Jayne ignored the body of the castle’s lieutenant governor on the bed behind her. He’d been fun while it lasted, but his heart just wasn’t in it. She smirked at her own snark and glanced in the mirror. Poor bastard. His genes just couldn’t handle the virus. She shrugged. There were always the outliers. Science wasn’t perfect.
She unzipped her gown and let the torn, sparkly material puddle at her ankles. Shredded as it was, her dress was worthless, so she left it where it lay and slipped on some more practical cargo pants and boots, followed by a close fitting, long sleeve top. She didn’t have time to go crazy with her outfit; she had to get the senator and get out before the Americans arrived.
Jayne checked her watch. Which is in about 20 minutes if my contact was right.
The gunfire echoing outside in the castle was music to her ears. The last of Gregor’s men were sweeping the castle. They knew where she was thanks to the GPS locator in her phone, and would come to her through hell or high water. Or infected. At the rate they were chewing through the surviving cops and military in the castle, there wouldn’t be anyone left to pick up the pieces after she evacuated.
The British were playing it safe and cordoned off most of Edinburgh, but they were operating under the assumption that the gas attack had spread—she wasn’t quite sure what they were thinking and didn’t care. They were staying back—which is what she payed so much money for—and that’s all that mattered. In a few more minutes, she’d be on her way back to France.
And if the king happened to disappear…
Jayne frowned. She stopped that line of thinking; it lead to dangerous places. Places she wasn’t ready to go to…yet.
She peered out the window as she tied her hair up in a tight bun on the back of her head. Several people, some soldiers, a cop, and two dressed in scrubs, ran down the street toward something around the corner. Automatic weapons fire in controlled, precise bursts rattled out after the people rounded the corner. A man dressed in black fatigues stepped around the corner, signaled to his partners and continued walking down the street.
He wore a black neoprene mask over his face painted like a grinning skull. Four more appeared behind him, all sporting AK-47s of one type or another. The distinctive rat-tat-tat-tat gave them away before they emerged from behind the building, but the banana magazines confirmed what she already knew.
A radio on the dresser broke squelch and her earbud beeped. “We’re here.”
She adjusted the fit of her assets in the mirror, then nodded. “I’ll be right out.” Jayne holstered a pistol in her belt, then picked up a black duffel of her personal effects.
“Unit Two reporting someone left the chapel, armed with a knife. Looks American. Should we take him out?”
Jayne slapped the radio as she threw open the door to her room. “No—he’s not important, just a bodyguard. The senator is in there, though—he’s got to be. Lock it down. I’m on my way.”
“Da.”
As she stepped outside the Governor’s House, she paused, looking down at the two guards who lay entwined like lovers on the first step. The younger one, a fresh-faced kid really, looked up at her with wide, scared eyes.
“Please help me…”
She pouted. “Sorry, dear, I’m a bit busy.” Jayne stepped over the bloody mess at her feet and stalked down the steps. “Get someone to get his highness out of the Governor’s House. Second floor, the Davidson Suite. We’ve got 20 minutes, people. And don’t forget those cameras.”
“Roger that. Unit Three is on the move. The cameras are already packed and ready.”
She pressed her hand to her ear, keeping the earbud in place. “Excellent. I want all available units to converge on St. Margaret’s Chapel—our target is inside. Repeat, everyone to St. Margaret’s Chapel.”
She smiled as she stormed down the street, the duffel bouncing pleasantly against her backside. It reminded her of the lieutenant governor…