Chapter Text
Prologue: We Will Never Speak Of This
Australia, 1973
“And that’s when she said—we’re all outta ice!”
Laughter exploded across the darkened bar. It was nearly three in the morning, but judging from the laughter the three men alone in the bar had no intention of quitting any time soon.
Christian Byron-Read was doubled over; laughing so hard his forehead almost hit the smooth wood of the bar. Just across from him, Lawrence Mundy, Jr. and Philippe Vidal leaned on each other for support, trying not to fall off the barstools even as they rocked with laughter. At the other end of the bar, Blake Porter had passed out cold, a number of empty beer bottles in front of him.
“Christ Almighty, that’s a good one,” Christian finally said, breathing hard to catch his breath. He straightened, popped open another bottle of bourbon, and gave Philippe’s empty glass a generous pour. “How ‘bout you, Phil? Most embarrassing mission you’ve ever been on?”
“The time I accepted a contract to work with seven men and one mumbling weirdo in the New Mexico desert.” Philippe replied without missing a beat. He detached himself from Lawrence and straightened up.
“Har-har, ya ponce.” Lawrence nudged him amicably. “C’mon, give us a real answer.”
Philippe just shrugged and reached for the glass of bourbon. “Unlike some people, I do my job right the first time.”
“What about the Portofino job?”
Christian ducked as a sudden spray of bourbon went flying over the bar. He reappeared in time to see Philippe glaring daggers into Lawrence. Lawrence just grinned back, in almost lazy fashion.
“We swore never to speak of the Portofino job,” Philippe said with a sniff.
“Yeah, well, there’s lotsa things we swore never to do.” Lawrence gave him another nudge. “C’mon, Phil, it wasn’t that bad…”
“Oh, yes it was! It was completely embarrassing. You were completely embarrassing!”
“I—” Lawrence picked up his half-finished bottle of beer, one of many in front of him “—am too drunk to care.”
“Well, now I gotta hear this,” Christian said. He leaned forward and waggled the bourbon in front of Philippe. “C’mon, you two, tell me about the Portofino job and I’ll let you have this one on the house.”
“I thought they were all on the house!” Lawrence exclaimed.
“Not on your life, Mundy.”
Philippe considered Christian’s shit-eating grin before throwing one hand into the air. “Very well! But if ‘e wakes up—” He pointed, almost accusingly, towards the passed-out Blake “—I never said a word about the Portofino job. And you—” He rounded on Christian “—will keep your mouth shut about whatever I’m about to tell you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Christian waved a hand around. “Get on with it, then.”
Philippe sighed, ignored the smug look on Lawrence’s face, and sat forward. “Everything I’m about to tell you is Lawrence’s fault.”