Page 15 of The Echelon (Spy Girl 7)
Sophie takes a bunch of papers from the top.
“This is it,” I tell her. “The proof that we need.”
T-MINUS:01:01:37
I quickly shed my disguise, folding up the habit and carefully laying it on a shelf in the restroom. I grab my phone out of my bag and call Ares to let him know what we found.
No answer.
I call Intrepid.
No answer.
I try Daniel.
No answer.
I try Juan and Ari.
Next up is Mike Burnes and Royston Bessemer.
No answer.
Most have a fast busy signal.
I try the villa’s landline, hoping that might work.
Nothing.
I try the palace’s main number.
The call doesn’t even go through.
I try the hospital, thinking, if anyone had phone service, it would be them.
Still nothing.
I try texting.
After over a minute, it shows as being sent but not yet delivered, like it’s in some kind of textual limbo.
I send an email.
Get an error message back in response.
“I can’t reach anyone in Montrovia,” I tell her, feeling defeated. “We finally know the truth, and I can’t get ahold of anyone. We’re going to have to physically take it there. Any idea where we could get a helicopter?”
“There is a company in town that does rides for tourists, run by Tommy Langdon. Unfortunately, his grandmother in Ireland recently passed, and he’s out of town for the next few days. I saw his daughter at the pub last night—gosh, that seems like so long ago. Anyway, she was saying she gets to take a few days off and was going out again tonight.”
I take a deep breath. “If we drive, it will take at least two hours. They start giving the vaccines in less than an hour. I wonder how many people they can inoculate during that time.”
“Quite a few,” she says.
“I don’t think we have any other choice. No planes are allowed. And, even if we could get someone to take us, there was talk of shooting down any plane trying to enter or leave Montrovian airspace. I was thinking maybe a helicopter might be able to fly low enough to avoid the radar.”
“We’ll have to drive then,” she says. “All I know is that, when this is over, I’m going to my little flat overlooking the Nyhavn Harbor in Copenhagen and sleeping for days.”
“Oh my gosh. That’s it. Sophie, you’re brilliant.” I smile at her as I realize who I can call for help, quickly entering his number.
“Kresten,” I say when he answers.
“Huntley, where are you? All communications have gone down in Montrovia.”
“I know. I tried calling, texting, and emailing. Listen, I’m in Ronda, Spain, with Sophie Andersen, the daughter of the scientist who actually discovered the disease, not the guy PureGen is blaming everything on. We have proof that the vaccines will kill everyone who takes them, but we don’t have much time. There is a local helicopter tour operator that I was hoping could fly us there, but he’s out of town. We can drive, but we won’t make it in time to stop them from giving the vaccines.”
“I’m running through the palace to my father’s office,” he says breathlessly. “Let me see what I can do. What is your exact location?”
“We’re at the Plaza de Toros bullring.”
“Perfect. Hang on.”
“I’m on hold,” I tell Sophie.
“Did you just call the incredibly sexy crown prince of my home country?” she asks in awe.
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Someday, maybe—” Her swooning is interrupted by Kresten’s voice.
“Your chariot is on its way. We were lucky that they were already airborne. ETA: ten minutes. Are you safe where you currently are?”
“For the time being. We kind of broke into one of the museum exhibits to get to the information her father left. There is also a man in town who tried to kill Sophie this morning by blowing up her house, but we escaped, and I shot him with a tranquilizer dart. Right now, we are hiding in a restroom.”
“Okay, hold for nine minutes and forty-five seconds then proceed to the center of the bullring. The helicopter will land there, which should provide you with a fair amount of cover from the authorities or anyone else. And I’ll radio the men and let them know your status.”
“Who’s coming to get us?”
“Just some guys I know,” he says cryptically. “They’ll make sure you get there in time.”
“Thank you, Kresten. I owe you one.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says in a flirtatious tone.
“Oh, and please don’t announce anything to the public until I get things taken care of in Montrovia. No other country is set to start giving the vaccine until later today, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“You probably also know by now that I’m not just an heiress.”
“I’ve suspected that for quite some time. But don’t worry, Huntley. Your secret is safe with me.”
T-MINUS:00:52:55
I’m watching the time click down on my watch when I hear noises outside the restroom. Someone has probably discovered the broken glass and is calling the authorities, which could cause u
s issues—especially when we try to stroll out of the restroom, carrying an antique trunk.
I tell Sophie to stay put and then walk nonchalantly out the door. The moment I do, I see the man who I shot with a dart earlier, only he’s changed from his black uniform into jeans and a Hemingway souvenir tee.
He spots me, does a double take, and then launches himself in my direction.
I dodge his advance, but he reaches out his arm at the last moment. He grips my leg, brings me to my knees, and follows it up by grabbing my hair and smashing my face into the wall.
I’m fortunate that it’s new construction made of drywall and not stone, or I would have been knocked unconscious.
A swift donkey kick to his groin causes him to fall back. He doesn’t let go of my hair though, so I’m pulled backward, landing on top of him. An elbow to his face breaks his nose and allows me to get free.
I leap up and turn around.
Sophie has peeked her head out the door.
“Take the proof out to the meeting point!” I whisper to her and then turn my attention back to the man.
His nose is bleeding, and he looks quite angry with me, which can be a blessing or a curse. Sometimes, the outrage can cause stupid reactions. Other times, it can bring clarity and more force.
In his case, it’s the latter. He throws himself toward me, sending both of us back through the restroom door.
His eyes fall on Sophie, who’s dragging the trunk out of the stall.
“Now, I’ve got you both,” he says, pulling a gun and taking aim at her.
I lunge toward him, knocking him down as he fires, the bullet lodging itself in the ceiling as the gun skitters across the tiled floor.
At the sound of the gun, Sophie ducks, but I have to give her points for bravery. She keeps dragging the box toward the door.
I just need to keep this man occupied long enough for her to get the proof safely out of here.
