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“Fine,” he said and stalked across to the adjoining door.
He wouldn’t magically change his mind by the morning, either.
Baruti closed the adjoining door, and the room immediately felt small. Suffocating. Samuel paced to one side, whirled, and strode toward the other.
“I’m going outside,” he announced.
“Is that a good idea?” Baruti countered.
“I don’t fucking care.”
The words were a lie.
He cared. Far too much, clearly.
Samuel strode out into the hall and took the stairs down to a back patio area near some vending machines. The city felt like it was pressing in on all sides. Damn it to hell, why did it have to be like this? Why?
Monday. Edward Residence, London, UK.
Maxwell clicked through the latest surveillance images. The Americans had sent a team to harass the chancellor’s boogeyman. It was amusing as hell, but it wouldn’t accomplish anything.
Chances were, the Americans weren’t prepared for the defensive capabilities. They were, however, managing to keep the attention off him, and for that he was grateful. If the Americans weren’t such a thorn in his side he might even send them a thank you for all their hard work.
The way he saw it, this little conflict would stretch out for a while, then the Americans would turn tail and run. In that time, they could learn a number of things. Many of which even Maxwell didn’t want them to do. And there was always a chance this was a distraction. Could they have something else up their sleeve?
No doubt Daar was behind this. Maxwell couldn’t see how the Americans would connect them otherwise.
And if Daar had changed sides, it was only a matter of time until they came for him, too.
Maxwell sipped his now lukewarm tea and considered his options.
There wasn’t much the Americans could do. The chancellor’s blackmail was now null and void. He wasn’t beholden to their agreement beyond his desire to be here. And take over. But that would take more time than this, or the complete implosion of their organization.
All in all, he wasn’t terribly upset with how things were going. There were bound to be some hiccups, but that was okay.
A phone in his desk rang.
Frowning he opened the drawer and stared down at the various devices.
Oliver Taylor flashed on the screen of one.
And there was the thorn in his side. Maybe this was good news finally?
Chapter Fourteen
Monday. London, UK.
Oliver slumped down in the driver’s seat of the borrowed car. He could just see both of the hotel windows at this angle. As best he could tell, Jessica had gone from their meeting back here.
She was a hot little thing.
It would be a pity to kill her. Tits like that should be enjoyed.
He reached for his phone and took a deep breath.
Calling the big boss was never fun. Before this little mess, Oliver had only spoken to Mr. Edward twice previously, and he would have liked to have kept it that way. Being known by that man was a good way to get himself killed.
Oliver pressed the phone to his ear and listened to the line ring, praying the boss was too busy for the likes of him.
