Alarms Bells and Preparations
Charley pulled his sedan away from the curve in front of Olivia Wright's townhome and headed east towards the Wellington Arch which stands in the corner of Buckingham Palace Gardens. Traffic was heavy for a Sunday afternoon but he was able to weave his way to his rendezvous point without too much delay. Taking a right onto Grosvenor Place he spotted Major Taylor at about the same time the Major spotted him. When the Major's arm went up, Charley pulled up to the curve and lowered the passenger side window.
"Going my way?" Peter asked through the opening.
"I'm sure I am," replied Charley as he pressed the button to unlock the doors.
The KSN leader ducked into the back seat, satisfied that the prearranged pickup looked like nothing more than a towncar for hire picking up a random fare.
"How'd it go?" Peter asked as he scanned the sidewalk for any familiar faces or evidence of surveillance.
"Well, she's in," Charley said as he turned right again and headed back towards Knightsbridge.
"Did it look as though Olivia was expecting her, or was she surprised?"
"It wasn't Olivia who answered the door." The driver looked into his review mirror to see Peter looking right back at him. "It was the Welch woman."
"Lani?" questioned Peter. "Hmm, shit, that's liable to fuck everything up. I wonder what she's doing over there?"
"No idea, chap, but there's definitely something going on."
Peter leaned forward, "Oh? What do you mean?"
"She answered the door and spoke to me in French."
"French?"
"Yeah, it was weird. She also stood mostly hidden behind the door so I couldn't see her or past her into the house."
"How about the leash? She didn't remove it, did she?"
Charley swerved to avoid some clowns crossing the street against the light and honked his horn. It startled one of them and he lost his bouquet of brightly colored balloons to the wind. Several of the other clowns had little squeeze horns pinned to their colorful outfits and they started honking back.
Unfazed by their antics, Charley replied, "No, thank God, she took the leash and used it to lead your girl into the house."
"Good. Let's hope they at least keep it nearby."
"Well if it's in the same room it should be close enough, right?"
"Should be," Peter said as he sat back into his seat and contemplated the range of the listening device implanted in the leather leash that Charley had earlier clipped to Joanne's collar. Barry Hartley, an electronics whiz-kid working with the KSN tech group in Edinburgh, created the tiny, yet powerful, listening devices soon after the Regime enacted its perverse Leash Law. The microphone was disguised to look like the screw that holds the leather portion of the leash to the metal clip that is attached to a collar. That clip end of the leash is just a little fatter than a normal leash to accommodate the micro-transmitter, but that area is also camouflaged with stitching to make it appear that the stitching is what's giving it that wider look. Threaded carefully down the center of the leather leash is a state-of-the-art flexible plasto-acrylic antenna that's about 20 centimeters in length.
"It's in the armrest there, sir," Charley called back to Peter and then pulled his car into a small taxi queue near one of the many hotels in the area. From experience, he knew they could sit there for hours without being bothered by anyone.
Peter pulled up on the top of the armrest and looked into the compartment to see a small receiver and an earpiece. He removed them and closed the top. Pressing the earbud into place in his ear he turned on the receiver and was rewarded with the sound of Joanne's voice.
"...took off her coat outside and brought me in here, I just sort of went with what I felt was going on. I just dressed this way because I thought it would please you. You were giving me some signals, weren't you?"
"I guess I was being a little overt, wasn't I?" Peter recognized Olivia Wright's voice. "Maybe a little careless, too."
"Maybe a little," Joanne came back. "But it also begs the question of why you allowed me up here at all?"
Peter wondered why Joanne questioned being let into the house. What was going on in there? Why did she ask that?
"Your comment about me being married to someone in the MRU hit the same nerve that's been struck many times......I guess I just wanted you to see that we're not that way. I wanted you to trust me, and we need more friends, don't we pussy?"
"Yes, Miss Libby," a faint voice somewhere in the background said.
Peter didn't know Lani Welch that well, but knowing she was in the house made it seem reasonable that the voice was hers. He made a mental note of the how Lani referred to Olivia. But what was going on that Olivia was asking for Joanne's trust? He knew he'd get all of his questions answered later when he debriefed Joanne so he just concentrated on what was being said, and Olivia had just asked if Joanne wanted to play with them.
"Is it working, boss?" Charley asked. "Do I need to move closer?"
"I'm picking her up really well. I think this'll be fine."
Peter continued listening in on the conversation taking place a little under a quarter of a mile away. He had used the leash transmitters on a couple of other occasions and found them to be very reliable. There were some disadvantages to only hearing what was going on instead of having visuals on the participants, but in this case they had to take what they could get. As it was, one of his agents was operating a small surveillance drone that, if all was going according to plan, would now be perched on the masonry high atop the building across the street from the Wright's residence.
Closing his eyes to concentrate on the discussion going on in Olivia's house, it seemed that Joanne was about to be punished for sitting on the furniture. Peter's heart rate quickened, knowing that this was just the type of activity that he was hoping to uncover. Any sort of fetish would leave her vulnerable to blackmail, and it might be possible to ensnare George Wright along with her.
"What's the punishment for sitting on my furniture without permission, Lani dear?" Peter heard Olivia ask.
"Six strokes, ma'am," came the reply.
Six strokes?! With what? Olivia had just sent Lani to get something.
Just then a large bus pulled up next to Charley's sedan and caused a signal failure on Peter's receiver. Worse still was that it completely blocked any space that could be used to pull away from the curb and park somewhere else. Peter watched as a steady line of passengers got off and then waited for their luggage to be unloaded. After what seemed an eternity the bus driver boarded and pulled the huge chunk of metal back into traffic.
"...your lesson, Jojo?" Peter finally heard Olivia's voice again and grinned when he heard her call Joanne, Jojo. Pet names! That's good. That could only mean Joanne had been accepted into Olivia's circle.
"I have, miss," Joanne relied.
"Good girl, now take your place."
Peter had no idea what that meant, but assumed that Joanne must have known what to do. Oddly, the only thing he could hear after that was the sound of a television set. Were they all sitting there watching the tube? He could hear some muffled sounds other than the TV but couldn't make out anything in particular.
"Damn!" Olivia said rather loudly, making Peter jump in surprise after sitting through the long stretch of relative quiet. He listened as Olivia told someone to stay and "entertain yourself" while telling someone else to come with her. The sound of the television continued to be heard in his earpiece, so he assumed that Jo had been told to stay. After a while there was a very annoying sound like one would hear if a live mic was bumped or rubbed. It sounded as if Joanne was touching the clip end of the leash where the mic was hidden, but the noise soon stopped and the television could be heard again.
Peter sat back and listened to the muted sounds of the television and pictured Joanne sitting there watching the set. Why had Olivia and Lani gone off and left her alone? What were they doing? And why not just ask Joanne to leave before heading off by themselves. Hopefully Joanne knew and would be able to explain it to him later. For now, though, it seemed that Joanne was content to sit and watch TV.
The assessment of Jo's temperament and training given to him by his long-time friend, Jessica Smythe, the head of the Edinburgh training facility, ran through his mind. He had met with Jessica at the Gretna Signals Station for a rundown on all of the new recruits that she was sending his way. Of the dossiers she had presented to him, Joanne's was the one she seemed most excited about.
"There's no doubt that she has strong submissive tendencies, but she has a fiery side to her that is ignited by what the Regime has done to the country," she had told him.
"That could be disastrous if she goes off at the wrong time," he said, knowing that Joanne was slated to take over the Cecil Court safe-house. "She'll be living right in the middle of what sets her off."
Jessica smiled, "You'll be surprised at how much control the woman has, Peter. With the help of our psychiatry and training staff she's learned to control her reactions quite well. She's going to be a great agent for you."
"As long as she minds the store and her guests without any problems, I'll be happy with that."
"You'll be doing yourself a grave disservice if you don't utilize her for more than that. She has real potential, Peter. I can't recall anyone coming through that has her instincts and abilities. You'll see."
While hesitant to use a safe-house minder for intelligence gathering, Jessica's assessment carried significant weight. Besides trusting her with his life when they were both MI6 field agents, he had seen the way she managed assets when she became the head of MI6's Special Operations. The woman had a second sense when assessing talent, and he respected her analysis and advice a great deal.
The way that Joanne had performed at Olivia's bizarre dinner party the previous evening seemed to demonstrate the control Jessica had been talking about. There was no hint that she was offended by how the women were treated, and then to do what she had done in the kitchen? He'd expect something like that from an experienced agent like Jessica, or Abbey, but from a minder fresh out of the Centre? No, that was a natural ability to adapt quickly to a situation and take advantage of it.
As he strained to hear any activity inside Olivia's house through the earbud he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with Olivia's absence and the lack of movement or sounds coming from Joanne. Everything had been quiet for at least ten minutes.
Just then his cell phone vibrated and he looked at the caller's name; Bobby. None of the names in his contacts list were anyone's real names, but he knew 'Bobby' was Theodore Wilkens, the agent that was remotely operating the drone.
"Yes?"
"An MRU Jeep just pulled up in front and someone got out and went to the door. He's banging on it right now."
"Fuck." Peter tapped Charley on the shoulder and motioned for him to pull away from the curb.
"Just one Jeep? How many men?"
"Just the one at the door and the driver." There was a pause, and then the agent said, "I just zoomed in on the guy at the door. It's George Wright's gopher, what's his name?"
"Captain Lansing?"
"Yeah, that's him. Oh, hold on, the door opened. It's the lady of the house, dressed in a robe. Lansing pushed past her into the house."
"Call the team and have them move into position," Peter ordered. "If he comes out with our girl, don't wait for my order, just do it."
"Understood."
As their car circled around onto Olivia's street, Peter directed Charley to pull into a parking space just out of sight from the house. He knew that six KSN agents were in a van at the opposite end of the street. If Captain Lansing came out of the house with Joanne, he was in for a big surprise.
Thinking it through, Peter was pretty sure the MRU presence at the house was not a raid. Two guys and a Jeep? They would've come with a squad and a big black windowless van, and they wouldn't have knocked. That wasn't to say that the appearance of George Wright's trusted aide was not a serious threat. Maybe he was sent to check up on Olivia; to see what she was up to; to see who else was at the house.
Now Peter could hear voices through the mic in Joanne's leash. Well, one voice; Olivia's. They were not in the same room as Joanne, though. What he heard next froze his blood.
"Jojo?" it was Lani's voice, whispering. "Joanne!" A little more tension in the whisper. "Shit! Where the hell did she go?"