Wolf bent forward, concealing his face as thewoohantastalked past. When the truck started forward, Wolf’s Corsa fell in behind it. Three intersections later, the truck took a right. Six blocks later, Wolf took a left and watched the Escalade surge past him, no doubt on their way to St. Bartholomew’s, where they would not find their client.
He smirked at the thought.
He backtracked to the outskirts of London, where he’d rented the box truck. Mackenzie and Ollie were already there, waiting for him. After returning the truck’s key to the office and signing off on the remaining paperwork, he joined Mackenzie and Ollie in the Corsa. They headed for the Citation, the cityscape of London getting smaller and grayer with each rotation of their tires. The Corsa was scheduled to be collected and returned to the rental agency after the jet went wheels up.
“You trying to get plugged back there?” Wolf slid a glance toward the former commander of ST7, who was sitting in the passenger seat and tapping a war beat out on his jean-clad thigh.
The bastard stopped drumming long enough to shoot him the middle finger. “How about you worry about your role in the plan, and I’ll worry about mine?”
Since both their roles were already in the rearview mirror, Wolf let the jab go.
“Did Cap get hold of our clown’s hard drive?” Mackenzie finally asked, his fingers slowing and then stopping on his thigh.
“He did,” Wolf said.
“And Rawlings and Winters are on the way to the airstrip, along with our crews?”
“They are.”
A fifteen-passenger Ford Transit had been waiting at the rendezvous point in an unmanned parking garage. He’d chosen the vehicle for its roomy interior. After they’d removed the front bucket seats, the forward area had room for a prone Nantz, his IV drip, and his personal paramedic, aka Rawlings. The back two rows of bucket seats would accommodate all his warriors assigned to scout and interference duty.
“Fuck.” Mackenzie suddenly sneered, his eyebrows bristling. “I’d love to see that motherfucker’s face when he realizes his boss is in the wind.”
For the first time that Wolf could remember, he agreed with the oldumbretan.He would like to see that as well.
How long before someone stumbled across the missing ambulance in the parking garage? The building didn’t have an attendant, just a machine handing out tickets and receiving the money due. It could be days before anyone found it.
Which would give them time to hide their captive inside Shadow Mountain. There, while Wolf, O’Neill, and Aiden interrogated Nantz, Capland would expose every secret his laptop held.
Between the questioning and hard drive, if the Shadow Warrior was willing, they’d come up with the means to prevent theWanatesa.
Chapter forty-eight
Day 43
London, England
Halfway between Berkeley Square and Bart’s medical center, Embray directed his driver to make a detour, where they rendezvoused with Tomas Beck. Beck was one of Shadow Mountain’s intelligence agents, and second only to Capland when it came to gadgets and computers. Seconds later, Beck had the external hard drive that carried all of Clark Nantz’s computer files.
“You sure this side trip isn’t gonna bite us in the ass?” Cosky asked, casting a sharp look at Embray. “If the cops find out we didn’t head straight to the clinic, they’ll have questions.”
Embray shrugged. “My people are loyal. Hutchins won’t tell anyone about this meetup. Will you Hutch?”
“No sir.” The chauffeur’s voice was quietly sincere.
“I’ll scrub the detour from the Lamborghini’s GPS system,” Capland promised. “Besides, getting caught with the hard drive would be difficult to explain.”
O’Neill scoffed. The dude hadn’t said impossible. Nope, just difficult. The nerd was a little too confident in his abilities. Although in truth, most of that self-assurance was warranted.
The black Escalade sat abandoned along the curb in front of the clinic. Cosky hopped out of the limo at the same time as their chauffeur. O’Neill and Cap were seconds behind. The three of them assumed their bodyguard roles again as they converged on Embray’s door. They waited for the billionaire to step out of the vehicle and walk toward the clinic doors, then fell into step behind him. The gritty sound of the Lamborghini’s tires rolling over concrete as it drove away faded behind them.
Embray scanned the empty concrete ramp leading up to the glass doors and then the area surrounding them, before asking in a low voice, “Any word from Wolf?”
“On his way back to the bird,” O’Neill said just as quietly. “They all are.”
Too bad he wouldn’t be joining them. No doubt Capland was just as frustrated by their exclusion from the bugout. He must be dying to get started on Nantz’s hard drive. But they, as Embray’s bodyguards, needed to appear long enough to alleviate suspicion.
They walked into the emergency room—or the A&E as the Brits called them—at the exact moment Nantz’s bodyguards were charging out. Embray stopped in the middle of the self-opening door.
