Private Princess

Chapter 81

Jack Morgan stared intently through the Audi’s windshield, his fingers tight on the wheel. The car’s navigation system told him that he was one minute away from the destination given to him by De Villiers, and Morgan intended to make his first reconnaissance in the car.

The venue’s location was in Knightsbridge, which struck Morgan as no surprise. Given that the streets were dotted with Ferraris and Maseratis, where better to hold a private party for London’s mega-rich and ultra-connected?

It was the appearance of a tall woman that first gave away the location. She was every inch the Russian millionaire’s wife, with blonde hair piled on top of her head, and fur over her shoulders. Knightsbridge was home to rich clichés, and Morgan watched as she was followed out of the golden Lamborghini by a bearded man whose clothes were twenty years too young for him, and two chest sizes too small. Morgan slowed and watched the couple as they climbed the steps to a black door. The bearded man gave his woman a helpful grab on the ass as she slipped slightly in her heels, then knocked on the door. The couple waited patiently to be admitted. As there was no one else outside the building, one thing was clear to Morgan — the security, and the weapons he wanted, were behind that black door.

“Dammit,” Morgan swore softly, pulling his car into a side street a block away so that he was clear to think — how the hell could he get inside there without starting World War Three?

And then he had it.

“Hello,” Morgan said into his phone when it was finally answered. “I know, it’s been a long time,” he went on politely. “Listen, I’m calling because I need a favor.”