“Got ’em.” I tracked them through the maintenance passage to the freight elevator. From there, to the sub-basement, then to the loading dock on the east side of the building. A fifteen-second gap existed between camera sweeps. I’d never thought to close it because who would know about it? Someone obviously had.
They’d timed it perfectly, sprinting across the loading bay and around the corner in exactly fourteen seconds.
They’d left willingly. They’d planned this. And someone had given them the blueprint to escape my own flat.
I switched to the Met’s real-time CCTV feed—Unit 23 credentials opened doors that didn’t exist for anyone else—and found a camera in the alley behind the building. A black Audi had been waiting. Oliver and Ophelia climbed in, and it sped off. No hesitation.
“Pulling the registration database now.” Gus had already pivoted. “Cross-referencing black Audis in Greater London with?—”
“Don’t bother. The plates will likely be stolen or cloned.” I grabbed the car’s image and fed it into the CCTV network’s vehicle recognition system. “I’m tracking it through the city. Gus, flag any camera gaps—if they go dark, I need to know which routes they could have taken from there.”
The Audi wound through London’s streets like the driver had memorized every camera placement. They avoided major intersections, stuck to secondary roads, and disappeared into known blind spots. It was methodical and deliberate.
Just not deliberate enough.
“There you are,” I muttered. A camera near the A2 caught the vehicle heading southeast. I was building a pattern, predicting the gaps, jumping ahead to catch them on the other side.
“They’re heading southeast,” Gus confirmed, tracking parallel to my search. “Toward Kent. There’s a cluster of camera dead zones around?—”
“Bloody fucking hell.” I froze on a grainy shot of the Audi pulling into the car park of a budget motel off the A2 at twelve hundred thirty.
I enhanced the image as far as the resolution would allow. The driver’s door opened, and a woman with bottle-blonde hair and red lipstick stepped out.
“Son of a bitch,” Callen said quietly from behind me. “It’s Iris fucking Beacham.”
“Why would she get involved?” Gus asked.
“One of them asked,” I said, brushing my lower lip with my index finger. “Most likely Oliver.”
“They ran missions together a few years ago,” Rafe confirmed, reading something on his screen. “Knowing Iris, they have personal history along with professional.”
I’d made the same assumption; however, that wasn’t important now. Oliver and Ophelia had wanted out of the penthouse, and given Iris’ tainted reputation within SIS, she was the most logical choice to ask for help. The woman began her career with MI5, which meant she knew every back corridor and service entrance in London—she’d know exactly how to slip surveillance.
I pulled footage from traffic cameras around the motel, tracking the Audi’s exit. Iris left moments after dropping them off, and so far, there was no new movement.
Callen’s hand landed on my shoulder. I looked up, knowing as soon as our eyes met that he was about to say something I didn’t want to hear.
“Kier, we need to talk about who might be behind this.”
“We’ve been over the list. Former club members with grudges. Business rivals. Foreign agents who might want leverage?—”
“I’m not talking about the list.” Callen’s gaze held mine steadily. “The breach at the Thistle? A maintenance credential from the east wing renovation? Someone who knew exactly where our cameras had blind spots?”
He was right, and I knew it. Still, I asked, “When was that renovation?”
“Two and a half years ago.” Callen’s voice was quiet. “Long enough to plan something like this.”
I glanced over at Gus and Rafe, who’d stopped what they were doing to listen.
While all four of my partners were aware of the tragedy that took place, only Callen knew the full story.
“Kier?” he prompted.
I nodded. “Let’s say he had opportunity. What would his motive be?”
Gus stood. “Enough with the subterfuge, Kiernan. Obviously, you and Callen know who sent the photos, or at least have a strong suspicion. Enlighten Rafe and me.”
I looked at Callen, and he nodded.
