“We just have to take it a step at a time, love. It’s all we can do right now.”
“Well, it sucks.”
He chuckled. “I completely agree.”
“And you’re sure Kane can’t take what we have to the FBI? That they can’t take over from here? It seems pretty obvious we weren’t involved in the killing of Mrs. Hodges or Erik Karlsen.”
Their names stuck in her throat, and she had to push aside the grief that threatened to overflow the barrier she’d so carefully constructed to keep it at bay until she had the luxury of dealing with it. She hadn’t even been able to attend Mrs. Hodges funeral. Hadn’t been able to mourn her properly. Hadn’t been able to visit Lieve Karlsen to apologize.
“It’s too risky,” Farrell said. “What we have is just a theory right now. We need something tangible. Something to connect the Levchenko’s — or one of the other people involved — to the virus. “If we give them what we have now, they’ll take days to sort through it, and if they don’t think it’s enough, there’s no way they’re giving us another run at it. We still have some time. I think we use every second, get as far as we can.”
She nodded. It made sense. She was just tired. Tired of running. Tired of worrying about Farrell. Tired of missing Lily and Kate and her Mum. Tired of wondering who would be next.
She sunk down into the seat. “So how much longer?”
He laughed, his eyes fixated on a passing sign. “I’d say not much longer at all.”
She followed his gaze to a sign on the side of the road, watching as they zipped past it.
Chamonix: 35km
Twenty-Two
He was happy to see the look of delight on Jenna’s face as they approached the town of Chamonix. She’d slept very little, and the stress of the previous weeks, the time away from Lily, the clock currently ticking on their freedom, was starting to get to her. She deserved a proper holiday — a few weeks of nothing but rest and good food and their daughter. He couldn’t give her that. Not yet.
But the picturesque town of Chamonix was a close second.
He took his eyes off her long enough to take in the Alps, the massive points of the Aiguilles Rouges and the Aiguille du Midi towering over the village. The mountains provided some of the best skiing in the world, and in winter, the town was a melting pot of languages and cultures as ski and snowboarding aficionados flocked to the challenging runs and perfect powder.
The city was decidedly quieter in September. Farrell spotted a few stray backpackers as they wound their way into the city, but the streets were otherwise populated with people on their way home from work, parents with small children in hand, and a few teenagers letting off steam after school.
Kane was yawning from the back seat, trying to stretch his limbs in the confined space, when they pulled up to the Hotel Mont-Blanc. Farrell passed it, opting instead for a public car park where he tipped the attendant handsomely to keep the car parked on the ground floor where it could be easily accessed.
“Going somewhere?” Kane asked as they headed for the hotel.
“Maybe.”
Farrell had no idea what was waiting for them here, and he wasn’t about to leave their escape up to a valet. Kane probably knew that better than anyone. He just liked to be a smart ass.
They took their small bags and stepped into the hotel lobby. It was plush but understated, its modern furnishings paired with enough classical pieces to make the place feel like a well-curated home. Small sofas were situated near an ornate granite hearth complete with a crackling fire. Farrell had to resist the urge to warm his hands. He’d forgotten how cold Switzerland was even in early Fall.
They crossed the black and white marble floor to the front desk and reserved two rooms side by side. He enjoyed the suites at the Mont Blanc, but this was business, not pleasure, and he didn't want to draw the kind of attention that being a VIP entailed. He booked two garden variety rooms instead, then handed one of the keys to Kane as they made their way to the elevator.
“What’s the plan?” Kane asked as they waited for it to arrive in the lobby.
“I’m going to check email, see if Briony has anything new,” Farrell said. “Let’s regroup over dinner in two hours.”
“Sounds good,” Kane said. “I could go for a shower.”
“A nap, a shower, and a five star hotel,” Jenna said. “And that’s just today.”
Kane shrugged. “Good work if you can get it.”
The other man was being flip, but Farrell wasn’t fooled. Kane’s job was every bit as dangerous as the one Farrell did. More if you counted the high level vultures who would stab him in the back for so much as a raise in pay grade. The man was talented: former Special Forces with a record in confirmed kills that no one would actually confirm thanks to the secrecy of his missions, plus a trajectory at the FBI that had him on track for a high level position in record time. He would do better for himself working for Farrell, and now that the Syndicate was in ruin, he probably could have staged a coup of one of the territories and become a boss himself.
But the guy liked the straight and narrow for reasons Farrell would never understand. Farrell didn’t begrudge him a little of the high life while he had the chance.
They took the lobby to the fifth floor and continued to their rooms.
“Two hours,” Kane said, using his key card to open the door to his room.
“See you then.”
Farrell opened the door for Jenna and they stepped into a small but impeccably decorated room with a sweeping view of the mountains. He took her bag, set it in the closet, then checked turned up the heat. Jenna hated to be cold.
“Wow,” she said, walking to the window. “This is quite a view. I’ve never seen the Alps before.”
He came up behind her, put his hands on her shoulders. “When this is over, I’m going to show you everything. Give you everything.”
She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck. “When this is over I’ll already have everything. I’d have it now if we could go home to Lily.”
“Soon.” It was a promise he would keep. For her at least. He had no idea what was coming — here in Chamonix or afterward. But he knew she would go home to their daughter even if he didn’t make it back. He lowered his lips to hers, kissed her tenderly. “I have something to do before dinner. Why don’t you take a shower or have a nap?”
She grinned up at him. “Why don’t you join me for both?”
He laughed, pressing her close against him. There were a lot of things he only ever did with Jenna.
Laugh. Breathe. Love. Live.
He wasn’t sure he’d been doing any of them without her.
“Don’t tempt me,” he said. “I need to do some planning before we check out the Levchenko property. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
She stepped away. “Okay, then. I’m going to take your advice while you’re gone.”
“Good. And Kane’s right next door if you need anything.”
He locked the door behind him and headed to the bar in the lobby. It was quiet, with only two other patrons — a couple from the looks of it — sitting quietly at a corner table. Farrell took the table farthest from them and ordered two beers. He was halfway through one of them when Leo appeared in the doorway.
Farrell lifted a hand, and the other man ambled toward him.
“This for me?” Leo asked, taking the seat opposite Farrell.
“It is.”
“Thanks.” He tipped the beer against his mouth and sighed. “You made it here fast.”
Farrell nodded. “Left right after I talked to you this morning.”
“Nice drive?” Leo asked.
“Under the circumstances,” Farrell said. “Plane good? Business okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Leo said. “Had to let Charlie go, though.”
“Charlie? Really?” Farrell asked, putting down his beer. The kid was young, but Farrell had had high hopes for him. “What happened?”
Leo mad
e a talking motion with one hand. “Mouth.”
It was the biggest test of all in their business. It didn’t matter how smart you were, how willing to do what must be done. If you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, you were gone.
“How did it go down?” Farrell asked.
Leo shrugged. “Gave the kid a beating, sent him on his way with a warning. He never moved up past trainee. Nothing he saw could hurt us.”
It’s how they vetted newcomers to the business: start them out small, pair them with someone beyond reproach in the organization, someone Farrell trusted. Then you watched. Waited. Accumulated feedback from the rest of the crew. Time always told then what they needed to know.
“That’s too bad,” Farrell said.
“You know how it is now,” Leo said. “These kids are more interested in posting to their Instagram than building something solid.”
Farrell nodded. Things were changing. But then again, they always were. Nico had tried too hard to embrace the change, forcing his soldiers to cultivate a more modern way of doing things. It had backfired — not just on him but on the Syndicate.
Farrell had thought him a fool, but that didn’t mean he had another answer. He’d made some concessions: the cyber lab, running the DarkNet, allowing for the electronic transfer of certain funds.
But he was no hacker. No cyber criminal.
He wanted to see his opponent. Wanted his opponent to see him. He’d been drawn to the business not by the promise of riches, but by its brutality. People talked about humanity as if it were comprised only of love and goodness. He knew better. Humanity was at least as much violence, control, vengeance.
He didn’t see the point in denying it when you could control your destiny by accepting it.
But they were in uncharted territory now, their enemy invisible to the naked eye and able to kill millions of people without a sound. The people behind the virus were their only chance to stop it. That started with Denys Levchenko, but he didn’t know where it would end.
He looked at Leo. “This might get ugly.”
“So you said.”
Farrell turned his cup in his hand. “You can opt out. No consequences.”
He smiled. “I’m not opting out.”
Farrell met his eyes. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Farrell said. “Then let me fill you in.”
Twenty-Three
It wasn’t yet six pm when they left the hotel for dinner, but the sky was already dark, the moon hidden behind a thick cover of clouds. Farrell navigated the Saab through the streets of Chamonix like he’d been there many times before. She wondered if it was true, and if so, who he’d been with, what he’d been doing. The five years they’d been apart was like an unopened box between them. They hadn’t yet talked about what it had been like for them during those years. Farrell was a man with appetites. All kinds of appetites. She assumed he’d been with other people in her absence, but it wasn’t something she liked to think about. She pushed the thought aside as they left Chamonix’s light behind them.
It didn’t matter.
“Where the hell are you taking us, Black,” Braden said from the back seat.
“Somewhere we can talk in peace,” Farrell said from the driver’s seat.
Jenna waited for a smart ass reply, but Kane simply sat in silence.
Fifteen minutes later they pulled up outside a chalet-style lodge. She couldn’t make out the surrounding scenery, but she knew they were near the mountain-peaks that would be overrun with skiers inside of two months. She was stepping from the car when she realized they weren’t alone.
Another car was parked in the shadows. And a very large man emerged from the driver’s side.
She glanced at Farrell, waiting for instructions. Had they been found by Levchenko? They were on his turf. It was possible.
But Farrell just smiled. “It’s okay.”
A moment later Leo stepped into the light. She breathed a sigh of relief, then gave him a playful slap on the arm before hugging him.
“This isn’t the best time for mystery,” she said. “You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry,” he said.
She looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”
He nodded at Farrell. “Duty calls.”
Then she understood: Leo would help them case the Levchenko property. They’d been prepared before — she didn’t know much about Kane, but he seemed more than capable, and there was no one she trusted more than Farrell — but now she felt even better about the fact that they might be about to confront the man she knew as Alex Petrov.
“Come on,” Farrell said, taking her hand. “Let’s eat.”
They entered a giant wood-paneled room that looked more like a log cabin than a restaurant, a large fire blazing in a giant stone hearth. The place was suffused with a soft glow, lit with sconces on the wall and flickering candles on the table. Several other tables were occupied, but the dining room was still relatively empty. Farrell didn't seem to know the maitre’d, but they were greeted warmly and escorted to the back of the large room.
They situated themselves around a square table and ordered wine, onion soup, grilled local mushrooms on toast, and fondue.
“So what’s the plan?” Kane asked when the wine had been poured.
“Let’s enjoy the meal,” Farrell said. “Then we’ll discuss strategy.”
“We are going to Levchenko’s tonight, right?” Kane asked.
“We are,” Farrell said.
“Don’t you think we should have a plan?”
“I do,” Farrell said. “And we will. But we’re here. Let’s enjoy the meal. Besides, I want to hear about my daughter.”
“Me, too,” Jenna said, turning to Leo.
Leo nodded. “Lily is fine. Better than fine. She seems to be thriving in Tuscany, and she and Anthony and Lessa run wild all day. Mrs. Pendleton is always arguing with NAME about getting them to wear shoes now that it’s getting colder.”
Jenna smiled at the image. She was paying a heavy price for her involvement in the research her father had uncovered at the Stafford Institute, but at least Lily was happy.
“Mrs. Pendleton is scandalized that Lily isn’t enrolled in school yet,” Leo added with a grin.
The comment shouldn’t have taken her by surprise. Summer had turned into September while she and Farrell had been on the run. It was time for Lily to start school, and she felt a pang of sadness that she’d missed the last few months she would have to keep Lily all to herself. Soon she would have schoolwork and activities and even friends to play with. Jenna wanted that for her, but she couldn’t help feeling that she’d missed something precious.
“I’m glad she’s happy,” Jenna said softly.
“She is,” Leo said. “Which is not to say that she doesn’t miss you.” He looked at Farrell. “Both of you.”
Farrell busied himself straightening his silverware while Jenna smiled. “Thank you, Leo.”
He nodded.
The waiter brought out the first course, and they talked about politics and sports, the weather in London and their favorite restaurants there. The onion soup was warm and comforting, the grilled mushrooms earthy and meaty on the crispy wedges of toast. Jenna drank it all down with sips of wine, mindful of the fact that the men weren’t drinking much.
She didn’t have to be told why. No one knew what was coming at the Levchenko’s property. It could be completely abandoned. In fact, that was the most likely scenario after so many years, especially if Denys Levchenko was trying to lie low.
But it was also possible he would be there. If that were the case, they wouldn’t be welcome.
The waiter had set down the large platter of mixed meats with the hot pot of melted cheese when Kane finally spoke again.
“This is heartwarming, but what’s the plan?”
Farrell reached into his pocket and tossed a pile of photographs on the table. They fanned out, and Jenna got a series of quick impressio
ns as Kane gathered them.
A two story house with a peaked roof and wood siding, not unlike the restaurant.
Encroaching woods, a dense stand of trees, rolling hills leading to mountain peaks.
Isolation.
That was the thing that jumped out at her most. The Levchenko property wasn’t in the town of Chamonix. It was outside it, a good deal outside it if the pictures were accurate.
Kane flipped through them. “When were these taken?”
“Satellite footage,” Farrell said, choosing the choicest pieces of meat from the platter and setting them on Jenna’s plate before dishing his own. “Yesterday.”
“Activity on the property?” Kane asked.
“Unknown.”
Kane set the pictures down and loaded his plate with meat. “Vehicles?”
“Unknown,” Farrell said. “But there’s a garage, so it’s possible.”
“Are we equipped for every eventuality?” Kane asked.
“Every eventuality?” Farrell repeated. “No. But we’re equipped for the ones we’re capable of being equipped for under the circumstances.”
She was in Farrell’s world now. She could only observe, listen, try to learn. She could see their minds working the data, could almost feel the wheels turn as they anticipated potential problems, tried to formulate solutions.
“And Jenna?”
She looked up at the sound of her name. It was Kane, talking to Farrell.
“What about me?” she asked.
Farrell glanced at her, then looked back at Kane. “Let me handle this.”
Jenna set down her fork. “Handle what?” No one spoke, and a bitter laugh escaped her mouth. “Oh, I see now. This is the where-are-we-going-to-stash-the-girl-so-she-doesn’t-get-in-the-way part of the conversation.”
She stood, setting her napkin carefully on her chair before looking at Kane. “Do you now what I’ve been doing these past few months?”
He sat back, seemingly unfazed by her obvious anger. “I have an idea.”
Eternal (London Mob Book 3) Page 12
