ENTRAPMENT

by Kylie Brant

  Her eyes burned with tears that would never be shed. Before she was through he'd pay for everything.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

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  At any other time Juliette might have appreciated the beauty of the Austrian countryside at dusk. The flight had gone off without a hitch. She slid a glance to the man silently driving the car down the rural road. His passport had held up as well as her own, with neither of them receiving more than a cursory glance. The same could not be said about their luggage. When asked about the nature of the equipment they carried, Juliette had launched into a dry discourse on the scientific nature of the gaussmeter. By the time she'd gotten to Carl Friedrich Gauss's contribution to the area of electromagnetism, the customs agent's eyes had glazed over, and they'd been hurriedly waved through the line.

  As if feeling her gaze on him, he looked over. "What?"

  "Nothing." She settled back in her seat, watching the heavily forested hills go by as their car climbed higher. "Just thinking that you don't look much like a Lestor Nilson."

  "And you don't much appear like a doctoral student of mathematics. Your lecture, however, was quite convincing."

  Smiling smugly, she said, "Thank you. Had there been a need, I was prepared to expound on the device's usefulness in fields as diverse as aerospace to paranormal investigations."

  She'd managed to capture his interest. "Ghost hunting?"

  "That's right." That explanation had come in handy a time or two, as well. "It's used to seek out disruptions in the natural magnetic fields of locations."

  "Whatever that means."

  She lifted a shoulder. "It pays to be convincing." In Europe she often drove to the site of her targets. Much of her equipment could be stored beneath back seats, where it escaped detection altogether. It was safer to avoid any conversations that a customs agent might remember later. However, for reasons Sam refused to explain, time was of the essence for this job.

  Nerves she'd never admit to twisted in her stomach. Lack of readiness wasn't the problem. They were both prepared for this mission. It was Sam's presence that elicited the unfamiliar anxiety. "How can we be assured of Oppenheimer's arrival time?" It made her jittery to leave details in someone else's hands, to give up that amount of control. It was one reason she'd always chosen to work alone. That, and the level of trust it would require to share the nature of her jobs with another was unfathomable.

  "Don't worry." Sam steered the nondescript sedan into the hairpin turns expertly. "I have someone trailing him. Suitable delays will be arranged if needed."

  She would have liked to question him about those delays. As a matter of fact, she had a lot of things she'd like to ask him about. What was Miles's role in this thing? Where had he gotten those state-of-the-art devices he'd shown her yesterday, and exactly what sort of information did Oppenheimer have that was so important to Sam?

  Refraining from asking any of those questions removed an opportunity for him to refuse to answer, or worse, to lie. The upcoming hours would be difficult enough without more evasions between them. She was better off knowing as little about Sam Tremaine as possible. After this job was over, there should be nothing to prevent them from parting ways. The thought brought a pang.

  Uncomfortable with the reaction, she shifted in the seat. It was because she'd have to leave Paris, of course. It had been the first real home she'd had since leaving the States fifteen years ago. But a new country … a new identity would be necessary, regardless of Sam's promises. Even after he handed over the file he had on her, she'd have no way of knowing if he'd made copies, or who else he might have shared the information with.

  A fresh start in a new place would also ensure that he would never find her again. Never be able to threaten her with exposure again. Never take over her life for a time and change its direction. Nor chip away at those defenses she'd spent a lifetime building, one layer at a time.

  She was honest enough to admit that it was the last thought that provided the most relief. He'd gotten too close, too fast. Maybe it was because he'd taken her so by surprise the first time they'd met. She'd felt a little off-kilter ever since. Perhaps it was the thought of him making a study of her while she was still unaware of his existence. The vulnerability that came from his knowledge left her feeling jittery and exposed.

  Night was falling, and with the increasing darkness came a measure of calm. The job came first with her; that much at least hadn't changed. Faced with a target and a well-researched plan, it should be simple to keep her mind on the goal. And oddly satisfying to strike again so soon at Oppenheimer, even if he wouldn't know it.

  The forests on either side of the trees began to thin, and the road seemed to level out. Although Juliette had never been to this estate of Oppenheimer's, she had aerial shots of it. Situated on a heavily forested plateau, it faced a huge lake. She'd often wondered why he'd bothered paying for lakefront property. The high wall he'd built around it would hamper any view. But then, the man had always had to have the best, regardless of the cost. And he'd never spared any scruples to get it.

  There was a reflection up ahead, moonlight glinting off water. Leaning forward, she took out a pair of night-vision binoculars and raised them. Scanning the distance, she could see the vast lake, and nearby, the dark walls that absorbed the mirror reflection.

  "It's just ahead, maybe a couple of miles," she murmured. She lowered the glasses to look at Sam. "We'll have to ditch the car in the woods soon."

  Sam nodded. "We'll carry the equipment the rest of the way. From which direction do you want to access the grounds?"

  "Southeast," she said without hesitation. It would be on the opposite side from the guard house, with its CCTV monitor station. "We'll get into the house through a side door that will lead through a large living room. It's actually farther away from the office than the back door would be, but its location eliminates the chance that someone in the guard house would see us."

  "What about servants?"

  This area would be trickier. "I know their usual hours," she admitted, "but there's no way of telling if Oppenheimer's arrival will vary that. There could well be more people in the house than usual, working later to ready the place for his return." She shrugged fatalistically.

  Sam glanced at her. "That certainly increases the risk."

  "It might. If we enter late enough, chances are they'll be gone. No servants actually sleep there, so that's in our favor. But we have to be prepared for the possibility that one or more stay to welcome him home."

  He was nodding. "A UFC, then." "What?"

  "An unforeseen circumstance." The sedan jolted as he drove off the road and up a rutted path into the darkened woods. He drove in far enough for the forest to swallow the vehicle, obscuring it from the road.

  "Exactly," she said approvingly. Bracing one hand on the dash, she attempted to ride out the remainder of the journey without losing any of her teeth in the process. "In any job there are matters that can't be planned for. A guard changing his routine for some unknown reason, exterminators who make a call after hours."

  "I imagine you've run into your share of situations like that."

  His tone was even. She wondered if she was imagining the hint of censure in it. "All the time. It's just a matter of being flexible, thinking on your feet. Does the job need to be called off, or merely postponed for a few hours."

  He brought the car to a halt and killed the lights. Looking across the darkened interior at her, he said flatly, "Regardless of the circumstances, this job won't be called off."

  Because it wasn't worth an argument, she said nothing. Realistically, however, she knew that situations could arise that would make retreat their only option. But she was no less determined than him to see this job through. Her grandmother's impending freedom hung in the balance. And she couldn't deny her own burning desire to proceed with this. It would be a dry run, she told herself, bending forward to tuck the binoculars back in the bag. Preparation for the time when she'd co
nfront Oppenheimer in person, and send everything he'd worked for crashing down around him. She had a feeling that hers and Sam's goals were remarkably similar in that respect.

  She looked over at him, found him pulling on thin dark gloves. "Ready?"

  He reached for the door handle. "I've been ready for this longer than you can imagine."

  Silently, she opened her own door. She could have uttered those words herself.

  The trek to the property was a little over two miles. Carrying their equipment that far made Juliette glad she engaged in regular conditioning. Upon reaching the massive wall that surrounded the estate, she shrugged out of her backpack and set it on the ground. The moon was slivered, hanging low in the sky, and Sam was only a shadow, even standing right next to her. Like her, he was dressed completely in black, much as he'd been at the museum that night. "The cameras we'll be taking out are there," she pointed almost directly overhead, "and about thirty feet down this wall to the north. Any special place on the camera that you want those devices placed?"

  He was already unzipping the laptop's case and turning the machine on. "Put it on the top, center of the camera. As long as you have it secure, I should be able to manipulate it."

  Nodding, she bent, unzipped her backpack. First she put on a pair of gloves, then withdrew a grappling hook with a pair of cables attached. The cameras were located every thirty feet, just to the left of the reinforced concrete posts. Tipping her head back, she studied the solid wall for a moment, then took a position a few feet away. It took three tries before she managed to secure the hook tightly to the top. She tested the cable for support, then, satisfied, let it drop and crossed back to Sam.

  Pitching her voice low, she said, "I'm ready to disable the cameras. Give me the stegometers."

  He was sitting cross-legged on the grass, the computer balanced on his knees. Without taking his eyes off the screen, he reached into the pack beside him and then handed her one of the devices.

  Insulted, she nudged him with her foot. "What's the matter, Tremaine? Afraid I'll run off if I get a couple of these in my possession?"

  He did look up then, flashed her an easy grin. "No use taking chances of dropping one, is there?"

  Juliette glared at him, then snatched the device from his hand. She wasn't a woman to trust easily. Certainly she was wary about putting her trust in this man. So it shouldn't wound her, deep in the recesses of her heart, to discover that he felt the same way about her.

  Slipping the gadget into the pouch around her middle, she reached up and pulled the dark hood over her face. Then she went to the cable, grasped it in both hands and swung her feet to plant them against the side. Nimbly, she climbed the wall until she was within a few inches of the top. Keeping one foot precariously situated against the wall to secure her position, she took the stegometer out with one hand as she raised the other, trying to find the camera on the other side by touch. When her fingers found it, she exchanged the device to the other hand and attached it to the top of the camera.

  Mission accomplished, she rappelled down the cable as quickly as she'd ascended it. She rejoined Sam and peered over his shoulder. The figures on the computer screen could have been hieroglyphics for all the sense they made to her. "Is it working?" she murmured.

  "Let's see." He pressed a command and waited. A moment later, a picture appeared on the screen, a view of the grounds and the darkened house. "Yep. Like a charm." He checked the time in the corner of the screen and punched in some numbers. "A half hour should be enough time, don't you think?"

  "The longer you record, the more chance you have of getting something in the picture that will give it away," she pointed out. "If a rabbit should happen to hop into the camera view, the guards would get suspicious to see it in exactly the same spot over and over again."

  "That's the beauty of these little babies." Sam reached into his bag and withdrew one more, handed it to her. "Once we're inside the house I can use the computer to command them. When I shut them off, the cameras will function as normal. Turn them on again and the tape we're making will come on."

  A mercenary stab of envy pierced her. The mechanisms would be priceless in her line of work. With a glance at Sam's face, she had a feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking. Last night she'd been half joking when she'd mentioned working out a trade for one of the devices. His words then had been burned in her mind ever since.

  The only thing I want from you, Juliette, would be worth nothing if it wasn't offered willingly.

  Her cheeks burned beneath the hood. She hadn't been thinking of sex when she'd uttered the words, but she'd thought of it often since then. Sex with him. Raw and demanding. It wouldn't be quick, or easy. He wouldn't be content with a physically satisfying romp that stopped short of true intimacy. She knew that intuitively. He'd insist on delving below the surface, peeling away layers of careful defenses in search of the real woman beneath. The shudder that worked down her spine was equal parts arousal and fear. The sensations he was capable of evoking from her weren't worth the risk of being that vulnerable. She'd never willingly offer that, not to any man.

  Without another word, she moved away, reattached the hook to the wall a distance away and repeated the maneuver, securing the device to the top of the camera and climbing down again. She left the hook and cables in place. They'd use both to get over the wall when the time came.

  Dropping to the ground, she strolled over to where Sam was bent over the computer. "Everything okay?" she inquired, kneeling beside him.

  "They're working perfectly." With nimble fingers flying over the keys, he finished typing commands, and she saw the view of the second camera fill the screen. "They're both recording. Now all we do is wait."

  Patience didn't come naturally to Juliette. Because it was critical in her line of work, she'd deliberately cultivated the trait. She'd once hidden five hours inside a cold air shaft, waiting for an overly amorous guard and his paramour to finish their night of stolen passion. But somehow, with Sam Tremaine at her side, patience seemed even more elusive. The man made her edgy. She was too aware of him for it to be otherwise.

  He reached into the bag on the ground next to him and took out a cell phone. Punching out a number, he spoke quietly into it for a few moments, before looking over at her. "Oppenheimer is about an hour and half from here. Is that enough time?"

  "Plenty." While the cameras replayed the scenes they were recording at that moment, they'd make their move. Accessing the house shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes, tops. Then of course, their real work would begin.

  Sam spoke into the phone again. "We're good to go. Thanks a lot, buddy. I owe you one." Juliette's interest sharpened. It didn't sound as though he was talking to one of the seemingly endless string of associates he had. Who was helping him then? Miles?

  There was no time to ask him, because he was already making another call. "It's me." His gaze met hers. "You can let her go now."

  Her eyes widened, and it was a moment before she could reach for the phone he was holding out to her. Her tone pitched to a near whisper, she said, "Grand-mama?" The sound of Pauline's voice sent a tide of relief flooding through her. Very much aware of Sam's presence beside her, Juliette wasted no time instructing her grandmother to leave the city immediately. "Just take what you'll need for a few days. You know where to go."

  The older woman didn't ask questions. Juliette was thankful for that, because she was unwilling to give Sam even the slightest idea of where she was sending her. He'd have her followed of course. She didn't doubt that. But she could count on Pauline to slip away from Tremaine's associates. The woman had taught Juliette a thing or two about being cautious.

  Once she'd directed her grandmother to call when she reached her destination, she disconnected and handed the phone back to Sam. Her gaze searched his. "Why did you do that?"

  "What?"

  "Give the order to release her now. We agreed to wait until we were inside."

  "It's safer out here. There's no chance of
being overheard. Besides—" his expression was sober, certain "—you couldn't back out now, could you Juliette? You want to get inside almost as badly as I do."

  She flinched. His words were no less than the truth, but it didn't mean she was comfortable with having that all-assessing gaze turned on her. Although he couldn't know about her past, he understood her a little too well. She could no more have turned away at this point than she could veer from the path she'd set for herself. This unexpected opportunity to strike at Oppenheimer was too rich, too delicious to pass up.

  But it wasn't the thought of accessing the man's home that filled her with an inexplicable warm glow. Sam might think he knew her on some level. But to allow her grandmother's freedom before she'd gotten them inside the estate also told her that he trusted her. Just a bit.

  They spoke little after that, Sam monitoring the views on the computer screen, and Juliette checking and rechecking her equipment. In the distance she could hear the sound of the gentle waves of the lake, lapping at the shore. The water, combined with the altitude, cooled the night air to an unseasonable chill. She didn't like to wear any extra layers of clothing to get in the way on a job, so she'd foregone a jacket. Sam had done the same. She was glad for her long sleeves, but the brisk air didn't seem to be bothering him. His perfect profile could have been etched in stone, an artist's rendering of a fallen archangel. She shook off the fanciful thought. Whatever had brought Sam to her, heaven had had no hand in it, that was assured.

  At that moment he turned his head, caught her gaze on him. His expression didn't change, but his eyes did. The flash of hunger in them called to an answering emotion, demanded a response.

  Afraid her reaction was all too visible on her face, she reached for her pack, ducking her head as she dug for the night-vision binoculars. "I'm going to see if anyone's coming," she murmured. Sam offered no protest as she rose on shaky legs and went to do a perimeter scan. She stopped short of the road that ran in front of the estate and backtracked to check out the opposite side of the compound. Oppenheimer had cameras mounted beside the gates blocking his driveway, and she didn't know their range. There had been no reason to find out. She would never have contemplated going through the front. The risk was too great.