanda again.