A Raging Storm

For a moment, Storm wondered if he was being too paranoid. Maybe he was overreacting because of Tangiers. But he couldn’t help himself. While he was in England, he could not afford to let down his guard. The older man sitting in Hyde Park on a bench reading the Times was not really reading the Times. The woman behind him when he was on the sidewalk was not really walking her dog. “Trust no one,” Jones had said. It was his mantra.

He’d rented a Vauxhall Insignia because the German-made car, which was similar to a Buick Regal, was as common in England as a Honda in the U.S. It wouldn’t draw attention. After Showers’s BBC debut, of course, their arrival was hardly a secret.

Showers exited the hotel dressed in an attractive gray pantsuit, carrying a light jacket and her briefcase. Storm had entered the address of the Duke of Madison’s estate into the Vauxhall’s onboard GPS. He glanced at the rearview mirror as he began weaving through London’s congested streets. Eventually, they reached the M-40, the main thoroughfare that would take them west to Gloucester. About four miles outside of London, Storm spotted a black Mercedes-Benz lurking two cars behind them.

“What did you learn at Scotland Yard?” he asked.

“They told me Petrov was having financial problems. The Russians have frozen most of his fortune in Moscow.”

Storm focused on watching the Mercedes. Showers read through a briefing paper about Petrov. When the voice in the GPS warned that the car was only a mile from the exit that would take them to the Duke of Madison’s estate, Storm suddenly pressed on the brakes and brought the Vauxhall to a crawl. Angry drivers honked and swerved around them. At first, the driver of the Mercedes slowed down, too, but then he realized that Storm was testing him. It would be obvious that the Mercedes was tailing the Vauxhall if it also came to a crawl.

As the Mercedes sped up, Showers looked up from her paperwork. “I noticed them, too, when we first left London. Nice work.”

The windows of the Mercedes were tinted, but as the car passed them, Storm made a peace sign. He envisioned the occupants giving him the finger. Showers scribbled down the license tag and then used her cell phone to enter the car’s license plate into an FBI computerized database in Washington, D.C. The vehicle was registered to the embassy of the Russian Federation in London.

“The Ruskies seem to follow you everywhere we go,” Storm said. “They must enjoy watching you from behind.”

Showers sighed.

They reached the gated entrance to the Duke of Madison’s estate a minute later. Two security guards, with patches on their black berets that identified them as employees of PROTEC, checked their passports and then let them pass.

“Did you notice they were armed?” Storm asked, as the Vauxhall bounced over cobblestones toward the manor house.

“They’re called ‘manned guards’ in England,” Showers said, “and yes, I saw their weapons.”

“Regardless of what they are called,” he said, “security guards are not supposed to be armed in Britain. Maybe we should call your buddies at Scotland Yard and report them for breaking the rules.”

Ignoring the dig, Showers said, “According to my briefing papers, the manor house is about five miles up this road. The entire estate consists of ten thousand acres. The main house was built in 1532 with stones cut from a nearby quarry and was designed to show off the Duke of Madison’s vast wealth.”

“How’d the duke’s heirs lose it?” Storm asked.

“Bad bets in hedge funds and London casinos,” she replied. “Your kind of people.”

The three-story mansion came into sight. A carved stag and the duke’s coat of arms were sculpted in marble above each window.

A man and woman were waiting. Storm recognized Antonija Nad from their overnight flight.

“I’m Georgi Lebedev,” the man said, extending his hand as they stepped from their rented car. “I recognize Special Agent April Showers from the BBC.”

Showers blushed.

“Yes, she’s becoming quite the celebrity here. I expect the queen to invite her over any day now,” Storm said. He introduced himself as Steve Mason from the State Department.

“He’s only here as an advisor,” Showers added. “Seen but not heard.”

Lebedev said, “This is Ms. Antonija Nad, our chief of security.”

“Yes,” said Storm. “We were on the same flight from Washington this morning.”

“I didn’t notice,” Nad replied.

She was lying.

“I didn’t notice you either,” Showers said.

She was lying, too.

“I always notice beautiful women,” Storm said.

He was not lying.

Nad gave Storm a slight smile.