Lone Wolf (7 page)

The flight was easy, the seats comfortable. Decker and Neil actually took naps, but Moose, Sarah and Noah were wide awake. Sarah's seat faced backward, just in front of Noah's, while Moose was in the seat across the aisle. It made it easy for the three of them to talk.

“So, is there any particular plan when we get to England?” Moose asked.

“I'll have to improvise a bit, but the basic plan is simple. We're going to grab Mister Pendergrast and shake him the way a dog would shake a snake, until he tells us everything he possibly can. If he makes me happy, he might even live through it.” Noah winked at Moose. “No promises on that score, though.”

“Grab him?” Sarah asked. “And where are we supposed to take him once we do?”

Noah shrugged. “Anywhere out in the country, I guess. Someplace nobody will pay attention when he screams.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Think there's any chance the girl is actually in London, somewhere?”

“I don't know, but I do have my doubts. Decker agrees with me, this is going too easy. I feel like we were supposed to find Pendergrast, like we're being set up, somehow. I want all of you on your toes, watching everything you possibly can. Something about this just doesn't feel real.”

“It's like blind man's bluff,” Moose said. “We're feeling around in the darkness for the players, but one of them is making noises to attract our attention.”

Noah nodded. “Yes, that's what I'm trying to say. It's like Pendergrast is the sacrificial pawn in a chess game, stuck out there in front where he's bound to be captured, but clearing the way for the Rook or Bishop or Queen to do something more serious. The question is, who are the other players?”

“Bad thing about a pawn is that he's usually nothing but a foot soldier, somebody who doesn't know any answers. That way, he can't give away the plan when he's captured. If this guy doesn't know who's behind it, then this could be a wasted trip.”

“I don't think so,” Noah said. “There's a reason why that pawn was advanced, and whoever he was fronting for will be watching him. We've got to snatch him, and I'm going to try to get any information out of him that I can, but the real reason for the snatch is to make whoever is behind him start to worry and come looking for him.”

Sarah moaned. “That could take days.”

Noah looked at her. “You got something better to be doing?”

“Yeah,” she said. “This
is
my very first trip to London, you know. I could go shopping.”

“Oh, don't worry,” Noah said. “You'll be going shopping, first thing tomorrow. We need a van; a regular car isn't going to work for this one. And while you're doing that, the rest of us are going shopping for a place in the country.”

Sarah, her eyebrows low and menacing, stared at him for several seconds. “Any chance it will have a pool?”

“I doubt it,” he said. “I'm thinking more of a secluded, out-of-the-way, hard-to-find place with no neighbors for miles and miles. I doubt those come with swimming pools and tennis courts.”

“No,” Moose said. “But something tells me it might come with cows or sheep. Better watch where you step.”

“You guys figure that out,” Sarah said. “Something tells me I'm not going to get a lot of sleep in the next few days, so I'm going to go ahead and sleep while I can.” She reached down beside her seat and picked up a blanket, then reclined the seat and pulled the cover up over herself. “Good night,” she said. “Wake me up when we get there.”

Moose and Noah decided to follow her example, and soon all five of them were sleeping peacefully, despite the snoring that was coming from Neil and Decker.

A building storm in their path caused the pilot to have to detour, so the plane didn't land until almost four AM. The five of them stepped onto the tarmac and were met by an elderly gentleman with a limousine.

“You'd be Mister Colson, then,” the old fellow said with a smile. “Rum Charlie they call me, and I'm here to take you to your hotel.”

“Rum Charlie?” Sarah asked, muttering.

The old fellow laughed, and winked at her. “Rum Charlie, right, Miss, but not because o' me drinking. I ain't touched a drop of liquor in more than forty years. Back in the tail end of the big war, though, when I was but a lad of ten or eleven, I had me a deal with a rum bottler to let me carry a half-dozen bottles out to where all the soldiers were at and sell them every night. My old dad was gone off to fight on the mainland, you see, and was up to me to help mum all I could. The soldiers liked me, and would give me big tips, so that we got through the war all right. The name, though, it just stuck with me, and I reckoned there's no sense to get fretted about it now, oy?”

The old man kept up his running monologue, talking about anything he could think of as he drove them into the city. The Cavendish Hotel was in St. James, Central London, near Piccadilly Circus, so it wasn't a terribly long drive. Each of them contributed a word or two now and then, just to let Rum Charlie know they were listening, but they all felt a sense of relief when they finally got out of the car.

Rum Charlie opened the trunk and let them all get their luggage, then bid them farewell and drove off into the night. Noah led the way inside the hotel.

The desk clerk, despite the early hour of the morning, looked up at him with a smile. “A good morning to you, sir, and welcome to the Cavendish Hotel. Would you have a reservation?”

Noah smiled. “Yes, indeed,” he said. “The name is Alexander Colson, and there should be five rooms reserved.”

The clerk entered the name into a computer, and smiled back. “Yes, sir, five rooms on the twelfth floor. I also have a message waiting for you.” He passed over a card for Noah to sign, then handed him an envelope and the keys for all five rooms.

Noah waited until he had gotten away from the desk to open the envelope, then read the message inside.

Mister Colson,

As requested, I have been watching the real estate listing you inquired about, and have not observed any activity at this point. As it is getting rather late, I shall be back on this project in the morning. Feel free to call me eight-ish or thereabouts, and I will happily give you an update.

I am at your service,

Catherine Potts

A telephone number was written under her name. Noah refolded the note and stuck it into his pocket. Key cards were passed around, they all rode up together on the elevator, and then each of them disappeared into a room.

They were to meet for breakfast in the hotel's dining room at eight AM, so Noah set an alarm on his phone for seven. Plenty of time to shower, shave, etc., and still make it down to join the others on schedule. He got into bed and was back to sleep only seconds later.

Noah's alarm went off right on time, but he was already up and in the shower by the time it did. He canceled it once he got out, then got dressed for the day. The weather report predicted sunshine and fair skies, so he opted for casual slacks and a polo shirt. He was in the dining room by twenty to eight, surprised to find Sarah and Neil waiting for him.

“I have had all the sleep that I can stand,” Neil said, “at least for the next few days. Give me something to do, boss, keep me busy, please?”

“No problem,” Noah said. “Get on Craigslist or whatever they use here and find me an extremely secluded place in the country within, oh, say eighty kilometers of London. Something off the beaten path and with no neighbors, something we can get without having to sign a long lease.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “That'll take me ten minutes,” he said. “Got any other suggestions?”

A waitress interrupted, and Noah ordered coffee and a muffin before turning back to Neil. “How much can you find out about the area around Pendergrast's apartment building? I'd like to have some idea of the layout of his apartment, the design of the building, traffic in the area...Can you give me that kind of stuff?”

Neil squinted for a moment. “I can probably get blueprints of the building,” he said. “As long as he hasn't changed any of the physical design of his apartment, that should give you what you want internally. As far as traffic goes, I can look for traffic cameras in the area and scan news reports. Someone is always complaining about traffic everywhere, so there's bound to be some general information.”

Noah nodded. “That's a good start.” He turned to Sarah. “I'm sending Moose with you to get a van, one without seats in it. Let him rent it under his ID, I don't want anyone remembering a pretty blonde girl getting an empty cargo van.”

She made a confused face at him. “Why would anyone remember me?”

“Because it's always possible we may have to burn the vehicle before we're done with it, and things like that tend to make people remember who they dealt with last. If they remember a big guy who looks like a football player, no one will be terribly surprised. We're going to use it in a kidnap operation, so it could end up bloody or with bullet holes in it, and we want to eliminate any clues that might lead back to us. Try to get a white one, or beige. That'll make it easier to disguise it as a utility vehicle or something.”

She shrugged and nodded. “You got it, Boss.” She nodded toward the dining room entrance. “Here come the slow pokes.”

Noah glanced that direction and saw Moose and Decker coming toward them together. He waited until they had taken seats and placed their orders before he addressed them.

“Stan, you're coming with me this morning, after Neil gets us some recon intel on Pendergrast's apartment building. I'm hoping we might be able to spot and tail him for a bit, get an idea of his daily routine. Moose, you're going with Sarah. The two of you are going to get us a van to use when we snatch him. Get one without any markings, preferably white or light colored.”

“So you want us to avoid U-Haul, right?” Moose asked. “That shouldn't be too hard.”

“Right, and I want you to rent the vehicle with your ID. Roll your sleeves up and muss your hair a bit. If we end up having to destroy the van I want them to remember that they rented it to a tough-looking outlaw type, okay?”

Moose nodded. “No problem. Want me to use an Italian accent?”

“Whatever works,” Noah said. “Keep Sarah out of sight, I don't want them to remember her at all.”

“Noah,” Decker said, “what about weapons? Should any of us be carrying today? The Metropolitan Police go unarmed, for the most part, but since handguns are essentially banned in the UK, they have special officers ready at a moment's notice to deal with anyone who is carrying one.”

“Good point, there's really no reason for any of us to be carrying a weapon today. Of course, we're not looking to get into any kind of conflict with the local police, anyway, but let's not give them a reason to worry about us if we happen to get pulled over. Moose, if you get pulled over in the van, say you're planning on doing some shopping for antiques over the next few days. Sarah, if you get pulled over, just smile and look as confused as possible, then ask directions back to the hotel.”

Sarah made a face that was supposed to look innocent and lost. “Oh, officer, I'm just so confused with driving on the wrong side of the road and everything. Can you please tell me how to get back to my hotel? Pretty, pretty please?” She fluttered her eyelids for effect, and the men all grinned.

“That ought to work,” Decker said. “Tell them your GPS is taking you on a wild goose chase, they'll believe it. The British tend to think us Yanks just don't know how to follow directions, because so many people complain about getting lost, here.”

Their breakfast orders arrived, and they began eating. Neil, who never seemed to get enough to eat and was often teased that his skinny frame must be hollow in order to accommodate all the food he shoved down his throat, had ordered the hotel's famous Full English breakfast, which consisted of three eggs sunny side up, four slices of bacon, a large sausage, baked beans, hash browns, grilled tomatoes and eggplant, and something called a black pudding that looked like another very dark chunk of sausage.

“What on earth is that?” Sarah asked, pointing at the black pudding.

Neil cut off a piece and forked it into his mouth. “Mmm,” he moaned. “I don't know, but it's good. I have to find out, so I can order it again.”

Decker grinned at him. “It's called black pudding,” he said. “It's made of pork blood, with fat and oatmeal.”

Neil froze in mid chew, and his eyes went wide. He swallowed hard, then looked at the rest of it on his plate. “Pork blood? Does that make me some kind of vampire?”

The retired FBI agent laughed. “No, it doesn't. Black pudding is one of the most popular dishes in the UK. They do it like that at breakfast, but you can also get it batter-dipped and deep-fried, or you can eat it cold, right out of the wrapper.”

Neil stared at him for a long second, then shrugged and stuck another bite in his mouth. “Oh, well, it still tastes good. As long as it isn't going to turn me into a zombie or vampire or something, I can live with it.”

The rest of them chuckled at him, as they finished their breakfast. It didn't take long, and then they were each off to carry out their part of the day's mission.

Noah and Decker followed Neil to his room, and Noah took out his phone to call Catherine Potts. He dialed the number from the note, and it was answered on the first ring.

“You've got Catherine,” came a pleasant voice.

“Catherine, this is Alexander Colson,” Noah said. “How are you doing today?”

“Oh, just wonderful, Mister Colson. I'm on your project right now, would you like to get together to talk about it?”

“I think that would be a wonderful idea,” Noah said. “I guess you're somewhere near the property?”

“I am, sir, just a wee distance away. There's a little chip shop at the corner, would you care to meet there? It's easy to find, you can't miss it. It's only a few hundred meters past the property, where Aberdare Gardens meets up with Goldhurst Terrace.”

“That'll be perfect,” Noah said. “My associate and I should be there within the hour.”

“Very good, sir, I shall be waiting. I'm wearing a paisley dress, I should be very easy to spot.”