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Gareth Wren protested immediately. “Whatever is going on, we need to keep you away from crowds and open spaces where—”
Kimmie ended her call. “Anton?” Her voice sounded grave enough for everyone in earshot to stop and look to her. “I just heard from Bucharest. Bogdan Kantor was found dead in his yacht earlier today in the Black Sea. There’s no cause of death yet.”
Hinton, Wren, and Kimmie all knew the Romanian businessman; he’d worked for over a decade at Hinton Lab Group, rising to the rank of director of operations, the position Gareth Wren now held. He’d left two years earlier to start his own artificial intelligence research firm, and Wren, Hinton’s former bodyguard, was promoted into the position.
Anton rubbed his face in his hands. Softly, he said, “When’s it going to stop?”
Wren, however, remained upright and engaged, taking this as an opportunity. “Trust me, Anton. It’s just begun. Bogdan’s death is just another reason you need to cancel today’s event.”
Hinton shook his head, still looking down at the floor between his knees. “Bogdan didn’t have security.”
Gareth replied calmly. “The others did. Bodyguards can stop some threats, but not all.”
Hinton looked back to Wren. Softly, he said, “And this chap from the Economist. What’s his name?” Both men looked to the man in the brown suit sitting uncomfortably up front and looking at his phone.
Wren said, “David something. I forget.”
“I can’t let the bloody Economist see that I’m running scared. I’ve got to keep up appearances.”
The small man from the Economist suddenly shuffled to the back of the van, holding on to the cabin chair occupied by Emilio for balance. “Have you heard the news about Kantor?”
Anton nodded, his eyes welling up with tears.
“I’m very sorry, but could I ask for a comment for the online—”
Wren waved an angry hand. “Bloody hell, David. Give him a few minutes.”
Chastened, the small man returned to his seat.
Emilio waved at his four other men as he addressed the powerfully built Brit. “Trust me and my colleagues to do their jobs. Anton will be safe for the meeting. Me and my men will guard him with our lives.”
Wren began to press. “I just don’t think today’s meeting warrants the—”
Again, Hinton chimed in, but first he patted a hand on Wren’s leg in a calming and friendly gesture. “Look, mate. I’m scared. I get it. Somebody’s murdering my friends and former business partners. The threat, whatever it is, is real. I don’t deny it. But I absolutely need to be here for this demonstration today, and you are my chief of operations. Emilio is the head of my security detail.”
When Wren said nothing, Anton Hinton sighed. “I’ll give you the charity dinner, you give me this demo at Oxford.”
Gareth Wren emitted a little sigh, sounding like a man who knew he’d just lost an argument, and then he reached inside his coat with his right hand, placing it on the grip of the pistol in his shoulder holster on his left side.
Hinton noticed the action. “You’ve armed yourself, have you?”
“Thought I’d bring hardware until the killers are found, done, and dusted.” He forced a little smile. “I’m scared, too, mate.”
Hinton said, “To be honest, that’s a relief. Look at that…now I don’t only have Emilio and his four well-trained former cops protecting me, but I also have a former SAS soldier watching my back. I’m surrounded by a proper team of bastards. If I can’t get into a school building safely, then no one can get into a school building safely.”
The driver came over the intercom. “We’re a minute away.”
Soon the van slowed to a stop and the door began to open. Two security men, the pair with the black briefcases, leapt out before the side step had even deployed, finding themselves on a pavement to the left of the front doors of Oxford University’s Saïd Business School. It was a straight shot ahead to the entrance, with a large bike rack area filled with dozens and dozens of bicycles on the right, and Hythe Bridge Street on the left.
The pair of officers scanned all sectors as Gareth Wren emerged, and then he stepped a few feet away from the van and began his own overwatch of the area.
It was a typical gray morning at Oxford University. A few people milled about on the sidewalk; they appeared to be students going about their day. A trio of women in their twenties all looked at something on the same phone by the corner of the building, a biker began pedaling away from the large stand, and another pair of young men calmly climbed off their racing bikes on Rewley Road and walked them over towards the stand.
Soon Emilio stepped out; Hinton followed and then was instantly flanked by the men with the briefcases.
As Wren walked for the doors, he saw four uniformed university security officers step out of the building and take up positions, effectively covering the entire street in front of them with their eyes, then heard a quick shuffling behind him. He spun around to make sure everything was okay, but in so doing he saw the Chilean security officer on Hinton’s right turn quickly in the direction of the bike racks, holding the black case with one hand and reaching into his coat with the other.
He was going for his weapon.
