Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Fearghas was first out of the limousine they’d hired to carry Hank Patterson and his wife, Sadie McClain, to the country estate of Lord Johnathon Stanhope in Buckinghamshire, England.
Paparazzi, invited to record the annual event hosted by Lord Stanhope, lined the entrance to the massive French chateau.
Cameras flashed as he opened the back door of the vehicle.
Hank unfolded his long, lean frame and turned to offer his hand to his wife, helping her step out of the limo, dressed in a sapphire blue dress that hugged every inch of her curves.
Finding a dress on short notice had been a challenge she’d handled beautifully. An actress friend of Sadie’s who lived in London had commissioned the dress for an event that had been canceled at the last minute. Their measurements had been similar enough Sadie only had to have a few tucks made by a talented seamstress.
Hank and Fearghas had found a place to rent tuxedos for the occasion.
Fearghas had used hair dye to change the color of his hair from deep auburn to dark brown. He wore brown-tinted contact lenses to hide his green eyes, a fake brown mustache and a goatee beard Catya had found at a London costume shop.
He hadn’t liked that Catya wouldn’t be with him for the ride out to Buckinghamshire. She would arrive with Dmytro as a “date.”
Dmytro’s cousin had him added to the guest list as an up-and-coming Ukrainian chef, Viktor Federov, who had escaped the war in Ukraine and was building his name across Germany and parts of Spain and France. Lucie had found the chef’s name in foody articles posted on the internet. The man’s photograph had not been posted with any of the articles, making it easy for Dmytro to assume his identity and be added to the guest list as a celebrity.
Dmytro had also dyed his white hair dark brown and added a beard to partially hide the scar across his cheek. He’d found a tuxedo at the same shop as Hank and Fearghas.
Catya found a shimmering gold gown in a store in downtown London that fit perfectly, showing off her figure. Long slits up both sides made it easy for her to move, should she need to make a quick exit. She’d tucked her black hair beneath a long, blonde wig that hung straight down her back. She’d expertly applied makeup to hide her dark eyebrows, drawing lighter brown brows in their place.
Jasmine was coming as an interpreter for the Greek Minister of Foreign Affairs, Kostas Dimas, whose regular interpreter had come down with a sudden gastrointestinal ailment. Jasmine just happened to be available to fill in for the interpreter.
Hank had pulled some strings with Peter Atkins’s MI6 contact, Martin Reed, who appropriated a communications van they’d disguised as a news van and were able to park it outside Stanhope’s mansion in Buckinghamshire.
The van had all the latest communication devices they could possibly need. After hearing what had happened to Atkins, Martin Reed had insisted on helping with the mission, which ended up being a blessing as the equipment needed specialized skills to operate.
Reed had outfitted Fearghas, Hank and Dmytro with hidden cameras. He could only plant listening devices on the women since their dresses wouldn’t hide much. They had tested the devices before they’d left Ivan’s warehouse, where they’d staged before leaving for the estate in the country.
Reed and Ace would monitor the operation from inside the van.
Dmytro and Catya were armed with tiny surveillance cameras they could place strategically throughout the ballroom to give the guys in the van an even broader perspective, allowing them to warn the team inside the mansion of potential dangers.
Having been at the Roxburgh Mansion in Scotland when an explosion had destroyed the building and the people inside, Fearghas wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation, and he wasn’t happy that Catya would be inside as well. Hell, he didn’t want any of the team caught in an explosion.
He hid his nervousness behind the stone-cold poker face of a bodyguard there to protect the megastar, Sadie McClain.
“The Sadie McClain entourage has arrived,” Ace’s voice sounded in Fearghas’s ear as he followed the couple up the steps. They entered the Stanhope mansion through the double doors opened by two liveried men.
Crossing the threshold, they stepped into a three-story foyer with smooth marble floors. At the far end of the space, two ornately curved staircases rose to the second level.
Another liveried servant led them past the staircases to an arched doorway leading into a massive ballroom that could easily accommodate several hundred guests. A string quartet positioned on a raised dais at one end of the room played classical music while guests moved around the room, talking in small groups or waiting in line at the two bars spaced out across the room.
The dance floor in front of the musicians remained empty as people mingled and visited each other.
Before they could join the crowd in the ballroom, they had to run the gauntlet of a reception line, including Lord Johnathon Stanhope and several people Fearghas had no idea who they were.
Hank and Sadie smiled and shook hands down the length of the line, pausing at Lord Stanhope to thank him for including them at such short notice.
As the bodyguard, Fearghas was spared the pleasantries, hanging back several feet like a stoic protector taking his job seriously.
Once past the reception line, they melted into the crowd.
Sadie immediately garnered attention, albeit of the English stand-offish style, as opposed to the gushing, over-zealous ways of the Americans.
Sadie handled all attention like the professional she was, with humble kindness.
“Chef Federov and his date have arrived,” Ace reported.
Fearghas drew in a breath and let it out slowly, easing some of the tension building between his shoulder blades.
Dmytro and Catya had arrived.
“And here comes the Greek Minister of Foreign Affairs and his interpreter, the beautiful Jasmine,” Ace said, his love for the interpreter apparent in how his voice softened on her name. “The gang’s all here. Let’s do this.”
Inside the ballroom, Fearghas watched out of the corner of his eye for Dmytro and Catya’s entrance.
And then they were there, standing in the doorway, surveying the room and the beautiful people dressed to the nines.
They quickly addressed the reception line and kept moving.
As a blond, Catya was stunning beside the hulking Dmytro as they moved around the ballroom. They found a wide staircase near the entrance to the ballroom and climbed to the second level, where a walkway formed a half-circle around the floor below. Other guests had wandered up to that level to look down at others.
From where Fearghas stood, he could see that another bar had been set up on the second floor with comfortable seating and stand-up cocktail tables arranged for guests to sit or stand to enjoy their drinks.
Dmytro headed for the bar and ordered two drinks. Once he’d been served, he handed one to Catya. Together, they walked to the railing and looked down on the guests below.
Catya’s gaze panned the room until it came to rest on Fearghas. Her head dipped slightly, acknowledging that she had spotted him.
She was so beautiful that the sight made Fearghas’s chest tighten. He liked her dark hair better, but she pulled off the blond wig like it was her natural color.
As she stood talking to Dmytro, balancing her drink in one hand, she rested her other hand on the rail.
Fearghas hid a smile.
Good girl.
Catya had just placed one of the mini cameras that would give Ace and Reed a birds-eye view of the ballroom floor below.
The chef and his date strolled around the railing, stopping to point at paintings lining the walls as if they gave a damn about them. At the opposite end of the walkway, they stopped again and looked over the railing, talking and smiling as if commenting on the guests.
Dmytro stuck his camera on the railing. He turned to smile at Catya and motioned for them to descend the stairs to the ballroom floor.
“We have three cameras in place. We can see them on the monitors. The two overlooking the ballroom and one in the sitting area on the second floor,” Ace reported.
Fearghas moved around the ballroom with Hank and Sadie, all the while watching Catya out of the corners of his eyes. As a bodyguard, his duty was to protect Sadie.
Hank had told him at the outset that he would protect his wife, Sadie, with his life. If things went south at the event and Catya was in trouble, Fearghas was to go to Catya and protect her. Hank would get Sadie out.
“Deputy Prime Minister Blackhurst has arrived,” Ace announced in Fearghas’s ear.
A moment later, Ace came on the radio again. “Cassandra Miles just stepped out of a vehicle and is on her way inside.”
Fearghas glanced toward the door to the ballroom.
Blackhurst entered by himself and greeted his host, Lord Jonathan Stanhope. He leaned close and said something strictly for Stanhope’s ears.
The host gave Blackhurst a brief nod and turned his attention to the next guest in line.
Blackhurst strode into the ballroom, his shoulders back, his head held high as if he owned the place, not Stanhope.
Cassandra Miles entered the ballroom in a form-fitting black gown that molded to her body from breast to toe yet swayed easily with every step she took. She smiled at Lord Stanhope, letting him take both of her hands in his. He lifted one to his lips and pressed a kiss to the backs of her knuckles.
She laughed lightly and pulled her hand free before moving on.
Stanhope’s gaze followed her as she joined a small gathering of men in tuxedoes near the bar. They moved to make a space for her to enter their group. One man darted out, ordered a drink at the bar and returned moments later to hand it to her.
She took the drink and smiled at the man.
The socialite knew how to command attention. A woman like Cassandra would be an asset to any team. Too bad she appeared to be involved in something as dangerous and deadly as illegal arms sales and murder.
Fearghas looked away from Miles and turned his focus back to Catya.
Who should have been with Dmytro…
Dmytro stood talking with a man, his eyes a little wide, his stance tense as if he were uncomfortable.
Fearghas glanced at Hank. “You got this?”
Hank slid his arm around his wife and nodded.
Fearghas crossed the floor to Dmytro and broke into the conversation.
“Chef Federov, I’d hoped I would catch you this evening,” Fearghas said. “I have a question about one of the recipes I found in your book. Could I steal you away for a moment?”
“Of course. I’d be happy to help you.” He turned to the man in front of him. “Please, excuse me.”
The man he’d been talking with frowned.
Dmytro didn’t let that bother him. He hooked Fearghas’s arm and walked away.
“Thank you,” Dmytro said. “That man is a chef in London. He wanted to know how I made my Chicken Kiev so special. I told him it was a secret recipe. He wouldn’t accept that answer and started talking about how he made his and the ingredients.” Dmytro leaned close. “I’ve never made Chicken Kiev. Other than chicken, I had no idea what ingredients to use.”
Fearghas chuckled. “You looked like you could use a lifeline.” He looked around. “Where’s your date?”
Dmytro glanced around as well. “She said she was going to the toilet.” He checked his watch. “I would have expected her to be back by now. She has been gone at least five minutes.”
Fearghas’s gaze swept the room. “Which way did she go?”
Dmytro tipped his head toward a door leading off the side of the ballroom.
“Something wrong?” Ace asked in Fearghas’s ear.
“I’m not sure. I don’t see Catya.”
“I still show her listening device as working,” Ace said. “Although it’s been a few minutes since she’s said anything.”
“I’m going to look for her,” Fearghas said. “Hear that, Hank?”
“Roger,” Hank responded. “We’ll cover out here.”
Fearghas walked across the ballroom floor when he would rather have run. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, but damn. Where was she?
Dread settled like a heavy weight in the pit of his belly.
Please, let her be all right.