Wild Keepers

by Dee Bridgnorth

  He shrugged, taking another sip of the champagne. Maybe Mary had a thing for bearded men who wore glasses. It hardly mattered. As soon as he could he would ditch her and try to find Tess. He exhaled, still feeling angry with her for running off without him. And there was no guarantee at all that the person she had followed had been coming here, anyway. He might be way off the mark.

  He narrowed his eyes, staring around the room. No, he couldn’t see her here. He strangled a surge of frustration. Well, if she wasn’t at this party, he had no idea where she had gone, and she had no intention of telling him. He had messaged her two times on the trip here, and she still hadn’t responded. He was trying not to assume the worst.

  Tess was a trained agent and the most fearless and smart woman he had ever met. If anyone could handle this situation, she could. He had to keep reminding himself that she wasn’t a damsel in distress, and he wasn’t her knight in shining armour. She had told him that many times.

  But he loved her, and he couldn’t help feeling protective of her. Tess hadn’t battled the Vilgath before. She had no idea of what they were capable of. What if the person she had followed was a demon and attacked her?

  He took a deep breath. There was simply nothing he could do about it for the moment; not until she decided to tell him where she was. He might as well take advantage of being here and try to find out as much as he could.

  With an effort he turned back to Mary, forcing a smile onto his face.

  “So,” he said slowly. “Tell me more about the guy who owns this place. What did you say his name was again? Ivan something?”

  Mary took a long drink of her champagne. “Ivan Davies. He is a very wealthy businessman and is a patron of the arts.”

  Shay nodded. “I haven’t heard of him,” he said. “He runs the Atsere Corporation? Is he the owner?”

  Mary frowned slightly. “I’m not sure. He is certainly a part of it.”

  Shay gazed around at the party goers. “Can you introduce me to him?”

  Mary laughed, throwing back her head. “You really don’t know anything about him, do you? I am afraid I can’t help you there. I have no idea what he looks like. I’ve never met him myself.”

  Shay stared at her. “I kind of thought you knew him, since you had an invitation to this party?”

  Mary nodded. “Yeah, you would assume that. But Ivan Davies throws parties like this all the time, and he sends out a wide variety of invitations to people.” She paused. “People who don’t know him either. No one has ever met the reclusive Ivan Davies.”

  “Really?” Shay raised his eyebrows. “He throws parties in his home, but no one knows him?”

  “Exactly.” Mary drained her champagne. “He is a recluse, like I said. An extremely wealthy recluse, who happens to host parties for hundreds of strangers.”

  Shay frowned. This was strange, and alarm bells were ringing loudly in his head. Why would a man throw lavish parties like this, opening his home to hundreds of strangers? And never introduce himself to any of them? And Mary had said that he was involved with Atsere.

  “What does he do while these parties are taking place?” Shay wondered, staring around. “Is he holed up in a tower on the property somewhere?”

  Mary shrugged. “Perhaps. Or he could be here, mingling with his guests. Who knows?”

  “Telling them he is someone else,” said Shay, his frown deepening. “Incognito.”

  Mary laughed. “I don’t ask questions like that, Jack,” she said. “I just appreciate that I get invited, and you should too. Let’s mingle.” She grabbed two more champagne flutes from a passing waiter and melted into the crowd, beckoning that he should follow her.

  Shay took a deep breath. The last thing that he felt like doing was pretending to party, especially when Tess was missing. But he had already found out a lot about this mysterious man, and the fact that he was connected to Atsere. His instincts were on high alert and telling him that maybe he might be onto the organiser of the whole operation.

  Mary Randall didn’t know much about the reclusive Ivan Davies, but other people might know more. He needed to just suck it up and find out as much as he could while he was here. He had a case to work.

  He put Tess firmly to the back of his mind and followed Mary through the crowd.

  ***

  Tess crouched behind some high shrubs, watching the house. She simply had to find a way to gain entry, but the fences were secure, and the grounds were crawling with security guards.

  The cab had followed the limousine all the way into these hills outside of Covenester. Tess had told the cabbie to keep a safe distance, so that the man wasn’t aware that he was being followed, but it had been a harder enterprise once they had left the outskirts of the city and hit the dark roads. There wasn’t much traffic on them.

  When the limousine had turned down a narrow dirt track towards a looming mansion, Tess had told the cabbie to pull over. There was no way the taxi could follow it into the grounds. It would be way too suspicious.

  The cabbie had stared at her, mystified, as he pulled over on the side of the deserted road.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Tess had smiled. “Never you mind,” she said quickly, paying him. Then she had alighted, stepping out onto the side of the road. She watched the taxi turn back the way it had come and disappear into the night.

  She took a deep breath. It was dark out here, and she had no idea what she was going to do yet. Probably survey the house and try to gain entry if she could. Her cell phone beeped. She looked at it then turned it off. It was Shay again. Until she could tell him exactly where she was and if it was a live lead, she would ignore him and go it alone.

  Suddenly, the headlights of a car snaking up the road blinded her. She quickly leapt behind a bush, watching it. It turned up the same track as the limousine. As soon as it was gone, she jumped out and headed in the same direction.

  Twice more she had to leap into bushes as cars pulled up the track. She frowned. There was obviously something going on at that house. As she got closer, she could see high iron gates and a security guard. When a car stopped, the guard would approach it with a list of some kind, checking their name off. And then the gates would swing slowly open and the car would continue to the house.

  Tess frowned. There was no way she would be able to gain entry that way. She decided to skirt the perimeter and see if there were any holes in the fence line.

  And now here she was, watching the house. It was simply the largest, most extravagant house she had ever seen in her life, and it was obvious that the owner was entertaining. The house was lit up like it was the Fourth of July. There were cars scattered throughout the grounds, and she could see people massing on a dramatic deck on the third storey. The beat of music filled the air; she could almost hear the laughter from the deck.

  It was one hell of a party. And the man in the limousine had obviously been invited. Or was it his home and his party? She had to find out.

  Tess narrowed her eyes, trying to think. It was the best cover imaginable. If she managed to gain entry without tripping any alarms, then she could simply melt into the crowd. It wouldn’t even look strange if a guard approached her in the grounds. She could simply say that she had been wanting some air. There were so many people here it would be easy to blend in. And she didn’t imagine that all the guards would be carrying lists of the guests to check off names.

  She just had to figure out how to get in.

  She quickly ran along the fence line, which was plain old chain link, although there was a roll of barbed wire at the top. Whoever owned this property didn’t want anyone to gain access, but that wasn’t unusual in a property of such wealth.

  She could see a guard patrolling the perimeter in the distance, on the inside of the fence line. He was carrying a gun—a semi-automatic by the look of it. They meant business, obviously.

  Was that a hole in the fence, further up? Crouching low, she ran towards it. Yes. And there didn’t seem
to be any alarm trips along it. It was a very tight squeeze, but she managed to wiggle her way through it. And suddenly she was on the inside.

  She ran quickly through the grounds, towards the house, passing a massive water fountain. There was a large lagoon-style pool to the right. She was almost to the outside of the mansion when she felt her skin prickle. Someone was behind her.

  She turned, slowly. A guard was standing there, watching her.

  Tess laughed. “I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to make her voice sound tipsy. “I just needed some air and seemed to have got lost. You haven’t seen a man in a dark suit, have you? He came out with me but I’ve no idea where he is now.”

  The guard said nothing. He simply stared at her, as if trying to make out who or what she was.

  Tess took a deep breath and stepped towards him.

  ***

  Shay twirled the stem of his champagne flute in his hand. This was going nowhere fast. He had been mingling with the party crowd for over half an hour, and no one seemed to have any more information about the reclusive Ivan Davies than Mary Randall had told him.

  He knew the name of the man who owned this mansion, and that Atsere was funding this party. Just as they had sponsored the event at the art gallery. Some people he had talked to had been to parties here a few times but had never met their host.

  “Don’t you think that’s unusual?” he had asked a man with an elaborate handlebar moustache, who worked in art curation.

  The man had stared at him. “It’s probably better to not look at it too closely. You are from out of town, aren’t you?”

  Shay had nodded.

  “Then you don’t understand how these things work,” the man had said. “The big corporations host these huge parties, but they aren’t a gathering of close friends, or even people who know each other well. They are simply networking opportunities.” The man paused, looking at him closely. “What did you say your name was again?”

  Shay stared back at him. It was time to move on. This man was starting to look defensive, and he didn’t want to be memorable. Even though he was in disguise, talk could get back to this Ivan Davies that a man had been asking questions about him. And a recluse who didn’t want to be identified mightn’t like that. Who knew? Perhaps this man was Ivan Davies, mingling among his guests.

  “Jack Finch,” he said, holding out his hand to the man. “You wouldn’t know where the bathrooms are, by any chance? I think I’ve had one too many champagnes.”

  The man had told him, and Shay had blended back into the crowd. It was time to step this up a notch. He walked down a corridor in the direction that the man had indicated.

  The mansion had restrooms just like a nightclub. There were two separate doors, one for women and the other for men. He walked into the men’s restroom and entered a cubicle, closing the door firmly. He got out his phone and tried to call Tess again. She still wasn’t answering. He placed it back in his pocket then walked out, peering down the corridor.

  He had made up his mind. He was going to do a little exploration of this place, away from the crowd. If he was discovered he could always say that he had lost his way, or some such thing. Claim that he’d had one too many and got confused.

  The corridor was not as well-lit as the main part of the house where the party was happening. He ran swiftly along it, shaking door handles as he passed. All of them were locked. It seemed that Ivan Davies made sure that his guests couldn’t access certain places when he was hosting his grand soirees.

  He reached a staircase, descending to the ground floor. Shay hesitated. If he was going to find anything of use in this place it would probably be below decks. The party was on the top storey, so if this place had anything to hide it wouldn’t be there. And in his experience a covert operation would be well hidden in a part of the house that guests never went to.

  He quickly ran down the staircase. He was on the ground level, now. It was completely deserted—not even a servant passed by.

  And that was when he saw another stairwell. Not as grand as the one that he had just descended. It was tucked away to the side and barely visible.

  Shay looked around quickly then ran to it. He peered down. It wasn’t lit at all, and the steps were steep. He needed to do this quickly before someone saw him.

  He took a deep breath and descended, clutching the rail so that he didn’t fall head first. It seemed to go on forever. But eventually he reached the bottom, only to see that there was another long corridor with several doors leading off it.

  He tried a few, but they were all locked, just like the ones on the top level had been. He was just about to give up and run back up the stairs when a handle to one door turned softly in his hand.

  He hesitated again. This is what he wanted, of course; why he was here. But it seemed strange that all the doors would be locked but one. He didn’t have any weapons on him, besides the ability to transform into the wolf if needed. He took a deep breath. He would just have to risk it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he thought to himself as he entered the room.

  He blinked rapidly, his eyes scaling the space. He had been expecting a regular size room, but this was huge. And grand. It certainly wasn’t a subterranean headquarters filled with monitors, as he had been half expecting. No, this was something else again; he wouldn’t be surprised if it encompassed the entire lower level of the house. He stepped slowly into the room, his eyes darting from side to side.

  It was a gallery. A huge art gallery. There were paintings covering all the walls. And just like a regular art gallery, they were professionally hung, with tiny spotlights surrounding them. He could see that there were plush benches in the middle, where people could sit and gaze at the paintings if desired.

  There was no one in here. He walked slowly down the length of the room, staring at the paintings. Some were so huge they almost swallowed the wall, but others were smaller. He walked up to one, examining it closely. It had the title of the piece and the artist who had created it on a gold engraved panel underneath.

  He gasped. It was a Van Gogh.

  He walked quickly along the wall, studying the titles and artists. Monet. Renoir. Dali. Picasso. This was a cornucopia of the world’s great painters. All hanging in a basement in this mansion in the Covenester Hills.

  He turned around. On the opposite wall was the painting that he had gazed at tonight, at the Covenester Art Gallery. The painting that people had been gathered around and fawning over in their excitement at viewing it. Except that they had obviously been staring at a very good copy, just as Tess had suspected.

  It was The Kiss, by Klimt. And now, staring at the original, Shay could see that the one hanging on the wall in the city art gallery was not real. Something in the way that this painting glowed, in an almost other worldly fashion. He was almost blinded by the meticulous gold leaf covering the painting. And he knew next to nothing about art.

  He took a deep breath. So, this is where all the masterpieces that had disappeared over the years had ended up. As a wealthy man’s folly. A private art gallery that he could come to in his own house and gaze at when he desired. Did he let anyone else down here to see these paintings, or was it entirely for his viewing alone?

  Shay shook his head, blown away by the effrontery of it, and the indulgence. Yes, he wasn’t the world’s biggest art fan, but these were masterpieces. They were worth millions. The public had a right to these works, but some eccentric billionaire had decided that the world had no right to them. The motive was obviously not money. No, this Ivan Davies was driven by ego, and narcissism. The knowledge that he had all this underneath his house, at his disposal.

  Did he get a thrill, hosting these grand parties upstairs, knowing that this priceless collection of art was hanging in his basement? The knowledge that anyone of those party goers could drunkenly climb down that stairwell and discover this room? It hadn’t even been locked. The audacity of it took his breath away.

  He quickly took out his phone, snapping photos of it a
ll. He needed evidence, and he had it in spades. When he showed Tess this she would be over the moon. They had everything they needed to secure this person. She could take the photos to the FBI and they would be able to raid this place and finally bring all these paintings back to where they belonged.

  He took a few more photos then dropped his phone back in his jacket pocket. He had enough, and he didn’t want to be caught down here. He needed to get back to the party. Persuade Mary Randall to take him back to Covenester. Message Tess and tell her about this mind-blowing discovery. He grinned, picturing her face when she saw it.

  This could be all over with, very soon. And then…they were free. To explore what lay between them, at long last. He suddenly felt so elated it was all he could do to suppress a whoop of joy.

  He ran quickly back down the length of the room, towards the stairwell. But just as he was about to climb it he could hear someone descending.

  He looked around, quickly. Where could he hide? He was just running to dive underneath one of the plush benches when he heard the voice, behind him.

  “Don’t bother, Shay,” said a man’s voice. The tone was casual. “I know you are in here. And I have someone you might be interested in seeing, anyway.”

  Shay froze. He turned around.

  There were two people standing there, watching him. One of them was Tess, still wearing her long black wig. She looked pale and distressed. He could see faint marks of dried up tears snaking down her face, like snail tracks.

  And the other was a man. A man whose face he had thought he would never, ever see again, as long as he lived.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Well?” said the man, smiling at him. “Do you recognise me, after all these years?” He paused. “Reunions are always bittersweet, aren’t they?”

  Shay blinked rapidly. He felt like his head was spinning out of control. It simply couldn’t be true. And yet, it was.