Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
R onnie rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling of the private jet. The lights were framed in an oak checkerboard pattern. She’d tugged carpet, removed panels, worked through the cargo hold, checked out the avionics bay, inspected every bolt, nail, and thread of the furniture, and couldn’t find anywhere Abrasha could have hidden.
“Centurion, check in.” That was Fury again.
She tapped her earpiece. “Nothing … yet.” She wasn’t ready to give up. There had to be a place in that jet where he’d hidden. A person didn’t just disappear.
“Did you check the avionics bay?”
Ronnie sighed, “Yes. Not my first rodeo or private aircraft. I’m taking five and then starting again. Something has to be here.”
“Copy,” Fury said, and her earpiece went silent.
She stared at the lights on the ceiling and replayed that morning's conversation with Con.
She’d slept longer than she’d wanted and found him in the kitchen. He had a pan of eggs cooking. When he saw her, he smiled. “May I make you some breakfast?”
“Thank you,” she said and walked into the kitchen. “One egg. Have you started the toast?”
“No, I wasn’t sure where it was. I felt awkward rummaging around for the pan and the eggs.”
She snorted and opened a cabinet where the toaster lived. She pulled it out onto the counter. “White, wheat, or sourdough?”
He blinked at the question. “Whatever you’re having.”
She put two slices of frozen sourdough bread into the toaster, set the timer to defrost, and then toasted the bread. She leaned against the counter and watched him as he studiously studied the eggs. Breaking the silence, she began, “Look, about yesterday …”
He turned toward her, and before she could say anything else, he said, “I’m sorry about that. I haven’t had a lot of experience with assassins. I made you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have said what I did. Just forget I ever mentioned it.”
She walked over to him. “You told the truth. Never stop doing that. The truth is all we have sometimes.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and handed him the spatula. “You should probably put those on a plate.” Going to the cabinet, she retrieved two plates for him to use. She set them beside the range and went to the refrigerator before pulling out a pitcher of orange juice and putting it on the table, along with two glasses and silverware. By the time she was done, the toast had popped up, and she buttered it and took it to the table.
Con pulled her chair out for her and sat down. “Regardless, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be. I have a difficult time letting people get close. My past has a pretty traumatic event in it that created a substantial roadblock for me to overcome. I’ve become insulated from the world. My sister reminded me last night I needed to be open to taking chances and moving forward.”
That crooked grin of his spread across his face. “My brother told me I needed to back off and hope like hell you didn’t kick me out on my ass.”
She laughed and shook her head. “How about I don’t kick you out, and you don’t back off?” She held up a finger. “Don’t back off on us. That doesn’t include my identity. That remains a closed book … for now.”
“So, there’s a possibility you’ll fill me in someday?” He took a bite of his toast after he asked.
She stared at him for a moment. “Yes.” She nodded. If things progressed, maybe. She’d take the chance with the man—the one who took the time to see through her fa?ade.
“Then I’m satisfied.” Con reached to place his hand over hers. “I won’t push on that. You have my word.”
Turning her hand up, she held his. “Then we should be good.”
She leaned forward, and he met her halfway. She could taste the butter on his lips and tongue as he kissed her.
“Yo, bro, are you guys in England awake yet?” Brando’s voice made her jump.
Con groaned and flopped back into his chair. “Is everyone trying to keep us apart?”
“Maybe.” Ronnie laughed at his over-the-top angst and tapped her earpiece. “We’re here. What’s up?”
“Hey, Ronnie. Con, we have our assignments for the day. Ronnie, they want you to go to the aircraft and find out where Abrasha was hiding.”
“I’ll leave in fifteen minutes.” She poured herself a glass of orange juice and then one for Con.
“Con, I’ve put all the details in the shared folder. Let me know which ones you want, and I’ll do the rest.”
Con tapped his earpiece, “Brando, man, pick the ones you want and leave the rest for me.” Con chuckled. “We’re equals.”
There was silence for a moment. “Thanks, that’s good to hear.”
“Well, someone should have told you that long ago.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll take the passports and identities they claim go with them. You’ve got the embassy call logs, and they’ve given us access to the security cameras inside the embassy, with the exception of the ambassador’s office.”
“What about Eisenberger’s residences?” Con asked with his mouth half full.
“Dude, chew quieter.” Brando sighed. “That’s just gross, and the big guys have a specialist taking care of that assignment.”
“How’s Jewell?” Ronnie asked.
“Think she’s still sick. Ethan has been assigned most of her duties. What he can’t handle, Ring will pick up.”
Con made a point to smack his lips noisily and winked at her as he was doing it. “Great, I’ll get back online with you when we’re done eating.”
“Thank God,” Brando drawled. “Don’t let this twit fool you, Ronnie. He was brought up with manners. Make him use them. I’m clear.”
They both tapped their earpieces, and she shook her head at him. “Why do brothers need to harass each other incessantly?”
Con shrugged. “I think it has something to do with … I don’t know. It’s kind of like a ladder of sorts. My oldest brother, Rob, harasses Matt. I, in turn, bother the hell out of Brandon.”
“Matt doesn’t harass you?” She cut a small piece of her egg and placed it on a square of toast.
“What? No.” He laughed. “There are so many years between them and Brandon and me we rarely talk. They have different interests than we do. They’re more like older cousins than brothers.” He shrugged. “But Brandon and I are close, so there’s that.”
She stared at the lights and smiled. Con’s ladder had a couple of steps missing. She laughed at the thought. Her eyes traveled over the grid above her. A ladder. Shit. She was on her feet in a second. She pulled a step stool she’d been using from the living area to where she’d been lying.
Examining the wood frame, she found what she was looking for. Carefully, she tested the hinge and looked for a way to release it. She pushed and pulled, finally realizing she had to slide a decorative brass adornment over the hinge’s release button on both sides simultaneously. The frame lowered, and she saw the seam where the hidden panel was located. She reached down to her ankle and withdrew the Beretta PX4 Storm she carried. Grabbing the release, she yanked the panel open and stepped back, her gun trained on the opening. She used her cell phone’s flashlight as she stepped up to look at the compartment. It was tight, damn tight, but there was enough room for a man to lay flat in the compartment. It wouldn’t be comfortable. She examined the length of the insulated compartment. Seven, maybe eight feet in length. She tapped her earpiece. “Found it.”
“And Abrasha?” Fury demanded.
“Not here.” She stepped down the ladder. “The decorative frame overhead hid the compartment.” She snapped several photos of the compartment. “I’m sending pictures.” She hit send. “The compartment would work for smuggling. You could cram a lot into that area. It would hold someone as big as Abrasha. He’d be cramped, but he wouldn’t be found.”
“Leave it open. Archangel will want to reach out to his counterparts in the U.K. and allow them to see what you discovered.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way. What else do you need me to do?”
“Nothing at this point. I’ve got Con and Brando working on setting up surveillance in the government and banking areas just in case Abrasha shows his face.”
“Don’t forget the residences, too,” she said as she replaced her weapon in its holster.
“Con said he’d already accessed the neighborhood’s digital doorbells and hacked into London’s extensive traffic camera system. I have a feed of both residences and a rotating feed of the government and banking areas.”
“He’s pretty damn good at what he does.”
Fury made a harrumphing sound.
“What in the world is your gripe with him?” She laughed as she exited the plane. She walked straight over to where the entry control point for the aircraft was erected. “You’ve got a compartment in the main cabin. I left it open.” She walked out of the cordoned area and straight to her car. When she got inside, she said, “I’m waiting.”
“You’ll be waiting for a long time. Ask your boyfriend.”
“My boyfriend?” Her jaw dropped. “What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing,” Fury retorted. “You seem to like him, so ask him.”
“But, Joey, I’m asking you.” She started her Jaguar and put it into drive, pulling onto the gravel road that led back to the paved roadway.
“You don’t get to call me that.” He sounded growly.
“Okay, so how about Uncle Joey? I used to call you that.”
“When you were a kid. You’re not a kid any longer.” Fury sighed.
“Seriously, what’s the beef between the two of you?”
“Again, I say, ask the asshat you’re working with. If you have nothing else for me, you’re clear until we contact you again. We have an asset going into the residences tonight or tomorrow night, depending on a couple of factors.”
“Abrasha could be out of the country,” she mused as she turned onto the paved roadway and headed back toward her flat.
“And the moon could be purple, but until we have proof, we work with what we have.”
“How does Aunt Ember put up with your grumpy ass all the time?”
“I’m not grumpy. Behave yourself, or I’ll turn you over my knee.”
She laughed. “Charley told me about the time you took her over your knee. I won’t poke the bear.”
“See, I always told your dad you were the smart one of the bunch.” There was genuine laughter in his voice.
“We’ll agree on that point. Say hi to everyone for me. I’m clear.” Tapping her comm device, she turned on her radio, listening to Mozart as she returned to the city. She drew in a deep breath and smiled. So far, the day had turned out well. She’d cleared the air with Con and found that damn hiding place. Two for two. That was her kind of score.