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Ace laughed. “You just happened to have a stash of plastic explosives in your apartment?”
The former SAS operative shrugged. “You never know when it will be necessary. I like to be prepared.”
Fearghas stuffed the explosives back into his bag. He rummaged around some more and came out with other devices. “I also have a couple of radio headsets.”
“Perfect.” Ace clapped a hand on Fearghas’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re on my side.” He turned to Dmytro. “Directions and transport?”
Dmytro nodded. “My contact offered his car, and I have directions.”
“Bolt cutters?” Ace asked.
He nodded. “He keeps some in his car.”
He took one of Fearghas's radio headsets, hooked it over his head and settled it over his ear.
Dmytro took the other and adjusted it to his head.
Fearghas put on his headset and walked several steps away. “Can you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Dmytro said.
“I hear you,” Ace echoed. “Can you hear us?”
“Aye,” Fearghas said, turning back to the others.
Ace clapped his hands together. “Let’s go find Jasmine’s son.”
Dmytro led the way to his contact’s car, which was parked in the employee parking lot of the hotel. An older model Mini Cooper.
Ace stared at the little car.
Dmytro claimed the driver’s seat.
Fearghas climbed into the backseat, turning his long legs to the side to fit.
Ace dropped onto the front passenger seat. He bit down on his tongue to keep from saying anything about the small size of the car. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. If it got them close enough to Bertolli’s compound, he didn’t care if it was a horse and cart. Actually, the Mini would get them there faster.
He focused on the road ahead, glancing down often at the map on Dmytro’s cell phone. He told Dmytro of the turns and warned him of tight curves.
With Ace giving him the directions, Dmytro drove out of the city and up into the hillside, zigzagging around hairpin curves.
When they were within a quarter mile of the turn-off into Bertolli’s estate, Ace had Dmytro slow the vehicle. At the next turn-off, Dmytro pulled off the main road and tucked the little car behind some scrubby bushes.
Ace was out before Dmytro or Fearghas. He opened the hatch at the rear of the little car and glanced down at every tool a man could possibly need in case of a vehicular or home emergency. Ace had to dig beneath hammers, wrenches, saws and plumbing fixtures to locate the bolt cutters buried at the bottom.
The other two men joined him.
“Do we need anything else?” Dmytro asked, staring down into the chaos of tools.
“I’ll take a screwdriver, an adjustable wrench and a hammer,” Fearghas said.
Ace held up the bolt cutters. “Unless he has a ladder hidden in there, I’ve got everything I need.”
Ace led the way back to the road, carrying the bolt cutters and the pistol tucked into the belt around his waist. He moved along the road, sticking to shadows cast by overhanging trees while staring down at the map on his cell phone.
When they were within fifty yards of Bertolli’s address, Ace veered off the road and moved into the trees, aiming away from the gate.
Ahead, the compound wall loomed above them.
