London, United Kingdom (Present Day)

Rain pelted the streets of London as I drove the SUV down the slick road, James sitting at the passenger seat. Behind us sat only three people : Dominic Hayes, Gerald Carter, and the man we detained earlier before the explosion at the MI6 headquarters. We can't be sure about the casualties so we promptly headed underground, to the bunker owned by my uncle's ancestor, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Not sure that James knew the bunker's existence but judging from his expression I believe that he didn't. The man we detained had a bag over his head to hide his sight. Upon reaching the entrance to the underground tunnel the gate parted ways instantly even though the guards are standing by in the guard house.

"Where are we heading Isabella?" James asked me. "I don't recognize-"

"Some where safe James." I replied. "Underground." Passing through a long and winding tunnel we pulled to a stop in front of a rusty metal door. "Let's go." I pushed open the door and headed into another tunnel, more dimly lit than the recent one for vehicles. Upon reaching the end of the tunnel I found the bunker, already lit up with Uncle Roland and his chief of staff waiting downstairs. "Thank God you're alive!" I said, embracing Uncle Roland after descending the staircase.

"I was having an audience with the foreign minister when the explosion happened." he replied. "Have you apprehended the suspect?"

"We nabbed him before the explosion sir." James replied. Uncle Roland glanced at the hooded man and nodded.

"Good, we'll take it from here." Uncle Roland said. Dom and I marched him to the interrogation room, cuffing him to the chair in the room and closed back the door.

We entered the room again, half an hour later. The man hasn't said anything when we brought him here, handcuffed. Not even thrashing around, unusually calm to me. James and I sat down on the other side after he ripped the hood off his head. The man blinked to the blinding florescent lights he is exposed to and eyes widened when he saw us sitting in front of him. Both of his hands are now cuffed to the table, inhibiting his movement. "What is your name?" James asked the question. He didn't reply. "Who do you work for?"

"I do not know." he spoke, but in Arabic, seemingly hinting at me to take over. "I was only a hired killer."

"Every hired killer must be paid." I said softly. "Tell us who paid you."

"I have no idea, the man who paid me spoke in Arabic as well. I do not know who is he."

"If you don't know who hired you, you should start first by telling us your name."

"I have my own reasons in not telling you my name." enough is enough as my fingers clenched together and I slammed the fist down on the table.

"Give me a reason why won't I just kill you in the first place." I said, my tune changed significantly. James noted the tension and shook his head at my direction, telling me to calm down. "The United Kingdom will not spare you a light sentence because of the prints we discovered on the murder weapon."

"Murdering someone who helped to murder a terrorist... what is the difference?" he asked. "The man who hired me, I do not know the name but he told me himself that he is Aldhiyb."

"You're lying. Aldhiyb is already dead years ago." I said.

"No." the man said calmly. "He claimed to be Aldhiyb himself." James and I shared a look in disbelieve. "He said, if I was ever caught by you, he wants to bring you a message."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Blood will be spilled, each and everyone who killed his brother on that fateful day in the desert." he replied. Then he winced in pain as foam came out from his mouth and his head tilted backwards.

"Goddammit!" I shouted, standing up. We caught a whiff of bitter almond as the man went slack and his eyes rolled back.

"Cyanide." James said, looking at the body.

"Same." I muttered. "We can't do anything now. We need to dispose the body." We left the room and closed the door shut, returning to the briefing room where the whole team is waiting.

"Has he talked?" he asked me.

"Cyanide." James replied. "Bastard killed himself."

"Yeah, I'm going to call the president." I said, taking out my phone.

"Hang on a sec Isa." Richard said. "You said that-"

"It's not the current president she's going to call." Dominic said. "You think that he'll pick up on whatever you're going to tell him?"

"It's urgent. We killed the wrong guy." I said, walking off and into a secured communications room.