Chapter Twenty Six

Echo hung back at the entrance to one of those fashionable lanes that hide long rows of mews houses. The kind of street that looks retro-cool in Hollywood romantic comedies but are really little more than the old servant’s quarters or stables at the back of a larger house.

Property speculators loved those movies for the premiums they could tack on, even in a down market.

The house she had under surveillance, a very modest term, she thought, was one of the those immense period buildings a stone's throw from Sloane Square. Like so many similar areas around the world, London's embassy district displayed great wealth in so many different forms that it became hum-drum.

She'd watched the two women enter the house nearly three hours before. They hadn't come out since. The long descent of the sun had begun and Echo was hopping from foot to foot. With only one of her she'd been wondering whether she could run up the lane and do her business with nobody noticing. She doubted it.

A van pulled up outside the house. Twelve people got out, six men, six women. Every one an absolute stunner, young, dressed in black trousers or skirt, and a white shirt. They could almost be silver service staff. The building seemed to be a private house, though you could never tell with these properties. What looked like a living room in one could all too easily be the ballroom, from an embassy that no longer existed, in another.

Distractions helped. But the insistence came back the moment the door closed on the six. She took out her phone and pulled up Savage's number. She hit green and jerked back when a hand closed over her mouth.

'I'm can't take your call right now,’ Savage’s voice, ‘because I'm standing right behind you...'

His breath touched her neck and his hand moved to her waist. Caught out for the second time in one day, 'You utter bastard,' she said.

'...please take your clothes off after the beep.'

She giggled, 'John,' she turned, 'I'm glad you're here, nature hasn't been calling, it's been screaming, I need to go.'

'I'll come with you.'

'But Natasja?'

'If she moves we can track her on this,' he held up the GPS screen on his phone.

'Great,' she said, pulling him off the corner, 'let's go.'

*

Outside the old Oriel Café on Sloane Square Savage sipped a coffee. Milky, frothy, white. Not like the small brown sticky sludge he'd grown used to. He'd need about five of these for the caffeine to even register.

The tables on either side of him contained local money, a few tourists, students in designer gear, ladies that lunch, all out until the early evening. The café’s dark brown wood interior with crisp white table cloths and sparkling glasses gave way to round Parisian coffee tables outside.

He liked it. And he needed more coffee. He waved for the waiter just as Echo sat down next to him with a satisfied sigh.

'You never told me what to do about toilet breaks,' she said.

'Only worked with men before,’ he said. ‘A wall usually does. Plastic bag for the other if you're stuck in a hedge for a long time.'

'Ugh!' She played with the straw in her diet coke.

'You did great though. Tell me what you saw.'

She filled him in on Natasja's movements, that she'd met another woman, they'd left, come here and entered the house. She hesitated for a moment, about to tell him something, then changed tack.

'I recognised her,' she said.

'Where from?'

A shake of the head. 'Not sure, could be she just looked like someone, you know?'

'Yeah, there's always that.'

'Those people, the table staff,’ she swished the ice around with the straw. ‘Could there be something going on tonight?'

‘Most likely. I tried to check Natasja's online diary. Only she doesn't have one.'

'Unusual?'

'Very. So I checked Sutherland's. He has something fairly cryptic booked in. KK Klub.'

'KK Klub?'

'I thought it might be Ku Klux Klan to begin with but that's too hokey even for Sutherland.'

A sly smile spread across her face. 'I don't think it's that.'

'You know what it is?'

She shrugged and drained her glass. 'Let's get back there first.'

'You have a hunch?'

'I do.'

'You really are a natural at this.'