Chapter Sixteen
Reginald sat very still, hands folded over the soft leather of the steering wheel, watching the small group down the street from him cluster around the green Austin Seven.
He had no idea how four grown adults planned to cram into the Baby Austin—yet they fussed with their coats and exchanged easy laughter as if the car were built for comfort rather than compromise.
Behind him, the men in the backseat murmured low, the sort of talk men make when waiting for permission to turn intent into action.
“Looks like a decent party,” one muttered, his voice a dry rasp.
Yes, his prey was surrounded as she always was, but the more the merrier. People were more at ease when in a group. Having them feel comfortable made for an easier abduction. The men in the car shifted. One tapped the heel of his foot against the floor—a soft percussion.
In the distance a bell struck the hour, a dull, obedient sound, and the group at the curb instinctively checked their watches as if they had all been reading from the same script.
A small boy around the age of his own son ran past. Reginald’s mouth twitched at his gangly gait, that of one who had just had a growth spurt and was now wearing long trousers. His wife would be getting their children ready for bed soon.
The street boy’s cry ricocheted off the car as he tripped—scuffing his knees, putting a hole in his new trousers. His mother wouldn’t be pleased.
Surprisingly, the large red-haired man in the group ran over and lifted the boy easily back onto his feet. He said a few words to him, and the young fella gave him a smile before nodding and running on. Reginald was glad the boy was okay.
He moved his eyes back to the group. Being at the top of this order, he didn’t usually carry out missions such as this, but his partners, Lady Beatrice Hatherleigh and Major Arthur Ellison, felt this particular mission needed to be handled from the top.
Though the men in the car with him had no idea he was one of their leaders.
They were risking their client’s trust by attempting to recruit the target rather than eliminate her outright.
He would tail them tonight, take the professor, and then they would see which way the wind blew.
Beatrice believed she could mold Isla Cole into the fourth pillar of their leadership; they needed that final element to complete their set.
So far, they had been unable to find anyone both clever and powerful enough by Lady Beatrice’s standards to fill the role.
Tonight he would make the road treacherous, and when the crash came, he would ensure she was moved somewhere quieter—somewhere persuasion could be practiced.