"Not much use then," he murmured, letting out a long breath. "I might keep you around though. You're quite pretty to look at."
"What's that sound?" she asked, hearing a muffled ringing.
"Blast. That's Thomas. At least he has good timing."
"Shouldn't you answer it?"
"Unfortunately," he grumbled as he moved off the bed and retrieved it from his jacket. "Yes, Thomas?"
"Oliver, I was worried. I was about to call the hotel."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to take so long. I couldn't find the phone. You have news I assume."
"What do you want first, the good news or the bad?"
"Bad."
"Taylor Manning has escaped. We have no idea where she is."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The expression on Oliver's face told Natalie something was wrong, and sitting up she leaned in hoping she'd be able to hear what Thomas was saying.
"Thomas, do you mind if I put you on speaker? Natalie's with me."
"Go ahead."
"Okay, you're on. What do you mean Taylor Manning has disappeared? Was she kidnapped or did she escape? Is Leo all right?"
"Leo's fine and it's a mystery how she did what she did."
"Which is what?"
"We sent Simon to interrogate her, and somehow she managed to drug him. Leo walked in and found him passed out. Leo's blaming himself for not bolting the door, but why would he while an agent was with her?"
"Where was Leo holding her?"
"In the room Andrei had been using."
"But that door doesn't have an outside bolt."
"He installed one so she'd be secure in a room with a bed overnight."
"Was he in the house when she left?"
"He said he'd left for a quick grocery run and when he got back she was gone, but there's more. The car she arrived in was still there, and Leo saw a helicopter fly overhead coming from the direction of the house when he was returning."
"Damn."
"Simon's phone is missing. Obviously she used it to contact whoever picked her up. Thankfully there's nothing on it she or anyone else can use."
"That's such a smart rule. Burner phones only during an interrogation."
"It's not often something like this happens, but when it does that rule matters."
"I hate that she's on the loose."
"She doesn't know where you are. Your cover's still good."
"If she goes to Los Angeles, which I assume she will, the first thing she'll do is try to track me down."
"We've already contacted Martin so he knows to be extra careful, and he'll be leaving signs that you're there."
"What's the good news?"
"We know how you can access the woods behind the island, but we uncovered the security protocols on the estate and there are cameras in those trees. There are also cameras around the structure on the island, the manor and the grounds. There seems to be life in the lake. We can't ascertain what that life is, but knowing Victor he could have anything from moray eels to black Piranhas. We're not happy with you attempting scuba."
"Can you hack the surveillance system?"
"We're trying. It's a tough one."
"Put Andy on it. He's a genius. You know he got into the hotel's system."
"I took that idea to Father but he said no. Andy is still being analyzed and it's too soon to let him into our control room."
"So we let this opportunity slip away?"
"No, we go back after Victor leaves. It will be much easier. At this point out goal is to get into that vault."
"I disagree. Oleg and Victor will be in one place, probably surrounded by millions of dollars of stolen art. It's our chance to get them both and lock them up. We'd be crazy to walk away."
"Father here, Oliver. I just had Stella conference me in. I wanted to congratulate you personally. The microdot is exactly what we believed it to be and it's now being turned into a tiny pile of ash."
"That's great news. The world is a safer place."
"Still frighteningly dangerous, but yes, it is. I just heard what you said to Thomas. You might be correct. I'll talk to the analyst and see if he has any insight yet, but I'm not hopeful. They've only been chatting a short while."
"Andy won't be out in the field. He'll be sitting at a desk behind a computer."
"A desk at HQ, and if he's as proficient as you say he could access our network."
"Can't you set him up offsite?"
"Hmmm, interesting suggestion. I'll get back to you. Hold on, someone's sending me an urgent text on my other phone. Confirmed sighting of Oleg Brovko. He landed at a small private airfield just outside of Oxford."
"He's here and he's less than an hour away."
"I'll call you right back. Stay close to the phone."
"Thomas are you still there?"
"Yes, I'm here. I do have some other news. There's a tall brick wall that runs around the entire property. Behind the forest it fronts a narrow country lane that bends around and abuts a hillock. That could be your entry point. If we get the okay to use Andy, and he can mess with the surveillance cameras, I'll get you an inflatable raft. That's our starting point."
"Oliver, Thomas," Father said, rejoining the conversation, "I have some good news. Oleg is traveling in the opposite direction and heading into London. He must have some business there first. We have some time."
"Oxford's between London and here. It's a midway point for him," Oliver remarked. "That makes sense. This is great news. Now we can put a plan in place that's been researched and thought through."
"Thomas will be back in touch with my decision about Andrei, and Oliver, it must be respected."
"I understand."
"You could be in my shoes one day, and if that happens you'll have a greater understanding of my position. Sometimes opportunities are doorways into black holes. There are many considerations."
"Quite right."
"Goodbye, Oliver, and Miss Freeman…"
"Uh, yes, Sir?"
"Father."
"Yes, Father?"
"I'm looking forward to watching you in the days to come."
"Thank you, Father. I won't let you down."
"I'll be back in touch soon," Thomas said, "and Oliver, please keep your phone close. I would prefer not to die of a heart attack. I'm only forty-three."
"Will do."
The call ended, and Oliver dropped his phone on the bedside table and laid back.
"Thomas just scolded you," Natalie giggled.
"That amuses you?"
"Totally."
"It's your fault. I'll have to punish you being so distracting."
"Can't wait."
"Ooh, Natalie, you shouldn't say things like that."
"As I've said before, I can't help myself. Oliver, there's something I don't quite understand. Isn't what you're doing illegal? If the police catch you breaking into a property, can't they arrest you?"
"It's a complicated answer, but I'll do my best. The Force is unofficially sanctioned by the intelligence services of the countries of our agents. Often we work together. We can do things outside their parameters. When they ask us to do them a favor sometimes we do, sometimes we don't, and the reverse applies. It can be a love/hate relationship, but if one of us gets picked up by the local coppers we're out in a matter of hours. Does that answer your question?"
"It does. You're a spy agency for the spy agencies."
"I suppose we are."
"Now I have another question. I'm hungry. That restaurant downstairs looked amazing. Can we have some lunch?"
"Outstanding suggestion, then we'll get in the Rover and do some exploring. I understand there are some interesting country lanes not far from here," he said with a wink.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
In the backseat of a Mercedes Maybach, Oleg Brovko stared out at the picturesque landscape as it floated by his window, but he wasn't appreciating the beauty, he was focusing on the problem he was about to face.
He had pla
nned to meet Victor immediately upon landing, but a crisis had developed and it needed his personal attention. Crises were not uncommon and he took them in stride, but he did find it annoying when he had to put postpone an important meeting, especially one as critical as collecting the microdot. But the dot was in a safe place, and the crisis couldn't wait.
A traitor had tipped off the police, and a few hours earlier a raid had not only cost Oleg several million dollars in lost heroine, it had put his network at risk. The alleged rat, a reliable, long-standing dealer named Rocket, had been in police custody, and it was shortly after his release the police had swooped in.
Spider, the man who had accused Rocket of the treachery, was one of the leaders of Oleg's London narcotics ring. He'd worked for Oleg for several years and the story seemed to fit, but Oleg knew Spider was the real culprit. Oleg had eyes and ears everywhere, and eyes and ears on his eyes and ears. One of his men was in embedded in the drug enforcement squad and had been involved Rocket's interrogation. Even after eight hours of grueling questioning, Rocket had remained loyal.
With a large shipment arriving in three short days, Oleg needed to take control and settle things down. Spider would be slowly tortured to death, and Rocket would be promoted. The dust would settle, his solders would be reminded of what happens to those who crossed him, and his drug trade could go back to business.
Such occurrences were predictable. Shake-ups were necessary and oftentimes expensive, and though several million dollars was not to be sneezed at, an evil smile crossed his lips as he thought about the fortune he would rake in from the sale of the microdot. Though it was as tiny as a piece of confetti, it was worth as much as a small kingdom, and could destroy a nation.
There would be much blood shed before he returned to his Paris apartment. In addition to torturing Spider, he'd probably eliminate Victor Pichenko. The man had put himself at risk. Allowing his relationship with the strangely anemic-looking ex-model to become public had been arrogant and reckless. Personal attachments created vulnerability. A man might be able to withstand his own torture, but cause pain to a loved one and they spilled their guts.
Victor had shown bad judgement. It was unacceptable.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
With Xavier comfortably settled, and the welcome news that Oleg wouldn't be arriving until the following morning, Victor brought the small motorboat slowly into the modest pier. Lassoing the pylon he carefully stepped out with the precious crate under his arm and walked along the dock. Standing proudly ahead of him atop a gentle incline was the replica of a Roman temple, complete with a domed roof and surrounded by pillars. As he approached he paused to withdraw his phone from his pocket and tap the screen. The alarm disengaged, and pushing open the heavily carved door he stepped inside the circular room. It had once only offered stained glass windows, a concrete floor and the large marble fireplace. It now boasted comfortable furniture, and the floors were covered in fluffy rugs. It was where he'd first seduced Xavier, and he had no doubt in centuries past many lovers had made use of its austere quiet and uninterrupted privacy, but he was sure whatever secrets the walls had heard, none could match his.
Quite by accident he'd found what he'd thought was a secret room behind the fireplace. It turned out to be a landing, and a circular staircase led down to an astoundingly large space, twice the size of the folly above. He'd hired a few of his most trusted men to bring in electricity, lay the burgundy carpet, and carry down the antique furniture he'd painstakingly acquired. He'd told them it was going to be his haven, paid them handsomely and swore them to secrecy. Shortly after the work was completed, one by one they'd been killed, some in car accidents, others in muggings, and one had committed suicide by jumping off a bridge.
Walking up to the fireplace he placed his precious cargo on the floor, then using both hands he took hold of the ancient wall sconce a few inches above his head and tugged. It didn't budge.
"Fucking sconce," he bellowed. "I wish I could bring someone in to fix the damn thing."
He tried again. To his great relief it gave, and as he continued to pull it downward, the grating sound of the moving wall filled the room.
Victor's vault contained priceless treasures, but not just works of art. Magnificent jewelry sat on black velvet display stands, paste copies gracing the necks of their former owners, sometimes knowingly, sometimes not. Kilos of cocaine and other drugs were locked in a secret compartment, along with a great deal of cash in various currencies. A display case boasted ancient Japanese swords and knives, and next to it a collection of modern day weaponry. Machine guns, shot guns, pistols and rifles gleamed under a spotlight.
Entering his sacred sanctuary he sat the crate on his desk, lifted the lid, withdrew the artifact, and with a wide smile he let out a satisfied sigh. He'd done it again. Another treasure to behold.
But of all his priceless pieces there was a particular item that outshone them all.
A collection of maroon leather books.
The first had been bought with the proceeds from his initial foray into crime. That's when he'd begun his life's work, detailing accounts of his nefarious activities, and those with whom he'd been involved. They were lined up on a nearby bookcase, and the current journal sat on his antique desk, a desk that was rumored to have once been in Buckingham Palace. He thought it a fitting place upon which to write. He considered himself a Prince of the underworld, and his collection could, and one day would, topple the Kings for whom he worked. The men that had bullied him, threatened him and stole from him. The diaries gave him a sense of power, and when he died they would be his legacy, and his payback from the grave.
Sitting down he opened up his latest journal, glanced across at the relic, and began to write.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The dirt road that skirted the tall brick wall around Victor's estate wasn't as desolate as Oliver had assumed. He'd passed two cars before it curved around and the knoll came into view.
"Care to take a hike with me?" he grinned, pulling to the side and rolling to a stop.
"Absolutely. Let's check out what we're up against."
Reaching past her and retrieving a pair of field glasses from the glove compartment, he climbed from the car and walked around to the passenger side, taking her hand as she stepped out.
"It's such a beautiful day," she remarked as they started up the trail that would take them to the top of the small hill, "but Oliver, this path has seen a lot of feet. I'll bet this is a place where kids come to fool around after dark, and look at the view. It's probably a favorite spot for painters as well."
"You're probably right. That's not good."
They continued the easy climb, reaching the plateau in just a few minutes, and as they sat down on the soft grass Oliver raised the binoculars and studied the wall.
"Take a look," he said, handing them to her. "Tell me what you think."
Lifting them to her eyes she sat silent for a minute, then lowering them to rest on her lap she let out a sigh.
"It appears easy but I don't think it is. The edge looks crumbly. I'd be worried about throwing an anchor over it and having the damn thing give way."
"Well spotted, but check out the columns. They're newer."
"You're right," she agreed, zooming in with the powerful lens.
"They'll be fine," he declared as his phone rang in his pocket, "and there must be news. Hi, Thomas, I'm putting you on speaker so Natalie can listen. Go ahead."
"Hello you two. Father has decided to give your boy a chance, but offsite as you suggested. The equipment is being set up now and one of our team will be with him."
"That's brilliant," Oliver exclaimed. "How long will it take to get things operational?"
"No time at all. Andy claims he can hack into just about any security system, which is good and scary at the same time."
"I know," Oliver muttered. "I'm glad he's on our side."
"If he can do what he says he'd be a welcome addition, assuming he's interested, but
I must be honest. He's awfully young to be recruited. Youth can be unstable."
"I did think about that, but it will be up to Father and the board."
"Indeed."
"We're on the knoll. The wall is doable but I don't like the look of the forest on the other side, and it also appears this might be a popular spot."
"You don't think it will work as an entry point?"
"No. I'm going to look for an alternative."
"Roger that. Assuming Andy deals with the cameras, is there anything you need besides the raft?"
"Hiking boots?" Natalie asked hopefully. "I don't have anything decent for climbing over a wall, whether it's here or somewhere else."
"Not a problem. Size?"
"Seven."
"If you think of anything else just let me know."
"What's the latest on Oleg?" Oliver asked.
"I was just about to tell you. He pulled into one of those new Chelsea developments, stayed about an hour, then left and drove to a warehouse in a rather unsavory area. He's been there all afternoon. We've been trying to set up an outside listening device, but no luck so far."
"What's the problem?"
"He must be running some kind of interference."
"Thanks, Thomas. We'll be scouting here for a while then going back to the hotel. Bye for now."
"Bye, Thomas," Natalie piped up.
"Bye, Natalie, bye Oliver."
"Okay, Mrs. Prichard, tell me. Where are we going now?" Oliver asked as he ended the call.
"To take a look at the other side of the property?"
"Correct, the house, the gate, all of it," he said, and rising to his feet he reached for her hand. "Come along, we have work to do."
Moving quickly down the hill they climbed in the Rover, but as they were driving back they passed another car.
"There's too much activity here," Oliver remarked, "and I think you're right about the kids after dark. It's also the perfect spot for a late night glass of wine. I definitely want to find another option."
Reaching the main street they followed the high wall, but it was interrupted by a paved turn-off with a sign that read, Private Road.
SPY: His Mission. His Orders. His Promise. Page 16