Authors: Kim Foster

A Brilliant Deception (11 page)

BOOK: A Brilliant Deception

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Chapter Seventeen

E
than’s vision went to pinpoint sharpness. He had to get Cat out of there, and he had to try to save Felix. They raced outside in time to see the black van peeling off. Ethan darted to their getaway vehicle.

He stopped abruptly, staring at viciously slashed tires. His hopes dropped into his stomach.

There had to be another vehicle they could take. But there were no cars left. It was the end of the day, and almost everyone had gone home. Only one rickety old bicycle was leaning against a wall. Shit. They would be able to run faster.

In the distance, the sound of approaching sirens wailed over the hills. Cat stood staring helplessly after the disappearing van, an anguished expression on her face. “Cat—come!
Now
.” Ethan dragged her away.

There was no other option; they started running for it. They were surrounded by countryside and undulating hills, but there was a forest not far away. They sprinted, flat-out, for the cover of the trees.

As they entered the edge of the woods, Ethan glanced back and saw three police vehicles pull into the parking lot of the lab. He turned and disappeared into the darkness of the forest.

It was shadowy and cool. The forest floor was covered with ferns. Tall trees soared high above their heads.

They moved silently through dappled shadows; every sound seemed to be absorbed by thick layers of moss. They couldn’t stop there; they had to keep going and get as far away as they could from the lab and the university campus.

They ran past streams and down into little valleys, putting distance between them and danger, going deeper into the safe haven, the refuge of the forest. As they got deeper, Ethan allowed himself to think of something beyond mere escape and survival.

He’d recognized the man who had killed the scientists and taken Felix, just like Cat had. Sean Reilly was the worst type of thief. He was a ruthless, violent sociopath who didn’t play by the rules and had no code of honor. He’d been expelled from his own agency long ago, and now he did mercenary work.

So whom was he working with this time?

And—more worrisome—why the hell wasn’t he locked up? Last he’d heard, Reilly had been sentenced to a nice long stint in prison, because of his involvement in the conspiracy to steal the Hope Diamond and, most importantly, his murder of Albert Faulkner III and three other innocent people.

After several more minutes running and splashing through shallow streams, and scrabbling up leaf-covered hills, there was no sign they were being followed. Ethan put his hand up, signaling Cat to stop, and they listened. Nothing.

They walked a long way, not speaking, and when they came out on the other side, they found themselves on a country road.

“Should we go back to Harrow Hall?” Cat said, walking beside him.

“All our gear is there. We have to.”

“We need a vehicle. It’s going to be a long walk.”

“Maybe we can hitchhike.”

They began walking along the road, saying little. Ethan glanced at Cat. Her face was grim, her eyes clouded.

“We’ll get him back,” he said. “And we’ll be fine. There’s no reason to think we’re suspects yet.”

“Maybe not, but it won’t be long before we are. What are the chances we got out of there without our faces showing up on CCTV somewhere?”

Ethan flexed his jaw. She was right about that.

They had to get somewhere safe. But where was that, exactly?

Chapter Eighteen

W
hen we emerged from the woods, a pub appeared after a bend in the road. No surprise—every crossroads and roundabout in England contained a pub. The Golden Arrow shone out of the gloom like a beacon, gilded letters on a glossy black sign, lanterns glowing against the gray stone exterior. It was twilight.

The pub was a beautiful sight for us, exhausted and freezing as we were. It had started raining about twenty minutes before. We needed shelter, and I needed to contact Templeton.

We entered the dark pub, ducking under the doorway’s low lintel, and slid into a booth. The tavern smelled of moss and ale and roast lamb. Ethan went up to the bar to order.

“Templeton, it’s me,” I said through the encrypted line on my cell phone. “We lost it. Ethan and I were doing everything right. But when we got to the safe, someone else had been there just before us.”

“Who?”

I took a deep breath. “Reilly.”

There was silence on the line.

“But there’s something else. Something worse. They have Felix. They kidnapped him.”

“What?
He was with you?
” Templeton didn’t bother keeping the alarm out of his tone. “I suggested he tag along to learn, not to go on the actual job—”

My voice caught. “He managed to talk me into it. I don’t know if they thought he was a scientist, an employee, or what—but they stuffed him in a van.”

“Do you know where they took him?”

“I’m going to find out,” I said with determination. “Somehow.”

“I may be able to help with that. I think I know who Reilly is working with,” he said.

“Who?”

Templeton hesitated a moment. “Caliga.”

All the air left my lungs.

Templeton told me the rest of the story. Reilly had been busted out of prison a while ago. It wasn’t a jailbreak, more a loophole that his lawyers had exploited. Someone must have been blackmailed along the way, was Templeton’s assessment. Caliga was widely considered to be behind it. Which meant they owned him now.

I thought about the likelihood of this. It was a good fit. Reilly was ruthless; Caliga was ruthless.

Templeton grew quiet again. He had something else to tell me, I could feel it. “You’re going to need help, Petal,” he said.

“Not the police.”

“Not exactly. Listen,” he said, hesitating, “there’s someone I need to talk to about this. Someone who is in a position to assist you.”

“Who?”

“Well, I’m going to have to talk to him first, and I’ll get back to you. Sit tight.” He disconnected the call.

Sit tight, my ass. I was going to find Felix. He was my responsibility.

Ethan returned to the booth with two pints and slid into the seat beside me. We sat side by side so we could both keep an eye on the TV but not have our backs to the door. It meant he was very close to me. I felt the heat coming off his body, sensed the tension in all those muscles, caught the faint scent of sweat on him. And in spite of myself, as inappropriate as it was, I felt my skin tingle as a result.

I kept a firm eye on the TV in the corner of the pub, looking for any news about us, or the break-in at the archaeology lab, or anything.

On the news, there was a story about the deputy prime minister. “Duncan Wakefield is a well-liked and admired man, very pro-British,” the reporter was saying, of the deputy PM. “He is a strong leader with an impressive military background. Most people here feel this was a key factor in the result of the vote in the House of Lords earlier today . . .”

So that bill passed. It seemed a year ago—not three days ago— that Ethan and I had been sitting in Harrow Hall Pub listening to the locals debate the merits of the Succession vote, before things had gone so terribly wrong . . .

The next story on the BBC, however, pulled me right out of my reverie about Harrow Hall. A crime scene flashed onto the screen, and the image was chillingly familiar: emergency response vehicles parked in front of the archaeology lab surrounded with yellow police tape, our car with the slashed tires in the background, Scotland Yard investigators swarming all over the place.

Breaking news on the BBC
flashed along the ticker underneath. I read the words with growing panic.
University of York archaeology facility: Two men dead, safe breached—unknown contents stolen.

Grainy images of the thieves making their escape from the lab then flashed up on the screen. I made out Reilly, and whoever his associate was, but they would be unidentifiable to anyone who hadn’t been there in person.

Unfortunately, the next set of images were much more clear. Crystalline shots of Ethan and me popped up on-screen. We were in our custodial disguises, but nonetheless highly recognizable. I shrank down in the booth. The shot flashed back to the crime scene, where a reporter was interviewing one of the plainclothes officers. Unfortunately, that officer was none other than Ludolf Hendrickx.

Shit.

“We have some good leads,” Hendrickx said to the reporter with a grave face. “Some very active suspects that I will personally be tracking down.”

“Why is Interpol involved?” the interviewer asked.

“We have reason to believe that the contents of the safe were of international interest. And we have reason to believe that the criminal behind this operation is a repeat offender we have been tracking for a while.”

When he said “criminal” I had little doubt he was talking about me. I curled my fingers into a fist, driving my nails into my palm. How did he get there so fast? He must have already been in town. Which means I hadn’t been quite as adept as I’d thought at staying under his radar.

This was bad. Hendrickx now thought I was the thief in a job I had attempted, but had failed at. Worse, I was a suspect for murder.

More than ever, I needed to find Reilly, rescue Felix, get the ring, and then disappear.

Ethan’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Montgomery, we need to get moving. Our faces were just shown on TV. We need to make ourselves scarce.” I glanced around the cozy interior of the pub. Nobody appeared to be looking our way or paying us any attention. Yet.

“We’re not going back to Harrow Hall,” he said in a low voice as we both stood and pulled our coats around us. “All the important stuff is on us anyway. Let’s go.”

I popped on my sunglasses, even though the sky was rapidly darkening, and Ethan pulled his hat way down low as we walked out the front door. We had no idea where we were headed, only that we needed to get as far away from there as possible.

Chapter Nineteen

Seattle

T
he sun glimmered in a crisp blue sky as Jack walked downtown along Seneca Street. He was in the financial district after a meeting with his investment adviser, and there was a bounce in his step. Things weren’t perfect, far from it. But, generally, he was having a good day. And there hadn’t been too many of those lately.

He passed a vintage shoe-shine stand with two seats.
Why not?
He was in no rush. He stepped up onto one of the seats and greeted the aproned man who was lingering by the stand, polishing the brass handrail.

The man grinned at him and soon began shining his shoes. Jack took a deep breath; the waxy smell of shoe polish almost overpowered the ubiquitous Seattle aroma of roasting coffee. He gazed all the way down the street to the harbor, and caught a glimpse of blue water.

Someone climbed into the seat beside him. Jack turned to glance at the newcomer and groaned.

The shoe shiner appeared momentarily distressed at the sudden rush of business, at the idea of having to make a customer wait.

“No hurry, my good man,” Templeton said to the shoe shiner, snapping open a newspaper.

Jack made a fist. “Templeton, please. Not again. I’ve already given you my answer.”

“I require but a moment of your attention. This is something new.”

Jack considered walking away, but the man had only polished one shoe so far. He sighed. Fine, he would listen to Templeton. Just until his other shoe was polished.

“Have you heard of the Lionheart Ring, Jack?” Templeton asked.

Jack frowned. “Nope.”

Templeton nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, most people haven’t.”

Templeton went on to describe the Lionheart, its heritage, the mystery. And the fact that it had recently been found in Yorkshire, England. Jack listened and pretended to look disinterested. He looked forward at the traffic in the street, the people on the sidewalk. A truck rumbled by, drowning out all other sound for a moment. “So what does this have to do with me?” Jack asked once Templeton finished.

“It’s Cat, Jack. She went to retrieve the ring. It was her assignment.”

Jack’s stomach tightened at the sound of Cat’s name. He nodded. “Sounds like the kind of thing she would enjoy.”

“Yes, well, I’m not sure she’s enjoying it all that much now. She needs your help. Things are quickly going south over there.”

A spasm of worry centered in Jack’s chest. He reminded himself they were not a couple. She was in a world that he needed to stay away from. She was a grown-up and she had made her choices. “That’s too bad, for her, it really is. I hope she’s okay. But—I don’t see how this involves me.” He worked hard to maintain a neutral tone.

“Well, it’s about more than failure, I’m afraid. People are in danger. The people who took the ring also kidnapped a member of her team.”

Jack tightened his jaw. “Oh. Well, that’s not good. But maybe you should be calling the authorities. Someone who can actually do something about it. It still doesn’t involve me.”

“Oh, but it does, my good man.”

“How’s that?”

Templeton took a deep breath in through his nose. “Because the person who was kidnapped is your half brother.”

Jack looked sharply at Templeton. “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have a half brother.”

Templeton gave him a crooked, sympathetic smile. “In fact, you do. His father was the same as yours—John Robie. And now, well, he’s in big trouble, Jack.”

Chapter Twenty

I
checked the side-view mirror for the hundredth time as we sped along the motorway, clenching my hands onto my knees, looking to see if we were being followed. Ethan and I were making our way back to London in a car we had rented using false ID. We needed to get as far away from Yorkshire, and as close to an extraction point, as we could.

“Why would Caliga even want the Lionheart Ring?” I asked, staring out the window as Ethan drove. “It makes no sense. In terms of value, it’s not the most precious thing out there. I mean, it has some worth. It’s a ruby from the Middle Ages with legends attached to it. But even still.”

“I don’t know,” Ethan said. “But there has to be some reason. The last time they crawled out of their hole for something and got this aggressive, they were after the Fabergé egg and the Gifts of the Magi.”

“Maybe it’s more valuable than we realize,” I said, thinking it through. “When it’s revealed that this legendary ring even exists, there’s going to be a huge uproar. That’s the kind of thing that pushes the value of an item sky-high.”

I glanced in the side mirror, scanning the road behind me. There were a number of cars behind us, but none that raised my Spidey sense.

“So you think it’s for money?” Ethan asked.

I shrugged. “Caliga is a huge operation. They need a constant source of income.”

We knew Caliga was—besides being huge—a very old operation. They were formed by the descendants of that original theft, the Gifts of the Magi. But over the years they had branched out into other projects, just like AB&T had.

I pulled out my phone.

“Who are you calling?” Ethan asked.

“Gladys. I need to know where Sean Reilly has gone, where they’ve taken Felix. She may be able to find out.”

Ethan tightened his hand around the steering wheel. “Listen, Montgomery. I want you to think about this. I know this was our assignment, but . . . well, the game has changed. The danger factor is on a whole other level now.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not sure going after them is smart.”

“It may not be smart, Ethan, but it’s our job. What would AB&T say if we dropped out now?”

Silence.

“And Hendrickx? Is he going to stop trying to hunt me down just because I stop pursuing the actual Lionheart? Is he going to believe me if he catches me and I say I don’t have it?”

He shrugged, conceding the point. “Not likely.”

“And the fact that they’ve kidnapped Felix? We should not worry about that?”

“Well, that’s the thing that concerns me the most. Think about it for a second. Why did they take Felix alive? Why didn’t they kill him, like the guard and the scientist? It’s suspicious. And I don’t know what it means.”

He was right. It didn’t make any sense. Was it a trap?

I thought about it for a long time. But I kept coming back to the same answer. “Ethan, I don’t know what it means, either. But how can I not go after him? I can’t leave him. If you don’t want to do it, I understand. I’ll go alone.”

“Montgomery—I’m not saying I don’t want to do this. I do. It’s just—I need to make sure you’re fully aware of the risks. And that your head is totally in it.”

“I am. And it is. Plus, I really have no choice. I have to go after them.” For all those reasons. And more, to be honest. My pride was wounded, being so thoroughly—and easily—bested in a job. And now that I knew Caliga was involved, I knew it must mean there was something more to this case. “But why would you even ask me that?” I said.

Ethan looked straight ahead. He shifted in the driver’s seat. “Montgomery, you hesitated. When you went out for that walk on the moors. I’m not trying to be cruel, but you gotta know that if you hadn’t done that, we would have the ring, and Felix would be fine. They were one step behind us. You know that, right?”

This was a kick in the stomach. But a part of me knew he was exactly right.

“You have to be ready to go, to make your move,” he continued. “Hesitation in this business can be very dangerous. And . . . I’m worried about you.”

A warmth curled in my chest at these last words.
Ethan is concerned for my safety.
It made sense. He’d seen me at my worst. In Paris, when I’d been rocked by panic attacks, trapped on a rooftop . . .

A prickly feeling crept in. Did he doubt my abilities? Did he think I’d lost the knack?

“Ethan, there are a few things I’m not completely sure about, I’ll admit it. But there’s one thing I am dead-certain about. We have to get that ring back, and more importantly, we have to save Felix.”

Ethan nodded grimly. And then a crooked smile snuck across his mouth. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

I dialed Gladys’s encrypted number.

She answered immediately and I quickly explained what I needed to know. Keeping my eyes pinned to the side mirror, I stayed on the line as she got to work.

“All right, here we are,” Gladys said, after several minutes and much clacking of keys. “I’ve got an airport manifest from York airstrip showing a private jet registered under the name of Sean Reilly bound for Venice.”

“Venice, Italy? Is that where they’ve taken Felix?”

I glanced at Ethan. He winced. “Venice is where Caliga’s headquarters is reported to be,” he said. “Templeton was saying something about that a few months ago. We’d be going into the hornets’ nest.”

“Thank you, Gladys,” I said. “We’ll be in touch.”

I disconnected and looked at Ethan carefully. “I’m up for it, if you are.”

His jaw flexed and he looked straight ahead at the road.

“Okay,” he said. “Venice it is.”

BOOK: A Brilliant Deception

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