A Brilliant Deception (33 page)

I
tried again to connect, sweat forming on the back of my neck. A copy of these papers had to get sent out without Reilly or Atworthy knowing I had done it. But it was simply not working.

I glanced around the room in desperation and spotted a framed photograph of the prime minister with his family. They were at a park together—smiling in the sunshine. I gritted my teeth. There had to be a way. I took a deep breath and mentally called up the blueprints of the east wing. Then I remembered there was an office in the next room, like a business center. Offices almost always contained a fax machine. It was old school, but it just might work.

Then Reilly’s voice came through my earpiece. “Are you in the safe yet?”

“Um, no. Not yet.” I needed to buy myself some time. “I’m still working my way through the laser grid,” I lied.

How was I going to get to the office next door? There was no internal connection between the rooms. I’d have to climb outside on the window ledge.

I made my way to the window and slipped off my shoes. There was nothing I could do about the gown. I’d have to make it work. The stone of the ledge felt rough as I climbed out into the cool night air. I found my balance and began making my way, seeking stable handholds and footholds as I went.

“Okay, I’m almost through the grid, Reilly.”

“What’s taking so long? Do you need me to come in—”

“No! You’ll ruin everything. Besides, I need you outside the room, to make sure nobody interrupts. And don’t forget the metal detector. You can’t leave your gun behind.”

My mouth went dry at the thought of what would happen if Reilly discovered what I was up to.

“Fine. Hurry up,” he said. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this.”

“I have to do it right, Reilly.”

At last, I slipped inside the window of the neighboring office. I quickly spotted the fax machine and exhaled with relief. I hadn’t used one of these things for ages but how hard could it be?

“Okay, starting to crack into the safe now,” I said to Reilly, trying to stretch things out as long as possible.

I pushed a few buttons and got the fax machine going. My heart seized for a second as I realized I had no idea where to send it to. And then I remembered the only fax number I knew: the queen’s. From the pub at Harrow Hall, the business card the man had shown me. It was really simple . . . what was it? Right. 01234-QUEEN1.

I punched in the number and sent the pages through. They fed into the machine agonizingly slowly. I wanted to jump out of my skin as I waited.

At last, the whole batch went through, spitting out copies on the other end. I pulled out the copies and stared at the two sheafs of paper in my hands—what was I going to do with the duplicates?

I made a quick decision, and pushed them through the shredder that sat under the desk.

In an instant I was back out on the window ledge, picking my way to the prime minister’s suite. “All right, Reilly, I’m getting close. I should have this combination cracked in a few more minutes.”

A trickle of sweat dripped between my shoulder blades. I had almost done it. I was so close to pulling it off; I just needed to hang in there a little longer.

I
continued on my way back to the prime minister’s suite, balancing on the ledge, staying focused on my breathing and my foot placement. The sounds from the Manhattan streets, twenty-four stories down, rose up and surrounded me—rushing traffic, honking yellow cabs. I glanced down; I was plenty high for a fatal fall. But instead of feeling afraid . . . I felt exhilarated. I felt alive.

Not for the first time, I realized:
this was truly my calling.

An image popped into my mind—me doing this with a Baby Bjorn strapped to my chest, soothing an infant as I went, trying to keep him quiet. It was the image Ethan had put in my brain.

Despite my precarious position at the moment and the situation at hand, I smiled at the thought.

It was totally absurd. And yet—it was closer to the sort of reality I envisioned than the future Jack had in mind for us.
You’re not planning on scaling buildings forever, are you?
he’d said.

At that moment—at that highly inconvenient moment—I understood something I hadn’t been able to articulate before.

Ethan got me, in a way Jack never truly would. He just understood. There were so many things that could go unspoken between us. It was easy.

I remembered, then, what he’d said to me the first day I’d met him.
We’re the same, babe.

Opposites attract, sure, but they don’t always make the best life partners. When Jack spoke of our future, when he was proposing, he’d used the words “settling down.” When Ethan spoke of our future, he envisioned everything we had right now—just a whole lot more of it, with a few alterations in place. And that was what I wanted. It was a connection that would never need explaining.

The hot breeze rising off the street ruffled my hair. The problem was, it felt like I was too late with Ethan. After what he’d said on the phone . . .

No
. It couldn’t be too late. Nerves twisted in my stomach at the idea of being so close, at knowing exactly what I wanted at the worst possible moment.

One step at a time, Cat.
I had to get out of here first, and that was no small thing.

“Cat, where the hell are you? What’s going on in there?”

“I’m getting close, Reilly, almost into the safe . . .”

At last, I reached the window to the prime minister’s suite. I climbed back in through the window and picked up my shoes. I wove my way through the laser grid, on my way back to the front door.

Reilly’s voice pierced through. “That’s it, Cat, I’m stashing the gun on this side and I’m coming in.”

“Wait, I’m almost done—”

Reilly flung the suite door open the moment I reached the foyer. “There,” I said, breathing heavily. “It’s done. I have them.” I patted the outside of my purse, indicating where I’d stashed the papers. Reilly stared at me with extreme suspicion. Then he exhaled, satisfied. “All right, let’s get back to the party.”

“My pleasure,” I said with a smile.

Then he turned away and I fought every instinct to slump against the wall with relief. One step closer.

E
than knew they had detected Templeton’s escape. Which meant one thing—Brooke was in immediate danger.

She was still in the waiting room—she’d had no choice but to stay there, even after they had wheeled Templeton away to the infirmary. It would have looked very odd indeed if she had bailed immediately following that turn of events.

But now she had to get out of there. “Brooke, you need to go. Now,” Ethan said through the communicator as he and Templeton were walking as quickly as they could toward the parking lot.

“Working on it,” she said quietly.

Ethan knew she’d had to park very far away that morning in the full lot. Visitors parked on another side of a dividing wall. Even if she were on the move right now, she would never make it. “Come straight to the van,” Ethan said. “You’re not going to make it to your car.” Ethan, posing as the cardiovascular surgeon, had parked his Mercedes up front in the VIP spot. The van, where Gladys and Felix were stationed, was parked off to the side, pulled over near the lot exit.

Ethan bleeped the car doors unlocked with the keyless entry, and he and Templeton quickly climbed in. He expected to hear the sound of the prison break alarm any second.

“We’ll wait for you,” Ethan said.

“No,” Brooke said. “They’re watching. It’ll be too suspicious. I can do it. I’ll make it to my car. Go, Ethan. Get Templeton out of here.”

Ethan gave Templeton a grim look, then started to drive. The alarm hadn’t sounded yet. Maybe he could pick her up partway. Maybe he could get Templeton into the van, then double back to pick her up. Either way, Ethan wasn’t leaving without her.

They reached the van, and Ethan pulled up beside it. “Get him out of here, before the shit hits the fan,” he said to Felix and Gladys. Templeton quickly transferred vehicles, and Ethan watched the van head toward the exit.

“Brooke, I’m coming back for you,” Ethan said. He squinted through his windshield into the sunlight and saw her striding purposefully toward the far parking lot.

“No, I’ll be fine. I can make it.”

And then the alarm sounded, an earsplitting howling of a siren.

Brooke leaned down, almost casually, and removed her shoes. She was going to run for it. But she was going to run the wrong way. He could see where her sight line went—she was going to try to make it to her own car, not backtrack to where Ethan was waiting near the exit.

“Brooke, this way,” Ethan shouted through the communicator. “The west side. The exit!”

“Is he clear?” Brooke said. “Is Templeton out?” Her voice was amazingly steady.

The van had just cleared the exit tower, right before the siren sounded, and it was nearly out of sight.

“Almost.”

Brooke started running. Ethan heard Felix’s voice then, in his ear. “Ethan, they’re looking for her. I can hear them shouting to each other. They’re saying—
shoot her if you have to
.”

Guards burst out onto the parking lot. They looked around and immediately spotted Brooke. “Stop!” they shouted.

She didn’t turn, didn’t break her stride. She was leading them away, Ethan could see that. He knew she was giving everyone else a chance to get away.

But he was not leaving her behind. He put the car into gear and pressed the accelerator. “I’m coming for you, Brooke.”

“We’re clear. We’re out,” came Felix’s voice. “Get her, Ethan.”

The Mercedes flew through the parking lot in a direct line toward the fleeing Brooke. The guards were growing closer, sprinting toward her.

Then, Ethan watched in horror as a guard withdrew his weapon and pointed it in Brooke’s direction. Ethan had almost reached her.

The lead guard issued one further warning to Brooke. “Stop!” But she didn’t stop. The guard pulled his trigger.

A loud
crack
echoed through the parking lot and Ethan watched in horror, helpless, as Brooke fell. He couldn’t tell where she’d been hit.

In the next second he reached her in the Mercedes, slamming the brakes and squealing the car around, putting the vehicle between the guards and Brooke. More shots were fired, but Ethan barely heard them. In a heartbeat Ethan leaped from the Mercedes, lifted her unconscious, bleeding body, and shoved her in the backseat. More shouting, more bullets pinging off the body of the car, as Ethan leaped behind the wheel again and peeled away.

As Ethan raced toward the closed gate—the only thing blocking his way out now—he kept his foot heavily on the accelerator pedal, barrelling forward at full speed. Whatever it took, he was getting them out of here.

R
eilly escorted me away from the prime minister’s private rooms and back toward the gala. When we stepped out to the rooftop party, it was like nothing had changed. The chamber orchestra was playing; the VIPs were sipping champagne. All told, we’d only been gone about thirty minutes. I tried to quiet my pounding heart.

When we reached Atworthy, Reilly gave him a barely perceptible nod. Atworthy offered his arm to me, continuing the charade that we were married, and he guided me to a more private alcove, tucked away from the rest of the party. It was a small area adjacent to the chimney and ventilation tower, hidden from view of most of the party. He stared at me expectantly.

This was the moment I was supposed to produce the papers. The moment Atworthy would give the go-ahead to the sniper.

I felt a wave of nausea. I touched my purse reflexively, willing the phone inside to vibrate with a message that Ethan had succeeded in rescuing Templeton. If only Ethan would send me word—something to let me know Templeton was safe. I wouldn’t have to go through with any of this. But I hadn’t heard a thing.

There was applause from the party. I glanced over to see the prime minister walking up to a small podium by the orchestra stage. He was going to give a speech. I turned back to see Atworthy waiting for me to give him the pages.

I had no choice. I pulled out the sheaf of papers and Atworthy’s eyes flashed. I held the papers tightly, not handing them over just yet. “Okay, Atworthy, now you have to live up to your side of the bargain. You said you would give the order to release Templeton. I need to see you do that.”

“I will. But I need to see the papers first. I’m not an idiot, Catherine. You could be holding anything in your hand right there.”

I struggled. But I had very little to bargain with.

“Fine. Once I give you these, you’ll call off Templeton’s execution, right? You’ll do whatever you have to do to get him out of there?”

He gave a brisk nod, and held out his hand. I took a deep breath and gave him the pages. I was faintly aware of the sound of microphone feedback as the prime minister began addressing the partygoers.

Atworthy quickly glanced at the papers, flipping through each page, then looked up and smiled. “You have done well.” He began to put them in his inside jacket pocket. But then he froze; darkness spread over his features.

“Wait.” He pulled them back out and scanned them once more.

I followed his eyes. My mouth went dry as I immediately saw what he was looking at. In tiny print at the bottom of the page, a fax stamp. Dated today, time-stamped for eight minutes ago.

Oh my God. I had grabbed the fax copies, not the originals. In the rush, and my unfamiliarity with that fax machine, I had grabbed the wrong pages. I had shredded the originals.

I dragged my eyes up to his. He was staring at me, eyes burning with rage.

“What have you done?” he growled.

A choking sensation clawed up my throat. I knew exactly what I had done: I had killed Templeton. And probably myself.

Atworthy would never release Templeton, and I was trapped. How would I get away from Caliga now? How could I have been so stupid? I had one consolation: there was no way Atworthy would give the go-ahead for the assassination now.

“I’m very disappointed, Catherine,” he said with an arctic chill to his voice. “I really had high hopes.”

Then I watched as Atworthy pulled out his phone, pushed a speed-dial button and said, “Go. Do it now.” I gaped at him in horror as I realized what was happening. He was going ahead with the assassination anyway.