“I’ve taken a two-week leave of absence, but he can certainly find out quickly enough that I’m in New York. I checked in at the Westgate Manhattan.”
“I want you to check out immediately,” James suggested. “You’ll be spending the next few days at my home in Roslyn.”
That landed on her far too quickly. Yvonne wasn’t sure she was entirely comfortable with James’s proposition.
“I’m going to get Sven,” James said. “Be right back. Why don’t you sit with Monica for a few minutes? Have her bring you some refreshment. Let’s see how we can get you out of this calamitous situation.”
Yvonne followed James out the office.
“Hi, I’m Monica.”
“Yvonne Baird,” she said to the bubbly executive assistant.
“Grab a seat over there and let me get you something,” Monica said.
“Coffee would be wonderful,” Yvonne said. She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink all morning.
After a minute, Monica was back.
“I feel a little uncomfortable,” Yvonne said, uneasily. “Mr. Clark has just invited me to stay at his home for a few days. I’m really not like that.”
“Whatever his reason, I’m sure it’s a good one,” Monica said. “JW has this tendency of making snap decisions, but you have absolutely nothing to worry about. He’s as gay as they come.”
Yvonne’s mood instantly changed from one of apprehension to one of regret. James was a striking man.
“I know exactly how you feel,” Monica said, reading her mind.
“James went to get someone called Sven,” Yvonne said. “Who’s that?”
“You’ll love Sven. He’s our resident genius. I don’t want to pry, Yvonne, but something tells me you’ve run into a bit of a problem. If that’s the case, Sven will likely help you fix it.”
Yvonne suddenly felt the world lifted off her shoulders. She knew she had come to the right place after all.
A minute later, she saw James walking through a heavy steel door followed by a lanky man. He was running fingers through his unruly blonde hair.
“Sven Labrowski, this is Yvonne Baird, Deputy Director, NSA.”
Yvonne stood up and they shook hands.
“JW tells me that you’re a dangerous criminal at large,” Sven said, with a completely straight face. “Stealing stir-sticks from the NSA’s lunch room is a very serious offense. They’re under an extremely tight budget, you know.” His face broke into a smile.
Yvonne warmed to Sven immediately.
“Let’s go into my office and you can tell me about that listening device,” James said, looking at Yvonne. “How did it get into my suit jacket?”
Yvonne’s eyes dropped slightly.
James understood. “Don’t worry,” he said. “No explanations required.”
“The question now,” Sven said. “Is how do we use that listening device to our advantage?”
“Just give me a minute,” James said, looking at both of them briefly. He reached for his phone. “Antoine, it’s James. I don’t want anything going to the cleaners today. You know my navy-blue Brooks Brothers suit?” He looked at Yvonne.
“Inside left pocket,” she said. “It’s silver and about the size of a button.”
“Look in the inner left pocket of the jacket but be very quiet about it. You’ll find what looks like a silver button. It’s a transmitter that was planted there without my knowledge. Take it to the sun-lounge and put it on top of the fish-tank’s aerating pump… Great. I’ll explain tonight… Thanks.” He ended the call.
“Good thinking,” Sven said.
“Something else, Yvonne,” James said. “You obviously want to remain out of Müller’s radar for a while. Give your phone to Sven. He’ll arrange with Phil, our system administrator, for a temporary replacement.”
“What will happen to my existing phone?” she asked.
James thought about it for a moment. “I presume the NSA has configured all employee phones so that the Location app can’t be deactivated.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Sven, have Yvonne’s phone sent to the logistics department at our St. Louis offices. They can put it in one of their trucks and leave it there for a while.” James was the majority shareholder in a seed distribution company operating out of Missouri. “If Müller has eyes on your location, he’ll be wondering why you’re travelling all over the country.”
Yvonne thought this was all highly amusing.
“I’ll take care of that,” Sven said. “I will also leave instructions to ensure the phone remains fully charged.”
Chapter Forty-Four
After Yvonne checked out from Westgate Manhattan, James had Monica arrange for a taxi to take her to his spacious, modern home in Roslyn Heights, Long Island. The double-storied tan-brick house was situated in a picturesque, peaceful neighbourhood with a diversity of tall evergreen trees beautifying the wide sidewalks.
Antoine, James’s personal butler, welcomed Yvonne into the short hallway leading to the great-room. “My name is Antoine,” he announced, cordially.
“Yvonne Baird,” she said politely. “I hope I won’t be any bother.”
“None at all,” he said. “Please go through. I’ll be right back with your luggage, and then I will show you to your room.”
Yvonne looked around the expansive area. Here and there, leather armchairs with mahogany side tables were tastefully positioned among Persian scatter-rugs. On her left, the closed lid of a baby grand piano reflected the early afternoon sunshine streaming through the magnificent garden window. A decorative multi-faceted crystal chandelier suspended from the high coffered ceiling picked up the reflected light and radiated it with dazzling colours. At the far end of the room, electric candelabra were mounted on each side of a sizable red-brick fireplace. Oil paintings enclosed in carved wooden frames hung on every wall. Yvonne suspected they weren’t prints.
Antoine came up from behind. “Miss Baird, please come this way.”
She followed him through a wide passage leading off between the fireplace and garden window, up a circular marble staircase and into a bright, cheerful bedroom with private bathroom.
“I look after all of Mr. Clark’s personal needs,” Antoine said, placing her belongings on the king size bed.
Yvonne wondered just how far those personal needs extended. She heard light footsteps coming in from behind.
“Ah, Amy,” Antoine said. “This is Miss Baird.”
“Yvonne, please.”
“Yvonne will be staying with us for a few days,” Antoine acknowledged. “This is my wife, Amy. She looks after all domestic affairs around here.”
That answers that, Yvonne thought with mild guilt. “Hi, Amy. Lovely to meet you.”
“I’ll show you the rest of the house a little later,” Amy said, with a natural smile. “We usually have dinner between seven and eight p.m. and it’s always very informal.”
“We’ll leave you to settle in then,” Antoine said. “Shout if you need anything.”
Antoine and Amy left her room, closing the door behind them. What lovely people, she thought, and what an amazing home. She looked over the bathroom◦– huge soaker-tub, separate shower stall with adjustable rose, marble sink, and behind the door, toilet with adjoining bidet. She hadn’t seen one of those since her European vacation several years ago. Why American homes never had these installed as a basic fixture, she never understood. A wide bay window extended across most of the far wall. Plants of every variety and colour offered total privacy from the grounds of the estate.
“Why did you ask Yvonne to check out of the hotel?” Sven asked. They were both seated around the coffee table in James’s office.
“She’s caught up in an ugly power game,” James said. “And quite frankly, she doesn’t deserve what Cevallos and Müller are doing to her.” He had explained Yvonne’s situation to Sven earlier.