His eyes go wide as saucers, and his voice squeaks when he replies, “I don’t know. I swear I don’t. Belmont doesn’t share his plans with people like us.”
“Then who does he share them with?”
“Nobody. That’s the whole point. He’s paranoid as hell.” The guard swallows hard. “He’s got places all over Europe. Safe houses, offshore accounts, contacts in a dozen countries. You’ll never find him unless he wants to be found.”
I stand and turn away. Tony is waiting a few feet behind me, and the look on his face tells me he heard everything.
“We’ll find him,” he promises.
“You heard what that guard said. Adrian has resources everywhere.”
“So does your family.” Tony puts his hands on my shoulders. “Dmitri has contacts across the whole Goddamn world, Boris has a network of informants., and I still have people from my CIA days who owe me favors.”
“And if that’s not enough?”
“Then we keep looking until it is. Adrian made this personal, Sasha. He came after you, after your family. We’re not going to stop until he’s dealt with permanently.”
Boris approaches with his phone in hand. “I just spoke to Dmitri. He’s mobilizing everyone. Every contact, every favor, every resource the family has. Adrian won’t be able to move without us knowing about it.”
I take a deep breath and nod. Tonight was supposed to end the threat. Instead, we’ve only pushed it underground. Adrian is wounded, humiliated, and more dangerous than ever.
But at least now he knows we’re not the easy targets he thought we were.
34
Tony
Three safe houses. Four known associates. Six hours of dead ends.
Adrian Belmont is a ghost.
Boris slams his phone down on the table of our makeshift command center, a rented office space in Shoreditch that Dmitri’s people secured this morning. “The flat in Mayfair was cleared out yesterday. Neighbors said movers came in the middle of the night.”
“What about the warehouse in Docklands?” I ask.
“Empty. Has been for weeks, according to the security footage we pulled.” Boris rubs his face with both hands. “He planned for this. Had exit strategies in place before we ever showed up at Thornfield.”
My shoulder throbs where one of Adrian’s guards clipped me during the firefight. The bullet only grazed the muscle, but the wound keeps seeping through the bandage every time I movewrong. I should have let the medic stitch it properly, but there wasn’t time. There still isn’t.
“What about his coalition contacts?” I pull up the map on my laptop, the one covered in red pins marking every location we’ve checked. “The Corsicans, the Berlin connection, and the Amsterdam financiers. Any movement from them?”
“Dmitri has people watching all of them. Nothing so far.” Boris shakes his head. “Either Adrian hasn’t reached out yet, or he’s using channels we don’t know about.”
“He’ll have to surface eventually for medical treatment.”
I add another pin to the map. Another dead end. Another location Adrian abandoned before we could get there.
“He’s staying mobile,” I comment. “I’m willing to bet he’s moving every few hours, never using the same bolt-hole twice. That’s how I’d do it if I were in his position.”
“Then how do we catch someone who won’t stay still?”
“We find what he cares about more than staying hidden.” I stare at the map until the pins blur together. “Something he can’t access remotely.”
Boris considers this. “His accounts are frozen. Dmitri made some calls this morning. But a man like Adrian has cash reserves hidden somewhere.”
“Then we find them. Squeeze every contact, every associate, every person who ever did business with him. Someone knows where he keeps his emergency funds.”
My phone dings with a message from Sasha. She’s been working a separate angle, reaching out to her former colleaguesat Christie’s who might have insight into Adrian’s habits. The message is brief:Nothing yet. How’s the search going?
