A Brilliant Deception (30 page)

My hand dropped like a weight in my lap, loosely holding the ring. Atworthy reached across and plucked it from me; I did nothing to resist.

“This may help explain a few things,” Atworthy said, turning the page. I stared at a document about my father, with details of his early life. He had grown up under a professional thief. And after dabbling in it as an adolescent, he had ultimately rejected the calling himself.
Just like Jack
, I thought.

The world tilted. My dad’s father had been a thief. My grandfather had been one of us. All this time, I’d thought my father had been hurt and betrayed by my choice of profession because it went against his straitlaced upbringing and values. But it must have been because he grew up in that environment and rejected it. That was why my choice gave him so much difficulty.

Had he ever planned to tell me the truth? My heart ached, and I felt a fierce urge to confront my dad.

“I’m not surprised your parents never told you,” he said. “Your ancestor, Robin of Loxley, was one of the most infamous villains to ever live. The most devious thief of all.”

I blinked, looking at Atworthy, and realized: he saw Robin Hood as a common criminal. A thief and a scoundrel. His tone was smug. I realized something else. Atworthy thought, with this revelation, he owned me now.

But what he didn’t count on was the fact that I saw Robin Hood quite differently. I wasn’t ashamed of my newly revealed heritage. In fact, the effect this news was having on me was quite the opposite of what Atworthy seemed to expect. A burning ember of determination sparked to life inside me.

I was part of a legendary lineage. Robin of Loxley had possessed a higher purpose. He had helped the king. He had fought against insurmountable odds, under the motto on the Lionheart Ring:
Vigilate
. This was my family’s crest, too. Montgomery.
Garde Bien.

There had to be another way through this. In a flash of clarity, I thought about the ace Atworthy possessed, the whole reason he had me in a noose: Templeton. But what if Templeton wasn’t in danger? Atworthy’s trap over me would fall apart. If someone could bust Templeton out of prison, Atworthy wouldn’t have anything over me.

It all depended on how much time I had. I calmly closed the dossier about my heritage and reopened the folder of blueprints, struggling to keep a neutral face. I couldn’t let Atworthy see the change. “When is this all supposed to happen?”

“The party is happening tonight. You’ll do the job then.”

“
Tonight?
It’s impossible—”

“Here’s the agenda for the evening, and your invitation. You have the schematics and security details in that folder; it should provide everything you need. I recommend you stay in your hotel room and study up. I will be back to pick you up this evening.”

Atworthy’s phone rang. He took the call and spoke briefly.

“Is everything in place?” he said. “You have cleared the location, your post?” He listened, then nodded. “Good. We’re a go from here. At my signal, you take the shot.”

I kept my face impassive, concealing my glee at this. I had clearly done an excellent job convincing Atworthy I was on board, because he’d just been incredibly sloppy and revealed much more than he seemed to realize. It might give me the chance I needed. I surreptitiously glanced at my watch and marked the exact time. We arrived at the hotel where he was dropping me off. I had enough time—barely—but I would have to be quick.

“I expect you downstairs, in the lobby, at eight sharp,” he said. I climbed from the limo and he watched me go through into the lobby. I checked in, but instead of going to my room, I walked straight back through the hotel and out the back entrance, then doubled back through the alley and out to the cross street.

I hailed a cab and pulled out my phone. I had two very important calls to make. I punched in the first number and put the handset to my ear, staring out the window with determination as I waited for the call to connect.

I
used an encryption code to place the call. I had to assume Atworthy was monitoring my every move. I looked at my watch, and after a quick calculation knew it would be about six o’clock in the evening in Bali. It took a few rings, and then he answered the phone.

I breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Ethan’s voice. “It’s me,” I said. “Listen, I’m sorry I had to sneak away. I couldn’t tell you why.”

Ethan said nothing, so I continued speaking. “Ethan, I need you to do something. But it’s not for me. It’s for Templeton.”

There was a brief hesitation, and then he said, “Felix told us Templeton is in a prison in Singapore. Did you know that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what do you need?” He sounded odd. Was something wrong? Trouble was, I didn’t have time to deal with it at the moment.

“I need you to rescue him,” I said.

There was another pause. “I’m sorry, Montgomery, this connection must be bad. It sounded like you just asked me to bust Templeton out of a Singapore prison.”

“I did.”

Silence.

“I know it’s a big job,” I continued. “But you’ve got Jack. And Felix. And Gladys . . .”

“Wait,” Ethan interrupted. “What do you mean, I’ve got Jack? Isn’t he with you?”

I frowned. “No, what are you talking about? I left the resort alone.”

I sat back in the cab and thought for a second. If Jack wasn’t with Ethan—where was he? Not knowing Jack’s location left me feeling unsettled. With him out there, like a wild card, he could mess everything up. There was nothing I could do about it, though; I’d have to keep moving forward with my plan.

“I don’t have much time to explain,” I said to Ethan. “Atworthy is—well, he’s in charge of Caliga. And if I don’t do what he says, here in New York, he’s going to ensure Templeton’s execution.” I quickly described what was going on, and exactly what I needed him to do.

Ethan listened quietly throughout. When I was finished, he said, “Montgomery, this is crazy. I need to go there to New York. I need to help you.”

“No. That’s the last thing that would help. If Atworthy knows I’ve told you, he’ll make a call and have Templeton’s execution expedited. I have to stay the course. But it’s okay, Ethan, I have a plan. And it entirely depends on you being able to bust Templeton out.”

“A prison breakout? I’m not sure it’s something I can do—”

“You’re amazing at getting precious works of art out of secure settings. Think of this like that.”

There was quiet on the line while he considered. “Okay, Montgomery. I’ll try. But I’m not sure it’s going to work.”

“That’s all I’m asking. I just need you to try.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what your plan is? What Atworthy is making you do?”

“No. I can’t. If I did, you guys would try to stop me. And if this gets messed up, then Templeton dies. I need you to get him out.”

He sighed heavily on the other line, clearly unhappy with my secrecy. But he didn’t object. I squeezed a fist tightly in my lap.
Good.
He would try.

“Okay, so Ethan, the next thing I need is for you to find Gladys and put her on the line. There’s something I need from her.”

I had a few more puzzle pieces to connect. But I was getting there.

“Sure, Montgomery. But before I go, there’s one more thing.”

“Okay, but can you make it quick? I’m on a tight schedule here—”

“I know Jack proposed to you.”

My words died in my throat.

“I saw you,” Ethan said.

So I
had
heard someone behind us by the pool in Bali. I still couldn’t find any words.

“I don’t know what you said to him, Montgomery, and it doesn’t really matter. I just need you to know that I can’t do this anymore. I won’t be second fiddle, and I’m not going to get all tangled up in this again. No more ups and downs, because I’m getting off this ride. There won’t be any more
us
.”

A raw ache formed in my chest.

I
was in the Holland Tunnel, deep underneath the Hudson River, waiting in the darkness. I had slipped down here through one of the ventilation tubes, and was now tucked into a service alcove, trying to be patient. The air was cold and damp, and the fluorescent lights that lit the road didn’t penetrate into my small hiding spot. Deafening sounds of the constant flow of traffic did, however.

It was good to have something concrete to focus on. After Ethan had gotten off the phone, I’d forced myself to suppress the tangle of emotions threatening to derail my mission. I didn’t know what to think—much less what to feel—but I knew I didn’t have any spare moments. I’d have to deal with it all later.

For now, I was tracking the assassin’s cell phone. Technically, Gladys was tracking it, and informing me of his progress. He was on his way to Manhattan; he’d be entering the tunnel any minute. When Atworthy had fielded that phone call in the limo, he’d told me everything I needed to know.
Take the shot
had revealed the method of assassination.
Clear your post
meant the assassin would be operating from a remote location. Which could only mean one thing: the assassin was a sniper.

Making note of the exact moment of the call had meant Gladys could trace it on the network and identify the caller’s number. From there, we could track his vehicle, cross-checked with car registration. And now I had a plan for when he reached the tunnel. Atworthy was keeping me mostly in the dark regarding the details of the assassination plot. After all, I was only a pawn in his machinations.

But a pawn can bring down a king.

“Okay, Cat,” Gladys said, “you’re looking for a blue Prius. He just entered Boyle Plaza.”

Perfect. The Jersey City entrance to the tunnel. I smiled a little at the fact it was a Prius. An assassin with an environmental conscience? Nice one.

Gladys was back in Singapore now, having traveled there with Ethan and the remaining team. I knew they were holed up in a hotel there, plotting Templeton’s rescue, and I wanted to let her get back to that task. I would only need her assistance for a few more minutes, if everything went according to plan.

“Okay, Gladys, make it happen,” I said.

In the next instant, there was a broken water main spraying everywhere. Cars came to an abrupt halt. It wouldn’t be long before service vehicles and emergency response vehicles would come flying through.

I held my breath and scanned the rows of blocked vehicles. Blue Prius . . .

There.
From my hiding place I spotted the car, although it was too dark to see the driver’s face. I waited.

I knew the profile of an assassin. He wouldn’t be content to sit there for long without knowing what was happening. Especially a sniper on the job, on the clock. It would only be a matter of time before he got out of his car to see for himself what was going on and insist they let him through.

I watched. And tapped my fingers. And as I was about to despair that he wasn’t going to get out, the driver’s side door opened. Out stepped a man.

He had short brown hair shot through with gray. His face was square and hard, and he gazed straight ahead with a cold, steely look. If I hadn’t been completely sure before, the chills prickling my neck removed all doubt. This was the right man.

I surveyed the scene from my hiding spot. I knew the other drivers would be looking at the commotion, if they weren’t already out of their vehicles. I needed to pick my moment.

Sabotage was my only hope at this point. It was the only thing that could buy me time and save the prime minister, without tipping my hand to Atworthy. For Templeton’s life, I had to appear like I was still going ahead with the plan.

Like a shadow, I slipped through the darkened tunnel, knowing the focus would be at the emergency, the broken water main. I would be essentially invisible.

When I reached the Prius, I glanced briefly around, then slipped into the backseat. I looked around the interior of the car, hoping the briefcase would be in the front seat or the backseat.

Nothing.

Shit. He must have locked it in the trunk. I glanced up. There was still plenty of fuss over the water main. I had time.

I wiped the sweat out of my eyes and took a close look at the rear seat. Good. It was the kind I could access the trunk through. I unlatched and flopped the seat forward and reached into the assassin’s trunk, praying my fingers would meet the hard surface of a briefcase and not the cold lumpiness of a dead body.

My gloved hand closed around a solid case. I exhaled with relief and slid it forward onto my lap. I focused on my next few steps, trying to stay calm. I had to get this job done in a matter of seconds.

Heart pounding, I opened the case and stared at the black rifle resting inside. I gingerly lifted it out and turned the adjustment on the scope by the tiniest amount. I knew he must have already zeroed his scope, and would have tested it before coming. As a sniper, he wouldn’t have a chance to recalibrate the sight. Snipers had one shot, and the scope couldn’t be off by even the slightest degree. A more obvious sabotage might be noticed by him. A subtle shift would be overlooked.

I replaced the rifle in its case, closed it, and slid it back into the trunk, terrified of the sniper’s return. But nothing happened. I relatched the backseat and instantly slipped out of the vehicle. I walked quickly away across the rows of vehicles.

My ears were pricked for any suggestion I had been spotted. But there were no alarms, no shouts. Nobody had seen me climb in and out of a stranger’s car. When I got several cars lengths away, I tucked into my alcove again, melting into the shadows.

I peered into the tunnel and saw the assassin returning to his car. He climbed into the driver’s seat and I stared at the silhouette of his head. He didn’t turn, didn’t look behind him into the backseat. Within moments, traffic began to move again.

There was no sign he was suspicious of anything. I allowed a small flutter of triumph in my chest. It was done.

I began climbing back up through the ventilation tower. I had a gala to attend.