Read Online Stone - 25 - Collateral Damage by Stuart Woods - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stuart Woods
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sooner?”
“She was delayed in traffic getting back to her office, where she had left our flyer, and it took her a few minutes to find it and make the comparison. She called the duty officer, as requested on the flyer.”
“So the woman she spotted is in the building now?”
“We have no reason to believe otherwise. Shall I raise the alarm?”
“Not yet. Get some people into the street, try and set up surveillance directly across from the building.”
“I’ll get the surveillance camera footage from the street immediately.”
“Wait on that,” Felicity said. “I don’t want New Scotland Yard involved until we’re ready to move, nor do I want MI-5 hearing about this until I tell them personally. First, I want photographic identification. If she leaves the building, I want her followed: team of twenty, six vehicles, greatest possible discretion. If she meets anyone, follow both. Do not intercept without my personal authorization. Call me when we have live surveillance. How long?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Then go!”
“Yes, Architect.” Mason hung up.
It was probably a false alarm, Felicity thought, but still, she was excited.
—
Jasmine looked at her cell list and dialed a number.
“Yes?”
“I’m blown. I want a black taxi now and two further vehicles, and I want this building watched, round the clock. How soon?”
“Stand by.” He went off the line, then came back. “Taxi in twelve minutes,” he said. “Clean up as best you can.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, then hung up. She undressed and put on jeans and a sweater and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She packed a carry-on bag and threw personal items into a leather tote bag. She went to her safe and removed the spare passports and cash and tossed them into the tote bag, then she went to the kitchen pantry, looked on a high shelf, and took down a shoe box containing five cell phones. She dumped four of them into the tote, then lifted the lid of the box in her shopping cart and connected the fifth phone, pulling off the sticky label containing the number. Ten minutes gone.
She exited the flat, leaving the door off the latch, and stood near the outside door, watching the street. Half a minute later, a black taxi came to a stop in the street and gave a short beep. The rear door on her side slid open. She opened the front door and, looking neither left nor right, walked in a leisurely fashion down the front steps and got into the cab. The driver pressed a button, and the door closed.
“First transfer in three minutes,” the driver said, and the cab drove away at a normal pace.
—
As Jasmine’s taxi made its first turn, Jasmine looked out the rear window and saw another black taxi enter the street. A few blocks later, her cab turned into a mews, rounded a corner, and stopped. A gray Ford sedan waited, its engine running. She got out of the cab and into the rear seat of the sedan, tossing her luggage in ahead of her.
“Get down,” the driver said, then he drove out of the mews, made a turn, then more turns. Finally, she transferred to a Volkswagen Beetle driven by her contact.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Do you have anyone in the street yet?”
“A shopkeeper across the street a few doors down. What happened?”
“When I came home from my meeting, a woman I didn’t know was leaving the building. She allowed the door to close to slow me down, then she introduced herself as Sarah and said that she and her husband had just moved into the building. Finally, she opened the door for me, and I went inside. Half an hour passed before it hit me: I saw a corner of a plastic ID card clipped to the collar of her blouse, under her jacket. Looked like a government ID, and she was too interested in me. That’s when I called you.”
—
Mason got out of the taxi with a female estate agent carrying a clipboard. They walked up the stairs of a house with a “Flat to Let” sign out front. Inside they walked up a
“She was delayed in traffic getting back to her office, where she had left our flyer, and it took her a few minutes to find it and make the comparison. She called the duty officer, as requested on the flyer.”
“So the woman she spotted is in the building now?”
“We have no reason to believe otherwise. Shall I raise the alarm?”
“Not yet. Get some people into the street, try and set up surveillance directly across from the building.”
“I’ll get the surveillance camera footage from the street immediately.”
“Wait on that,” Felicity said. “I don’t want New Scotland Yard involved until we’re ready to move, nor do I want MI-5 hearing about this until I tell them personally. First, I want photographic identification. If she leaves the building, I want her followed: team of twenty, six vehicles, greatest possible discretion. If she meets anyone, follow both. Do not intercept without my personal authorization. Call me when we have live surveillance. How long?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Then go!”
“Yes, Architect.” Mason hung up.
It was probably a false alarm, Felicity thought, but still, she was excited.
—
Jasmine looked at her cell list and dialed a number.
“Yes?”
“I’m blown. I want a black taxi now and two further vehicles, and I want this building watched, round the clock. How soon?”
“Stand by.” He went off the line, then came back. “Taxi in twelve minutes,” he said. “Clean up as best you can.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, then hung up. She undressed and put on jeans and a sweater and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She packed a carry-on bag and threw personal items into a leather tote bag. She went to her safe and removed the spare passports and cash and tossed them into the tote bag, then she went to the kitchen pantry, looked on a high shelf, and took down a shoe box containing five cell phones. She dumped four of them into the tote, then lifted the lid of the box in her shopping cart and connected the fifth phone, pulling off the sticky label containing the number. Ten minutes gone.
She exited the flat, leaving the door off the latch, and stood near the outside door, watching the street. Half a minute later, a black taxi came to a stop in the street and gave a short beep. The rear door on her side slid open. She opened the front door and, looking neither left nor right, walked in a leisurely fashion down the front steps and got into the cab. The driver pressed a button, and the door closed.
“First transfer in three minutes,” the driver said, and the cab drove away at a normal pace.
—
As Jasmine’s taxi made its first turn, Jasmine looked out the rear window and saw another black taxi enter the street. A few blocks later, her cab turned into a mews, rounded a corner, and stopped. A gray Ford sedan waited, its engine running. She got out of the cab and into the rear seat of the sedan, tossing her luggage in ahead of her.
“Get down,” the driver said, then he drove out of the mews, made a turn, then more turns. Finally, she transferred to a Volkswagen Beetle driven by her contact.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Do you have anyone in the street yet?”
“A shopkeeper across the street a few doors down. What happened?”
“When I came home from my meeting, a woman I didn’t know was leaving the building. She allowed the door to close to slow me down, then she introduced herself as Sarah and said that she and her husband had just moved into the building. Finally, she opened the door for me, and I went inside. Half an hour passed before it hit me: I saw a corner of a plastic ID card clipped to the collar of her blouse, under her jacket. Looked like a government ID, and she was too interested in me. That’s when I called you.”
—
Mason got out of the taxi with a female estate agent carrying a clipboard. They walked up the stairs of a house with a “Flat to Let” sign out front. Inside they walked up a
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