The King's Deception (41 page)

The two men at the gate still had no idea he was there, their attention totally on Antrim.

He was approaching from their right and unless they had eyes in the sides of their heads—

He burst from the crowd and leaped forward, propelling his body into the air, rolling sideways so his full length crashed into both men.

Down they all went to the pavement, their bodies cushioning his fall.

He heard a grunt, then a thump as heads slapped hard stone.

Both men were stunned and groggy.

Gary sprang to his feet.

A
NTRIM REALIZED WHAT HAD HAPPENED
.

As one of the men crumpled down, a hand slipped from beneath his jacket, holding a gun. The grip was released when the man’s head pounded the cobbles.

He rushed forward and snatched up the weapon, his eyes meeting Gary’s. “We have to leave.”

“I know. I saw that woman back there.”

He wondered how Gary would have any idea as to Denise’s identity, but now was not the time to inquire.

His finger curled onto the trigger.

He turned and aimed the weapon straight at Denise. Someone yelled, “Gun.” It took an instant for the scene to register with the people pouring in and out of the gate. Two Beefeaters flanked either side and both fled their posts, racing toward him.

Denise dove toward a patch of grass to her left, beyond the walk.

He followed her leap with the gun and ticked off one round.

The retort sent the people engulfing him into a frenzy, which blocked the Beefeaters from reaching him. He turned, saw Gary, and motioned for them to leave, slipping the gun into his pant pocket. Everything happened in a matter of seconds, the next few critical, so he told himself to calm down, blend in, use the chaos to his advantage.

He gently grabbed Gary’s arm. “Nice and slow. Draw no attention.”

Gary nodded and they turned right at the Thames and followed the concrete walk away from the Tower. Loud voices and congestion loomed behind them. A sea of excited people acted like a moat, guarding their flank.

His heart raced.

They kept moving back toward the busy street, where Antrim flagged a taxi.

They climbed in and sped away.

He caught the driver’s attention. “Take us to any tube station a few blocks from here.”

The Underground was the fastest and safest way back to the warehouse. A station was located less than half a mile away from it. Though Daedalus knew its location, there were things he needed.

Like Cecil’s journal.

If he was quick, he could stay ahead of them.

“That was brave, what you did,” he said.

“You needed help. That woman was behind you.”

“How did you know about her?”

“I went into the Jewel House and saw you talking to her.”

How much else had he seen or heard? Could not have been much. No one had been nearby when he spoke to Denise. And he hadn’t seen Gary inside.

Let it go.

He gently grabbed Gary by the shoulders. “You saved my hide.”

The boy smiled. “You would have done the same for me.”

K
ATHLEEN STAYED LOW AND MADE HER WAY TO A DOOR THAT
opened from the viewing booth into the tennis court. Her gaze alternated between the scene before her and what might be behind her. She doubted the two from the break room would be awake anytime soon. Both were going to need a doctor. A familiar surge of adrenaline charged her nerves. One she liked. Or at least that’s what the therapist had told her and she’d not disagreed. Right now the rush helped her think, making decisions that her life may depend on.

But she liked it that way.

Relying on herself.

Cotton Malone was in a tight spot. Thomas Mathews had him corralled. And though Malone held a weapon, it would do him little good.

“What now?” Malone asked, his eyes locked on the two armed men standing ten meters away.

Mathews stood to Malone’s left, between him and where Kathleen was hiding.

“It would seem,” Mathews said, “that two of you will be shot and a third will walk away.”

The old man was right. The best Malone could hope for was to take down one.

“What’s the point of this?” Malone asked, still staring at his problem.

“This is not personal, Cotton. Strictly business. That, you surely understand.”

“All I care about is making sure my boy is okay. The rest of this is your mess, not mine.”

“Are you aware that Blake Antrim performed a DNA test on himself and your son?”

M
ALONE WAS SHOCKED BY WHAT HE’D HEARD
. “W
HAT THE
hell are you talking about?”

“I actually know the results of that test.”

Was he hearing right?

“I told you that Antrim maneuvered your initial stateside involvement with Ian Dunne. He wanted you
and
your son in London. Once here, he managed to divert you off in search of Dunne while he kept watch over your son.”

“He found Gary, after he’d been taken.”

“It was all staged.”

“For what?”

“The DNA test showed that Antrim is Gary’s birth father.”

“I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

“I assure you, Cotton, I speak the truth.”

And something told him that was the case.

“I was unaware of your personal situation,” Mathews said, “until recently. Your son is not biologically yours. A fact you did not know until a few months ago.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Antrim has been watching your ex-wife for several months. We monitored calls made to a person in Georgia he employed for surveillance.”

“Why would he do that?”

“It seems your ex-wife despises him. She refused him any contact
with the boy. So, apparently, he decided to create his own opportunity for them to meet.”

Reality slammed him hard.

Gary’s birth father was here?

“Does Gary know this?” he asked.

Mathews nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“I have to leave.”

“I can’t allow that,” Mathews said.

K
ATHLEEN LISTENED TO THE CONVERSATION
. A
PPARENTLY
, there was a direct connection between Blake Antrim and Malone’s son.

One that Malone had clearly been unaware existed.

Knowing Antrim, she was not surprised. He’d fathered a child? And the mother hated him? Probably because he’d pounded her at some point, too.

The two men with guns continued to aim their weapons at Malone.

She decided to even the odds and burst from the darkened viewing box, firing, taking down one of the armed men with a bullet to the thigh.

The other man instantly reacted to her attack and readjusted his aim.

Toward her.

M
ALONE HEARD THE SHOT AND SAW ITS RESULT
,
HIS GAZE
darting left where Kathleen Richards appeared. She’d shot one of the men, the other now swinging his weapon around. He followed her lead, shooting the second man in the thigh, collapsing him. Richards ran forward and gathered both weapons, the two men
writhed in pain, blood gushing from the wounds, staining the court surface.

“We’re leaving,” he told Mathews.

“A mistake.”

He stepped close to the spymaster. “I’m going to see about my boy.” What he’d just learned, coupled with the fact that he could not contact Antrim, spelled big trouble. “Stay out of my way.”

“You might not like what you find.”

“I can handle it.”

But he wondered.

“You’ve got four agents who are going to need medical care,” Kathleen said, her gun trained on Mathews.

Mathews shook his head. “You are quite the personality.”

“I did your man over there a favor with only a leg injury. Next time I won’t be as generous.”

“Neither will I,” Malone added.

“Are you willing to risk your life for this?” Mathews asked him.

“The question is, are you?”

He motioned to Richards and they fled the building, back out into the afternoon sun. No more agents were in sight and they ran left, past the famous garden maze, to a street that they followed back to the palace front. Taxis were lined near the main walk. They hailed one, climbed inside, and left.

“I appreciate that,” he said to her.

“Least I could do.”

His mind reeled.

He found his phone and tried Antrim’s number again. No answer.

“You can’t find him?” Richards asked.

He shook his head.

“Where to?” the driver asked from the other side of the Plexiglas shield.

“The Goring Hotel.”

“I heard what Mathews said about your boy.”

He faced Richards.

“I need you to tell me everything you know about Blake Antrim.”

T
HE QUEEN DIED PEACEFULLY IN HER BEDCHAMBER
,
HAVING
fallen into a long sleep from which she never awoke. Sadness filled me. I never once thought of the imposter as anything other than my sovereign. He strengthened both the monarchy and the nation while dodging the royal duty of marriage and procreation. King Henry would always be remembered for follies. Elizabeth would be recalled by accomplishments
.

The queen left precise instructions on what was to be done after death. On the day before he died, the imposter dismissed all and called me close
.

“Listen,” he said, the hoarse voice only breath
.

He spoke uninterrupted for several minutes, the act taxing what little strength remained. He told me of Queen Katherine Parr, at a time soon after the deception began, when King Henry was dead and he was sent to live in the queen dowager’s household
.

“She discovered the ruse,” he said to me. “She knew I was not the princess.”

Which made sense, as the queen dowager, when King Henry was alive, had spent much time with both the princesses Mary and Elizabeth
.

“But she did not reveal me. Instead, she saw a certain irony, a justice, that befit her departed husband. She was not Henry’s champion. She had not wanted to marry him, but was forced into that decision. She cared little for him, regarding his surly attitude as that of a tyrant. She discharged her duty as queen with no joy and longed only to be free, which the king’s death finally granted her.”