Where’s Drexel?
A laundry van passed him, pulling round to the back of the building and disappearing into the underground garage. Alexis felt his stomach churn.
Had he missed Hunter somehow? Was the bastard already inside?
He turned on his engine.
“THAT’S STEVENS!” FRANK DORRIEN hissed at the man stationed in front of Cauchin’s building. “He’s crossing the road now. For God’s sake stop him.”
The man started walking towards Jeff, when another voice in his ear made him hesitate.
“Target sighted!” It was the man on the roof. “Repeat, Drexel sighted.”
“Where?” Frank scanned the street frantically.
“Coming towards you, General. You should be looking right at him in about twenty seconds. Blond hair, black jacket.”
“Shit!” Frank jumped to his feet, spilling hot tea all down his crotch. “Keep him in sights but don’t shoot,” he told the man on the roof. “Jim,” he told the first man, “get over here, now!”
JEFF STEVENS STOOD ON the doorstep of Pascal Cauchin’s apartment building, panting and mopping the sweat from his brow.
He was late, but only by a few minutes.
Had Drexel arrived already? Was he inside? Was Tracy?
More than anything it was the prospect of coming face-to-face with Tracy again that made his heart race and his palms sweat uncontrollably.
Get a grip, Jeff told himself sternly. You are Jeremy Sands. You are a wealthy energy investor from Manhattan.
Tracy wouldn’t give him away. She couldn’t risk blowing her own cover. But once she saw him the game would be up. Tracy would want to know how he’d found her, not to mention why he was following her. Jeff would have to tell her the truth, or some version of it. I’m here to protect you, wouldn’t go down well. Tracy didn’t appreciate being protected. She could take care of herself. She would also doubtless be furious with Jeff for ruining her chance of confronting Hunter Drexel.
Too bad. She should never have run out on me after Nick died. She’s the one who owes me an explanation, not the other way around.
The door swung open.
“May I help you?”
Jeff drew back his shoulders and smiled. “Jeremy Sands. I’m here for the game.”
HUNTER HAD BEEN ABOUT to blag his way into the service entrance when he heard the motorbike engine revving just a few yards behind him.
Even before he looked over his shoulder he knew.
Apollo!
Risky had just turned into fatal. He had to get out of here. Darting out of his shadowy hiding place like a cockroach out of its nest, Hunter forced himself to keep to a walking pace as he turned the corner into the street.
Left was a dead end. Right took him straight towards the café where MI6 were waiting.
No. I can’t let it end here. Caught like a rat in a trap.
I won’t.
The front entrance to Cauchin’s building was directly opposite him now. A smartly dressed man was standing on the stoop. A doorman opened the door and was talking to the man.
Changing course suddenly, Hunter ran towards the open door.
TRACY WAS STILL FENDING off Pascal Cauchin’s advances when she heard the first shot.