Page 5 of The Echelon (Spy Girl 7)
I shake those thoughts out of my head and keep walking.
Further down the road, I pass the Peruvian Embassy and then come to a surprisingly modern structure set in the midst of this classically Lon
don street, which I discover is the Danish Embassy.
I pause in front of it, wondering if there is anything Crown Prince Kresten of Denmark could do to help me in this situation. He and the team of Special Forces he brought were so helpful during the Olympic Ball when we feared a coup would take place.
Although I can’t think of anything I specifically need at the moment, I text him anyway. Who knows what the next few hours will hold?
Me: It’s Huntley. I’m standing in front of the Danish Embassy in London. Made me think of you.
Kresten: When did you leave the country?
Me: A few hours ago.
Kresten: And how did you get out? I have men there who even I can’t bring home.
Me: Lizzie is pregnant with the Montrovian heir.
Kresten: Despite the chaos going on in our world, that news has reached my country. I’m sure you are quite upset. Are you sick?
Me: Not yet. What about you?
Kresten: Although I was irritated about it at the time, I am now thankful that my packed schedule only afforded me time to fly in and out for the ball, so I wasn’t able to attend the opening ceremonies.
Me: Good, because I might need your help with something. Possibly. Depending.
Kresten: Why do I get the feeling you are not shopping the designer stores on Sloane Street?
Me: Is your country planning to force its citizens to take the vaccines?
Kresten: Yes. As are all countries around the world. Our death toll is small so far, but people are getting sick, and we are told they will die. Lorenzo informed me that he himself took the vaccine to test it before he gave it to his people. I understand he is feeling better than ever.
Me: That should concern him. Kresten, I am in London to track down the daughter of the scientist who I believe created this disease. There is a small but powerful group of men who want to end the world as we know it. I think the vaccines, if given, will kill off more than 90% of the world’s population.
Kresten: That sounds like some crazy conspiracy theory …
Me: One that I wholeheartedly believe to be true.
Kresten: You don’t have much time to find her then.
I don’t reply. It was silly of me to text him. Deep down, I know I was hoping Kresten would tell me that his best friend hadn’t slept with Lizzie. That he was too in love with me to do so. That he never would have betrayed me in that way. That the baby was really Daniel’s. That Lorenzo only said what he did because I’d told him and Lizzie to lie about being together.
But he didn’t.
He only noted that I was understandably upset.
Ugh. I punch a fist into my other hand in frustration.
I’m being ridiculous, I think as I march past the embassy and toward Hans Place Gardens, where the girl lives. But, just as I’m about to turn the corner onto Hans Street, a storefront catches my attention and knocks the wind right out of me.
When Blair and I were shopping for wedding dresses, we started on Sloane Street but then went over to Brompton Road and down numerous side streets. For someone who is normally acutely aware of her surroundings, I realize that, for once in my life, I didn’t really pay attention.
I smile, remembering what those few precious moments felt like and how I was nothing more than a carefree girl in love, who found a wedding dress that made her heart sing.
Tears threaten, but I shake them away. I don’t have time for them.
Not now.
T-MINUS:14:01:27
I’m now standing in front of the address where Sophie Andersen is supposed to be living. I study the building, wondering what my next move will be. I take my phone out and make a call. I need more information before I decide on how to proceed.
“I’m at the address The Bartender gave me,” I say when Ares answers. “Has the team learned anything new?”
He lets out a deep sigh. “A little, but there’s something I need to tell you first.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“I just got word that your brother has the rash. And we’ve still heard nothing from The Society.”
I close my eyes and take a steadying breath. This isn’t how this was supposed to go down. Ari should be here, helping me. Us both solving this together.
I have a moment of self-doubt, wondering what I’m missing. Wondering if my mother was wrong. Wondering if this wasn’t caused by The Echelon.
And wondering if I should just give up and die along with everyone else.
Because, if there is no plan to save Society members, that means they weren’t behind it.
“I’m going to turn your call over to Terrance,” Ares says, his voice carrying an element of defeat. He only recently discovered his children and is coming to terms with the fact that it was all for naught. Both Ari and I will die soon. “He has a few details to discuss with you.”
“Terrance here,” Terrance says, his voice coming over the line in a businesslike tone. “The flat we believe Sophie is living in is owned by a young heiress named Madelyn Hightower. Madelyn’s father manufactured a line of acoustic protection, like earplugs and earmuffs used in noisy workplace environments—not that it matters. I was just wondering how a recent university graduate could afford a five-million-dollar flat located in a famous London crescent. Back to the particulars. The building has twenty-four-hour concierge, outstanding security, lifts, and valet parking. There is also what’s touted as a large, secure underground parking space. Flat is on the third floor, southeast corner of the building. I’m thinking you can get in by—”
“Thanks, Terrance,” I say, interrupting him. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Are you going to scale the fire escape and break in?”
“Probably not.”
Attempting a break-in during daylight hours doesn’t make much sense, particularly since many people are probably at home. Instead, I go inside the beautiful, old building, which features a posh marble floor and leather-couch-furnished foyer. To my right is the mentioned concierge desk with a sharply dressed young man on the phone behind it.
He gives my outfit a once-over, his eyes lingering on my handbag and shoes as opposed to my body. Pretty sure he’s not interested in me from a physical standpoint, but I do think he is coveting my Versace off-the-runway, boldly printed, and embellished silk-twill shorts and low-cut silk blouse. His eyes slide down to the soft black leather 4G Logo Givenchy mules that I’m wearing and then back up, clearly fancying my Dolce & Gabbana Devotion bag with its distinctive gold heart detailing and chain.
Once again, I’m thankful for Dr. Kate’s shopping and that I am clad head to toe in some of the designer brands I passed on my way here.
He holds up a finger to me, indicating he’s almost done with his call.
While he’s preoccupied, I locate each surveillance camera in the room. For a place that boasts outstanding security, I’m not very impressed. One camera is focused on the entrance to track who’s coming and going. There’s another aimed at the desk, probably making sure jobs are being done properly.
There is a couch flanked by two chairs on the wall opposite the desk. I do another quick scan just to be sure, but it is an area deemed not important enough to watch, and it appears, once you get past the entry, no additional security is in place. Although, at this point, I really don’t care what is recorded, and anything that is, more than likely, can be wiped by Olivia.
When the concierge hangs up, he says, “May I be of assistance, miss?”
“Yes, I am here to see Sophie Andersen.”
He squints his eyes.
“Three-B,” I add. “She’s staying with Maddy.”
“I see,” he says, looking down at a logbook. “Your name, please.”
“Huntley Von Allister.”
His eyes go wide in recognition. I guess, sometimes, it does pay to be in the tabloids.
“I’m afraid neither is currently home,” he states.
“Oh, I know. They said you’d let me in.”
“I’m sorry,” he
says, looking taken aback. “They didn’t leave notice of such.”
“Probably forgot to call.” I let tears well up in my eyes. “I literally just spoke to Maddy. Told her I was here in London. I didn’t plan to come, but I just”—I let the tears fall and emotion fill my voice, not that it takes much pretending on my part—“found out the guy I’m in love with got someone else pregnant after he swore he didn’t sleep with her.”
“Wait!” The concierge stutters, “Are … you … saying that the First Son knocked up someone?”
He’s practically salivating, probably wanting to call a reporter and be an anonymous source.
Might as well give it all to him.
“The truth is, even though I’m engaged to Daniel Spear, I’m still in love with King Lorenzo of Montrovia. I know it’s dumb, but Lorenzo swore to me that he wouldn’t sleep with Lizzie until after they were married. And very recently—before, you know, the disease that’s threatening to kill everyone—Lorenzo told me he still loved me and was going to break his engagement and marry me instead. When I found out Lizzie was pregnant and that he lied to me, I snuck out of the country. I’m not sick, by the way, and I wasn’t at the opening ceremonies, so you don’t have to worry, but I flew here on my jet. I called Maddy, and she told me I could crash here. And that, when she got back, we’d go out. And drink. A lot. So, if you could please just take me up there and let me in, I promise not to throw myself off the balcony before she returns.”
