“With good news?”
“I think so. L.A. was a bust. No one was using the lawyer’s place there. But Maine’s another story.”
“Go on.”
“His place is on an island and backs up to the water. The guy I sent up there went by it on a boat. He didn’t see your target, but he did see two people patrolling the grounds who looked like skilled security.”
“That’s got to be where she is,” Bronsky said, certain of it.
“As soon as you give the word, I can send my guy in to take care of her.”
“By himself?”
“He’s very good at what he does.”
“Her security will be top-notch.”
“Doesn’t matter. He can handle it. But if you’d feel more comfortable, I can send some backup. It’ll cost you, though.”
“Money is not important,” Bronsky said. It actually was very important as he was getting low on his personal funds, but it would be worth it. And besides, once his superiors at the SVR learned what he’d done, he was sure they would be happy to reimburse the costs.
“All right. I can have them up there by later tonight. They can do it while she’s sleeping.”
“Not tonight,” Bronsky said.
“Is there a problem I need to know about?”
“I want to check the place out myself first. I can give your people the green light directly when I’m satisfied.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m the one paying the bills, aren’t I?”
“I wasn’t trying to argue with you. If that’s what you want, we’ll make it happen. My guy’s name is Andre Parker. I’ll text you his contact info.”
Felicity’s phone rang.
“Yes?” she answered.
“Felicity, it’s James,” the current acting chief of MI6 said. “There’s been a development.”
Since her funeral on Saturday, a small team of trusted MI6 agents had been keeping an eye on Gordon Pryce. Using a directional mic, they’d picked up his end of a phone conversation that had just occurred.
During the call, Pryce had told his contact about Felicity’s trip to the airport on the day she had supposedly died. The CCTV footage he had found had originally been removed right after Felicity departed the country. Over the previous weekend, it had been restored so that Pryce might find it.
“They didn’t tap in and hear the whole conversation?” she asked when he finished.
“The caller was using a specialized app that scrambled the connection.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Quite.”
“Perhaps Mr. Pryce himself can tell you who he was talking to and what was said.”
“I thought you might say that. Call you back soon.”
Gordon Pryce returned to hisoffice in a daze from his conversation with Bronsky. How in the world was he supposed to find out where Dame Felicity was?
