Nightshade’s cell was a reinforced door with a keypad. Jones didn’t have the code. He had something better—a portable bypass tool he’d “acquired” from a disgraced MI6 quartermaster. He pressed it to the panel, and the lock clicked open in twelve seconds.
Thump—CRACK.
His mission was simple on paper: infiltrate, extract the defector codenamed "Nightshade," and leave no trace of IGI involvement. Simple. But in Jones’s line of work, simple was just another word for everyone’s waiting for you to fail .
The white light and thunderclap sent them stumbling. Before the first man could blink, Jones was on them. A rifle butt to the temple. A knee to the second’s chest. They fell in a heap.
