Final Justice (Lorne Simpkins thriller (Book Three)) (23 page)

 She pulled the map from the passenger door pocket and pointed out the location. With forefinger and thumb touching, she stretched them to measure the distance. ‘I estimate we’re about 180/190kilometres away.’

Tony screwed up his eyes and quickly made some calculations. ‘Approximately, two hours then, give or take.’

‘Then what?’

‘That, dear Lorne, is the sixty-four thousand dollar question.’ 

The car remained silent until they reached their destination.

The bright lights of Monaco beckoned and guided them like a lighthouse, aiding a distressed ship into port. Tony pulled the car into a car park situated in front of the Marina, which lived up to its name of being a billionaire’s playground, if the display of expensive yachts was anything to go by.

No sooner had they stopped when both rear doors opened and Taylor and Weir jumped in the back. ‘Any idea what his boat is called?’ Taylor asked, resting his head back and blowing out a tired sigh.

Lorne responded, echoing the agent’s tiredness, ‘Lady
Luck
.
’

Taylor telephoned Headquarters straight away. ‘Miles, yeah it’s me. We’re sitting in the marina car park, any idea what’s happened with Baldwin?’ he paused for a few moments, then said, ‘I see,’ and hung up. ‘Okay, well apparently they already knew the name of his boat from the satellite,’ he paused, picked up the binoculars he’d removed from the seat when he first entered the car, and angled them out to sea. ‘Sweet as a nut! There she be.’

The others in the car followed his pointing finger, past the harbour walls out to the yacht. ‘Jesus Christ, that baby is huge!’ Weir said, ending his awed statement with a whistle of admiration. 

Her face etched with worry, Lorne turned to Tony and said, ‘He’s right … it’s huge.’

‘What’s your point, Lorne?’ he said, frowning.

‘My point is, even from this distance, I can tell that boat is far bigger than the one he managed to escape on last year. You know … Abromovski’s boat, the one with the garage onboard that concealed the submarine he used to evade us.’ Her tone was that of a defeated Army officer surrounded by his dead squad of men.

Tony contemplated her proclamation for a moment. ‘Okay, I get where you’re coming from, but there are four of us … three who are highly-trained in covert operations.’

‘Oh well, that’s all right then, problem solved,’ said Lorne, and laughed.

‘Sarcasm isn’t going to help,’ Tony bit back.

‘Now, now, we don’t want, or need, a lover’s tiff, you guys,’ Weir joked.

‘Fuck off, Weir. I’m being serious here.’

‘That’s the problem, Tony, so am I. Think about it, will you? That boat is going to be crawling with staff. Okay, there might be four of us, but I reckon there’ll be … on a yacht that size … at least, twenty, possibly even thirty staff.’

‘I hate to admit it … I mean, she’s probably right about that,’ Taylor stated, correcting himself when Lorne twisted in her seat and invisible daggers flew from her eyes
.
‘No, she’s not probably right … she
is
right.’
   

 ‘Okay, this is what I suggest we do … we’ll find a nearby hotel, get a few hours rest…’ He touched the button on the side of his watch that lit up its face, ‘It’s just coming up to ten now. We could reconvene in say four hours? You’re not going to tell me the staff will be in full force at two in the morning? If they’re there at all yet, don’t forget he’s only just arrived.’

Everyone agreed and Taylor and Weir left the car. Tony took Lorne’s hand in his. Their eyes met and he whispered, ‘Hey, don’t ever forget I’m on your side in this.’

With eyelids lowered, she bowed her head, chin almost touching her collarbone. She felt her cheeks glow and appreciated the darkness of the car.

Puzzled by her sudden awkwardness, Tony nudged her chin upwards, and when he brushed her lips with his. She pulled away and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Sorry, Tony, I’m just tired. Didn’t you mention something about getting a hotel room or rooms?’

His hurt feelings evident Tony started the car and headed back into town.

Chapter Forty-One

Again, when they reached the hotel and despite Tony’s best efforts, they were forced to share another hotel room and yet another double bed. Neither of them had spoken since their strange moment in the car. They went to the bathroom, one after the other then slid into bed, still quiet.

Lorne teetered on the edge of her side, making a conscious effort not to relax and touch Tony’s body with any part of her own. She felt foolish for the way she had reacted to his kiss, but had decided to put a halt to things, before either of them became dependent on the other. Actually, thinking about her situation, it was more a case of breaking things off before
she
became dependent on
him.

A thump on the door woke them and still feeling nervous from her recent ordeal, Lorne sat up in bed with the bedclothes pulled tight under her chin, like she used to do as a little girl when she thought the bogey man would get her, in her often vivid, nightmarish, dreams.

When Tony turned on the light, she could tell by his face, he thought she was losing the plot and before he opened the door, he asked tersely, ‘You all right?’

Embarrassed, she threw back the covers and ran into the bathroom, snatching up her bag en route.

She emerged fully clothed around ten minutes later, to find Taylor and Weir sitting on the bed and Tony standing in front of them, with a pad and pen in his hand.

Tony indicated for Lorne to stand alongside him and handed her the notebook. The three men watched as she read and occasionally nodded, or shook her head. When she’d finished, she looked at Tony, shrugged her shoulders and said, ‘Looks all in order, except one thing.’

He took back the pad, scanned what was written and with a furrowed brow looked at Lorne again, ‘One thing?’

‘That’s right …’ she said.

‘Hello people, time is of the essence here. Any chance we can rush things along a little?’ Weir said impatiently tapping his watch.

Annoyed that Tony hadn’t spotted his mistake, Lorne folded her arms and said, ‘My role in this mission.’

When the two other agents sniggered, she glared at them. ‘Gentlemen? Do you have a problem?’

Weir smirked and said, ‘Hey, you guys can keep us out of your little argument. Taylor and I will see if we can pick up some food in this Godforsaken metropolis for the rich and shallow people, while you two "talk things over". Just don’t take long discussing things we need to strike before it’s too late.’ 

‘Really, Weir, there’s nothing to discuss. I have no intention of sitting around here twiddling God knows what, while you three have all the fun.’ She forced a smile, but when she noticed Tony’s stormy features, she cocked her head to the side and defiantly glared back at him.

Tony had a different view about how his plan would come to fruition. He walked over to the door, opened it, and dismissed the two men. ‘We’ll see you guys in a few minutes,’ he said, slamming the door shut after them.

‘Was that called for? Slamming the door like that, at this ungodly hour of the morning?’ Lorne asked, backing up to the bed and collapsing on it. She had an inkling Tony was about to tear into her and rip her to tiny pieces.

‘Sod what people think or are trying to do around here, let’s get one thing straight, Lorne,
you,
are not stepping foot out of this hotel room. Have I made myself perfectly clear?’

She jumped to her feet and they met halfway, toe to toe, her nose to his chest. She glanced up at him and said, ‘About as clear as mud,
agent boy!
’

‘Don’t go there, Lorne.’

Despite the warning resonating in his voice, Lorne challenged him further. ‘What good will I be sitting here?’

‘If you stay here, then I know your safety is guaranteed …’

She opened her mouth to object, but Tony raised his hand to silence her. Then, before she knew what was happening, his long muscular arms had swallowed her and pressed her against his chest. The scent of his body odour filled her nostrils. A sense of calm and comfort burst through her making her stubbornness recede. Gazing up, she smiled and shrugged. ‘Okay, buster, I guess this is round one to you.’

His lips pressed firmly against hers and his tongue teased her lips apart. It was the deepest kiss she’d ever experienced and one that left her reeling with poorly-timed cravings. From his reaction she knew he felt the same way.

‘Shit! I hate having to stop this here, but I need to get changed, the guys will be back soon.’

Reluctantly she left his arms and watched as he stripped off his clothes. She found it hard to restrain the growing sense of desire caressing her groin. When Tony had finished dressing in his black trousers and a black polo-neck jumper, he gathered her in his arms again and kissed her long and hard.

Lorne couldn’t help wondering if he’d kissed her that way because he feared he wouldn’t return. She brushed the feeling aside as quickly as it had appeared. They had just broken apart when the hotel door opened and in stepped Taylor and Weir, dressed in the same outfits as Tony.

Weir handed Tony a baguette filled with ham and cheese. He took the proffered snack and shared a quick smile with Lorne. Frowning Weir asked, ‘Something wrong?’

‘Not really, I appreciate the thought, Weir, thanks.’

‘Hurry up and eat it, we leave in ten. Sorry, Lorne, I didn’t think to get you one, thought you could grab some breakfast later.’

She waved her hand and grabbed the baguette from Tony. ‘No problem, I’ll help Tony eat his.’ Again they shared an amused look that made Weir blow out a frustrated sigh.

‘Whatever,’ the agent responded, noisily chomping on his extra-large piece of French stick as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

The man was fatter than the other two and Lorne could see why, after watching him swallow his food without seeming to chew it. Sadness drifted over her as memories of her dead partner visited again. Pete’s nickname had been "Chunky", not just in relation to his larger than average belly, but because of his love of chunky KitKats. She found it strange that she still thought about him and wondered how long the memories would persist. He’d been a significant part of her life for nine years or so before Baldwin had killed him in cold blood. Perhaps it was natural for her to think of him, just a little.

Between mouthfuls of food, the men discussed final preparations then marched out of the room with Lorne in hot pursuit.

‘What the … Just a minute, young lady, I thought we’d gone over this?’

‘I’m not coming with you, you made it quite clear my skills were not needed in this manoeuvre, but you can’t stop me from coming down to the marina to see you off.’

Her chin jutted out stubbornly and she knew he would be wasting precious time arguing with her.

‘Okay, you win again,’ he mumbled.

When Lorne stepped into the hallway, he shut the door then handed her the key
.

Upon reaching the marina, it surprised Lorne to see the number of people dotted around so early in the morning. None of them appeared to be drunk like they would have been had this been a busy town in England. No, the French were definitely more refined as far as alcohol was concerned. 

Taylor and Weir took off in the direction of the first jetty, where they had arranged for a row boat to be waiting for them.

‘Take care, Tony.’

His curled forefinger nudged her chin upwards. Their eyes locked, his a determined steel whilst hers filled with unexpected tears.

‘Hey, what’s all this? I’ll be back, as Arnie used to say, before you wake up probably.’ With a quick kiss he was gone, into the darkness, and she had a sinking feeling, that he was gone from her life, too.

Some of the party goers danced and spun her around, and she smiled and jigged a little in time to the music playing from someone’s ipod. She then strolled about for the next twenty minutes her thoughts remaining firmly on the three agents’ mission. 

Not in any rush to step back through the door that would be filled with Tony’s scent, she took the stairs up to the room. As she turned the key and reached for the light, a hand covered the scream about to escape her lips.

‘You …’ she mumbled behind the hand and fear gripped her insides, making her legs wobble. The bathroom door sprung open to reveal a second intruder and the colour drained from her face. Ice filled her veins … then everything went black
.

Chapter Forty-Two

With relative ease, Tony and his gang approached the hull of Baldwin’s yacht, but years of experience told him something was wrong. He leaned forward in the rowing boat towards Weir and whispered, ‘Something’s up.’

In the dark, with their eyes now fully adjusted, Weir and Taylor both shook their heads. ‘It’s the middle of the night, man,’ Weir said.

‘I don’t give a flying fuck, it ain’t right.’

‘What do you want to do then? Proceed or turn back?’ Taylor asked his eyes scanning around them.

The three men gripped the side of the boat as it bobbed on the waves rebounding off the hull of the huge yacht. ‘Let me think for a minute.’ Tony swept a hand through his short hair, before quickly returning to grip the side of the boat as Taylor moved towards him, almost tipping the small boat. ‘Sit still.’ Tony hissed through clenched teeth.

‘I was just gonna say trust your instincts, Tony. You know this guy better than we do. What do you reckon?’

He stared at the man as though he’d asked for the combination to the safe at Threadneedle Street.

After pondering his question for a second, Tony grabbed one of the oars and motioned with his head for Taylor to pick up the other one. They headed back to shore with Tony deep in thought.
No lights on the boat, no movement that they’d heard. No, something’s definitely wrong!