Page 66 of Need to Know

“Good,” SI Delort said, “As we understand, Oliver Roux may be one of the wealthiest men in the world, but he is physically unfit, and has a substance abuse problem. He is very much a…how do the Brits say?”

“A loose cannon?” Deveraux suggested.

“Yes. He is known for having spectacular tantrums, and relies on his close protection officers to ensure his safety. As well as the guard outside the suite, there are three others resident in the suite with Roux. His right hand, a man named Xander Bishop, has been with him since his early twenties. There is also a second close protection officer, and his personal assistant,” SI Delort stated.

Lars Baumann then spoke again, “Gentlemen, would you be open to wearing a button camera? This will help us to protect you and also collect evidence of Roux’s involvement in this scheme to smuggle stolen Chinese technology through Germany. The feed will be shared with all of the law enforcement parties here.”

“I have no issue with that,” Nate said, and I nodded in agreement. Honestly, I wasn’t happy about any of this and if I spoke, I feared I’d say something regrettable.

The inter-agency team then began discussing the specifics among themselves. We learned that they had the full cooperation from head of hotel security Frau Bruker, and the manager Herr Vogel, who permitted the BKA access to the hotel security feed. They decided that Baumann would be monitoring from the hotel security room, Special Agent Porter and SI Delort would be in the van, and the GSG 9 tactical unit would be positioned in the emergency stairwell for the swiftest entry when they needed to move in. Nate and I were pawns being pushed around on a chess board.

My rage built as I listened to these strangers making decisions about my life, Nate’s life. My fight or flight response kicked in and finally I couldn’t take any more, I wanted to grab Nate’s hand, run, and keep on running. “Stop it, that’s enough!” I said as I stood up, my voice rising to cut through the circle of plans. Everyone paused and looked at me.

“I’m not doing this, and I don’t think Nate should do it either. You’re all trained professionals. Nate and I are literally members of the public, and you’re choosing to put us in harm’s way…for what?” I trailed my hands through my hair in exasperation. “For fucks sake, you want us to step into a room with one of the richest men in the world…a man who gets whatever he wants and makes people he doesn’t like disappear,” I pointed out. “He may not have “killed” anyone personally, but he probably owns the shovel factory!” I said sarcastically. “We’re not stupid…none of you are the good guys here! Every one of the countries you represent has a play. You all want to get your hands on the Téng hú because of they’ll be great leverage in your dealings with China!”

“Oh, come on. Jack! That’s not fair,” Alexander Deveraux insisted. “I’m on your side. I’ve been assisting you from the moment we met. It’s in the best interest of the UK to ensure you get out of this unscathed. Do you really think any of us would keep our jobs if two internationally famous actors were maimed while taking part in a top-secret op?” Deveraux exclaimed. “I can’t speak for my colleagues here, but I’ve got your back. I believe in you both. I wouldn’t want you to meet with Roux unless I thought you had the skills to get us the information we need to stop him. You’ve got the training; and now you get the chance to use it in real life and pop the ego of a megalomaniac, y’know, for humanity!”

I turned to Nate, to see him looking at me with pleading eyes. Shit! I’d been presumptuous, speaking on his behalf without asking him what he wanted to do. But it was clear to me now, with just a look of intimate communication that he wanted to face Oliver Roux. Nate was determined to avenge his father. This was bigger than me, and my fears. I’d made an arse of myself. I couldn’t leave Nate to go it alone.

****

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Nate

Despite his misgivings Jack was by my side, putting himself on the line for me. I couldn’t recall the last time Erik had gone out on a limb for me, or put me first. And so, on stepping out of our suite I wasn’t nervous at all, because I’d come to a conclusion that gave me the strength of a goddamn superhero. I was in love with Jack Boyd, and whatever happened, we’d work it out together. Jack wasn’t just my next chapter. He was a new book, full of blank pages on which we could write our story. I knew Jack felt the same, could feel it in my bones, and in my heart every time we made love. I’d tell him the true depth of my feelings when the time was right. But first I needed to come to terms with my past. I welcomed the chance to see this through and face Oliver Roux for my dad. Roux had been on the periphery of my life since I married Erik, like a poisonous cloud. I’d never liked the man. Now that Erik and I were divorcing I’d hoped never to see Oliver Roux again.

I glanced up the hall to observe the hulking security guard outside Roux’s door. I nodded to Agent Lopez as Jack and I sauntered past. Lopez was to remain outside our suite in case Roux had arranged for a safe cracking team to take advantage of our absence. If so, they’d get quite the surprise. Jack and I wore shirts with tiny button cameras that sent the surveillance feed to the taskforce van that was parked in the loading dock behind the kitchens. Oliver Roux was obsessively tech reliant so we were assured he wouldn’t use a signal jammer. The two British SIS agents remained one floor down, and just three minutes away at a dash if either of us said ‘Dinosaur’, the keyword to signal the end of the op.

Oliver Roux’s barrel-chested security guard asked us to raise our arms, and he patted us both down, looking for weapons, before, satisfied, he knocked three times on the door. The door was opened by a second guard, who stood aside and admitted us into the suite.

In the hallway Jack and I were asked to stand with our arms out while this guard gave us a once over with a security wand metal detector. Roux was paranoid as hell, and with his wealth and business dealings, he had every right to be. Neither Jack, nor I set off the alarm and so a young woman stepped into the hall to greet us. She was in her mid-twenties, small of stature with flawless dark skin, and a close-cropped Afro haircut. She wore a skirt suit that seemed too tight and buttoned-up for such a warm summer day. Her six-inch heels made her walk like she was on stilts, but who was I to judge her fashion choices!

“Hello Mr. Linden, Mr. Boyd, I’m Amber Carrigan, Mr. Roux’s PA, you can call me Amber,” she said holding her hand out.

“Nice to meet you Amber. I’m sorry, we’re both non-contact. We can’t shake hands,” I said sheepishly. “I’m sure you understand. Our agents would not be happy if either of us got sick so close to our Berlin première!” I hedged.

“If you could relay this to Mr. Roux before we meet him—to avoid embarrassment,” Jack smiled cordially. Ms Carrigan’s full lips pinched as she lowered her hand and nodded. Agent D had suggested not touching, eating, or drinking anything Roux offered. He’d revealed that over the span of fifteen years, six of Roux’s ex-business partners had died from ‘unexpected heart attacks,’ after dining with him. Administering poison and then blackmailing in return for the antidote was not out of Oliver Roux’s wheelhouse!

“No problem, sirs,” Amber said smoothly. “Follow me; Mr. Roux’s on the balcony finishing a call. Would either of you like some refreshment?”

“I’m all good!” I smiled.

“Nothing for me,” Jack added. We followed Amber as she toddled into the lounge, the tip-tap of her heels on the timber floor like ice picks chip, chip, chipping. The décor was a little different to our suite. This square open plan room had two Italian cream leather couches facing one another with a glass oval coffee table in between. While our suite was carpeted, this suite had a parquet floor and not a rug in sight. The lounge also incorporated a dining area that had been sequestered for an office set up of several laptops, and tablets, a printer with scanner, a charging satellite phone and what looked like charging docks for other devices that were currently empty.

“If you could wait here, I’ll tell Mr. Roux the first guests have arrived.”

The first guests? This was unexpected. I shared a questioning glance with Jack, who shrugged. I wondered how many other guest Roux invited.

The view from the balcony of the Superior penthouse encompassed the roofline of old Wilhelminian era buildings and newer architecture, leading to the densely wooded treetops of Tiergarten in the distance.

Amber took the steps to the French doors leading onto the sun-drenched balcony. Oliver Roux was out there on a call, his grey ORIGIN branded t-shirt riding up to display a line of hairy belly, his hands gesticulating as he paced and spoke into a Bluetooth hands-free headset.

On noticing Amber’s approach, Roux thrust his hand out and finger up, halting her. “A moment,” Roux said to whoever he was on a call with. Then, seeing she was obedient to his instruction, he crooked a finger and beckoned Amber closer. He placed a hand over the mic on his headset, and as Amber leaned in, he threaded his free hand around her slender waist and then down to clench her bottom. Amber whispered something in his ear. Roux nodded, patted her backside, and released her. The PA returned to sit at the dining room table and began scrolling and typing on her laptop. Jack and I stood there, ignored and a little non-plussed as Amber got on with her work, as if we weren’t in the room. We hadn’t even been invited to take a seat. I wasn’t surprised. I knew Oliver Roux loved power games. Jack gave me a look. I leaned to his ear. “Don’t worry, this is a game. He was leaving us hanging to unsettle us.”

We waited patiently until we heard our host roar, “I don’t give a damn about your excuses. I want this sorted, do you fuckin’ hear me, or you’ll pay!” Roux threatened whoever he was on a call with, his Bostonian accent thick. “I’m on stage at three. I will not be made to look like a fool! Get it done,” he barked into his headset then he strode in from the balcony, his face red with rage. He headed toward the wet bar. I sent a wary look to Jack and his look returned a question. What the hell was that about? Oliver Roux removed the headset, placing it beside his phone, which sat in a charging dock. Facing away from us, he took several calming breaths, seemingly resetting himself before turning, and shooting us a wide, confident smile.

“Amber,” he said, and his assistant was at his side in seconds.