Bay of Sighs
Page 56

And if they beat him badly enough, what use would he be to Nerezza? Whatever punishment she might mete out for failure, he’d earned.
“We’re closer to the sea,” Annika told him. “More above it, but closer.”
“He’d want a good view.”
They came to a wall.
“Other side of this,” Riley told them. “The gate should be up ahead. It’ll be locked. Smarter to go over the wall anyway.”
“Let me check it out.”
Sawyer moved ahead, came to the gate—iron, elaborate, arched, and secured with an electronic lock. Behind it he made out a pebbled road wide enough for a vehicle, and shielding trees, bushes. But no cameras.
As he walked back, he scanned the area. More homes, but he saw no one on the road, no one in a window.
“I didn’t see an alarm or cameras, but if we tried the gate, it might set something off. I can get us on the other side.”
“I’ve got mine.” Bran put an arm around Sasha’s waist, floated up with her, over, and down.
“Never gets old,” Sawyer commented. “Okay team, huddle up. Quick trip.”
He had them over the wall where the air was sweet with flowers and the night full of shadows.
“Stay together,” Bran said quietly. “And keep out of the light.”
Keeping the pebbled road close, they passed through a lemon grove, circled around an area with stone benches and a small fountain, then through a garden lush with blooms and scent.
“Got our garden walk after all.” He gave Annika’s hand a squeeze, then stopped. “Wowzer.”
The villa loomed ahead, white as fresh snow with windows black and glittering in the starlight. The pebbled path split, one stream toward the house, banked with rose bushes, another toward an outbuilding.
The face boasted wide terraces held by carved columns.
It rose three stories, along with what he took as a rooftop terrace. The stream of moonlight turned it all into a charcoal sketch of indulgence.
“It makes our villa on Corfu look like the low-rent district.”
“I liked ours better. We had Apollo.”
Sawyer gave Annika’s hand another squeeze. “He’s a great dog.”
“No lights on,” Riley pointed out. “It’s not even ten o’clock. If anyone was in there, we’d see lights.”
“Ones out here are probably motion-activated,” Sawyer said. “You know, get home late, they come on as you get close to the house, so you don’t fall on your face. Shouldn’t matter. If anybody sees lights come on, they’ll just figure someone’s staying here.”
“Provided no one’s in there, and just called it an early night,” Sasha pointed out.
“Let me check it out. I can be in and out, like the Flash.”
Before Sawyer could take out the compass, Riley gripped his arm. “Not on your own, Barry Allen. Just like Doyle had to come with me this morning. I’ll go with you.”
“Fine by me. Give us ten minutes.”
When they vanished, Annika frowned. “Why did she call him that name? The Barry Allen name.”
“I have no idea,” Bran said.
“The Flash—his civilian name. Christ,” Doyle muttered. “Hasn’t anyone read a graphic novel?” With a shake of his head he moved into deeper shadows. “I’ll scout the grounds.”
“Keep close,” Bran warned.
“I’ll be close enough.”
He vanished into the dark as Riley and Sawyer had vanished into the air.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In just under ten minutes, Sawyer popped back, alone.
“The place is empty, and it’s a simple exterior security system. We’re fine inside.” He nodded as lights came on in the villa. “Riley’s scouting locations for the bugs. It’s a hell of a place. I should’ve made a freaking dozen.”
“We’ll work with what we have,” Bran said.
“We’ve got what we’ve got.” His hand went to his gun, then relaxed again when Doyle melted out of the shadows. “Ready?”
Sawyer took Annika’s hand, shifted them all inside.
Light splashed on smoke-gray tiles and dark wood in a soaring entranceway crowned by a double staircase.
“We did a quick sweep down here, another on the next two levels. Kitchen’s stocked, and there’s fresh flowers everywhere. There’s an outdoor kitchen on this level, and another on the roof terrace. There’s enough food for an army, but it wouldn’t be like Malmon to have more than his personal security and key people in-house. He wouldn’t house his grunts here.”
“And no word on how many he might have or where he’ll house them.” Riley came down the grand staircase in scarred hiking boots. “Eight bedrooms in this place, including two master suites. One’s more masterful than the other, and you can take it to the bank Malmon would pick that. The bathtub’s freestanding, natural stone, and big enough for a party. I want it for my own, but more to the point I vote for a bug in there.”
“I agree with that. He won’t have meetings in there,” Sawyer added. “But he’s likely to use it—it’s pretty princely—to make calls, send out orders, get sitreps.”
“I don’t know that word.”
“Situation reports,” Doyle told Annika. “Shorthand for it. Prime location would be where he’d meet with his team leaders.”