The King's Deception

“He knew the truth,” Miss Mary said.

They were inside an Underground station, blocks from the warehouse. Miss Mary had wanted to see what the file contained, so they’d lingered and allowed two trains to pass through while they read.

“This confirms everything I’ve ever heard of the Bisley Boy,” Miss Mary said. “Most of the legend’s tale seems true.”

Ian watched as she sat silent for a moment.

Few people were inside the station.

“This could change everything,” she muttered.

“How?”

“Mr. Malone needs to know.”

Her phone vibrated. Both their gazes locked on the screen.

“I don’t recognize that number.”

“Answer it,” he told her.

She did.

“Goodness, Tanya. I was just thinking of you,” Miss Mary said into the phone. “I need to speak with Mr. Malone. Is he still with you?”

Silence came as Miss Mary listened, then said, “We will be right there.”

The call ended.

Her face was solemn. Concerned. He waited for her to explain.

“There was trouble at Hampton Court. People tried to kill my sister and Mr. Malone. We have to go.”

Forty-eight

Antrim exited the Jewel House into the midday sun. He’d felt safe inside, with its crowds, cameras, guards, and metal detectors. Back out in the open he was less secure. The enormous White Tower dominated the center of the walled enclosure, surrounded by more walks, grass, and trees.

Terror engulfed him.

Denise an agent for Daedalus? Playing him the whole time? Apparently Operation King’s Deception had been known from the start. But what sparked all of the recent attention from British intelligence? Thomas Mathews supposedly killed Farrow Curry. Not Daedalus. Or had he?

His gaze searched for Gary. He’d told the boy to wait outside. Thousands of people filled the walks, here to see one of England’s signature sites. A hundred feet away, through the crowd, stood Denise Gérard and another man.

Both headed his way.

Now he realized.

This was where they wanted him.

He decided to head back inside the Jewel House, but the line of people waiting to enter was too great, and forcing his way through would only draw the attention of guards. He could seek their help, but that might not be wise in the long run. The better play was to get the hell out of there.

But what about Gary?

No time.

The boy was on his own.

There was nothing he could do. He’d told Gary to stay close. Searching for him was not possible. So he kept walking around the White Tower, working his way back toward the exit gate in the outer brick wall. He reached for his phone, deciding to see if Denise’s claim about his two agents at Hampton Court was true. Was he actually alone now? But the unit was not in his pocket. He felt around, but it was gone. He shook his head and kept walking, zigzagging a path through the congestion. A quick glance back confirmed that Denise and her companion were still there.

He’d never faced one of his lovers, after the fact, like this. The partings were always on his terms, clean and permanent, which was the way he liked it. He didn’t enjoy smacking women, and usually harbored deep regrets afterward. But sometimes it was just necessary. It was all his father’s fault — but he doubted Denise would care about that.

This operation, which was once business, had turned personal.

More so than he’d ever experienced.

* * *

Gary fled the Jewel House.

He’d had trouble leaving, hanging back in the crowd, trying not to be seen by Antrim or the woman. They’d stood off the moving conveyor, near one of the display cases, talking. He’d merged with the mass of people, keeping watch, staying hidden, Antrim clearly agitated with her.

What was going on?

And where was Antrim now?

He stepped left, passing the length of the Jewel House, then turned right, following the pavement between the White Tower and what signs identified as the hospital and Armory. A tower and part of the outer wall loomed fifty yards ahead, signaling the outer perimeter. The path he was following angled back to the right, passing before the White Tower’s impressive forward façade. A stretch of emerald grass formed a front lawn, upon which roamed a few black birds, which the visitors were photographing. Beyond, on the pavement that paralleled the far side of the White Tower, he spotted Antrim.

Heading for the exit gate.

Why?

Then he saw the woman from inside the Jewel House, a man at her side, following. His gaze drifted left, to the exit gate, where he spotted two more men. Standing. Waiting. Their heads pointed straight at Antrim, who seemed more concerned with the two following him than what lay ahead.

Now he knew.

Antrim was clearly in trouble.

He had to help.

* * *

Malone kept his gaze locked on Thomas Mathews.

“I had no choice,” Mathews said. “Ordering those men to shoot you was not done with any joy.”

He kept his cool. “Yet you still did it.”

“Your presence has altered everything,” Mathews said. “And not in a positive way.”

“You killed two Americans.”