“Johnston and Turner should be here by now.” He walked to a secret door hidden within the bookcase. “They’ve been watching Covington’s town house since you arrived. We’ll see if they’ve seen anything.”
“Before they join us, I’d like to ask you a question.”
Griff’s statement stopped Fitzhugh from opening the panel.
“Do you think there’s a chance someone’s still out there who wants me dead?”
Griff was desperate for Fitzhugh’s opinion, an opinion he valued. His blood rushed through his head while he waited, the pressure building behind his eyes. He wasn’tsure which answer he wanted, a no, which would mean he probably wasn’t in danger and Fitzhugh never thought he had been; or a yes, which would only confirm that no one was safe anywhere near him. If the answer was the latter, it would be best if he left London before he was responsible for another death.
Griff studied Fitzhugh’s hesitation, then felt his gut tighten when the colonel shook his head.
“I don’t know. But after the night we met at the docks, I realized we couldn’t take any chances. You implied we’d let one of the Russian spies escape.”
A wave of unease washed over Griff. “I don’t remember everything I said.”
“I don’t doubt it. You probably have several months you don’t remember.”
Fitzhugh lowered his hand from the lever that would open the secret door and turned back to Griff. “After that night, Johnston, Hawkins, and Turner have taken turns watching you.”
“They were good. I didn’t notice.”
Fitzhugh laughed. “They could have followed you in a lumber wagon and you wouldn’t have noticed. What were you trying to do? Drink England dry?”
Griff shook his head. “Something like that. It didn’t work.”
“I’m damn glad you finally failed at something.”
Fitzhugh turned back to the bookcase and lifted the lever. A secret door opened, and Barry Johnston and Matt Turner walked in.
“Good evening, Captain,” they said to Griff. They took turns shaking his hand.
“Good evening, Johnston. Turner. It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” they said in unison.
“Colonel Fitzhugh tells me you took turns watching my back. Have either of you seen anything?”
“No, sir,” Turner answered. “If someone did try to kill you the night they shot Brentwood, they haven’t tried again.”
Griff raked his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I’ve lost it.” He walked over to a large map of London that hung on the wall and stared at the familiar streets and roadways. “Maybe I’m just imagining all of this.”
“No, Blackmoor,” Fitzhugh said from behind him. “If you don’t think that the man who killed the marquess was a robber, then that’s good enough for us. Maybe he realizes you’re being watched, and he’s waiting until we get lax before trying again.”
“Could be,” Griff said, although every instinct told him the killer should have tried again before now. There had been plenty of opportunity. “Colonel, do you have the files on the four spies we executed?”
“Not here, but I can get them for you.”
Griff nodded. “I’d like to see them.”
“Come back tomorrow. I’ll have them by then.”
Griff turned to the two fellow agents. “Thank you,” he said to Turner and Johnston. “And tell Hawkins when you see him. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime, Captain.”
Griff moved to leave, but Johnston’s words stopped him.
“Don’t worry, Captain. We’ll watch your back, like you watched ours.”
Griff nodded, then walked out of the office and down the narrow alley. When he reached the opening, he stoppedto look in both directions. Around the corner was his club, Waterman’s. It was too early to go home yet. Adam and the ladies would not have returned from the Edington dinner. He could go there and sit for a while. Have a drink. Just one.
He turned the corner and saw the subtle lights glowing from behind the familiar beveled glass doors. He took a
“Before they join us, I’d like to ask you a question.”
Griff’s statement stopped Fitzhugh from opening the panel.
“Do you think there’s a chance someone’s still out there who wants me dead?”
Griff was desperate for Fitzhugh’s opinion, an opinion he valued. His blood rushed through his head while he waited, the pressure building behind his eyes. He wasn’tsure which answer he wanted, a no, which would mean he probably wasn’t in danger and Fitzhugh never thought he had been; or a yes, which would only confirm that no one was safe anywhere near him. If the answer was the latter, it would be best if he left London before he was responsible for another death.
Griff studied Fitzhugh’s hesitation, then felt his gut tighten when the colonel shook his head.
“I don’t know. But after the night we met at the docks, I realized we couldn’t take any chances. You implied we’d let one of the Russian spies escape.”
A wave of unease washed over Griff. “I don’t remember everything I said.”
“I don’t doubt it. You probably have several months you don’t remember.”
Fitzhugh lowered his hand from the lever that would open the secret door and turned back to Griff. “After that night, Johnston, Hawkins, and Turner have taken turns watching you.”
“They were good. I didn’t notice.”
Fitzhugh laughed. “They could have followed you in a lumber wagon and you wouldn’t have noticed. What were you trying to do? Drink England dry?”
Griff shook his head. “Something like that. It didn’t work.”
“I’m damn glad you finally failed at something.”
Fitzhugh turned back to the bookcase and lifted the lever. A secret door opened, and Barry Johnston and Matt Turner walked in.
“Good evening, Captain,” they said to Griff. They took turns shaking his hand.
“Good evening, Johnston. Turner. It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” they said in unison.
“Colonel Fitzhugh tells me you took turns watching my back. Have either of you seen anything?”
“No, sir,” Turner answered. “If someone did try to kill you the night they shot Brentwood, they haven’t tried again.”
Griff raked his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I’ve lost it.” He walked over to a large map of London that hung on the wall and stared at the familiar streets and roadways. “Maybe I’m just imagining all of this.”
“No, Blackmoor,” Fitzhugh said from behind him. “If you don’t think that the man who killed the marquess was a robber, then that’s good enough for us. Maybe he realizes you’re being watched, and he’s waiting until we get lax before trying again.”
“Could be,” Griff said, although every instinct told him the killer should have tried again before now. There had been plenty of opportunity. “Colonel, do you have the files on the four spies we executed?”
“Not here, but I can get them for you.”
Griff nodded. “I’d like to see them.”
“Come back tomorrow. I’ll have them by then.”
Griff turned to the two fellow agents. “Thank you,” he said to Turner and Johnston. “And tell Hawkins when you see him. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime, Captain.”
Griff moved to leave, but Johnston’s words stopped him.
“Don’t worry, Captain. We’ll watch your back, like you watched ours.”
Griff nodded, then walked out of the office and down the narrow alley. When he reached the opening, he stoppedto look in both directions. Around the corner was his club, Waterman’s. It was too early to go home yet. Adam and the ladies would not have returned from the Edington dinner. He could go there and sit for a while. Have a drink. Just one.
He turned the corner and saw the subtle lights glowing from behind the familiar beveled glass doors. He took a
Similar Books
