He knew the man on the document. He'd dealt with the IMF long enough to recognize John at a glance. That's right. Who else but him could know that much internal detail? The page listed why John fed Owen Davian intel and why he wanted the Rabbit's Foot. Reading it, Davian knew the tip was real....
⸻⸻
Adolf's estate, Morocco.
Since Adolf's death, Cole had cleanly transferred the property into his own name. It had become one of their bases.
"The wire's in, Cole. Gotta say—you make money stupid fast," Dade grinned.
True enough. Cole's net worth had rocketed into the tens of billions.
"Money spends faster than it lands. The base is a black hole," Cole said. Since he'd handed the Delta-Six acceleration set schematics to Jason Tate, the program had been burning through cash. The gold had already been moved and liquidated through Theodore Brassel; funds cleared. But materials alone had eaten half the take, and Jace was pressing for more specialist engineers. He couldn't shoulder the workload alone.
For that, Cole had tapped Jacob Croft's—Continental reach, discreet recruitment. Expensive.
"Bottom line?" Cole said. "I've got maybe ten billion dollars in clean liquidity. That's not much at this burn rate. We need more contracts and system rewards."
The base roadmap was locked on three fronts:
Personnel. The Round Table were all elite, and high-tier missions were their lane—but top contracts weren't constant. Cole needed headcount and a front-facing security company to absorb protection work.
Weapons. Ordnance chewed money. Cole would ramp in-house weapons R&D—Stark-style margin, Round Table control. With Jason Tate's S-class engineering chops, the output would pay for itself.
Partnerships. Quiet cooperation with militaries—lucrative, deniable, scalable.
"Cole, now that Davian knows the Rabbit's Foot is in John's hands, where do you think they'll trade?" Christmas asked.
Cole shook his head. "Not Berlin—John won't risk it. Too many eyes, too much heat. We wait for Ethan to confirm."
Inwardly, Cole replayed what he remembered from the Mission: Impossible operation — the Shanghai exchange, the chase, the double-cross. It was all aligning beat for beat. The script might've been written years ago, but this time, he was inside it.
⸻⸻
Washington, D.C.
Ethan stepped off the plane and walked straight to the rendezvous.
"Ethan, good work," John said, all smiles. "Hand it over. With the Rabbit's Foot in my hand, I can finally nail the devil behind this."
Ethan said nothing—just passed him the case.
"Job's done," Ethan said. "I'm going home. Wedding's soon—you better show."
"Wouldn't miss it."
Ethan turned away, pulled out his phone, and fired a short message to Cole—handoff confirmed.
After John left, he hustled for the airport—intent on wheels up and a quick close in the Middle East. Just as he moved to board, his phone rang.
John frowned and answered. "Yeah?"
"Surprised to hear my voice?" Owen Davian purred.
John's face hardened. Whatever this was, it wasn't friendly.
"You used me as a stepping stone, John. That was a mistake."
"Owen, spare me. You cashed in on every leak. I gave you everything and you still blew it," John shot back. "Useless."
"Oh, you think you're walking away clean?" Davian's voice went cold. "All I have to do is leak you as the mole and by morning the IMF will be hunting your ass. You try to sell that package, you burn me with it."
John clenched his jaw. If the story broke now, his play was over. He didn't bother asking how Davian knew—damage control came first.
"What do you want?"
"No need for a pissing match," Davian said smoothly. "Give me the Rabbit's Foot. I'll handle the Middle East buyers. Your plan still works—you rise like you wanted. With you on top of the IMF and me handling distribution, we both win."
John weighed it. Ugly—but workable.
"Where's the meet?"
"Berlin," Davian said.
"No," John snapped. "Neither of us trusts the other on home turf. Shanghai. We trade in Shanghai."
"You've got balls," Davian scoffed. "Dealing in China? You're not worried you'll get bagged?"
"That's what makes it safe," John said, smiling to himself. China's internal controls were tight, with real muscle and reach. For two men who didn't trust each other, it was perfect. Davian had zero pull there.
Silence. Then Davian's grudging assent came through the line.
At the same time, Ethan—at home—listened through the bug he'd planted when he'd taken possession of the Rabbit's Foot. He finally had proof: John was the IMF mole.
He texted the location to Cole...
Across the water in Morocco, Cole saw the message and smiled.
It's actually the same as the original movie...