Black Widow. Cliff Ryder

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СКАЧАТЬ turned to Jake. “While I’m entertaining Ms. Danvers, perhaps you’d like to spend your time with my security staff.”

      Jake shifted his gaze to Kate and lifted an inquisitive eyebrow.

      “Go,” Kate said. “Enjoy yourself. If I need anything, you’ll know.”

      “She won’t need anything I can’t give her,” Hirschvogel said lasciviously.

      “Wow,” tech support said. “Is this guy confident or what?”

      Only Kate noticed the twitch of Jake’s lips that betrayed a stillborn grin. He nodded and followed the other men through another doorway.

      “You have a big apartment,” Kate said appreciatively as Hirschvogel led her into the living room, with its obviously expensive furniture and artwork. A large plasma-screen television hung inert on the wall.

      “I have forty-five hundred square feet,” Hirschvogel bragged as he took her elbow and walked her to the wet bar in the corner. “Would you like wine?” He pulled open a door. “I have a selection.”

      “White, please. I’ll trust your judgment.” Kate left his side and wandered around the big room. She tried to map the apartment’s interior in her mind. There was a master bedroom and two smaller bedrooms to house the security guards. In addition to the four in the apartment now, Hirschvogel had four others who worked rotating shifts to give himself a constant human shield.

      Hirschvogel poured wine and brought a glass to her.

      With a twist of her wrist, Kate tapped her bracelet, sending out a string of Morse code to Jake. They were up against the clock. Events were already in motion in Istanbul, and if they didn’t find the information they needed, a lot of people were going to be dead within the hour.

      “So,” Hirschvogel said smoothly, “what line of business are you in?”

      Kate smiled at him. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

      Hirschvogel guffawed. “You’re a fan of spy movies?”

      “Somewhat,” Kate admitted. She looked at Hirschvogel.

      Suddenly gunfire cracked in the other room. He started to go forward, but stopped immediately when Kate reached under her dress and pulled out the small, two-shot derringer she’d holstered to her thigh. At first his attention was caught by the expanse of thigh she flashed, but then he quickly focused on the pistol in her fist.

      “Don’t move,” she told him as she aimed at the center of his chest.

      3

      London, England

      Samantha Rhys-Jones pulled her Jaguar XKE to a stop in front of the office building and looked around. The neighborhood was an old one, but it had been given several face-lifts since it had first been built. The unadorned buildings stood like regimental soldiers.

      Back in its heyday, Fleet Street served as home to London’s journalists. These days law offices, temp agencies and pubs that serviced the needs of both populated the area.

      Comings and goings at all hours of the day kept the neighborhood busy. That alone proved sufficient reason to choose the neighborhood for the meet.

      Headlights flashed at the end of the street as a decrepit cargo van rounded the corner and came toward her. With her eyes on the van, Samantha pressed a hidden release on the console between the seats. A panel popped open to reveal a Walther P99 chambered in .40 caliber. She favored the weapon because it was easy to conceal, fit her hands well and had good knock-down power.

      She took the gun from its hiding place and placed it in her lap. Despite her experience, she found her heart rate elevated and her mouth dry. She was nervous, but not panicked.

      “Indigo,” tech support called over the earwig she wore.

      “Yes,” Samantha said calmly.

      “Clockwork has a visual on you.”

      The van flashed its lights on and off.

      “Understood,” Samantha said. “I’ll talk to you again once we’re inside.” She dropped the Walther into her coat pocket and switched off the Jaguar’s engine. Then she climbed out to meet the van’s occupants.

      Five of them got out of the vehicle—three women and two men. The mix surprised Samantha, but not the age. All of them were in their early twenties. They wore gray coveralls with RALEIGH’S CLEANERS stenciled across the back.

      One of the women placed thin magnetic signs on the sides of the van while one of the men changed the front and back license plates. For the next few minutes, any police check on the licensed van of a cleaning service by that name would exist, complete with work history and referrals.

      Shortly after that, the computer files and the magnetic signs would disappear as if they’d never existed.

      “Hey,” a lanky Indian youth with long black hair and a goatee greeted her.

      “Hey,” Samantha said. She recognized him because she’d worked with him before, but she didn’t remember his name. Of course, there was always the possibility he’d never given it. She never gave hers. “New crew?”

      He nodded and grinned, flashing white teeth. “Breakin’ ’em in. Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you.” He fished equipment cases from the van’s cargo area.

      “Do you need help with anything?”

      “The door,” the guy said. “You get that, we’ve got the rest of this.”

      “Your security card is set to run,” tech support said.

      Samantha walked to the back of the Jaguar and opened the trunk. A hidden compartment held a wireless Internet-equipped magnetic strip printer. She took a security card from her pocket and ran it through the slot.

      “You’re good to go,” tech support said.

      Samantha walked to the door. Dressed in slacks, a plain blouse and her trench coat, she looked like a barrister rousted out of bed to handle a client who’d called from jail.

      She glanced at the “cleaning” crew. All of them stood with cases in hand.

      Samantha swiped the key card through the reader on the door. A second later the lock released. She opened the door and went through the dimly lit hallway. Although the building had been refurbished with new paint and new carpet, the dimensions remained as confining as they had two hundred years ago. There was only room for one person at a time up the stairs.

      It would not be, she reflected, a good place to get caught.

      “Indigo,” Kate Cochran said.

      “Yes.” Samantha slid the card through the next security checkpoint. She breathed a little easier when the lock opened.

      “We’re secure.”

      Samantha knew that meant Kate had control of Hirschvogel in New York. “Understood. But I still don’t like СКАЧАТЬ