Chapter Thirty-Three
Verity took a breath and allowed herself a small grin. That little piece of extra theatrics was hopefully unnecessary, but if it unnerved Cross just a little bit, it was worth it. She ran a quick inventory of everything she needed, because while the evening dress had pockets, the scant excuse for a uniform did not.
Nodding to herself, she tucked the phone under the waistband of her skirt and checked that the listening device was still wedged securely into her cleavage. With the access card, stolen from Giancarlo, clutched in one hand she balanced the tray with an ice-bucket, a bottle of champagne and two glasses on the other and checked her reflection in the mirror.
The bite mark from Valentina wasn’t too obvious but her lip still stung. Verity rolled her eyes, she should have been expecting it. Rabid animals bite. And it was entirely her own doing. She’d lifted the key card from Giancarlo within seconds of his initial embrace, everything after that was pure misdirection. Pretending she’d taken it from Valentina was simply a way to drive another nail into the woman’s coffin. And if it helped turn the Eighth Circle against that vile woman, then it was totally worth it. Shaking out her hair, she flashed a smile at her reflection and quietly let herself out of the powder room.
Features set into an expression of mild boredom, she made her way down the deserted corridor, but as she turned the final corner she found the one remaining security guard blocking her path.
Without hesitation she headed straight for him, a light smile of greeting playing around her lips as she nodded towards the tray in her hand. “I was asked to leave this in the main bedroom,” she said, adding a conspiratorial wink, “I think Mr Vitalie is planning on giving someone the champagne tour later.”
As she’d hoped, the man returned her smile with a slight shake of his head and waved her past. This was obviously a familiar request and not one that caused any suspicion. She raised the tray, watching his reflection in the highly polished ice bucket and once sure he’d turned his back, she veered sharply to the right, pressing the key card against the lock. Two seconds later she was safely inside.
Setting down the tray, she leaned back against the door with a sigh of relief and ran her eyes over the opulent room. An enormous carved mahogany desk dominated the space, its surface a clutter of executive toys.
The device in her ear crackled and she heard Cross ask, “How’s it going?”
“I’m in,” she confirmed.
“Well done. Now place the bug.”
Verity quickly scanned the shelves. Giancarlo was clearly not a fan of books, and the shelves were bare of any useful hiding spaces. There were a few random piles of magazines, a couple of discarded envelopes and half a dozen high-end toy cars. She ran a finger along a shelf and it came away clean. The place looked like it was rarely used but it was regularly dusted.
In the end she tucked the device behind a model of an F1 Ferrari and turned it on.
“All done,” she said to whoever was listening. “Are you picking anything up?”
“Checking now.”
She recognised the voice as the head of security for Eighth Circle London; someone she’d taken great pains to avoid in the past.
“Can you see anywhere he might have hidden the diamonds?” Cross asked.
Verity blinked, she’d almost forgotten that part of the original plan. Her lips twitched towards a smile and she couldn’t resist stringing him along just a little bit further.
“There’s a safe,” she said, crossing the room.
“Can you open it?”
Verity gave a heavy sigh. “Sadly no. Not without the entry code. Anyone know his birthday?”
“Maybe he’s left it written down. Is there anything on his desk?” Cross asked, his voice tight.
“Not that I can see. I don’t think Giancarlo is a big fan of writing.”
She could almost hear him grinding his teeth and her grin grew broader. Wanting to torture him just a little bit further she tapped a few random buttons and the safe gave a sullen beep of refusal.
“We’ve got the signal,” a voice interrupted, the American twang unmistakable. That was the man Cross had been so deferential to earlier when he joined the call. Must be one of the big-wigs, Verity decided.
“I suggest you leave, Ms Williams. The bug is in place and I feel it’s unlikely that he would–”
“Have one last check before you go,” Cross interrupted, “Make sure you haven’t missed anything.
Despite the cool efficiency of his tone, Verity could hear the borderline anxiety beneath it, and for one moment, she almost felt sorry for him.
“I could check the desk?” she offered, rattling one of the drawers.
“Yes,” Cross replied. “See if he’s been careless enough to leave anything lying around.”
Verity leaned closer to the desk to ensure the mic could pick up the sound of the drawer opening. “It’s not even locked,” she said, “so he’s definitely careless.”
“Are the diamonds there?”
Verity rolled her eyes. That wasn’t subtle and he was starting to sound desperate. “No. No diamonds.” She gave a sigh of disappointment.
“Have you checked thoroughly?”
She was pretty sure she could actually hear the muscle in his cheek twitching as he clenched his teeth and she kept her tone light, knowing that would infuriate him even more. “Yes, I’ve checked, there’s nothing in here but files and ledgers.”
“Check again,” Cross snapped.
Resting back against the desk, she stared at the ceiling. “Fine, but I’m telling you there is nothing here but– Oh wait, there is something, right at the back!”
“You’ve found them?” Cross said, and Verity could hear the first hint of relief entering his voice as he feigned surprise.
Verity extracted the Eighth Circle phone from her waistband and turned it over in her fingers. “No, there are no diamonds in here. But I… I’ve found a phone??”
“A phone? What do you mean?” This time, the surprise she could hear was genuine.
“It’s one of your club phones,” she said, just to ensure there was no misunderstanding.
The senior partner interrupted their conversion. “Cross? I thought you said they’d got rid of their phone?”
“That’s what they told me, sir.”
She gave them a few seconds to process this new information and then asked, “Do you want me to bring it, or leave it here?”
“Bring it with you,” the American said firmly. “Now, get the hell out of there.”
“Okay,” Verity replied, pushing herself upright. “I’m on my way.”
Through her earpiece she could hear the creak of a door opening and the increased sounds from the party which told her that Cross was already on the move.
“I’ll meet you at the end of the alleyway,” he said, his voice returning to the crisp professionalism that she always found unnerving.
“See you in a few minutes,” she replied.
Silently, she let herself out of the office and retraced her footsteps down the hallway, giving the security guard a bright smile as she passed. As she neared the top of the stairs she removed the mic and earpiece and dropped them into a convenient potted plant. Changing direction she ducked back into the bathroom and kicked off her shoes.
From the moment he’d raised the subject, she knew she wouldn’t be following Cross’s carefully laid out escape route. So, she’d decided to make plans of her own: plans which involved finding her own way off this property, shifting the conversation to a safe, neutral location and arranging the hand off of the phone to some Eighth Circle lacky.
She chewed her lip. Neutral, she could probably manage. Safe would be a stretch, but she’d worry about that once she was away from this blinged out monstrosity of a house.
Slightly hampered by the too tight skirt she clambered awkwardly onto the sink and threw one leg over the windowsill. Searching with her foot, she felt for the top of the trellis she’d spotted earlier. It wasn’t an ideal escape route; she’d never been a fan of heights and she wasn’t exactly dressed for climbing but she had no intention of going anywhere near that alleyway or the hired goon who was no doubt waiting for her.
The descent was even more precarious than she’d feared. The wooden framework creaked and pulled free of the wall as it bent alarmingly beneath her weight. Clinging on for dear life, she kicked aside the trailing clematis and scrambled towards the ground. She was little more than halfway to safety when a narrow slat gave way beneath her foot, the loud crack announcing the end of her climb and pitching her the final few feet into the darkness.
Verity landed heavily in the carefully manicured border, her ankle twisting on a hidden rock and she swore under her breath. Taking a careful step to see if it could still bear her weight, she winced. That was going to slow her down.
She froze, holding her breath and listening hard to see if her inelegant landing had attracted any attention. But the surrounding area remained quiet and she slowly started to make her way towards the main road.
Hands outstretched in the dark she limped forward, stumbling slightly as the mud under her feet changed to grass and then to the fine gravel of a path. As she rounded a corner, the darkness thinned and she could make out streetlights in the distance.
Almost there!
Aware that the final stretch would be the most hazardous she hesitated, trying to decide if she could brazenly walk barefoot down the main drive or if she should stick to the shadows. Then a hand reached out of the darkness and slapped across her mouth. The next second she was jerked off her feet.
A familiar voice in her ear whispered, “Going somewhere?”