“It’s James,” I said.
“I didn’t think I’d hear from you so soon,” she quipped. “Hold on.”
I heard the muffled sound of her moving to a more private area. “Okay, I can talk.”
“If you don’t hear from me in the next few hours, can you retrieve my Aston Martin V12?”
I would be stepping into a high security facility—getting out was going to be a challenge. In fact, my fate could be aligned with Xavier’s if I took one more step.
“What’s going on?”
I gave her the number plate. “Keep my car out of MI6’s hands, will you?”
“Where is it?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“James?” She sounded nervous. “Where would I hide it?”
“Consider this a command task, Kitty. If you do well it’ll be an open invitation to work for me in the future.”
“I already have a job.”
“Working for a grumpy old misogynist bastard with gout?”
She chuckled.
“Maybe consider working for another misogynist bastard who’s easier on the eyes.”
She went quiet, realizing I was serious.
“Thank you, Katherine. The keys are under the hood.”
“Be careful. Whatever you’re up to.”
“Just so you know…you’re the best thing about that place,” I said, and hung up.
I was asking so very much of Kitty Adair. Our paths would cross again. I felt sure of it.
A young Private escorted me to the main office. The soldier led me into the station’s HQ.
Entering the Captain’s office, I learned that his commanding officer, Colonel Flaherty, was up at Milbank. And his second-in-command, Major Howard, was also in London. A pleasant advantage that meant I could pull rank.
I reached out to shake the hand of the officer left in charge and delivered the lie, “I’m Brigadier Henley.”
“I’m Captain Rawley, sir.” He returned a strong handshake. “Welcome.”
I glanced at his nametag. “And the E stands for?”
“Edward, sir.”
“Edward, I’m from the RAMC. I’ve been requested to provide a psychological profile on one of your prisoners…Xavier Rothschild.”
“He’s not here.”
“On paper or otherwise?”
He looked nervous. “Colonel Flaherty comes back tomorrow.”