Page 58 of Belgian Betrayal

“Go,” she said and forced her gaze to the limousine pulling away from the curb.

Fearghas ducked around the corner, his footsteps pounding the pavement as he ran to where he’d parked the car. He was back in seconds, the rental car pulling up next to Catya.

She jumped in. “They turned right on the next street. If we hurry, we won’t lose them. Douse the headlights. We don’t want them to know we’re following. Did you get a good look at the man?”

Fearghas nodded, his brow furrowing. “If I’m not mistaken, that man was Reginald Blackhurst, the Deputy Prime Minister.”

“Interesting,” Catya said, her eyes narrowing. “Just how deep into the government does the betrayal go?”

“I don’t know,” Fearghas said, his jaw tight. “But we’re going to find out.”

Chapter 14

Fearghas killed the headlights. Streetlights provided enough light for him to safely navigate the road. He sped down the street, passing 10 Downing, and rounded the corner where Catya had said the limousine had turned, praying they’d catch up.

“Damn,” he muttered.

The street was empty.

“Keep going,” Catya urged. “They can’t be far ahead. We just have to find the road they turned onto. Go!”

Fearghas slammed his foot onto the accelerator, sending the rental car shooting forward.

He slowed at the first cross street they came to. He looked right; Catya looked left.

“Nothing on the left,” Catya reported.

“Nothing right.” Fearghas hit the gas pedal again.

At the next cross street, Fearghas glanced left. Taillights glowed red as a vehicle slowed to make a turn several blocks down the lane.

“Lights on the right,” Fearghas said.

“None to the left,” Catya said.

Fearghas was already turning right. He pressed his foot onto the accelerator and sped to the road where he’d last seen the red taillights.

He slowed as he approached the street, eased up to the corner and turned off the car.

The limousine had pulled up to the curb. A man dressed in dark clothing, with a cap pulled low over his forehead, stepped out of the shadows and leaned close to the vehicle.

“Get the listening device—” Fearghas started.

Catya had the device in her hand and aimed at the limousine and the man before Fearghas could finish his sentence. She settled the headset over her ears and switched it on.

For the first few seconds, she fiddled with the volume and adjusted her aim. Then she froze, a frown denting her brow.

“What are they saying?” Fearghas asked.

“I... I... don’t know.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I recognize that voice.”

“You recognize the voice?” Fearghas’s gaze went from her to the man leaning against the car and back. “Who is it?”

“I think it’s the voice of the man who killed my parents.” She shoved the listening device at Fearghas and ripped the headset off. “If it’s him... I’m going to kill the bastard.”

She had her hand on the door handle, about to yank it open, when Fearghas grabbed her arm.

“Don’t do anything,” he said. “That man might be the guy who killed your parents, but he’s talking to a man in that limousine I think could be the Deputy Prime Minister. If you go all Terminator on him, we might never get to the crux of what’s happening, and all the people involved.”

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