Page 40 of Deadly Hope
She closed the drawer with a soft click. “All done,” she called out toFrauWeber, and left the room, quickly retracing her steps through the security zones. The first two checkpoints passed without incident. Her pulse had almost returned to normal when?—
“Fräulein! Fräulein, aufhalten!”
Sharp heels clicked rapidly against marble. Olivia’s breath caught. Through the bulletproof glass ahead, she could see Axel tense, his casual pose shifting microscopically toward action. Ronan, lounging by a currency exchange desk, straightened. But the security doors had already sealed behind her, leaving her trapped in the intermediate zone.
Guards on both sides shifted, hands drifting toward weapons. The clicking heels grew closer.
“Frau DoktorKane!”
She turned. The bank manager—another woman, with steel-rimmed glasses and a severe bun—hurried toward her, arm extended. “You dropped this, no?” She opened her palm to reveal a small bronze compass, worn smooth from years of handling.
She had. The gift was from her first client, Marcus, after she’d helped him navigate his divorce.
“You’re my north star,”he’d said, pressing it into her hand. She’d carried it with her ever since.
“Thank you,” Olivia managed, willing her voice steady as she accepted it.
The manager smiled. “Your lucky charm, perhaps?”
Squeezing the notion tight, Olivia could only nod. The woman had no idea.
The guard at the final checkpoint buzzed her through. Axel met her at the threshold, his hand finding her elbow with precise casual pressure. They were already moving toward the exit when she heard the inner door click shutagain, a sound that followed her into the bright Lugano morning.
Axel’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, the gesture both protective and perfectly in character for their cover. “You’re okay. You’re good,” he murmured, then touched his ear slightly to activate his comlink. “Package is secure. Who’s ready for pizza?”
Olivia leaned into him, letting tourists and bankers see just another wealthy tourist couple strolling Lugano’s cobblestone streets. Inside, her heart still raced, the compass burning in her pocket like a reminder of how close they’d come to ... to what, exactly?
“Clear on the south,” Griff reported. “Moving to secondary.”
They meandered through Old Town’s winding alleys, taking the scenic route that Kenji had mapped. The scent of fresh-baked focaccia grew stronger as they approachedVia Catedral. The pizzeria’s faded awning and weathered tables looked exactly like a hundred other family restaurants—except Axel had assured her this one had a reinforced back room and a clear view of three separate escape routes.
“Un taboo per cinque,”Axel told the elderly woman at the counter.
Seriously? The man had untold depths. “Italian, too?” she couldn’t help asking.
He shook his head and leaned close. “Zara helped me out,” he murmured, so close his warm breath brushed her ear, sending shivers down her neck.
The woman nodded, leading them through to the private room where Ronan and Zara already waited. Kenji slipped in moments later, followed by Griff, who’d somehow acquired a tourist map and gelato cone.
Olivia placed her bag on the table. The envelope feltheavier now, weighted with possibility. She pulled out both items, laying them beside a half-empty basket of bread.
“No way the battery’s got any charge left.” Zara fit a plug into a white charging cord and handed it to Olivia. “I’ve got universal tips if this one doesn’t fit.”
With shaking hands, Olivia fit the cord into the phone’s charger. Axel grabbed the plug end, leaning down to fit it into the empty wall socket next to his leg.
The little device trilled to life with a happy chirp. Silence reigned as the phone booted up.
Axel leaned closer, studying the gray screen. “Anything?”
Biting her lip, Olivia quickly scrolled through the menus and shook her head. “All blank.”
“I’ll run diagnostics after we get back to the safe house,” Zara said. “Could be a message hidden layer’s deep. For now, just let it charge.”
Ronan pointed at the envelope. “We should probably take a look at that.”
Olivia nodded, fighting the urge to fling the thing across the room. Was she sure she wanted to know what her brother had left her?
The envelope’s seal broke with a soft tear. She found a stack of documents inside, some official-looking, others handwritten. The top page bore a header she’d never seen before: “Operation Cerberus.” Below it, names, dates, account numbers—and a single photograph of James standing beside a stocky, balding man clearly a decade or so older than James. The timestamp showed three years ago. A month before James died.
