John Bosley had been working late running general errands for Charlie. His
brother had the day off. He was about to leave the agency when the phone
rang. He hovered a moment in the foyer between the door and entry to the
office undecided, should he pick up the phone or let the machine get it and
call whoever it was back in the morning. Back and forth, back and forth,
finally on the last ring before the machine pieced up he dove at the phone,
"Townsend Investigations, Bosley speaking how may I help you?" he asked out
of breath.
"Bos, its Natalie," cried the blonde angel from the other end of the line. "Are you alright?"
"Fine just exercising, keeping in shape," he lied a bit embarrassed that a quick run to the phone had left him winded. He wasn't so winded to notice the anxious, upset tone in Natalie's voice. "That should be what I ask you. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied looking at Alex checking even nook and cranny in the office for wires, bugs, and cameras. Anthony had gone upstairs to check Rutherford's bedroom. "We need you to do us a favor. We are looking for some transmission wires. When we do we need a detailed trace. The guy who did this is good so chances are it will be routed all over the place but end up here in LA somewhere."
"Sure no problem," Bosley said heading upstairs with the cordless phone. He could hear voices speaking in low tones on her end of the line. Then she said to him, "Bos, I'll call you back as soon as we find a cable and hook up the decoder." With that she hung up. Natalie looked at Alex. "Nothing?" she asked surprised. Alex shook her head. They had been so sure that the office had been wired. "Maybe we should check on Anthony."
Anthony walked around the bedroom. It wasn't quite what he remembered from the last time he was there. Before it had been a large four poster canopy bed with deep blue brocade bedding on which he had tossed Vivian Wood passionately. He shook his head to clear that vision it wasn't his proudest moment and something he rather not recall. He didn't know what he had seen in her, she had been beautiful but at that point he didn't know how evil she was; she reminded him of Kate.
He sat on the new bed, a round waterbed which was the centerpiece of the room now and opened the folder that he had taken from Rutherford's office. He turned to the last photo, the one with the old man and the dead teen girl and compared the angles, the decoration to what was captured in the black and white image. He could make out a small painting of a country cottage done in what appeared to be watercolors over the shoulder of the man in the photo. He hated to turn the lights on, he didn't want whoever was watching to see him clearly but to find what he was looking for it was necessary, so he reached over and turned on a small table lamp. His finger bumped something small and hard on the backside of the socket in which the light bulb fit. Carefully he removed the shade and turned the lamp, it was a bug.
Scanning the walls and spotted the picture he was looking for. It was in a cluster of three of a similar style on the left hand wall near the closet door. He climbed on the bed and tried to put himself in the same position Rutherford was in when the photo was taken but with the swishing bed it wasn't as easy as it looked. "What are you doing?" asked Alex with a laugh standing inside the doorway with Natalie at her side. Anthony placed his finger to his lips to let them know to be quiet but in doing so lost his already precarious balance on the bed and fell over. He could feel the waves underneath him and his stomach lurched. "We really shouldn't laugh," he heard Natalie say in a serious tone.
"No, you are right, we shouldn't," said Alex equally as serious, but then he heard the two of them open up in peals of laughter. Anthony rolled himself to the edge and off the bed onto the floor. As he stood he glared at them, picked up the lamp and signaled to the bug. All laughter immediately stopped. He walked over to them and led them out into the hall. "We're sorry," said Natalie still giggling slightly.
"It wasn't funny," he said softly with hurt showing on his face. "The camera is somewhere in the far corner diagonal from the bed." He pointed toward the bookshelf in the corner.
"Okay, here we go," said Alex. The three of them stepped into the room and started looking through the books on the bookshelf.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Christoph sat in the control center of security at the Chief's mansion. It was a post he had been assigned when his brother, Jorge had gone with the Chief's client Vivian Wood. He had never suspected that the girl with jet black hair and the tall thin assassin would betray his boss and his brother. He had met most of the Chief's stable of killers during the time he had worked there and quickly came to realize that despite what they did assassins were generally honorable and loyal to whoever paid them. Still the Thin Man and the angel were nothing like what he or the Chief, obviously expected. The clients were killed and his brother put in jail where he committed suicide rather than be locked up. Like the Chief, he held the Thin Man and the angel accountable.
He sat there daydreaming, flipping although not really even looking at the articles of a copy of the Information Inquisitor tabloid when something on camera 17 caught his eye. He wasn't really even supposed to watch that camera it was one set up at Neville Rutherford's house and since Rutherford was in the hospital he didn't see any reason to pay it attention. The movement was gone as quickly as it came and he tried to recall if Rutherford had any pets. Settling back into his chair he saw it again this time it was clear, there was someone on the man's bed. Quickly his hands flew over the camera controls and zoomed in, it was the Thin Man. He watched as the assassin placed his finger to his lips then fell over. "The microphone," said Christoph to himself and flipped another switch. As the mike sprung to life with a brief static blast he heard girlish laughter, watched as the assassin rolled himself off the swaying waterbed onto the floor and moved out of the camera range. "Great," thought Christoph silently and picked up a bright red phone that was on the table next to him.
The Chief was getting ready for bed. It had been a long day and he was a little disappointed that Anthony hadn't come charging to Dylan's rescue. "Oh well," he sighed, "there is always tomorrow." He really didn't mind keeping her locked in the bedroom after all he found her as he told Kate earlier, "delightfully entertaining." He knew Kate would love to see her dead and dead she would see her but for now it was more to his advantage to keep Dylan alive.
"Kate," he thought as he lay back on his pillow. Now she was another problem. He didn't trust her. He understood looking out of one's self and admired it but he wasn't going to let her throw him to the wolves in order to save her own hide and she would. That was the kind of woman she was. One of the many reasons he preferred men, they weren't nearly as catty as women. Kate would claw him out of spite. He wondered if that was what she was doing now. Tomorrow he would let her take the eggs back to the museum. He didn't see any reason why he shouldn't after all Dylan was what he had really wanted. Revenge would be so sweet to take and seeing her blood flow would be exhilarating and knowing that Anthony was in pain just like he was in pain would be even better.
There was a ringing from the phone next to his bed. "This better be good," mumbled the Chief as he picked up the receiver. "What!" he yelled into the phone. He heard the man on the other end stumble over the words he was trying to say. "Christoph, I don't have all night say what you want to say." The words came barreling at him and he only managed to make out "they are at Rutherford's". That was enough. He didn't need to hear anything else. If Anthony and the angels were at former lord's house then they would know soon enough where he was. "No rest for the wicked," he said as he hopped out of bed and hopped around the room getting dressed again. "I want to look nice for when my guest arrive."
Dylan sat up in the dark bedroom hoping that she wouldn't be shocked again. Twice in one day was more than enough for her. Flipping on the light switch she crawled back under the vanity to set the clock, "Midnight" she whispered to herself as she wound the small winged knob on the back. Getting out of the room was going to be a problem no matter what she did there didn't seem to be a choice. The bolts were painted into the hinges so her idea of simply removing the door wasn't going to work, even so the door was solid hardwood, she doubted she could removed it even if she tried plus the door being gone would be a bit obvious, the bathroom held nothing of use but the tub should it come down to her needing it. It looked like her plan would work if the guard who she could hear humming tunelessly outside her door took pity and opened it up. "Well here goes nothing," she said under her breath and moved the slide the stopped the bells from ringing out of the way so the alarm could go off.
*-*-*-*-*
Alex found the book that the camera was hidden in. It was a small copy of "The Rubyat" by Omar Khayyam that had been placed between "The Razor's Edge" and "Of Human Bondage". The tiny camera lens was in the middle of the letter "O". "Got it," she said carefully sliding the book out making sure to keep it at the same level it was so if someone were watching the angle wouldn't change. "Natalie, hand me the decoder."
Natalie reached into her purse and handed the small black object to Alex who carefully clipped it on the wire, the tiny metal teeth of the clip bit through the insulating coating allowing the signal to go through the device. Natalie took her cell phone and went back out in the hall to call Bosley away from any listening devices. Bosley answered on the first ring. "Bos were ready," said Natalie looking watching Alex slide the book back into place.
"Okay I've got the signal," said Bosley's voice. "Computer says its tracing..we've got LA, NYC, Paris, Milan, Bucharest, Milan, Buenos Aires." Alex and Anthony stood by listening as Natalie repeated everything Bosley said back to them. Suddenly Anthony made sense of the list that was being read. "They are his assassins."
"What?" asked Alex.
"The list. What is the address it Bucharest?"
"Bos, back up a second. What was the address that the link was routed through in Bucharest," said Natalie looking at Anthony. Slowly she repeated, "Grigore Alexandrescu 23"
"That is the address of the apartment I have there. The signal is being routed through the homes of assassins."
"I've got a final address, Angels," said Bosley into Natalie's ear. "Actually it's across the street from where the signal originated."
"He says it's across the street;" she told Alex and Anthony while she bounced up and down. "Thanks Bos." Then she hung up.
"Across the street?" asked Anthony thoughtfully. It had been so obvious he couldn't believe he had missed it in fact he would have laughed if that had been his style. The house across the street six or seven years before had been owned by a notorious assassin who died, stopped by Interpol with a rain of bullets. The house had been on the market for years but had never sold due to its former owner's infamous reputation. He had heard rumors about it being sold but didn't pay any attention, he had Dylan and his own house to think of.
"What should we do? Storm the place and get Dylan out?" asked Alex.
"I don't think we will have to. He will be expecting us," replied Anthony who then turned and walked out the door.
"Bos, its Natalie," cried the blonde angel from the other end of the line. "Are you alright?"
"Fine just exercising, keeping in shape," he lied a bit embarrassed that a quick run to the phone had left him winded. He wasn't so winded to notice the anxious, upset tone in Natalie's voice. "That should be what I ask you. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied looking at Alex checking even nook and cranny in the office for wires, bugs, and cameras. Anthony had gone upstairs to check Rutherford's bedroom. "We need you to do us a favor. We are looking for some transmission wires. When we do we need a detailed trace. The guy who did this is good so chances are it will be routed all over the place but end up here in LA somewhere."
"Sure no problem," Bosley said heading upstairs with the cordless phone. He could hear voices speaking in low tones on her end of the line. Then she said to him, "Bos, I'll call you back as soon as we find a cable and hook up the decoder." With that she hung up. Natalie looked at Alex. "Nothing?" she asked surprised. Alex shook her head. They had been so sure that the office had been wired. "Maybe we should check on Anthony."
Anthony walked around the bedroom. It wasn't quite what he remembered from the last time he was there. Before it had been a large four poster canopy bed with deep blue brocade bedding on which he had tossed Vivian Wood passionately. He shook his head to clear that vision it wasn't his proudest moment and something he rather not recall. He didn't know what he had seen in her, she had been beautiful but at that point he didn't know how evil she was; she reminded him of Kate.
He sat on the new bed, a round waterbed which was the centerpiece of the room now and opened the folder that he had taken from Rutherford's office. He turned to the last photo, the one with the old man and the dead teen girl and compared the angles, the decoration to what was captured in the black and white image. He could make out a small painting of a country cottage done in what appeared to be watercolors over the shoulder of the man in the photo. He hated to turn the lights on, he didn't want whoever was watching to see him clearly but to find what he was looking for it was necessary, so he reached over and turned on a small table lamp. His finger bumped something small and hard on the backside of the socket in which the light bulb fit. Carefully he removed the shade and turned the lamp, it was a bug.
Scanning the walls and spotted the picture he was looking for. It was in a cluster of three of a similar style on the left hand wall near the closet door. He climbed on the bed and tried to put himself in the same position Rutherford was in when the photo was taken but with the swishing bed it wasn't as easy as it looked. "What are you doing?" asked Alex with a laugh standing inside the doorway with Natalie at her side. Anthony placed his finger to his lips to let them know to be quiet but in doing so lost his already precarious balance on the bed and fell over. He could feel the waves underneath him and his stomach lurched. "We really shouldn't laugh," he heard Natalie say in a serious tone.
"No, you are right, we shouldn't," said Alex equally as serious, but then he heard the two of them open up in peals of laughter. Anthony rolled himself to the edge and off the bed onto the floor. As he stood he glared at them, picked up the lamp and signaled to the bug. All laughter immediately stopped. He walked over to them and led them out into the hall. "We're sorry," said Natalie still giggling slightly.
"It wasn't funny," he said softly with hurt showing on his face. "The camera is somewhere in the far corner diagonal from the bed." He pointed toward the bookshelf in the corner.
"Okay, here we go," said Alex. The three of them stepped into the room and started looking through the books on the bookshelf.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Christoph sat in the control center of security at the Chief's mansion. It was a post he had been assigned when his brother, Jorge had gone with the Chief's client Vivian Wood. He had never suspected that the girl with jet black hair and the tall thin assassin would betray his boss and his brother. He had met most of the Chief's stable of killers during the time he had worked there and quickly came to realize that despite what they did assassins were generally honorable and loyal to whoever paid them. Still the Thin Man and the angel were nothing like what he or the Chief, obviously expected. The clients were killed and his brother put in jail where he committed suicide rather than be locked up. Like the Chief, he held the Thin Man and the angel accountable.
He sat there daydreaming, flipping although not really even looking at the articles of a copy of the Information Inquisitor tabloid when something on camera 17 caught his eye. He wasn't really even supposed to watch that camera it was one set up at Neville Rutherford's house and since Rutherford was in the hospital he didn't see any reason to pay it attention. The movement was gone as quickly as it came and he tried to recall if Rutherford had any pets. Settling back into his chair he saw it again this time it was clear, there was someone on the man's bed. Quickly his hands flew over the camera controls and zoomed in, it was the Thin Man. He watched as the assassin placed his finger to his lips then fell over. "The microphone," said Christoph to himself and flipped another switch. As the mike sprung to life with a brief static blast he heard girlish laughter, watched as the assassin rolled himself off the swaying waterbed onto the floor and moved out of the camera range. "Great," thought Christoph silently and picked up a bright red phone that was on the table next to him.
The Chief was getting ready for bed. It had been a long day and he was a little disappointed that Anthony hadn't come charging to Dylan's rescue. "Oh well," he sighed, "there is always tomorrow." He really didn't mind keeping her locked in the bedroom after all he found her as he told Kate earlier, "delightfully entertaining." He knew Kate would love to see her dead and dead she would see her but for now it was more to his advantage to keep Dylan alive.
"Kate," he thought as he lay back on his pillow. Now she was another problem. He didn't trust her. He understood looking out of one's self and admired it but he wasn't going to let her throw him to the wolves in order to save her own hide and she would. That was the kind of woman she was. One of the many reasons he preferred men, they weren't nearly as catty as women. Kate would claw him out of spite. He wondered if that was what she was doing now. Tomorrow he would let her take the eggs back to the museum. He didn't see any reason why he shouldn't after all Dylan was what he had really wanted. Revenge would be so sweet to take and seeing her blood flow would be exhilarating and knowing that Anthony was in pain just like he was in pain would be even better.
There was a ringing from the phone next to his bed. "This better be good," mumbled the Chief as he picked up the receiver. "What!" he yelled into the phone. He heard the man on the other end stumble over the words he was trying to say. "Christoph, I don't have all night say what you want to say." The words came barreling at him and he only managed to make out "they are at Rutherford's". That was enough. He didn't need to hear anything else. If Anthony and the angels were at former lord's house then they would know soon enough where he was. "No rest for the wicked," he said as he hopped out of bed and hopped around the room getting dressed again. "I want to look nice for when my guest arrive."
Dylan sat up in the dark bedroom hoping that she wouldn't be shocked again. Twice in one day was more than enough for her. Flipping on the light switch she crawled back under the vanity to set the clock, "Midnight" she whispered to herself as she wound the small winged knob on the back. Getting out of the room was going to be a problem no matter what she did there didn't seem to be a choice. The bolts were painted into the hinges so her idea of simply removing the door wasn't going to work, even so the door was solid hardwood, she doubted she could removed it even if she tried plus the door being gone would be a bit obvious, the bathroom held nothing of use but the tub should it come down to her needing it. It looked like her plan would work if the guard who she could hear humming tunelessly outside her door took pity and opened it up. "Well here goes nothing," she said under her breath and moved the slide the stopped the bells from ringing out of the way so the alarm could go off.
*-*-*-*-*
Alex found the book that the camera was hidden in. It was a small copy of "The Rubyat" by Omar Khayyam that had been placed between "The Razor's Edge" and "Of Human Bondage". The tiny camera lens was in the middle of the letter "O". "Got it," she said carefully sliding the book out making sure to keep it at the same level it was so if someone were watching the angle wouldn't change. "Natalie, hand me the decoder."
Natalie reached into her purse and handed the small black object to Alex who carefully clipped it on the wire, the tiny metal teeth of the clip bit through the insulating coating allowing the signal to go through the device. Natalie took her cell phone and went back out in the hall to call Bosley away from any listening devices. Bosley answered on the first ring. "Bos were ready," said Natalie looking watching Alex slide the book back into place.
"Okay I've got the signal," said Bosley's voice. "Computer says its tracing..we've got LA, NYC, Paris, Milan, Bucharest, Milan, Buenos Aires." Alex and Anthony stood by listening as Natalie repeated everything Bosley said back to them. Suddenly Anthony made sense of the list that was being read. "They are his assassins."
"What?" asked Alex.
"The list. What is the address it Bucharest?"
"Bos, back up a second. What was the address that the link was routed through in Bucharest," said Natalie looking at Anthony. Slowly she repeated, "Grigore Alexandrescu 23"
"That is the address of the apartment I have there. The signal is being routed through the homes of assassins."
"I've got a final address, Angels," said Bosley into Natalie's ear. "Actually it's across the street from where the signal originated."
"He says it's across the street;" she told Alex and Anthony while she bounced up and down. "Thanks Bos." Then she hung up.
"Across the street?" asked Anthony thoughtfully. It had been so obvious he couldn't believe he had missed it in fact he would have laughed if that had been his style. The house across the street six or seven years before had been owned by a notorious assassin who died, stopped by Interpol with a rain of bullets. The house had been on the market for years but had never sold due to its former owner's infamous reputation. He had heard rumors about it being sold but didn't pay any attention, he had Dylan and his own house to think of.
"What should we do? Storm the place and get Dylan out?" asked Alex.
"I don't think we will have to. He will be expecting us," replied Anthony who then turned and walked out the door.