‘It’s like Knox said. We’re the only ones who can do this covertly – otherwise it’ll be all-out war in the government, let alone everywhere else.’ She sighed. ‘And, let’s face it – if anyone else gets the job, our chances of getting a reprieve are over.’
‘Let them deal with it,’ he said, his eyes pleading. ‘I thought we were going to have a quiet life.’
‘No chance of that. Have you seen the crater over there?’ said Eva. ‘That’ll be all over the US Geological Survey website by now. The minute they realise that wasn’t a seismic event, this place will be crawling. We’ve got to get out of here.’
Nathan blinked weary eyes, then shrugged. ‘All right. Lead the way.’
Eva swung her bag over her shoulder and frowned. Decker was peering at his phone screen, the maps app open. ‘Decker? Come on. We need to go – now.’
He looked up, then shook his head. ‘You go to London. It’s too cold for me. I’ll get a lift with you to Tangier, then I’m out of here.’
‘Where are you going?’ said Nathan.
Decker shot him a wicked grin and held up his phone with the weather app displayed. ‘Monaco. Much warmer.’
Chapter Fifty-Three
London
* * *
Eva removed the motorcycle helmet, shook out her hair, and peered across the darkened street at a row of Georgian terraced houses lining the avenue.
Ornate street lamps cast a dappled light through sycamore tree branches, a slight breeze rocking the boughs above her head.
In the distance, the sound of a city settling into evening carried through the suburbs, the rush of traffic on the nearby A-road easing into white noise.
‘Aaron Sykes – Elliott’s brother – owns the house on the end, where the cobblestones start,’ said Nathan under his breath. ‘He rents it out to Charlotte via a shell company. He arrived with Elliott in a private jet earlier this week. Elliott returned to France while Aaron stayed behind at his other house in Pimlico.’
‘What’s he doing in London?’
‘Whatever Elliott tells him to, according to Miles.’ Nathan took the helmet from her and stashed it in a pannier, then removed a 9mm pistol and handed it over. ‘This morning, Aaron met with one of the government’s suppliers – the managing director of that company is currently being interviewed by MI6 about possible terrorism charges.’
‘They didn’t arrest him?’
‘They wanted to keep the ruse going, that he wasn’t under suspicion until everyone was ready.’
Eva reached inside her leather jacket and attached a suppressor to the pistol before tucking it back inside. ‘What about Charlotte?’
‘Worked her way up through the admin ranks.’
‘And no-one notices a secretary, right?’ She sighed. ‘God knows how many secrets she’s managed to pass on over the years. Jeffrey’s espionage skills must’ve been getting rusty if he didn’t figure out what she was up to.’
‘Or maybe he was simply too focused on stopping Elliott Wilder and his Turkish clients to realise.’
‘I suppose. Right, I’m out of here.’
‘Stay safe.’
‘Always.’
Eva shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and crossed the street, edging closer towards her target.
She paused, huddling against a privet hedge in desperate need of a trim, and bit back a sneeze – the sudden change in climate from the desert to a rain-soaked Finsbury Park had taken its toll on her already exhausted body, but she couldn’t afford to be seen.
Get in.
Get the job done.
Get out.
‘Just like the old days,’ she muttered.
‘Didn’t catch that,’ said a voice in her ear.
‘Nothing. Thinking aloud, that’s all.’ She glanced over her shoulder to where Nathan sat waiting on the motorbike, and toggled her lapel microphone. ‘Any sign of her?’
‘She’s inside, in the living room.’
‘What’s the latest on Aaron?’
‘He’s still at home in Pimlico. MI6 has a watching brief on his flat, and the lights in the living area and kitchen are on. No movement to report.’
Eva turned away from the bike and started walking towards her target’s building, a fine mist distorting the glow from the streetlights above her head, the promise of more rain lending an ozone-heavy scent to the air.
Up ahead, the car-lined street was quiet and as she craned her neck to peer into ground-floor flats she could see televisions playing, the residents oblivious to the assassin who passed their front doors.
A few metres from the building, she frowned and ducked into an alleyway, cupping her hand around her lapel microphone.
‘Nathan – did they manage to get inside before Aaron arrived back earlier?’
‘No – too many neighbours around working from home, so they have no cameras or microphones in place. They have directional microphones at the windows though.’ Nathan wrinkled his nose. ‘He’s playing opera.’
‘Shit.’ Eva closed her eyes, then took a deep breath. ‘So how do they know he’s inside?’
‘What?’
‘How do they know he’s inside? They can’t hear anything except opera music, they have no cameras in situ. Who’s covering the fire exits and roof?’
‘Hang on. I’ll ask.’
‘Jesus.’ She slipped into the shadows of a brick wall bordering one side of the alley, wrinkling her nose at the stench of dog shit, and checked over her shoulder.
No-one approached, and she could hear no footsteps.
Only the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, matching the tight sensation clutching at her chest.
‘Eva?’
She blinked in surprise at Miles’s voice in her ear.
‘They’ve lost him, haven’t they?’ she said, unable to keep the disgust from her voice.
‘It’s a complete cock-up,’ he said. ‘There’s a fire exit in the hallway beside his bedroom. No-one saw him go out the window up it. We assume he’s escaped across the roof and down another fire escape to a car park behind one of the properties further along the street. Elliott must’ve warned him.’
‘Shit.’
‘What about aerial reconnaissance?’ said Nathan. ‘Infra-red.’
‘Probably too late,’ said the Section manager. ‘We’re issuing an all-ports alert for him, but whether it reaches the right people in time…’
‘Miles? We have to stop Aaron from leaving the country,’ said Eva. ‘If we don’t, he’s going to head somewhere you can’t extradite him from. I would.’
There was a brief moment of silence, then, ‘Leave it with me. Where are you?’
‘A couple of miles away from headquarters. I’ve got a house call to make.’
‘Report back in when you’re done.’
She cursed under her breath. ‘If you want a job doing properly…’
‘You can’t be in two places at once,’ said Nathan. ‘Let them go after Aaron.’
‘We should’ve killed him first.’
‘Concentrate, Eva. If Elliott’s warned his brother, then chances are Charlotte is ready to leave as well.’
‘I’m on my way.’
She ran the remainder of the route, urgency in her long strides before reaching the building.
Taking a moment to step back, she raised her gaze to the windows above.
Charlotte’s flat was two storeys up, and Eva could see a soft glow emanating through the gaps around the drawn curtains.
Moving to the front door, she paused.
A chink of light shone through a gap where it had been propped open.
Exhaling, trying to lose the effect of the adrenalin rush, she pushed it open to see a man in his thirties wheeling a bicycle towards her, his eyes widening in surprise at her sudden entry.
Eva’s eyes fell to the hospital ID card pinned to his shirt.
‘Sorry.’ She smiled. ‘Urgent delivery for Charlotte Hughes. You know what it’s like with us gover
nment workers. Flat––’
‘Six. Upstairs, on the left.’
‘Thanks.’ Eva held open the door for him. ‘Have a good shift.’
He grinned. ‘You too.’
Closing the door, she thumbed off the safety switch on her weapon and then hurried the length of the hallway.
There was no lift in the building, and the fire exit door remained closed beside what turned out to be a cleaner’s store cupboard.
Eva peered through the reinforced glass window in the door.
Stairs went upwards, but no further down – the emergency exit from the building appeared to be a secure door on the other side of the glass, leading out the back of the building.
‘Nathan? Get yourself over here,’ she murmured. ‘I need you to watch the back door for me. We don’t need a repeat mistake.’
‘Copy that.’
Toggling off the microphone, Eva moved back to the main staircase and crept upwards.
She paused at the landing, crossed the hallway checking the numbers of the flats she passed, then moved on.
At the top of the second flight, she swung her gun around to her right.
Flat six was in front of her.
She ran through the layout in her mind, memorised from plans that Nathan had found on the borough council’s database from the original redevelopment over twenty years ago and updated after Miles and Emily’s search efforts.
Raising her hand, she knocked twice and moved away from the spy-hole.
A moment later, she heard footsteps approach across what sounded like a laminate flooring. No heels – a softer tone.
Running shoes, perhaps.
‘Who is it?’
Eva didn’t respond.
Two things could happen next.
First, the occupier of the flat would walk away, thinking she’d made a mistake and no-one was at the door.
Second, curiosity would set in, and the door would open.
She held her breath.
Behind the wooden surface, she heard the scrape of a chain being removed.
Then a bolt slid back into its housing.
After that, she heard a lock being turned.
A split second later, the door began to open.
Eva elbowed her way in, kicked it closed and held her gun steady.
A woman held up her hands, her eyes open in shock and surprise.
Charlotte Hughes.
‘Move.’ Eva used the gun to indicate the living room before it found its target once more.
Soft music played in the background and as Eva followed the woman, she noticed an open door to her right and risked a quick glance inside.
An open suitcase lay on the bed, and the wardrobe doors had been flung open with clothes tossed onto the floor or over a wooden chair beside an antique dressing table.
‘Going somewhere in a hurry?’ she said as they reached the open plan living space.
The flat still bore the effect of Miles and Emily’s break-in, with books and magazines strewn across the floor and a pile of crystal glass swept to one side of the kitchen tiles.
The music fell silent and she bit back a curse.
No matter – this far away from the front door, no-one would hear the suppressed gunshot and with any luck the neighbours would be engrossed in their own lives, too busy to realise a Russian spy had been living next door all this time.
‘I can pay you,’ said Charlotte. She turned when she reached the kitchen worktop, rested her hands either side and used her forefinger to rub at an imagined stain on the counter. ‘Whatever it is your masters are paying you, we can offer more.’
‘Thanks, but no thanks. Where’s Aaron?’
The woman held up her phone, and smirked. ‘You’re too late. He’s already gone.’
‘And he didn’t wait for you?’ Eva raised an eyebrow. ‘So much for family loyalty.’
‘Shut up.’
Eva jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. ‘So what’s that in there? Did you change your mind at the last minute? Decide against going home after all?’
‘What’s it to you?’
‘Just curious, that’s all.’ Eva blinked, a realisation striking her the next second. ‘Shit, he never came to collect you, did he? He knew we were watching his flat and decided to get out of the country while he could.’
‘That’s not true.’
Eva laughed. ‘It is, isn’t it. How long were you going to give him? Another hour? Two?’
Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest. ‘It doesn’t matter. By the time your lot catch up with him, he’ll be on his way to Russia. And you will have failed.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Eva snarled, then raised the gun.
It coughed twice, the shots hitting their target centre mass, and Charlotte Hughes slumped to the floor, the kitchen cupboards speckled with her blood.
‘One down, two to go,’ muttered Eva, then turned on her heel and sprinted for the door.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Monaco
* * *
Elliott removed the cigar from his mouth and blew a tendril of sweet smoke into the night air, exhaling some of the stress that had wracked his body for weeks.
The adrenalin rush of the negotiations with Yilmaz was starting to fade, and his attention would soon be taken by new opportunities.
New threats.
New wars.
A satisfied smile accompanied a relaxing of his shoulders.
All in good time.
For now, he eyed the twinkling harbour lights below the villa’s landscaped gardens and waited patiently for the phone to ring while he watched the dip and rise of planes at the airport across the water.
A sea breeze whispered against his cheeks, and he inhaled the salty air before taking another drag on the cigar.
He would call the accountant in the morning.
The General’s money had landed in the bank account at the same time Elliott had left Turkish airspace. There were investments to make, palms to grease, bribes to make.
All the mechanisations of a busy arms dealership that was going from strength to strength.
A buzzing noise jolted him from his thoughts, and he wandered back inside.
Reaching his desk, he noticed the General’s number on the screen display and frowned.
‘General?’
‘Your fucking shipment never arrived,’ Yilmaz hissed, his accent thick with anger. ‘The British intercepted it in Malta. You owe me four missiles, and more.’
Elliott pulled an ashtray closer, then crushed out the cigar. ‘I’m afraid I cannot help you, Yilmaz. The contract has been signed and the money exchanged – the risk became yours over twenty-four hours ago, not mine.’
‘You have betrayed me. The drone is missing, too.’
‘What? Where?’
‘After you left the warehouse, my men lost contact with it. What did you do?’
Elliott frowned as he processed the other man’s words. ‘General, I can assure you that was nothing to do with me. Are you sure your men were capable pilots?’
‘You have double-crossed me, Mr Wilder,’ the General spat. ‘You have, in all likelihood, taken back the drone in order to sell it to someone else now that you have my money.’
‘Be careful, General. I have very little time for people who besmirch my good character. Remember who you’re talking to.’
‘Are you threatening me?’
‘Yes, General, I am,’ Elliott sneered. ‘I can always report your planned insurgency to my contacts within the Turkish embassy in London who, I’m sure, would be very interested to hear about your planned coup. Do you think your family will survive that? Do you think anyone would find your bodies?’
The line went silent.
‘General, are you still there?’
‘You will pay for this, Mr Wilder,’ Yilmaz hissed.
‘I very much doubt it, General. Goodbye.’ Elliott ended the call, then exhaled as a second number appeared on the screen and answered.
&n
bsp; ‘It’s me,’ said a familiar voice.
Finally, the call he expected – hoped – would come.
‘Are you at the airport?’
‘I’m at the departure gate. Anything from Charlotte?’
‘No answer, yet.’
‘The plane leaves in thirty minutes.’
‘You must go without her, if necessary.’
‘What do I tell them when I get there?’ said Aaron. ‘They won’t be happy that we failed.’
Elliott chuckled. ‘Do not worry. You have caused enough chaos within the British government over the years to keep them happy. There are other missions. We’re not the only ones. Expect a debriefing, that is all.’
His brother lowered his voice. ‘They won’t let me leave again, will they?’
‘I doubt it.’ He sighed. ‘We knew it could come to this. Make the most of it – buy a nice dacha outside Moscow. Paint, like you used to when we were children. Enjoy life.’
‘And you?’
Elliott eyed the paperwork strewn across the desk, his gaze moving to the gaping maw of the safe he’d emptied an hour ago, the two canvas bags zipped closed on the hearth rug beside a smouldering fire that had been allowed to die.
‘I will make my own way home.’ He rolled his shoulders, cricked his neck as he paced towards the windows and took in the view once more. ‘I shall miss the scenery, Aaron.’
‘A small sacrifice to make in return for your life.’ His brother paused as his voice was drowned out by an announcement. ‘They will start boarding in twenty minutes.’
‘Then, go.’ He checked his watch. ‘You’ll land in about nine hours. I’ll call you with an update.’
‘I’ll be waiting.’
‘I must go. There is another call coming through – it’s her.’ Elliott rested his hand on the patio door frame as he put the phone to his ear once more. ‘Charlotte?’
She didn’t reply, and he could only hear a soft breathing at the end of the line.
‘Charlotte?’
‘Charlotte is dead.’
He swallowed, his dry throat rasping. ‘Who is this?’
Assassins Rogue Page 20