Lowering the window slightly, he filled his lungs with fresh Mediterranean air. Life couldn’t be better. Yes, Camilla’s murder still haunted him on occasion, but he’d had no interest in hiding his relationship with Kimberly any longer. He was going to spend the rest of his life with her, and there wasn’t room for two women. Besides, if he hadn’t killed Camilla, she surely would’ve killed him.
Four days had passed since they’d sealed the cave entrance. That meant those inside had long since perished, either from a lack of oxygen or dehydration. Roger had seen some of the giant rats slinking around in the shadows. They probably got to them before the oxygen ran out.
After sanitizing the site, Roger had driven to Haifa and boarded his yacht. From there, he’d sailed to Croatia, where he had hidden at a close friend’s house, far away from the prying eyes of intelligence agencies. He hated leaving Kimberly behind, but she and the security team had important business to take care of. After gathering a number of important items from Roger’s home in Jerusalem, they eliminated several “problem” people who knew about the operation.
In the meantime, Roger had contacted a source in Israeli intelligence, who’d confirmed an investigation was already underway. As it turned out, the Swiss Guard and U.S. government had sent a joint investigative team to Tel Aviv in the wake of the events on Mount Hermon. They confessed their sins to the Israelis but justified their operation by pointing to all the lives that would’ve been lost had they not moved quickly. The Israelis protested vigorously but eventually agreed to work with their allies.
With a detente now in place, representatives from both countries scoured the slopes of Mount Hermon, looking for any signs of the missing operatives. According to the mole, the whole search was a complete flop. One of the teams found a few odd tire tracks, which couldn’t be traced to any registered vehicle. Another found water bottles and assorted trash among one of the many ruins on the mountain, but authorities traced the items to teenagers who frequented the area.
Roger assumed his home outside Jerusalem had been turned upside down, but at this point, it didn’t matter. After arriving in Croatia, he’d assumed an alternate identity he’d cultivated for the better part of two decades. Under that alias, he held bank accounts, boats, cars, and real estate in Australia, Sicily, and the United Kingdom. Switching to his new identity meant he would have to forgo a number of valuable assets, but it would be worth it in order to maintain his freedom.
Roger slowed the Maserati. Two stone pillars flanked the entrance to his villa. He pressed a button on the center console, and the iron gates swung inward. He followed the paved drive to a white stucco villa near the mountain’s peak.
After getting out, he retrieved a single piece of luggage from the trunk. It was all he’d brought with him. Everything else he needed was inside, including the most important thing of all — a stiff drink.
The house’s interior was pitch black. After flicking on a light, he turned to the security panel on the wall right inside the door. He was about to enter the code then stopped. The unit’s lights were dark. He leaned closer. The entire system had been turned off. He frowned. The maids must have forgotten to reset the system when they left. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. He made a mental note to speak to them about it later and turned the system back on.
After dropping his luggage in the master bedroom, Roger made his way to the kitchen at the rear of the home. He entered and flicked on the overhead light. The urge for a drink was powerful now. As he crossed to the cabinets, he pondered the next few weeks. Once the investigation ended, he and Kimberly would return to Hermon and blast their way back through the blockage in the tunnel. After locating the bodies, they would drop them down into one of the many chasms, ensuring they would never be found. At that point, the city would be theirs to loot at their leisure.
Roger searched until he found his favorite drink, a thousand-euro bottle of Scotch. He twisted the cap then realized it wasn’t sealed. Someone had already been drinking it. Maids. This was the last straw. Forget the talk. He’d fire them in the morning.
Roger located a whiskey tumbler and filled it halfway. He sniffed the aroma then drained the tumbler in one swallow. The amber liquid warmed his throat, and he could already feel the stress melting away.
Lawson poured another glass to the rim and headed to the study. He would eventually make it out to the patio, but first, he wanted to review some documents related to his alias. He’d used the papers many times in the past, but from this point forward, they had to be perfect. There was no going back to Roger Lawson. After everything had been reviewed, then and only then, would he venture outside with a third glass of Scotch and a cigar.
The study was mostly dark, so Roger used the moonlight coming through the window to maneuver behind the desk. He sank into the chair but decided not to turn on the lamp just yet. Work could wait for a moment. Right now, he wanted to think back on the last night he’d spent with Kimberly. Their time together had been exquisite in every way, and it would continue when she arrived in the morning.
Satisfied by the memories, he reached for the lamp’s pull cord. It was time to get to work. As soon as his fingers closed on the ball, he stopped. Despite the darkness, something caught his eye across the room. He squinted. Finally, he saw it: a dark figure in a chair against the far wall.
His heart racing, Roger yanked on the lamp cord. A man replaced the dark silhouette. He had long, brown hair and was dressed in dark denim pants and a pocketed button-down shirt.
Roger’s mouth opened slightly. It’s not possible. It can’t be. Yet he knew it could be no one else.
The longhaired man lifted a glass that had been hidden in his lap. The Scotch. He took a sip then lifted it into the air. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s always been one of my favorites.” He set the glass on a nearby table. “How was the drive up?”
“What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? Things ended so quickly the other night. I never felt like we got to say our proper good byes. To be honest, I was actually a little offended you left so quickly. We were having such a blast… Then you just disappeared.”
Roger ignored the sarcasm. “You’ll regret this.”
The man laughed. “Oh, I doubt that, Roger. There are a lot of things I regret in life. Coming here is not one of them.”
Roger could scarcely believe the man was sitting across from him. How had they escaped? Better yet, how had they discovered his identity? His attorneys had assured him it was foolproof. He should’ve listened to Camilla and killed them when he had the chance. Now this man had the upper hand, and barring some miracle, Roger would spend the rest of his life in jail, if not worse.
Despite the odds, Roger refused to give up. The man might have escaped twice, but he’d also been caught twice. For now, Roger would play to the arrogant fool’s ego and look for an opportunity to turn the tables. “How did you find me?”
“Oh, that.” The man took another sip of Scotch then continued. “As it turns out, our friends from the Swiss Guard brought an electronic copy of the map, so we studied it and discovered something interesting. There was more than one way out.”
“You’re lying. There was only one—”
“To be sure, there were a couple of tight places, but with some hard work and a bit of luck, we managed to get out by the next afternoon.”
Roger began to focus on getting out of his predicament. While he didn’t see a pistol, he had to assume the man was armed. If so, would he have enough time to jump up and flee the room without being shot? If he managed to get to the hall, he might be able to slip away. After all, he knew the layout of the house better than anyone. If he could somehow get to the bedroom he could retrieve the gun hidden there…