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“If they catch us,” Fearghas reminded him.
“I’d rather not be charged with murder just yet. However, if Demopoulos harms a single hair on Jasmine’s head...murder is back on the table.”
Fearghas nodded.
Ace paced the length of the loading area, sticking to the shadows the surrounding trees provided. As each minute passed, his anxiety mounted. He prayed Dmytro was right, and that Demopoulos would leverage her for the scroll.
First, they had to get Eli away from Bertolli. If he didn’t have the boy, he had no leverage over Jasmine. Once Eli was safe, they’d go after Demopoulos and get Jasmine back.
If he had to trade the Jordanian artifact for Jasmine, he would. His stomach roiled at the thought of what could be happening now.
If he hadn’t insisted on taking the scroll from Jasmine, Demopoulos wouldn’t have hesitated to kill Jasmine. He’d have what he wanted, and he’d kill her as payment for the amount of trouble she’d caused at his compound.
Still, they never should have captured Jasmine. If Ace had been a little faster taking out his two guys, she wouldn’t have gotten far enough away that she was snatched.
As he passed Fearghas, the other man said, “Don’t beat yourself up. They outnumbered us and would have gotten to us anyway.”
Ace shook his head. “We could have stayed in the boat and circled around to another landing location.”
“They knew we were coming into Corfu. They probably had the helicopter in their sights,” Fearghas said. “Besides, what is done is done. No amount of kicking yourself will change what has happened.”
He knew that, but it didn’t make him feel any better about failing her. “I have to make this right. By Jasmine as well as her son. She was counting on me to help.”
“We’ll make it right,” Fearghas insisted. “Dmytro has an amazing network he can tap into.”
“God, I hope so.” Ace stared at the side of the hotel where Dmytro had gone, willing him to return.
A shadowy figure appeared at that corner and stopped.
Fearghas chuckled. “Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.”
They hurried over to Dmytro.
Dmytro grinned and held out the bag he’d been carrying since they’d left the yacht. “My contact sent this for you.” He handed Ace a pistol and an extra magazine full of bullets.
Ace took the weapon and popped the magazine out. It was full of bullets. He reinserted the magazine, checked the safety and tucked it into the waistband of his trousers. “Thanks.”
“My contact says there is no secret entrance to Bertolli’s compound. The walls, like Demopoulos’s place, are topped with concertina wire.”
“So, we take some bolt cutters and cut the damned wire,” Ace said, ready to do anything rather than stand there twiddling his thumbs.
Dmytro shook his head. “That might not be necessary. My contact says there is a laundry delivery scheduled for early morning. The gate guards allow the truck to enter to exchange dirty for clean laundry.”
Ace frowned.
“Are you suggesting we stow away on the laundry truck?” Fearghas asked.
“That could be hours from now,” Ace said. He wasn’t willing to wait that long. Not with Jasmine’s life at stake.
Dmytro shrugged. “Or we do as Ace suggests and climb the wall?”
“The longer we wait, the sooner Demopoulos will demand the trade for Jasmine,” Ace pointed out. “I opt for climbing the wall.”
“And if the house is wired for security?” Fearghas asked. “We’ll set off the alarms as soon as we attempt an entry.”
“Can’t be helped,” Ace said. “We have to get inside to find the boy.”
“We could use a distraction,” Fearghas said. “One that would draw people out of the house, thus shutting off security while they’re going out.” His lips curved into a secretive smile. “I might have something we can use for a distraction.” He rummaged in the backpack he’d carried from his place. He pulled out a small block of what appeared to be clay and a device that looked suspiciously like a detonator.
