Read Online Crown's Vengeance, The by Andrew Clawson - Free Book Online Page A

nametag on his chest.
    “Yes, I’m the curator.”
    “This is just the loveliest place.” Erika didn’t give him a chance to think. “Would you tell us about the house? Is there anything here that Paul Revere actually used?”
    Parker nodded as she pinched his arm, an absurd grin plastered across his face. For a few moments, the old guy scratched his head, completely overwhelmed.
    “Actually used? Why, yes, there are many items here that date from Revere’s time.”
    With one final glance at the bureau, the curator launched into a lengthy description of the home’s contents, pointing out period furnishings and original construction. Nearly an hour later, the trio emerged from the small structure, Parker and Erika waving good-bye to their impromptu tour guide. As soon as the door closed behind them, Parker grabbed Erika’s arm.
    “What were you thinking? Now there’s no way we can get back inside the drawer. That guard is going to go back and find the hidden compartment.”
    A playful light flashed in her eyes.
    “No he won’t, because there’s nothing to find.”
    “What do you mean, nothing to find? There was a leather pouch hidden inside the drawer. We both saw it.”
    “Do you mean this leather pouch?”
    With a flourish, one hand slid down her shirt and removed the container in question. He couldn’t believe it. As he reached for it, she pulled the artifact away.
    “Not here, dummy. Let’s get away from this museum before that old guy comes looking for us. If he does go look at the drawer, he’s going to find the hidden compartment.”
    Erika turned on her heel, leaving Parker flat-footed, mouth hanging open. He couldn’t believe what she’d done. Not until she was halfway to the street did he start moving, adrenaline speeding his pursuit to learn what had been secreted away in Revere’s hidden drawer.
     

Chapter 12
    Spencer Drake stared at the phone in his hand.
    It had begun.
    A tinge of fear knifed through him. The man who had called was perhaps the most unsettling individual he’d ever spoken with. Their conversation had lasted less than ten minutes, and Drake had said very little. For one of the few times in his life, decisions were completely out of his control. Simply put, Drake had just contracted for a service to be performed. Nothing more.
    If that was the case, then why did it feel as though he had freed a caged lion? Pushing the thought from his mind, Drake called Nigel Stirling.
    “Yes?”
    “It will happen within a week’s time. The operative couldn’t be more specific than that.”
    “Under what circumstances?” Stirling asked.
    This was what had left Drake with a sense of unease.
    “He declined to specify. The only issue is access, which is why we have such an open-ended time frame.”
    Music was audible in the background, what sounded like a string quartet.
    “Hold for a moment, please. This dreadful charity function has absolutely no privacy.” The music soon faded. “That’s better. As much as I abhor these soirees, one must attend when Her Majesty is the host. As you were saying, we must wait for a week?”
    “At the most. If he is able, the assignment will be completed more quickly. He also declined to provide me with any updates until it is finished.”
    “Frustrating, but understandable. In that case, I shall keep an eye on the evening news.”
    After Stirling hung up, Drake flicked on his television. If their man completed his mission, every person in the country would learn of it immediately. A soft knock came from his office door, and he looked up just as Liz strutted around the corner, her flowing hair pulled into a loose bun supported by only a pencil. The glasses she wore paired nicely with the tartan skirt that hugged her slender hips.
    “There’s a message for you, Mr. Drake. From one of your personal numbers.”
    He shot out of his chair and snatched the paper from between her manicured fingernails.
    “Thank you, Liz. That will be all.”
    To better