Chapter Twenty-One
Verity closed the door behind her and swiftly ran her eyes over the room. There wasn’t much of note: a desk, a chair, a couple of filing cabinets and bookshelves lining two of the walls.
Tucking the listening device between a couple of the books she stepped back to check it wasn’t too visible and her hip bumped against the desk. Given the size of the house and the obvious importance of the target to Cross, the dimensions of this room felt mean?
“Can you tell if it’s working?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m getting the signal through.”
Verity tilted her head as she ran her eyes over the spines of the books. She couldn’t identify any of them, their titles gibberish to her. Probably French or Italian, she decided. The owner of this house definitely looked like someone who’d read Proust in the original.
“You can get out of there now.”
Verity nodded, then realised he couldn’t see the gesture and was about to add a quick murmur of agreement, when an item on the desk caught her eye. She frowned. “Just give me a second.” Her fingers reached for the folded newspaper.
“You’re done, get out of there now,” Cross snapped in her ear.
Choosing to ignore him, she sank into the chair and unfolded the newspaper so she could read the title..
Le Monde.
The chair bumped awkwardly as she tried to shift closer, clearly not designed to fit with the desk and her frown deepened.
“Something’s off,” she muttered.
She squinted at the date, even with her appalling french she could see it was a couple of weeks out of date.
Her eyes returned to the books. French. They were definitely in french.
“Is this Mathieu’s place?” The words blurted from her in surprise. “Are you spying on Mathieu? Why would you do that? I thought you were friends?”
“Don’t worry about that now, you’ve done what I needed you to do. Now get out!”
Ignoring the instruction, Verity quickly rifled through the drawers, searching for something to confirm her suspicion.
***
The drawn curtains in the bedroom above added to the suffocating sense of claustrophobia. Jaw tense, Cross stared at the video screen and tried to project an air of calm, but was uncomfortably aware of the scrutiny from the others present.
Of the four of them, Mathieu was the only one who appeared even remotely relaxed, leaning against the wall and trying to hide his growing smile. Not trying very hard, Cross thought with annoyance. Valentine was sitting directly behind him, no doubt nursing a large glass of wine and an even larger grudge at being forced to take part in this pantomime to begin with. Cross could feel her accusatory gaze stabbing between his shoulder blades.
The fourth member of their awkward party was Henderson, the soft spoken American who was one of the six board members of the Eighth Circle and reported only to the chairman. Ultimately, he would be the one to decide if this experiment was deemed a success or failure and only he could sanction the next step. For the moment his expression was bland, giving no hint as to the direction of his thoughts.
Initially, Cross had been happy with how the evening was progressing, but as Verity continued to argue with him, he could feel his entire plan spiralling out of control.
Her voice crackled through the speaker, loud enough for them all to hear the accusatory tone.
“Is this why you wouldn’t give me any details? You didn’t think I’d play along if I knew?”
Across the room from him, Mathieu met his eye and gave a chuckle.
“I think she likes me more than she likes you, mon ami.”
Cross glared at him. “You couldn’t have done a better job of setting up a neutral space?”
Mathieu grinned. “You gave me less than a day’s notice, were you expecting me to hire an interior decorator?”
Glowering, Cross returned his attention to the microphone. “Verity, just leave everything as it was and get out of there.”
“Hate to tell you this, but I think he’s on to you. Either I’m in the wrong room or this has been staged for me to find.”
Behind him, Cross heard Valentina give a theatrical sigh as she set down her glass. “I told you this wouldn’t work,” she said, her condescending tone grating down his spine. “The girl is unreliable and too stupid to even follow simple instructions.” She yawned and stretched. “I don’t know why we’re wasting our time.
Wanting to ignore her, but uncomfortably aware that she might be right, Cross snapped his reply to Verity. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, the chair doesn’t fit with the desk, the drawers are all empty, the newspaper is a couple of weeks old and the whole room just feels too small. Mathieu has style, he wouldn’t work out of a space like this.”
Almost able to feel the smug grin from the man behind him burning between his shoulder blades, Cross kept his eyes fixed on the screen as Verity got to her feet.
“Do you want me to remove the bug, or leave it here for him to find, because he will find it.”
Cross was about to reply when a hand reached over his shoulder to cover the mic. It belonged to Henderson, and he felt his hopes fade as the man said, “Okay, I think we’ve seen enough. End this now. Send someone to get her out of there before she starts dismantling the furniture.”
At the man’s nod, Mathieu dropped his amused smirk, pulled a phone from his pocket and let himself silently out of the room.
Frustrated, but unable to come up with a counter argument, Cross nodded to the senior partner and was about to issue the instruction to Verity when he saw her stiffen.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I think someone’s coming.”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s all–”
“Damn it, I can’t hear properly with you yammering in my good ear.”
To his alarm, he watched as she removed the ear piece - a strangled, “Wait!” flying from his lips. But it was too late and he could do little more than watch as she warily approached the door before rapidly changing direction and retreating behind the desk, her eyes scanning the walls, looking for another way out. After trying the window and finding it locked, she grabbed a heavy paperweight.
Realising too late what she was about to do, Cross changed the communication channel, hoping to alert Mathieu and his security team. But before he could raise a warning the first guard reached the room.
After that things happened very fast indeed.
Verity lunged out from behind the door and slammed the marble paperweight into the man’s nose. He collapsed with barely a murmur and Cross watched in horror as Verity hesitated briefly before reaching into his jacket to remove his side piece.
Shaking himself out of the shock which had descended, Cross flipped to the main broadcast channel. “She’s on the move and she has a gun. Repeat, she has a gun!”
“Oh Thomas, you should have listened to me.” A smug look of satisfaction curled her lips as Valentina got gracefully to her feet and gestured to her men who hovered in the doorway.
Not bothering to reply, Cross pushed past the security team and took off down the corridor. Where would she go? She’d want to get out of the building, so he was fairly sure she’d be trying to get down onto ground level.
The sound of shattering crockery whipped his head round as he descended the main staircase and a voice crackled in his ear.
“She’s trying to get out through the kitchen.”
“I’m on my way, can you intercept her?”
“It’s okay, the exit from the kitchen leads to a courtyard and the gate is locked.”
“That’s not necessarily going to stop her,” Cross snarled.
As he feared, the gate to the small courtyard was swinging open by the time he exited the kitchen. Mathieu and a couple of his men paced the narrow alleyway beyond.
“Which way would she go?” his friend asked.
Cross shook his head, “I have no idea.” His gaze came to rest on the irregular, cobbled surface of the footpath. She wouldn’t be able to run in those heels , he thought, she’d have to take them off. Fishing out his phone he turned on the torch and scanned the ground. He felt an almost dizzying wave of relief when the beam picked up a flash of red. One discarded shoe poked out from behind a cardboard box.
“That way!”
Behind him he heard Mathieu giving the instruction, “She’s headed for the river.”
Cross winced, he wished his friend hadn’t done that. Hobbled by that dress and hemmed in on either side by high fences it wouldn’t take them too long to catch her. But if certain elements of their entourage managed to circle round ahead of her, he would lose what little control he still held over the situation.
As he turned the next corner he caught a flash of red, a few hundred yards ahead. Now he had his sights on the target he picked up his pace. They’d reached the towpath and barefoot she would struggle over the stony ground.
A few seconds later, he could see her more clearly; she’d pulled up her dress with one hand, to give her a better range of movement, but her other hand was still clenched round the gun. Before he could shout her name, she dipped into the deep shadows beneath the old railway bridge and Cross temporarily lost sight of her.
“We have her.” The unfamiliar voice of one of the security team crackled in his ear and he swore under his breath. They’d done exactly what he feared and got ahead of the fleeing girl.
It took his eyes a few moments to adjust to the gloom, but once they did his expression tightened. While they might have halted her escape, Verity was yet to be apprehended or, more importantly, disarmed.
The gun in her hand waved erratically from one looming figure to another as she turned, desperately searching for an escape route. Cross swallowed hard. Clearly she was terrified and there was every chance she might shoot someone entirely by accident. If that happened there would be nothing he could do to intercede with the events that would follow.
But increasingly more likely was the chance that someone else would shoot her first. The security team were highly trained but they wouldn’t risk injury from a panicked, gun welding individual.
For some reason that concerned him more than the possibility of a stray shot finding him. He didn’t take the time to dwell on that realisation.
Holding up his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture and took a careful step towards her.
“Verity,” he said in a low, reassuring tone, “look at me.” He had to repeat himself a couple of times but eventually his words seemed to penetrate her panic and she turned towards him. Cross tried not to flinch as the shaking gun swung in his direction. God he hoped the safety was still on that thing.
“Good girl,” he whispered and was relieved to see her head tilt fractionally under the endearment. Encouraged, he took another step forward. “That’s it, you're doing so well.”
The gun dipped a few inches and she swayed before taking the first hesitant step in his direction.
“Yes, that’s the way, come to me.” He could see her face contort as she fought back the tears, “Just put the gun down, Verity and I’ll take you home.”
A tremor ran up her arm as she fought the instruction but her knees dipped, almost buckling as she reached for the ground, the gun now limp in her fingers.
Cross was almost ready to breathe a sigh of relief and close the remaining gap between them when Valentina elbowed her way into the loose circle.
“What are you all waiting for?” she snarled, “Shoot her. Shoot her now!”
Before his eyes Cross saw Verity go rigid with shock, then she slowly straightened, the blood draining from her face as her eyes went blank.
Cross froze, he’d seen that expression before. That thousand yard stare, indicating that the wearer was no longer anchored safely in the present but had been dragged back to some horrific incident in their past.
Almost in slow motion he watched her raise the gun, pointing it at Valentina. Her hand was shaking so badly he doubted she had the strength to pull the trigger, but he couldn’t risk finding out. Behind him, he heard the click of a safety being released.
He didn’t even bother shouting for them to hold their fire, these were Valentine’s men, not his - instead he hurled himself bodily across the space, taking Verity to the ground. The gun jolted from her nerveless fingers and clattered across the concrete.
Cross flinched as a bullet winged over his head, ricocheting off the brick work of the bridge but thankfully not finding its target. Silence followed and all he could hear was the frantic pounding of his heart.
Warily, he raised his head as the security personnel holstered their weapons. Once sure that the immediate danger had passed he dropped his gaze to the shivering figure pinned to the ground beneath him.
Verity was still conscious but her eyes retained that sightless gaze of pure shock. Limp and unresisting, she remained motionless as he got to his feet and carefully picked her up.
“That was unnecessary!” he snarled at Valentina.
“She had a gun!”
“We can argue about this later.” Henderson resumed control of the situation, stepping carefully around Cross to pick up the discarded weapon and slide it into his pocket. “Right now, we need to get back inside. Someone will have heard that shot and are probably calling the authorities as we speak.”
Cross nodded and turned to retrace his footsteps.
“You’re bringing her with us?”
He frowned at Valentina’s tone. “Of course? Did you want me to leave her here for the police to find.”
“I want her at the bottom of the river with a bullet in her head. She pulled a gun on me!”
“She was terrified! Your men drew first!”
“Enough! Bring the girl and let’s get out of here.” The man’s tone left no room for argument and even Valentina fell silent although Cross could feel her gaze lingering on the figure in his arms.
***
Back in the house, once the remaining guests had been ushered away with apologies and promises of another night, Mathieu carefully locked the doors and drew the heavy curtains as Cross sank onto a sofa, still cradling Verity in his arms. She scraped her arm when he’d slammed her into the ground and bright red blood was staining his dress shirt. It was exactly the same shade as the dress he’d ordered for her, a detail which now seemed disturbingly prescient.
Valentina, however, remained on her feet and was clearly bristling for a fight.
“So that’s it then,” she snapped, once all the civilians had departed, “you had your opportunity and you failed. Can we please move on from this nonsense!”
Henderson cleared his throat and Cross thought he saw Valentina flinch, just a fraction. She didn’t hold seniority here and she knew it. He held his breath, a faint hope stirring in his chest that this had not been for nothing. Everyone turned to the man in charge, waiting for his verdict.
Henderson took a moment to remove his jacket and settle himself into a chair, then he tapped one finger against his lips. “As I see it, the girl displayed all the requisite skills as promised. And she almost managed a clean getaway despite the number of trained staff we had on the premises. All in all, very impressive.” At Valentina’s outraged growl he raised one hand. “But I agree there are serious concerns about her overall reliability, not to mention our ability to control her actions.” He sighed and shrugged. “On balance, the board will stay out of the decision. It is a matter to be decided by the club owners involved.” His gaze swung between Cross and Valentina. “Both of you.”
Cross felt what little hope he had fade and a cold grin stretched across Valentina’s face.
“Then it is decided,” she said, “we proceed no further with this ludicrous pantomime.” Her icy gaze met his, daring him to contradict her. He knew he couldn’t and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Fine,” he conceded. “It’s over.”
Suddenly exhausted he struggled to feet.
“Where are you going?”
That grating note in Valentina’s tone was starting to wear away at the last shreds of his self control.
“As you said,” he snapped, “ it’s over. Therefore, I am going home.”
“With her?”
Cross swung round, all the frustration and disappointment from earlier boiling to the surface. “Yes! With her. She’s injured and needs a doctor. Do you have a problem with that?”
For one moment he thought Valentina was about to overrule him once again, but the senior partner stepped between them.
Eyes fixed on Verity’s face he nodded. “Yes, she needs medical attention.” He raised his gaze to Cross. “She really did very well, it’s a shame things ended the way they did.”
With that he patted Cross on the shoulder and steered him towards the front door.
Behind them Cross was fairly certain he could hear Valentina grinding her teeth. It wasn’t much of a victory, but the only one he was getting from this evening, so he’d take it.