The de Vere Deception (David Thorne Mysteries Book 1) (16 page)

As he drove to the White Rose in the central section of Bridgetown, Thorne speculated the  potential buyer was probably a “fence”—a person who buys  and re-sells stolen goods. He planned to park in an out-of-the-way slot in the parking lot across the street from the hotel and wait for the man.

As he waited, his thoughts returned to the bright cheerful young woman at the auto rental. He smiled as he guessed her to be in her late thirties, and resolved to see her again.

Around nine o’clock, the man in the dark coat with the fur collar and Glen plaid cloth hat emerged from the front door of the hotel. He stepped lightly around the slush on his way to the hotel parking lot, and got into a light blue Vauxhall Astra rental car.

            Thorne waited and fell in behind the Vauxhall as it exited the parking lot. He suspected there may be a number of light blue Vauxhalls on the road, so he wrote down the license plate number. He dropped back and followed at a safe distance as the Vauxhall proceeded southeast on the Banbury Road to London.

Concentrating on the blue Vauxhall, Thorne failed to notice the black Toyota that fell into the line of traffic behind him.

Chapter 33

LONDON

Thursday, December 16

2:10 PM

Thorne followed as the Vauxhall turned off at the Gatwick Airport exit, and pulled into the Midlands Auto Rental lane. He parked and placed the Glock and shoulder holster in the glove compartment, locked the car, and hurried over to the rental lot where the man was parking the blue Vauxhall.

            The man in the Glen plaid hat slipped on his coat as he waited for the attendant to check him out. As he glanced in Thorne’s direction, Thorne turned his head and studied a map. Although he was back on the alert after the mugging in the parking lot, he suffered a temporary lapse. Being so intent on not losing sight of Glen plaid, he failed to notice Roberts and Kelly in the black Toyota following him at a distance.

            They parked in an adjoining lot and Roberts followed Thorne through binoculars as Thorne moved toward the terminal. Kelly stayed in the car as Roberts hurried into the airport ahead of Glen plaid and Thorne.

            Thorne followed Glen plaid into the terminal. He was tall, and the crown of his plaid hat rode above the sea of heads between them, making him easy to follow. Glen plaid went immediately to the long line waiting in front of the Brussels Airlines ticket counter.

            Thorne stepped in front of an elderly man waiting in line. “Excuse me, I just want to look at the departure schedule.” He moved in close with his back to Glen plaid, and looked up at the departure board, listening to the ticket agent behind the counter. She said, “The gate for Antwerp will be D14 on the South Concourse. Thank you for flying Brussels Airlines.”

            He looked again at the Departure board. It read ANTWERP, FLIGHT 11, GATE D14, 5:30 P.M.. He looked at his watch. It read 2:30 P.M. Thorne decided it was not necessary to use the alias Riley, bought a round-trip ticket to Antwerp in his real name, and hurried down the South Concourse to gate D14.

At the other end of the concourse, Roberts observed Thorne through small binoculars as he ordered his ticket. Roberts flipped open his cell phone. “It looks like Thorne’s tailing the fence to Antwerp on the five-thirty flight. Do you want me and Kelly to go to Antwerp, too?”

            “No, ” the voice answered. “I don’t want you on the same plane with them. Call one of your contacts in Antwerp. Send him a FAX with Thorne’s picture. Offer him a good fee—twenty thousand pounds—for two good men to see Thorne is taken care of—permanently. Have them to find out what he’s carrying and have your contact overnight it to me before he’s paid. When you get back to Stratford tonight, meet me at the restaurant in Bridgetown at nine o’clock. I want to talk to you about Hollister.”

When Thorne approached the gate, he saw Glen plaid’s hat above the crowd at the bar across the concourse. He bought the
London Times
, positioned himself in a seat in the Gate D13 seating area where he had a clear view of Gate D14. He removed a small notebook from a hidden Velcro-closing pocket he’d sewn in his Burberry topcoat, and made notes before returning it to its hiding place. Keeping Glen plaid in view, he went across the concourse and bought a cell phone under the name David Riley and a bogus London address.

            He pulled up an Antwerp Airport Transportation Service on his laptop, and found a private cab service. After being assured a car and driver would be waiting for him, he called the Hotel Julien in Antwerp and made reservations for the night.

Two hours passed and an announcement came over the loudspeaker, “NOW BOARDING FOR ANTWERP, FLIGHT 11, GATE D14, NOW BOARDING.” Thorne was one of the first in line. He boarded quickly, found his seat, and unfolded his newspaper. Glen plaid boarded and took a seat in First Class. Thorne raised the newspaper and obscured his face in case the man looked back in his direction.

            He realized he was being overly cautious. Glen plaid’s interest was almost certain to be the diamond necklace, but there was an outside chance it could be for the de Vere documents. None of the men in the castle on either night had said what they were looking for.
Was the group he was working for aware of the necklace? If so, why the ruse about searching only for the de Vere documents?

            It could be some members of the group were only searching for the documents, and not everyone knew about the diamond necklace?

PART 3

Chapter 34

ANTWERP

Thursday, December 16

6:15 PM

Twenty-five minutes after takeoff from London the plane landed in Antwerp. Thorne, carrying only a small carry-on bag, went directly to the kiosk on the curb and asked for his reserved car and driver.

            He waited in the back seat while his car remained at the curb, waiting for Glen plaid to come out and load his luggage into a taxi. Thorne instructed his driver to follow the taxi, and glanced through the rear window. The glare from the lights of the cars behind him blurred his vision and he didn’t see the white Renault pulling out into traffic with a group of other cars.

            Thorne followed Glen plaid’s taxi to a residential area, and asked his driver to fall back and wait until the taxi stopped. Thorne’s car waited as Glen plaid got out and entered the house.

            He told the driver to proceed slowly up the street. His car passed the townhouse, and Thorne took a photo and wrote down the address on the wall next to the door. The Renault waited and made no move to catch up. Thorne told his driver to take him to the Hotel Julien on Lange Neiuwstraat. At the hotel, he dismissed his driver, asking him to return in the morning at eleven o’clock.

            He waited in the long line to register, and looked around to see if he recognized any faces. As was his practice, when he was alone, he asked the desk clerk to hold his laptop until he called for it. He never knew who might be waiting for him in his room.

            He carried his own bag onto the elevator and pressed the button to the fifth floor. Before the door could close, two men broke off from a group of conventioneers and followed him into the elevator. The door closed and both men turned away from Thorne, who was reading a map.

            “Oh, I say,” the shorter of the two said from under the brim of a felt hat. “You’ve already got the lift going where we’re going.” Thorne looked up from the map. The second man, was a tall raw-boned man in a tight-fitting suit. His misshapen features could well have been the results from the wrestling ring. He turned in Thorne’s direction. and gave him a wide smile. He turned to the smaller man. “This looks like it’s going to be easy, huh, Franco?”

            Franco glanced again at the FAX showing Thorne’s picture. “You’re right, Tomas, he’s not going to be a problem. Now are you Mr. Thorne?”

            Franco put his hand in his coat pocket and showed the butt of a pistol. “Right?.”

            The elevator stopped, and Franco grabbed Thorne’s carry-on bag as they proceeded down the wide hallway. Thorne and Franco led the way, with Tomas giving Thorne an occasional nudge.

            Thorne knew he’d eventually have to give them the room number, so he went to room 312 and placed the keycard in the slot in the door. As he did so, Tomas reached around and grabbed both lapels of Thorne’s topcoat, pulled them back over his shoulders and held on. Franco removed the pistol from his coat pocket as he closed the door behind them. Inside the room, Franco threw his bag on the bed and shoved Thorne down beside it.

            Still holding his pistol, Franco opened Thorne’s bag and turned it upside-down on the bed. He spread out the contents and rifled through them with the point of a ballpoint pen, flipping socks and underwear off the bed and onto the floor.

            He opened a shaving kit, turned it upside down on the bed and sifted through it. There appeared to be nothing of interest. “Take off your coat and jacket and empty your pockets,” he snapped.

            Thorne removed his Burberry and tweed sport jacket. He turned his pockets inside out as directed, laying the contents on the bed beside the other items on the bed.

            Franco moved over to the bed and picked up the topcoat and jacket. He repeated the search through the pockets, and Thorne breathed a sigh of relief the notebook and cash hidden pocket in the topcoat weren’t discovered. Franco double-checked the contents of Thorne’s trouser pockets.

            “Okay friend, we don’t know what your interest and purpose is in following people here to Antwerp. We saw you take photos, and we would like to know what your interest is, that’s all.”

            Thorne gave him a blank look, and Tomas walked over and clipped him with a sharp blow on the side of his face. Thorne reeled and landed on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He sat up again.

            Franco smiled and interlaced his long delicate fingers across the lapels of his coat as he crossed his legs and leaned against the edge of the dresser.

            Thorne said sarcastically. “I’m just taking a holiday.”

            Franco smiled broadly and said, “My, now ain’t he the happy-go-lucky one, huh, Tomas?”

            “I’m just taking pictures of different styles of houses and castles in Europe. I’m an architect and I’m writing a book.” He reached across for his wallet, but Franco brushed it aside and laughed.

            “Save it, Chum. What we want to know is where it is?”

            Thorne gave Franco a puzzled look, “Where is what?”

            “You know what. You have items or know something our boss wants. That’s all we’re supposed to get.”

            Thorne was thankful he had left his laptop with the desk clerk. He spread his hands out and shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re after.”

            Franco said. “Like I said, maybe after Tomas has spent a little time alone with you, maybe you’ll remember.” He jerked his head in Thorne’s direction. “Let’s go, Tomas, let’s take him where we can have a serious conversation without attracting attention.” Franco walked to the door. “You won’t be going back to England, Chum. On our way you can decide how you want it. We can make it short or we can make it last all day.”

            Tomas grabbed Thorne by both arms, hoisting him to his feet.

            Thorne reached for his wallet and other things on the bed and asked, “Is it all right if I take—” He wheeled around and caught Tomas full in the face with a sharp left. the big man was thrown against the nightstand and toppled a lamp. Thorne moved quickly to plant a kick on the shin of the big man when he saw Franco out of the corner of his eye, and felt a sharp pain in his right kidney. He grabbed his side just as Tomas regained his footing and hit him hard in the stomach.

            Thorne fell back onto the bed. The sharp pain in his kidney and pain in his stomach made him nauseous.

            “Get him up,” barked Franco. “He’s cute, ain’t he. We’ll see how cute he is when we get him where it’s nice and quiet.” Tomas threw his coats at him and shoved him toward the door.

            Thorne’s side was throbbing with pain as he slowly put his coats on,. Franco put the gun in his coat pocket, and held him by one arm. Tomas gripped the other arm as they went back to the elevator. The elevator doors opened at the lobby, and Tomas nudged Thorne out as Franco held his arm.

            Thorne knew he had to make his move now or it would be too late to do anything after he’d left the safety of the crowded lobby. He brought his free hand down quickly in a chopping motion on Roberts’s wrist and broke for the main desk. Franco looked around at the crowded lobby, and realizing they had lost control of him, motioned for Tomas to follow him out the front door to the street.

            Thorne held his hand to his side and asked the desk clerk for the manager. “I wish to check out; I believe you still have my laptop.” Thorne said when the manager came forward.

            The desk clerk and the manager exchanged looks of surprise. “But, Sir, you just checked in a moment ago,” the desk clerk said.

            “I know, but something came up. Thank you. I believe you have my credit card number. Just put the charges on it. Can you have a bellman accompany me to my room?”

            The manager motioned for a bellman, and he followed Thorne to the elevator.

Chapter 35

Back in the Renault, Franco flipped open his phone and dialed. “Our target is at the Hotel Julien. We lost him temporarily. He’s got a bellman, and they’re headed back up to his room. Looks like he might be getting ready to check out. I’ll stay on him when he comes out the front door. Tomas will cover the side door. It doesn’t appear the items we got from him amount to much, but, don’t worry, we’ll get anything he knows out of him before we finish him off.”