Panic

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” said Leopold, noticing the look of concern. “Who were those guys?”

“Didn’t get a chance to ask, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I don’t think we’ll get any useful information out of this guy,” said Leopold, pointing at the body lying nearby. “What about the other one?”

“No pulse. Blood loss and head trauma were too much for him.”

“And you didn’t think it might be a good idea not to kill both of them? The police are going to be swarming all over the place. This looks like an execution. Not exactly self-defence.”

“Relax. It’s my job to keep you alive, so if I’m in any doubt I put your safety first. It’s an unfortunate outcome, but it’s manageable. Let me handle the cleanup.”

“Fine, but be quick,” said Leopold, turning his attention to the ruined Bentley. “We’re already late as it is.”

Chapter 9

The black Mercedes S65 AMG swept silently through the quiet East Hampton roads. Mary sat in the back, fully insulated from the outside world, and soaked up the view. Impossibly huge houses sailed past on either side, most of which were set back from the road and locked up behind heavy metal gates. Each house sat on acres of pristine lawn and most were nestled close to the woodland areas that seemed to stretch all the way out to the horizon. One or two had security guards standing in plain view by the front door.

“Not far to go now, ma’am,” said the driver, turning his head.

Mary nodded and pulled out a small makeup mirror. She adjusted her hair and added some foundation to the dark circles under her eyes. The result was just about acceptable, but hopefully the senator wouldn’t be looking too closely. Not with everything he had to worry about, anyway.

The car pulled around a corner and the houses disappeared, leaving just an empty road lined with trees. After thirty seconds they reached a clearing to the right and a set of large iron gates. The car pulled up and the driver opened his window, leaning out of it to reach the keypad mounted near one of the pillars. He punched in a code and the gates jostled open, swinging slowly backward to allow the car passage. Mary couldn’t make out a house yet, only a long driveway lined with trees and immaculately trimmed bushes.

“Just half a mile or so to the house, ma’am,” said the driver, as he started the car moving again.

Mary had assumed that the senator had money, but she hadn’t expected him to own a large estate in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the world. She couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated, but quickly shrugged it off and concentrated on what she was pla

Mary had been surprised that the senator had agreed to see her at such short notice. Usually, the NYPD was kept out of the loop in high-profile cases like this, especially when the FBI got wind of what was going on and started fencing other departments out. This time felt different though, and the veteran police sergeant wasn’t sure what the senator was expecting from her. He had sounded a little distant on the telephone, a little distracted. Mary supposed that was probably a normal reaction to finding out your only daughter had been kidnapped by a violent psychopath, but there was something niggling at the back of her mind. Something just didn’t feel right, but she couldn’t work out what it was. Hopefully, Leopold would be able to shed some light on the situation. As usual.

The senator’s house loomed into view, and the Mercedes rolled up to the front door. The asphalt gave way to white gravel and the tires crunched quietly over the neatly raked stones before stopping near the entrance archway. The driver stepped out of the car and rang the doorbell. One of the house staff answered, a middle-aged man in a smartly pressed uniform, who said a few words to the driver that Mary couldn’t quite make out. The driver nodded and opened the rear passenger door for her, tipping his cap as she climbed out and went inside the house. The front door opened up into the entrance hall, an enormous atrium clad in white marble, with ceilings that stretched a full three stories into the air. Mary saw another man walking toward her, dressed in a dark blue uniform and body armor, with a large handgun holstered to his hip. It looked like a .45 SIG Sauer.

“Senator Logan is upstairs at the moment, ma’am,” said the security guard, drawing up close enough that she could smell his cheap cologne. “Perhaps you would be comfortable waiting in the drawing room? The senator will come down when Mr. Blake has arrived.”

Mary took a second to look the man up and down, a force of habit from years of sizing up potentially dangerous suspects on the force. She could tell he carried at least one other concealed handgun, and probably a bladed weapon sheathed to his calf, judging by the cut of the trousers. His face was pockmarked and scarred, suggesting occupational damage, and his expression was passive. His eyes gave away nothing. This guy was clearly a pro, but probably not in charge. That meant there must be others.

“He’s not here yet?” said Mary, trying to sound casual. “Okay, I’m sure the drawing room will be fine, thank you.”

“I’m sure they won’t be long getting here, ma’am.”

The security guard, whose name tag identified him as Viktor, led Mary through several long hallways before they arrived at a large, plush room with four luxurious armchairs positioned to face the open fireplace on the back wall. Another guard stood at the window, who turned to greet them as they entered. This man was of similar build to Viktor, but a few inches taller, with a shock of white-blond hair instead of the crew cut that Viktor wore.

“Please, sit,” said the blond.

Mary took a seat in one of the soft armchairs, and Viktor left the room without a word. She turned to look at the blond, who was also clearly carrying a multitude of hidden weaponry, and checked his name tag. She smiled.

“So, your name’s Dolph?” she asked. “Like Lundgren? Did your parents have a sense of humor?”

Dolph didn’t respond, but Mary was sure his blank expression flickered momentarily. Probably best not to test the patience of a heavily armed security guard who looked like he could punch through walls. She turned away and pulled out her cell phone. No calls yet.

Mary hoped Leopold would get there soon. He would arrive, no doubt, with some insane theory about the case and a list of unlikely leads to chase up. Not a shred of evidence of course, but Mary could usually rely on him to get results. At least professionally. On a personal level, Mary didn’t even know where to begin with Leopold, but she knew that life was always a little more interesting when he was around. She smiled to herself and kept her eyes on the door.

Chapter 10

Jerome pulled the crumpled SUV up to the set of heavy iron gates that shielded the senator from members of the general public. He a

“Oh good, you’re here, please come in,” said Senator Logan, pulling the door back and gesturing for them to come through.

Leopold stepped into the hallway and looked around, noticing the pristine marble and ornate staircase that wound its way up to the first floor, a good twenty feet above ground level. Leopold could make out the master bedroom upstairs through an open door and noticed the bed was still unmade. All the other doors were closed. Several uniformed guards stood in strategic positions throughout the upper levels, each wearing bullet-proof vests and what looked like SIG Sauer handguns holstered at the hip. Two of the security officers stood on the staircase, standing to attention.