SPY: His Mission. His Orders. His Promise.

by Maggie Carpenter

  "Even if he did she has nothing to tell him. She thinks I'm on my way to Los Angeles in advance of the exhibition, and she's replaceable. Everyone's replaceable—except you Xavier. Get stronger. You need to take care of me the way you did before we hit Vegas."

  "I will, Vickie. I miss sucking your cock."

  "And I need it so you'd better get better. You don't want to upset me."

  "I never want to upset you. I'll eat whatever you bring me."

  "Good boy. I'm going up front to find out why we're not moving."

  As Victor walked through the cabin the frown on his forehead deepened. The aircraft was far grander than his, but being at Oleg's mercy was disconcerting. If Oleg didn't fly him back to Los Angeles he'd have to pay a ridiculous amount of money to have his plane brought to London, then pay again to return to LA. His only other choice would be a commercial flight, and he couldn't do that with Xavier.

  "Fucking Oleg," he grunted under his breath. "What would happen if I put a bullet through his head? That microdot must be worth a fortune. I wonder what's on it? Maybe I could get rid of Oleg and put the word out that I'm the one who has it. Oleg dead and out of my life. This definitely needs thinking about. "

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Leo decided to move Taylor from the gym and into the room Andy had been using. Even if she managed to break the window, the bedroom was on the second floor with flagstone beneath. There weren't enough bed sheets to send her low enough to fall safely, and if she tried it she'd break an ankle. The house was relatively new to the organization and Leo was surprised the gym was the only truly secure room, at least as far as he knew, so he'd installed an outside bolt on the bedroom door.

  "I've taken pity on you," he said as he led her up the stairs and ushered her in. "You can have this room, but if you give me any trouble you'll go back downstairs."

  "Thanks."

  "I'm going to cook up something to eat. How do you feel about pasta?"

  "Fine."

  "Are you allergic to anything?"

  "No."

  "What happened to the smart-mouthed chatterbox? Suddenly you're mono-syllabic."

  "I don't have anything to say. You told me I was screwed and to deal with it. I'm dealing with it."

  "Fair enough. Make yourself comfortable."

  "Wait. This person you said is coming to talk to me, what's that about?"

  "My office thinks you might have some information they need."

  "Your office?"

  "My office?"

  "FBI? CIA? What?"

  "None of your beeswax."

  "When he's finished interrogating me can I leave?"

  "That's not my call, but you came here to shoot someone. That's attempted murder."

  "Except I never got the chance, and in our business we have our orders. You do too. I was just following mine. From what I understand Oliver Barton shot Victor's men. It wasn't personal for him, and coming here to shoot him wasn't personal for me. I happen to like Oliver Barton. I would have enjoyed spending more time with him, but alas, that was not in the cards. I'd like to know you better too."

  "I'll just bet you would," he retorted, "but that's not in the cards either. Like I said, what happens to you is not my call, but you might want to think about a good defense. Maybe if you offer more than, I was just following orders, you might get lucky, but I don't know whose coming. Some of our guys are tougher than others."

  "We have that problem too. It's all about the person on the other end of the phone."

  "Or holding the gun."

  "Yeah, or holding the gun."

  "I'll be back soon."

  Closing and bolting the door, Leo broke into a grin. She was a smart, savvy operative. It was a shame she worked for a grimy underworld figure like Victor, but it had been her decision. She'd accepted what the Russian mobster had offered, and now she was paying for it.

  "Life is all about choices, Taylor, and you made a bad one when you chose to work for that psycho."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  London, England

  When Natalie, Oliver and Andy had landed at Stansted Airport just outside of London, they were met by two waiting Range Rovers, one for Natalie and Oliver, the other for Andy, who wasn't thrilled about being taken away by a stranger.

  "I told you about this on the plane," Oliver reminded him. "You need to be debriefed but you mustn't worry, you'll be extremely well taken care of. I'll be seeing you as soon as the situation with Victor has been dealt with, and I may even call on you for some help."

  "I feel really weird about this."

  "Would you prefer to return to Vegas?" Natalie asked. "You don't have to go through with this if you don't want to. If you're getting cold feet—"

  "No, I'm not. Not at all," he exclaimed. "Sorry. I'm fine now. Truly. Thanks for everything."

  Waiting until he'd climbed into the back of the Rover and the SUV had driven off, Natalie and Oliver walked across to the car that had been waiting for them, but as they approached she paused and touched his arm.

  "That thing is bothering me again."

  "What thing?"

  "That thing I can't remember."

  "It'll come to you, but I find it interesting it should pop back in your head just as we were saying goodbye to Andy."

  "I was thinking the same."

  "Come on, let's get in the car. Thomas, this is Natalie," he said to the driver as she climbed in. "Natalie, this is Thomas DuPont."

  "Of the DuPonts?" she asked as Oliver closed her door and climbed into the front passenger seat.

  "Related, but only distantly. Nice to meet you. We were very impressed by your work in Las Vegas."

  "Thank you," Natalie beamed. "I loved every minute."

  "Oliver," Thomas said solemnly, turning back to face him, "the office asked me to extend our congratulations. We're greatly relieved."

  "All in a day's work."

  "Not this one. This one was, well, you know."

  "Yeah, I know," Oliver nodded. "I couldn't have pulled it off without Natalie and Andy. So what's the latest? I assume Pichenko has arrived."

  "He landed about two hours ago at Heathrow and we tracked him to an estate in the Cottswalds. A drone has given us an aerial image of the property. Take a look."

  As he handed Oliver a tablet, Natalie leaned over the center console to view the image. The stately home was surrounded by manicured grounds and boasted a small lake with an island.

  "Zoom in on the island," Thomas said. "The white blob is a structure. A folly actually, a replica of a Roman Temple. That's where the relic is."

  "If the tracker has pinpointed the artifact there, then the folly must be his vault," Oliver remarked.

  "Or the vault is underneath it. That building is too small to house the collection we believe Victor has."

  "Any thoughts about how I'm going to get in there?"

  "It won't be easy. Obviously the only way to reach the island is across the water and it's in full view of the house. On the back side there's a heavily wooded area and we're still trying to figure out how to access it, but I'm sure if will have some kind of security."

  "Wouldn't the answer be scuba gear," Natalie suggested, "or am I missing something?"

  "It's tough to say. We'll know more in the coming hours, but in the meantime we have you booked into the Buckland Manor. Your names are Elizabeth and Alan Prichard. It's only about ten minutes from the estate. Here are your I.D.s."

  "And Fanny?" Oliver asked. "I might need her."

  "Fanny will be arriving this afternoon. This Rover will be your vehicle until we can get her to you, though the office is worried the Ferrari will draw too much attention."

  "The Cottswalds is used to the sight of exotic cars, but you might be right."

  "This Rover is fully equipped."

  "Then let Fanny stay in the garage."

  "Any more questions?"

  "Phones?"

  "I have them right here," Thomas said, opening a leather pouch that was sitting on
his lap. "One for you, Natalie, and here's yours, Oliver."

  "What are these for?" she asked. "I already have a phone."

  "Not like the one you're holding. It's weaponized. Among other things it can record when it appears to be powered off, it can send out an SOS signal with a light squeeze to the top right-hand corner, and a great deal more. I'll let Oliver walk you through everything. It's a very important piece of equipment and we'd be grateful if you didn't lose it."

  "I'll make sure I don't," she promised, staring at the innocent looking phone.

  "Oliver, do you have something for me?"

  "Yes, here you are," Oliver declared, and reaching into the zippered inside breast pocket of his jacket, he withdrew a small case used for contact lenses. "One deadly microdot."

  "I can't believe you pulled this off," Thomas said gravely. "I had my doubts."

  "As I said earlier, without Natalie and that whiz kid I'm not sure I'd be sitting here right now. Make sure he's taken care of."

  "I'll be sitting in on his interviews, the first one anyway. I'll watch out for him."

  "He prefers Andy over Andrei," Natalie said. "It's important."

  "Ah, good to know."

  "May I ask what's on that microdot?"

  "When it's safely locked away or destroyed. I will say it's imperative it be kept out of the hands of bad actors. "

  "Why did Victor want to bring it here? Can you tell me that?"

  "Its value is—well—it's incomprehensible, and we believe he was bringing it to his vault for delivery to Oleg Brovko."

  "Why do I know that name?"

  "He's one of the most powerful criminal figures in the world," Oliver replied, "but if you ran across him he'd be introduced as a philanthropist and lover of the arts. He belongs to a group of men who control the underworld and they're immensely wealthy. They're involved in human trafficking, narcotics of course, arms dealing, you name it. Oleg would have sold that dot to a terrorist nation, a rogue regime, or even one of his partners in crime."

  "I need to get going," Thomas said, opening his door. "Good luck to both of you. I'll be in touch the minute I have more information. At least you have the advantage of surprise. No-one knows you're here. We've even got Martin checked into a hotel under your name in Los Angeles near where the exhibition will be held."

  "Clever! Any word yet on when Oleg will be arriving?"

  "Not yet. Oh, one thing I forgot to mention," Thomas said as he climbed out. "He flew Victor here on one of his jets. I'll be in touch."

  As Oliver slipped from his seat to walk around the car and sit behind the wheel, Natalie moved into the front passenger seat, and buckling up her seat belt she studied the console and dashboard. It looked like any other Range Rover.

  "He said it's fully equipped. Does that mean it flies as well?"

  "That option is a tad expensive," he said with a grin. "Are you ready for the next adventure?"

  "Can't wait," she said with a wide smile. "I love the Cottswalds, and the Buckland Manor? Doesn't get much better than that."

  "It would have been chosen because a copter can land on the grounds," Oliver said as he headed towards the exit, "but I quite agree, and with any luck we'll have a four-poster room."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  As Oliver drove through the gates of Buckland Manor, Natalie could feel her pulse tick up. The grand hotel had a stellar reputation, and it was a place she'd been wanting to visit since she'd first heard about it, but she never dreamed she'd be doing so under such electrifying circumstances.

  "It's gorgeous," she murmured as the SUV rolled to a stop. "Just like the photographs, but I have one teensy complaint."

  "Can I guess?"

  "Again?"

  "I might be wrong."

  "Go ahead."

  "It irks you that I've been here before, and probably in the company of a woman."

  "I don't believe it. You really can read my mind."

  "It's adding two-and-two, and there's no reason to be jealous."

  "I can't help it."

  "I did have a life before I met you, though not much of one after you disappeared, and with you at my side it will feel as if I'm here for the first time."

  "Good answer, Oliver Barton!"

  "I have them on occasion, Mrs. Prichard. Shall we?"

  "Oops, that's right. I almost forgot. We shall, Mr. Prichard."

  Climbing from the Rover, Natalie stared up at the historical house, and as she took in the grandeur she could sense its history. Walking up the shallow steps, through a brick alcove and into the hall, she found the interior to be just as impressive, and after being led up a grand staircase and entering their room, she never wanted to leave the property. The four-post bed with its heavy draperies sat across from a red brick fireplace, and the exquisitely paneled walls boasted portraits and etchings from a bygone era.

  "I'm going to have a bedroom exactly like this," she murmured, admiring all it had to offer. "Maybe a little bigger with a desk by the window, but otherwise just the same."

  "It does hold a unique appeal," Oliver agreed, and tilting his head and looking at her he added, "I rather fancy I'm a royal personage, and you're a naughty wench brought to my quarters for discipline."

  "A naughty wench? Me, Sir?" she twinkled. "I'm begging your pardon. Please don't be too hard on me."

  "I'll be as hard on you as I wish," he said, lowering his voice as he strode towards her. "You're going over my knee, then I'll have my way with you. Strip for me girl, and be quick about it."

  Oliver had planned on teaching her how to use the phone, but the fun fantasy had stirred his cock, and quickly moving to the windows he closed the drapes. The room fell dark, but as he switched on the bedside lamp the chamber was flooded with a dimly lit, old-world, romantic ambience. Natalie was removing her bra, and as he turned to walk back to her, he paused at the foot of the bed, pushing aside the heavy fabric falling from the canopy.

  "Just as I thought," he declared. "Knickers smartly off, then come over here, bend at the waist and take hold of this post."

  Her tummy tumbling and feeling oddly self-conscious, Natalie hurried over to him, and as her fingers curled around the cool wood, she wondered how many other fractious females had been in the same position.

  "Bottom further out and arch your back, that's better. Tell me wench, why did you flirt so brazenly with another woman's husband. Lady Mary was most put out."

  "I wasn't flirting, Sir," she said coquettishly. "The gentleman called me over and asked me to fetch him a glass of wine."

  "But it's been reported that you smiled and looked up at him in a most provocative manner. Are you calling Lady Mary a liar?"

  "Uh, no, Sir. Perhaps I did do that. I found him very attractive."

  "Aha, so the truth comes out. Such behavior is completely unacceptable."

  "I'm sorry, Sir."

  "Tell me your name."

  "Elizabeth Prichard, Sir."

  "I'm going to spank you, Elizabeth, as you should be spanked, and if you let go of that post I'll take my cane to you."

  "Oh, please, no, Sir, not the cane."

  "Spread your legs. It's obvious you wanted carnal attention, so after reddening your backside you shall have it, and while I'm punishing you I'll enjoy the sight of your pussy becoming wet and ready for my manhood."

  Surrounded by treasures from the past Oliver was feeling every bit a Lord and Master, and fleetingly wondered if he'd played out such a scene in a past life. With the compelling thought hovering through his mind, he stepping forward, wrapped his arm around her waist, and began slapping her curvaceous cheeks with gusto.

  Natalie was also swept up in the fantasy. Oliver's aristocratic accent blended perfectly with the surroundings, and as his hand rose and fell, she gasped and begged his forgiveness, promising never again to act in such a brazen manner.

  "You'll remember your station," Oliver barked, increasing the force of his smacks, "or you'll feel the rod."

  As she stamped her f
oot, he caught sight of her glistening pussy. Slipping his fingers between her pink, puffy lips, he found her gloriously soaked, and quickly dropping his slacks and underwear, he plunged his rampant cock inside her.

  "Now I shall fuck you as a wench should be fucked. This is what you wanted from Lord Percy, is it not?"

  "It is, Sir," she panted, "but may I say, Sir, I'm glad you're the one fucking me."

  "Insolent girl," he exclaimed, gripping her waist and pumping faster. "Such words coming from your mouth."

  "But you said them, and surely you like to hear them."

  "Such impudence! You don't know what thoughts live in a gentleman's mind."

  "Fuck me harder, Sir, fuck me harder."

  "I can see I must teach you respect."

  Carefully pulling out, he moved one hand between her legs and fervently rubbed her clit as he spanked her with the other. Her moans became louder and more frequent, and as she caught her breath and tossed her head, he abruptly returned his hold to her hips and thrust back inside her.

  "Ooh, Sir, I was there."

  "That's what happens to saucy, cheeky wenches," he proclaimed as he continued to pound her pussy. "Their pleasure is withheld."

  "I'll be good, I swear, Sir."

  "You'll remain at my beck and call. I will personally teach you manners. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "You must call me Lord or call me Master. From this moment forward I'm both."

  As he'd spoken the words he'd truly felt them, and his cock responded. His climax was looming, and as he accelerated he sensed she was on the brink.

  "Please, my Lord, let me come? I'm—I'm—"

  "Yes you will, you'll come for me now," he growled, and with several robust strokes he exploded to the sounds of her euphoric cries.

  Moments later he slipped out of her, and still catching her breath she crawled on the bed and flopped on her stomach. Turning her head she saw him taking off the last of his clothes, and as he climbed up next to her and pulled her into his arms, she melted against him.

  "Hello, Lord and Master," she purred. "Your wench is here to serve you, though totally unable to move."