Crown's Vengeance, The (8 page)

Erika turned on her heel, leaving Parker flat-footed, mouth hanging open. He couldn’t believe what she’d done. Not until she was halfway to the street did he start moving, adrenaline speeding his pursuit to learn what had been secreted away in Revere’s hidden drawer.

Chapter 12

Spencer Drake stared at the phone in his hand.

It had begun.

A tinge of fear knifed through him. The man who had called was perhaps the most unsettling individual he’d ever spoken with. Their conversation had lasted less than ten minutes, and Drake had said very little. For one of the few times in his life, decisions were completely out of his control. Simply put, Drake had just contracted for a service to be performed. Nothing more.

If that was the case, then why did it feel as though he had freed a caged lion? Pushing the thought from his mind, Drake called Nigel Stirling.

“Yes?”

“It will happen within a week’s time. The operative couldn’t be more specific than that.”

“Under what circumstances?” Stirling asked.

This was what had left Drake with a sense of unease.

“He declined to specify. The only issue is access, which is why we have such an open-ended time frame.”

Music was audible in the background, what sounded like a string quartet.

“Hold for a moment, please. This dreadful charity function has absolutely no privacy.” The music soon faded. “That’s better. As much as I abhor these soirees, one must attend when Her Majesty is the host. As you were saying, we must wait for a week?”

“At the most. If he is able, the assignment will be completed more quickly. He also declined to provide me with any updates until it is finished.”

“Frustrating, but understandable. In that case, I shall keep an eye on the evening news.”

After Stirling hung up, Drake flicked on his television. If their man completed his mission, every person in the country would learn of it immediately. A soft knock came from his office door, and he looked up just as Liz strutted around the corner, her flowing hair pulled into a loose bun supported by only a pencil. The glasses she wore paired nicely with the tartan skirt that hugged her slender hips.

“There’s a message for you, Mr. Drake. From one of your personal numbers.”

He shot out of his chair and snatched the paper from between her manicured fingernails.

“Thank you, Liz. That will be all.”

To better facilitate the private operations Drake participated in with Nigel Stirling, Spencer maintained several open lines of communication with an eclectic collection of individuals the world over. These lines were specified for use by one person only, each with unique instructions for when the individual was to contact Spencer. Infrequently used at best, no one besides Drake and Stirling knew of their true purpose. Drake punched in the return number. Nearly a dozen rings later, it was answered.

“Hello?”

The voice could have belonged to his grandfather.

“What happened?”

“Well, sir, I’m not sure if you’re even interested in this.”

This particular line was assigned to a museum employee with whom Drake had a unique financial arrangement, one that had existed in one form or another for over a century, ever since the museum had opened its doors.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Tell me everything.”

The initial arrangement had been made with this man’s great-grandfather, the first curator. Ever since, once a year, a suitcase filled with cash had been delivered to the current museum curator’s home. In exchange, the curator agreed to call this number any time there was an unusual occurrence at their workplace. The instructions were intentionally vague, and the curator had no idea who was on the other end of the call.

“We had a strange thing happen today here in the Revere House.”

Chapter 13

Drake listened silently to the elderly curator’s tale.

“Did you find anything in the drawer?”

“Well, sir, it was the darndest thing. When I went back inside, I thought that maybe I should take a look at the drawer, make sure it wasn’t damaged or anything. When I pulled it out, everything looked just fine, until I flipped it over. On the bottom, there was some kind of opening, sort of like a hidden panel.”

Drake’s knuckles went white.

“What was inside?”

“That’s the thing. It was empty. Just two little straps dangling there, holding nothing at all.”

“I need you to think very carefully. Is it possible there was something inside the drawer those two visitors could have removed?”

Silence for a beat. “You know, it might be possible,” the curator replied. “I don’t move like I used to, so when I first heard the racket going on, it took me a little bit to get over there. Those kids might have taken something with them, but I’ll be damned if I saw anything.”

All those cash deliveries had finally paid off.

“Do you know who the two people are?”

“I thought you might ask, so I pulled out the guestbook. Lucky for you, they actually signed it. Most people walk on by without bothering, but these two, they took the time—”

He cut off the old man’s rambling. “What are their names?”

“That would be a Ms. Erika Carr and a Mr. Parker Chase.”

Drake scribbled the names down.

“Does your museum have a surveillance system?”

“We do, but the cameras are only outside.”

How convenient. “I need copies of the tapes from this morning, anything that shows the two suspects.”

“Sure, my grandson can do that. I’ll tell him we need a copy for the security company.”

“Fine, just make sure you send it to this address today.” Drake gave him a post office box he kept in Boston, registered under yet another shell corporation. “If for some reason those two come back, call this number immediately.”

“Yes, sir. If you don’t mind, what makes you believe there was anything in the drawer, and why is it-?”

“I do mind.”

Drake disconnected before the old man could respond. One finger punched the intercom button.

“Liz, get in here.”

She scurried through his office door, lipstick in hand.

“Put that damn makeup away and get someone from IT on the phone.”

“Yes, sir.”

As a multi-national securities firm with a half-trillion in total assets, Aldrich Securities employed some of the finest technical minds in the country. Information was the backbone of their business, and every second they spent waiting for it was not only time wasted, but also money lost. Moments later, the phone rang.

“Drake.”

“Mr. Drake, this is Luke Atwater, Senior Technician with IT.”

“Luke, I was told you’re the best guy we have, and I need your help. Security recently uncovered the identity of two people who we suspect are orchestrating a money laundering operation and plan to involve Aldrich Securities. However, at this point we’re not positive of their intentions, and as such, cannot involve the authorities.”

“I take it you require background information on the pair?”

“You’re correct. I need to know anything and everything about them.”

“Can you tell me anything to help narrow down the search field?”

“Only that they are currently in Boston.”

“And you would want this to be quiet, I assume? Everything kept in-house?”

“Correct again.”

He sensed the tech’s hesitation, but Drake still had a few cards up his sleeve.

“Of course, you would be compensated for your efforts. I believe a one-time bonus of fifty thousand would be in order.”

Drake heard Luke Atwater gasp. Fifty grand represented half his yearly salary.

“When would you require the information, sir?”

“Yesterday. I’ll have my secretary deliver what we know about the pair so far to you immediately.”

“I’ll get right on it, sir.”

Drake had long ago learned that the best way to get things done was with a smile on your face-and a large amount of money in your hands.

“Liz, get this down to Luke Atwater in IT right now.”

Once Drake learned something about these two, he would make a report to Stirling. It was hard to believe, but a two-hundred-year-old piece of information, gained in the torture chambers beneath the Tower of London, may have just saved their plans.

One hour later, Drake had his answer.

“Here is the report on Parker Chase.” Atwater handed him a thick manila folder, “And this is for Erika Carr.”

“How do you know these are the ones I’m looking for? There must be hundreds of people with those names.”

“This pair is currently registered at the Intercontinental Boston hotel.”

Drake’s eyes lit up.

“Excellent work. I’ll arrange for your bonus to be paid immediately. Of course, Mr. Atwater, you understand this assignment was confidential. I value a man with discretion such as yours.”

Atwater took the hint. “I understand completely, sir. Thank you for the opportunity.”

After his entrepreneurial employee had departed, Drake ripped the files open. Twenty minutes later, he leaned back in his chair, not sure what to make of the pair, and impressed with Atwater’s work. The man was extremely thorough.

What troubled him the most was Parker’s chosen profession. It may have just been a coincidence, but then again, it could be much more. He needed to bring Stirling up to date. Surprisingly, Nigel answered on the first ring.

“What did you learn?”

“Their names are Parker Chase and Erika Carr. Both in their late twenties. The female is an assistant professor of history at the University of Pennsylvania, hired two years ago. She lives in Philadelphia. The male is in finance with a firm out of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He’s worked there for almost a decade, seems to be doing rather well for himself.”

“Any idea how they know each other?”

“They attended college together, and each participated in varsity athletics. Mr. Chase was an American football player of some renown. Tax records indicate they shared an apartment in Pittsburgh for some time, though Ms. Carr relocated to Philadelphia when she began her employment with the university.”

“So we have a pair of lovebirds on our hands. Interesting.”

When Stirling fell silent, Drake shared the other tidbit that had grabbed his eye.

“Not sure what to make of this, sir, but Mr. Chase has recently suffered a series of personal losses. His father was killed in what is described as a hunting accident several years ago, and his uncle was murdered earlier this year. Furthermore, his mother died shortly after giving birth to him. It appears Mr. Chase has no living relatives.”

“Murdered, you say? Any motive given?”

“That’s the tickler, sir. The police report lists the motive as robbery, though it clearly states that nothing of value was stolen.”

“So Mr. Chase has had a string of bad fortune. I hope that doesn’t have to continue. What is your take on this incident?”

Drake had meticulously crafted the proper response. If he betrayed his true feelings, that this was no random incident, he had no doubt that Stirling would inject himself into the situation when he was least welcome. For years now, Drake had been in control of their stateside operations. The last thing he wanted was for Stirling to take the reins.

“I don’t believe this threatens our plans. I must admit that at first I was worried, but the more I consider everything, the less sinister it appears. All we know is that two kids were found with a drawer in their hands, albeit a drawer with a hidden compartment. We have no idea if anything was ever inside that compartment. Without proof, I would suggest staying the course.”

“Even though the two people involved are a history professor and a financial professional? Does that not sound the alarms?”

Drake needed to cut Stirling off before he convinced himself to get involved.

“I don’t like this any more than you do, sir, but the fact remains that we have no proof of anything. The only reason we’ve been paying for information at that museum for the past century is because of a rumor. A
rumor
, sir, and a two-hundred-year-old one at that.”

Nigel seemed to take the bait.

“I suppose you may be correct.”

“On top of that, now is not the time to get distracted. Now is when we finally remind the world of its rightful leaders.”

Drake knew that little shot of patriotism would knock Stirling off course.

“You’re right, damn it. We’re too close now.”

You still have it, Spencer old boy.

“As soon as our operative completes his mission,” Nigel said, back on track, “you will initiate a call.”

Drake had expected as much.

“Of course, sir. I look forward to updating the membership as to our progress.”

“Good man. Stay the course, Spencer. God bless the queen.”

“God bless the queen, sir.”

After hanging up, Spencer shook his head. Stirling was a bit long in the tooth, but he was no fool. Spencer had gotten lucky. Nigel Stirling could be a meddling old fool when he was of a mind, and that was the last thing Spencer needed right now. His plans back on track, Drake punched his intercom button.

“Liz, I need the head of security in my office immediately.”

A minute later, Aldrich Securities head of protection walked into Spencer’s office.

Tom Becker was a Marine Corps veteran, who had served two tours of duty in Iraq during Operation Desert Storm. Highly intelligent, he’d served as Aldrich’s head of security for the past ten years, and Drake knew that whatever task he was given would be completed successfully and without question.

“Tom, I have a project for you.”

“What do you require, sir?”

Even now, the man stood at attention, back ramrod straight, muscular shoulders tapered to a narrow waist. Except for the graying hair at his temples, he could have passed for half his fifty years.

“We have two individuals who I suspect may be plotting to defraud Aldrich Securities. I need you to establish surveillance on them, both physically and electronically.”

Becker never questioned the legality of his assignments, which routinely included wiretapping private phone lines. He was extremely well paid for his discretion.