The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  “Then good day, Miss George.”

  I turned and walked briskly toward the front entrance, thinking of all the glares and snide remarks I’d have to endure. When you had the head of the Office of Strategic Services and three FBI officials waiting for you, it was a good idea to at least be on time.

  “Miss George?”

  I turned toward the unfamiliar male voice. “Yes?”

  “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

  I noted the naval officer’s rank, and I said to the general in the most apologetic tone I could muster, “I’m a bit in a rush. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll keep up.” The burly man’s freckled face broke into a smile, and he offered me his arm.

  “Do I know you?” We began walking toward the Munitions building.

  “I’m Frederick Raye. You might know my daughter.” We stepped outside into the sunlight and headed to the adjacent building.

  I smiled. “I might.”

  General Raye’s daughter, Bianca, was my officemate back in London. We were operatives for the Special Operations Executive, one of the few agencies that really took a chance on female spies joining the Ally cause. When I had first met Bianca, I thought she’d run back home to her father after a week with SOE, but she had proved me wrong, and became damned good at her job.

  He laughed when he saw my expression. “How’s Bianca doing?”

  “Very well so far. I promise we’ll take good care of her, General Raye. She’s a very capable young woman.”

  “Please, call me Fred.” We entered the Munitions building, and he walked me all the way up to my meeting room. Either he was a very classy gentleman, or he really had something else to say.

  “Thank you, Fred.”

  “My pleasure, and, if you don’t mind me saying, I’m sure Major George would have been very pleased to see how his daughter has turned out.”

  For a moment my mouth moved, but no words came forth. My father had been well liked and respected when he served in the military, up until he disappeared sixteen years ago. “You knew my dad?”

  “I might have.” He winked at me and knocked on the door. A short balding man answered and gave him a mildly shocked look--while saving a scathing one for me.

  “You’re late, Miss George.”

  “My apologies,” Fred stepped in and held the door for me. “I was speaking with Miss George and I guess I held her up a little too long.” He said this loud enough for the men inside to hear.

  “Thank you, sir.” I gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement and slipped inside.

  General William Donovan, the head of OSS, sat at the conference table at the end of the room. His wide forehead and square face made him look sterner than he actually was. Two other men in the room, probably agents, were in one of the corners enjoying drinks with their backs turned to me.

  “All right, gentlemen,” Donovan motioned for me to sit at the table across from him. “Agent George from the Special Operations Executive is here.”

  The balding man grunted as he walked alongside me and rolled his eyes as he took a seat at Donovan’s right. He faced me. “Miss George, I’m Special Agent Andrew Lainey...FBI.”

  One of the men who had been enjoying drinks came over. He had fair hair and a lanky build. “I’m Luke Jameson.” He shook my hand and took a seat next to Lainey.

  “And I believe there are no introductions needed between us, Isabella?” Neal Warren came over and claimed the seat next to me. His dark hair was brushed into a side part and, as usual, his hazel eyes observed everything and everyone in the immediate environment.

  “Hello, Neal. It’s good to see you again.” It was a pleasant surprise to see him here. Agent Neal Warren was my British counterpart at MI6 and had also trained at the Gray Tower.

  “Agent Warren,” General Donovan began, “thank you for the report regarding the progress of our friends in England. We’re taking the attacks on our naval forces in the Pacific very seriously. I think it’s safe to tell your superiors in London that they can expect OSS to continue supporting your efforts in Europe.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Neal said in his British accent.

  Lainey drew in a deep breath and ran his fingers through his receding hairline. “You do know that unless we officially declare war, we can only offer a certain level of support at this time?”

  Neal nodded. “Of course.”

  Lainey turned to me and added, “And Agent George, we’ve received your report on behalf of SOE. You’ve done well considering your obvious disadvantage, darling.”

  I bit my lip at the backhanded compliment. “Thank you.”

  General Donovan glanced at Neal. “Agent Warren, a rather...delicate situation has come to our attention. About three weeks ago an OSS safe house in the south of France was destroyed. Two OSS operatives and the host were killed, as well as a member of the U.S. Army who was stranded there. Only one person survived, and he’s in protective custody.”

  Neal showed no visible reaction. “And you’re telling me this because...?”

  “Because the culprit was a wizard,” General Donovan said, eyeing us both intently, “a member of the Order.”

  That knot in my stomach suddenly returned. “How do you know it wasn’t a warlock masquerading as one of us?”

  “The survivor insists this was no warlock. I don’t know whether he’s paranoid or just scared out of his wits, but he’s not even giving us the details. All we know is that he said the attacker was from the Gray Tower.”

  “Sir,” Neal straightened his posture, “I am here to represent MI6, not the Gray Tower. Perhaps this matter should be brought up with the Tower’s emissary here in Washington.”

  What a load of crap. Neal Warren worked for the Gray Tower first and foremost, no matter who his employer was. I gave Neal a sidelong glance, and gauging the other men’s expressions, it seemed I wasn’t the only one thinking this. I cleared my throat and spoke up. “General Donovan, with all due respect, I’m here on leave and would appreciate it if I were left out of this. If Neal...I mean, Agent Warren is willing to investigate this, then you’ll have this solved in no time.”

  “Or, perhaps you can tell us what exactly the Gray Tower has been up to these days,” Lainey said, leaning back in his chair. I was waiting for him to rub his balding head again.

  I gazed in Neal’s direction to see if he would answer, and then I faced Lainey. “I can only speak of my own experience. SOE has taken in several wizards trained by the Gray Tower to help counteract the Black Wolves. They...I would never do anything to betray the Allies, or my country.” What the hell was this? It went from a debriefing to the Inquisition in ten seconds flat.

  Jameson set his empty glass down and stared at Neal and me. With Jameson’s lean frame and youthful face, his attempt to look intimidating didn’t quite work. “Can you tell us what the Gray Tower’s--”

  “I’m sorry, Agent Jameson.” I stood. “I thought I was here to help you convince the president that we needed to join the Allies and help finish this war.” I may have hated many things about the Order, but I wasn’t here to be turned into a pawn against it.

  “Take a seat, Miss George.” Lainey’s voice grew tense and he gestured toward me to sit back down. “You’re walking a fine line, girl. Are you loyal to America? Or to the Gray Tower?”

  “Are you saying I can’t be trusted?” Did these men even read my report? Did they know all the hell I went through and all the friends I had lost?

  “Gentlemen,” Neal said, “even if what you say is true, it doesn’t mean this murderer’s actions were sanctioned by the Gray Tower. And unless either of us has a direct tie to this mysterious wizard, then it makes no sense to lure us here and compel us to investigate.”

  They all exchanged glances, and then Lainey shot back, “Make no mistake that I could have you arrested if I wanted.”

  General Donovan held up his hand to signal silence from Lainey. “Agents Warren and George, you’re free to leave. I simp
ly believed that things would go more smoothly if members of the Order were to investigate this matter. This war...it’s got people questioning their alliances, their friends...even themselves. The world isn’t what it used to be.”

  “I understand, sir,” I said.

  The Master Wizards may have sometimes come off as cold or disdainful toward the world, but they at least prided themselves on a reputation of being champions of justice. It also wouldn’t be helpful to breed tension between a country and the Gray Tower, especially when the world hung on such a delicate balance.

  Neal shifted in his seat. I could tell that he had figured out at least half the case already, but needed to hold back in order to spoon-feed it to the rest of us. Sometimes I hated Philosophers. “You think the murderer is here,” Neal said, “or is at least en route to the U.S. You’ve decided that it would be much more judicious for members of the Order to catch the culprit here in America and turn him in so that the Gray Tower would be forced to recognize the crime and prosecute the murderer under Tower law. You want to avoid open conflict with the Order--that is a wise decision.”

  Lainey said in a low voice to General Donovan, “Watch it, now. This Brit here is one of those wizards who likes to mess with your mind.”

  Neal wasn’t a mentalist, but I doubted the distinction mattered to Lainey, who probably disliked anyone with a head full of hair. As a Philosopher, Neal could prognosticate or project others’ actions based on mathematics, logic, and an understanding of human nature. He also dabbled in enchantments.

  In any case, I’ve had enough and was too irritated to listen to the men’s solicitations any further. I wanted to go home. “Well, I’m sure Agent Warren will take care of your rogue wizard. I apologize, but I don’t think this investigation is for me.”

  General Donovan sighed. “Are you sure, Agent George?”

  “Why do you want us specifically?” I glanced at Neal and wondered why he even entertained the idea of us hunting for a crazy wizard.

  The general gazed straight into my eyes from across the table. “I think you can help...Neal too. I’ve known him for a while now, and based on your SOE file, you’ve proven yourself very capable. I respect what you do.”

  “Yeah, despite my obvious disadvantage.” I crossed my arms.

  “I told you they wouldn’t help,” Lainey said to General Donovan.

  “On the contrary,” Neal said, “I’ll start today.”

  “Well, I’m not.” I shook my head and rose from my seat. I headed toward the door.

  “Your father would’ve helped...” The general caught my attention and gave me that piercing gaze again.

  “And where is my father now?” I opened the door and gave them all one last indignant look when that jerk Lainey addressed me.

  “If you won’t do it for us, then at least do it for Kenneth Aspen.”

  I paused, though I knew I’d hate myself later for doing so. “What are you talking about?”

  Lainey waited until I had come back in and stood next to my seat. He answered, “One of the OSS operatives killed in that safe house was Kenneth Aspen. We figured you two must’ve been pretty close...he willed half of his possessions to you.”

  My stomach tightened and I sucked in a painful breath. It took all my strength not to crumble in front of these men. I tried to process what Lainey just told me, and it felt unreal; I told myself this must be a mistake. Though Ken and I had parted under less than desirable circumstances, it wouldn’t have stopped us from caring about one another. And now? I’d never be able to make anything right with him. How was I supposed to be able to pick the next restaurant if he weren’t even here in the world with me?

  I heard Neal’s familiar British accent, though it seemed far away. “I’m sorry, Isabella.”

  I grew cold, and faced Lainey with his balding head and imagined a target right on it. “Don’t you think you should’ve told me this sooner?”

  Lainey sat in his chair looking uneasy, while Jameson stood and towered over us, offering an apology. General Donovan cleared his throat and spoke. “You have our condolences, Miss George.”

  I really didn’t care whether or not the general was sincere. “When can I talk to the survivor?”

  “I’ll send Jameson and Lainey around this time tomorrow morning to pick you up from your hotel room. They’re the lead agents on this investigation, and I thought it would be helpful for you to get acquainted with them.”

  Oh, I was acquainted with them all right. There was no way I was going to work with these FBI agents. I turned to face Neal. “Are you at the Henley hotel too?”

  He shook his head. “But I’ll meet you there in the morning. Please, let me walk you out.”

  As soon as we stepped out of the room and walked down the hall a few paces, my eyes burned with tears, but I still wouldn’t let them fall. My body was hurting all over. “They could’ve told me about Ken at the beginning.”

  “They should have,” Neal said. The last time Neal and I were in each other’s company, I had told him about Ken and the whole botched marriage proposal. He said it was fascinating.

  I thought about the men in the meeting and directed all my resentment toward them--especially Lainey. While they probably didn’t know about my romance with Ken, they were at least aware that we had crossed paths in Europe and had gone on a couple of missions together. They were probably saving the news of Ken’s death for last, to ensure that I’d agree to help investigate. But why me? And what would make them think I’d help after how they’ve treated me?

  “Whoever did this,” I said to Neal, “I’m going to find him.” I couldn’t say whether or not I’d bring him to justice or kill him, though to be honest, in that moment, I felt like they were one and the same.

  Neal pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to me. “All by yourself? I think not.”

  I shuddered as I dabbed my cheeks and wiped my nose. “They can all go to hell. They knew what happened to Ken and they brought me in there--”

  “You’ll need the FBI agents’ cooperation if you want access to the survivor, and their resources.”

  “I can do this on my own...”

  He pulled my Agate stone ring from his pocket, the one I had given Brande. I was surprised to see that he had it. I had told Brande that if he ever needed to send a message to me, that he should send the ring. I left it with Brande in France when I convinced him to return to the Gray Tower and work on helping me from the inside. He was one of the seven trackers commissioned to hunt the Drifter--which everyone believed was my father. The Agate stone ring represented the pact Brande and I made, and I could taste the essence of the silver the stone was set in, and even detect a faint trace of Brande’s scent.

  “Brande told me everything,” Neal said, “and asked that I look after you for a while.” He pressed the ring into my hand. “Is that acceptable?”

  I nodded. “All right.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.” He gave a soft smile.

  “Bye, Neal.”

  He left in the opposite direction and, as I walked down the hallway, I instinctively grasped the diamond ring Ken had left me, bitterly telling myself that he would’ve been alive if I hadn’t botched his proposal. This morning I had hung it on a thin silver chain around my neck. I would have to take it off once I returned to London for assignment, but at least for now, I’d keep it on me. I slipped the Agate stone ring onto my finger, and was almost to the door that led to the stairwell when I noticed one of the name placards on an office door: ROBERT CAMBRIA.

  He knew my father, and maybe even kept in contact with him. I calmed myself and went for the door with a timid knock. I heard a muffled voice on the other side telling me to enter.

  I opened the door and stepped halfway in when I saw a man no older than me sitting behind the desk. He had cropped jet-black hair and a muscular build. “I’m sorry,” I said, expecting to find a man who would be older and grayer. “I was looking for the general.”

  “Isabella?”
He smiled. “Is that you?”

  I closed the door behind me and stood in shock as he came around to embrace me. “Rob?”

  He gave me a hug and then took a step back to look me up and down. “Every now and then someone wanders in here looking for Robert Sr. I’m guessing you were too.”

  “I saw the name placard and just remembered him. How is your father?”

  “He’s well,” he said, reaching into his desk. “He retired a few years back and lives up in Boston.”

  He pulled out a pen and sheet of paper, and began scribbling. I noticed a framed picture of him, his wife and young son on his desk. I felt ill to my stomach and wanted to weep. I didn’t want to cry in front of Rob and have to start explaining everything, so I kept telling myself that if I could just make it back to my hotel room, then I’d be okay.

  “So...you have a family?” I accepted the note from him. It had his father’s phone number and address.

  “Yes, and another addition arriving soon. How about you?”

  “No such luck, as of yet.” I gave a weak smile. “They’re beautiful...congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” he came around and sat on the edge of his desk. “How are Johnnie and your mother?”

  “They’re well. I’ll actually be going home to them tomorrow or Wednesday. There were just some things I had to take care of with OSS.”

  “That sounds swell. Hey, I heard you went to the Gray Tower...so is that like the Freemasons but with magic?”

  I smiled and shook my head. “No, but I was only there for a few years. They trained me as an alchemist.”

  When an awkward silence fell between us, he said, “Well, I’ll have to call on you sometime and invite you to dinner with us.”

  “That...sounds nice.” I slipped the note into my purse.

  “It’s good to see you again.” He smiled with that same cheerful expression I remembered from long ago.

  “You too, Rob. Take care.” I gave him a peck on the cheek and turned toward the door. I paused when he called out to me.

  “Just a second,” he said, reaching into his desk again. He pulled out a small key and handed it to me. “I know this may sound crazy, but my father left this with me the day he retired. He said you’d come for it.”