by Ann Raina
“But I won’t put you first either. Because if he’s been with you, he’s spoiled for others.” Lady Summerston turned the tumbler in her hand, ignoring Patricia’s pouting on purpose. She had thought about Matthew Hathaway for some time. Ms. Monroe had spoken highly of his easy mannerism and enchanting conversation. “I will book some nice, charming dates for him just to see how he manages to get through a night.”
“But the moment he gets out of that flirting corner, I want him. Or do you want to reserve him for yourself eventually?”
Lady Summerston’s glare held enough heat to compete with the outside temperature. “You know that I wouldn’t do this!”
“Pity, isn’t it?” Patricia eyed her girlfriend, but got no answer. Sighing, she added in a quiet voice, “You obviously don’t know how this is.”
Lady Summerston fought for her good mood and lenience. She knew Patricia only meant to tease her. “You’re pining, Pat.”
“From the first day on I dreamed about him. He’s so gentle. Did I tell you that he almost carried me from the pool to the chair?”
“About four times. Do you have another tidbit to add?”
Patricia slumped down in the seat, pouting again. “You’re no fun, Kate.”
“No.” She emptied the tumbler in one, not ladylike gulp. “I’m the woman with the least fun around.”
Patricia frowned with sympathy and, sitting up, stretched out a hand to touch her girlfriend’s forearm. “Kate, you really should think about getting a lover or even a husband.”
* * * *
The sight of a doorknob made Michael smile. Again, he made sure there were no devices which would tell of his presence. The all-seeing cameras in the rooms told him to be careful wherever he walked. He closed the fake stone door behind him, switched off the light and turned the knob very slowly. No sound. Well-oiled hinges indicated the door was taken care of. Michael swallowed his nervousness and opened the door carefully.
The corridor behind it was dark. The only light was placed at the bend of the corridor before him. He saw one door to the left, two to the right, all of them closed. The corridor was empty and quiet. Michael checked for hidden cameras before he walked into it. From this side, the door was veiled by another fake wall. Clever. He did not want to close the door, but what choice did he have? If someone came looking and found it open, his cover was blown and they would start a search. He took the time to find the opening mechanism, then clicked it shut.
The light hummed as he got closer. Michael put an ear to the door on the left side before he opened it, cursing his negligence. He should have brought a flashlight! Without it, he couldn’t see anything and did not dare switching on the overhead lights. The switch glowed in the dark. Instead, he moved carefully forward until he bumped into a table. Touching along the surface, he found a monitor, mouse and mouse pad and below the table, a computer tower. This way, he searched the room as far as he dared. There were more tables like the first one, equally equipped and arranged like a classroom. Either it was a large office—but then it would be occupied during daytime, wouldn’t it?—or it was part of a plan he had not yet disclosed.
The well-known feeling of getting closer to the heart of a case crept up his back. Michael turned and followed the small strip of light back to the corridor. He stood at the doorjamb and listened, aware that there was no cover if the owners of this computer room marched in. He remembered the guy with the gun in front of the wine cellar. It was not a comforting thought. Michael had ventured into their secret labyrinth. Every man and his mouse would be armed up to their teeth.
The corridor made a sharp left turn. He wondered why the corridor had not been built straight or with a cross section. Why did it end in a wall? The longer he stared at it, the more he remembered the blueprints. This might not be a wall at all! Surged with sudden eagerness and curiosity, Michael passed by the first door on the right to check the second one inch by inch. If he had not known how to proceed, he would not have found the handle. It was hidden behind a piece of wood.
The door opened as soundlessly as the others. Darkness behind it was complete, but wasn’t there a faint sound? Michael swallowed hard. Yes, there were voices. It appeared to be a happy conversation. He was about to retreat when he realized that there were two women chatting about vines and their ages compared to their own. Laughter followed. Michael grinned into the darkness. This was the back entrance to the wine cellar! It was all too easy.
He closed the door. Linda would be pleased like a cat with cream that her assumption was true. Someone was planning something. Can I he be vaguer? She would pluck his findings to pieces.
A sudden noise spun him around.
* * * *
Lady Summerston did not meet Patricia’s eyes. She did not want pity. She had pitied herself for too long. “I won’t marry again and you know that.”
“Charles wanted you to be with a man.”
“I don’t need a marriage to reach this goal.”
Patricia did not flinch at the harsh tone. She knew Katherine too well to be offended. “No, you’re right. But you need some hot meat between your legs, Kate. Someone to excite you, to be at your will, if you want to put it like this. Just think about it—you make so many women happy every day, but that’s nothing if you’re still unhappy.” Gently, she squeezed Lady Summerston’s arm. “It’s not too late.”
“I know that.” Lady Summerston took back her arm, her gaze directed at the paddocks and the playing horses. The love for Charles had been honest and deep. She had never told anyone how they had acted when they were alone. She gathered her thoughts. “You are sure I should dare this? Take one of them?”
Patricia weighed her head. “They’re here to serve as your escort, if you wish, and more.”
Suddenly, Lady Summerston laughed, but it was a rough sound, not really happy. “Yes, that’ll be a fine sight! I arrive at the concert hall with a bevy of men. And afterward, we all disappear in a fine hotel in town. That would be great for the rainbow press. No, Pat, I can’t do this. Not in a lifetime.” Her laughter ended abruptly. “Charles was perfect. The only one ever.”
“You can’t have perfection again, Kate, but some fun in life, that’s possible. That’s the least you can do for yourself.”
“And expose myself at the same time? No.”
* * * *
Footsteps were getting closer, at least two people.
Michael held his breath for a second. The daring adventurer in him clapped his hands and was up to fight if necessary. But he shouldn’t risk his cover so soon. Great, just fucking great! The door in front of him was too close to the corridor. If he opened it again, he might be seen. He hurried back. His soft rubber soles made no sound on the concrete floor.
“I already checked everything. Why do you want to do it again?” a harsh male voice asked.
It belonged to George Summerston, Michael was sure of that. He was about to enter the computer room when the answer of the second man stopped him.
“She said the modifications for the online service need to be restarted to make sure the programs work. On all servers.”
Michael looked left, hand on the doorknob, but knowing he couldn’t get in there. He also wouldn’t make it to the fake stone door and disappear between brooms and buckets. Fuck! The only chance was the door to his left. He pressed the handle, hoping, praying that it would be open.
The door swung inside. Michael murmured a breathless thank you and slipped into the darkness. He closed the door quietly, then stood pressed against the wall, heart pounding, breathing ragged. He swallowed hard. Light came up. He had accidentally hit the switch! Blind for a second, he hurried to take in the surroundings before he killed the light again. The smell of thick oil made it hard to breathe.
In the corridor, the two men entered the computer room, still arguing. Their words were lost when the door fell back in its lock. Slowly, Michael counted to ten before putting a hand on the doorknob again.
A third voice sounded fr
om down the corridor, young, high, impatient. “All right, my friend, you made your point.”
Michael took the hand off the knob and moved along the wall until he had a safe distance to the door. Have I come amid their noon break and now the place will be crowded with people?
“I just want to test it! Wouldn’t you want to know about the recoil before you used it in the field?”
“Man, you’ve fired so many weapons, shouldn’t you know better than this?”
“I’m so good with weapons because I insist on testing them. Compared to you I’m an expert.”
“Show off.”
The two men laughed heartily. Michael remembered a large cupboard to his left and hurried to get there. Weapons! Of course, with his luck, the two young hotshots had nothing better to do than trying their skills. Michael slipped into the cupboard and pulled the door. It didn’t shut completely! His shoulders were too broad. He wriggled between oily cloths and overalls, ducking under a shelf. Something tinkled on the ground. It was a sound not to miss. Michael held his breath. The door to the weapons’ room opened.
“It’s over there!”
“Only two of them?”
“No more’s needed.”
Michael clenched his fingers around the small metal edge that kept the door from opening. The sharp metal bit into his fingers and he felt a trickle of blood along his index finger. He sweated profusely now. Through the slit he could see light and two men he recognized as gardeners on the premises. Though in peril and close enough to be detected, Michael felt grim satisfaction. He was on the right track. Linda was on the right track. There had to be a crime going on!
“Hey, both of you!” George Summerston stood at the door, his voice adamant. “No one’s allowed you in here! Get out!”
“We were—”
“I don’t care if you’re trigger happy! Get out before Kamal knows of this!”
Grudgingly, the two gardeners turned on their heels and headed for the corridor. George Summerston took a look around, then switched off the lights and closed the door.
Michael let out his breath he hadn’t known he was holding and carefully opened the cupboard door. He stood in the darkness and listened to his pounding heart. Outside, the gardeners and George Summerston went back the way they had come. There was a shout in Arabic. Harsh words followed. Michael stopped at the door. It must have been Kamal, bringing his men to order.
Only when all sounds had died away, Michael dared to open the door and make his way back toward the dungeon, careful to cradle his bleeding fingers in his jacket. There appeared to be a lot of things wanting to get a bite off his hands.
* * * *
Patricia put on her best convincing look. “We are not talking about exposure or showing off with a dozen good-looking men. That would be my wet dream, but not yours, Kate.”
Lady Summerston shot her friend a glare. “You think you know me so well?”
“I know you well enough to see that you want male company, but fear so much for your reputation that you shy away and brood. Instead you make others happy.”
“That’s an honorable goal.”
“It’s perfect for the women visiting the wellness farm, my dear, but that excludes you from all the fun.” Patricia cocked her head. “Pick one of them. Or choose a new guy, who will be your personal assistant. No one will ask what you do with him in your spare time.”
“Oh, Pat, if it would be that easy.” Lady Summerston rose to enter the large porch.
Patricia followed and for some minutes, they stood and watched the horses gallop across the paddock. Gusty winds ruined Patricia’s artful hair-do, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. Her best friend was in deep trouble and though lively and positive by nature, she knew no way to cheer her up. “It’s not uncommon today that a lady in her best years takes a younger lover.”
“It’s not uncommon that the press makes a big deal out of it and discredits the lady in all possible ways. You are right, I don’t want to risk the reputation of the house, Pat. I made this business. If it was for George and Dave, it would long be closed.”
“Oh, Dave’s a coward. And George…” Patricia hesitated. The relationship between George and Katherine had never been an easy one. She did not want to stir anger by accusing George Summerston of bad management.
“You might say, he’s not open for new ventures,” Lady Summerston said with a shrug that was everything but indifferent. She took a deep breath. “At least not when he has no say in it. So whatever I do will be closely watched.”
“It’s your business nonetheless. George could sell his wine anywhere. You allow him to stay here because it’s convenient for him. Not for you.”
“Charles loved his brother very much. I have to respect that.”
“I heard that many times before. And you’ve shown great lenience with his—” She made a gesture as if in lack for words.
“Preferences.”
They smiled at each other. “Preferences. Others would call it—”
“No, Pat, that’s what I call it.”
“Very well. Now, if you would choose one gentlemen from your service, which would you take?”
“The one who’s inside totally different from what he is outside.”
“Getting cryptic on me?”
Lady Summerston only smiled.
Chapter 6
Michael had dropped his report in a public trash bin and met with Linda Bernstein a day later in a small restaurant. He had never been more excited and more nervous in his job than on this afternoon.
“I can’t stay long,” he greeted her when she took the seat opposite to him. “I’m expected for my first date tonight. If I have to take it, that’s it.”
Linda waved the waitress to order coffee and a salad with chicken strips. “You might have chosen a restaurant that’s a little bit more fashionable.”
He ignored her scorn, crossed his arms on the tabletop and leaned forward. “Linda, we have them! It’s George Summerston and some other man named Kamal. There’s a computer room in the basement, a kind of shooting range and a secret entrance, which leads into the wine cellar. It’s all there! You can send in the cavalry and clean it all out!”
Linda featured her best smile. “Michael, I have to admit I didn’t think you had it in you, but you proved me wrong. Bully for you. However—” She looked down for a moment, thinking about her words. “I spoke with Bellard about what you found out.”
“So?”
“You’ve only proven so far that George Summerston and some others have got secret rooms in the basement. That’s good, but we don’t want to impose fourteen days of TV inhibition on them. There would be no way to accuse the men of terrorism on US soil.”
Michael swallowed hard. His expression turned to disbelief. “But there were weapons. There might be explosives as well. And you said that the one man is a wanted Iraqi engineer.”
“Bellard wants you to stay inside, pretend to be an escort gentleman and find out more about their secret venture. He wants to know if these people are here for a certain target. If there’s a building they want to bomb or politicians they’ve come to murder. Also, there is a chance that neither this Kamal nor George Summerston are the leaders of this operation. Michael, please, understand that your inside information are worth much more if you get details to nail the operators, not just their patsies.”
Michael’s voice sank to an urgent whisper. “That’s damn risky. You expect me to switch on their computers and search their contents?”
Linda’s look told him enough.
Michael let out his breath slowly and ran a hand through his hair. “So you say that my engagement goes on. Great.”
Coffee was served. The waitress glanced from Michael to Linda and, with a disapproving sound, turned away.
Linda waited for her to be out of earshot then turned back to Michael. “Bellard ordered me to tell you that you do good work. Gain the trust of the management. Of Lady Summerston, preferably, and move up the
ladder as far as you can. If they trust you, you might find an easier access to their plans and move around more freely.”
Michael shook his head vigorously. “Linda, there’s nothing like a ladder to climb! I’m an escort. Or will be this night. The escort service has its own wing. The men live there, fetch the women for their dates and choose a room or drive with them to a location. There’s nothing else.”
“You could prove to be the top of the escort service.”
“You sound as if there’s a challenge out.”
“There always is.” She sipped the black coffee and smirked. It was strong enough to have a spoon stick in the middle. “Michael, understand that Bellard’s patience isn’t endless. You’ve brought him the first hard facts and Langley allows us to go on. So the direct order is to bring forward more information ASAP.”
“I’d need access to their computer system which is—if I need to remind you—in an area I can’t officially enter. There’s no time of the day I know the rooms to be empty. Every time I go there it’s a hazard game if I get out undetected.”
“That’s the job description of a CIA field agent.” The salad was served and Linda took the check before she started eating.
“Yes, I know that. But if I’m made the whole operation goes down the drain.”
Linda raised her brows, an elegant gesture. “I appreciate your concern. Under the table’s a bag with cams and bugs. Take what you need and leave the rest behind.”
“The rooms are swept frequently.”
“They won’t expect any installation in the basement.” She dug her fork in the salad. “It’s worth a try.”
Michael let go of his breath, frustrated. “All right. One more thing. All rooms used for the dates are equipped with cameras.”
Linda put down her cup without drinking. “The lurker in the wall, yes? Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out. We might use this for our own advantage. Find the room with the monitors. Find out, if the recordings are used for blackmail.” She pointed her fork at Michael. “Prove that there’s someone using the service for his own benefit. I bet it’s George Summerston.”
