Then smiled.
“Perfect.”
He turned toward the bedroom door.
“Our people just disabled the front gate cameras again.”
One of the men frowned.
“What if Vincent comes through the underground entrance?”
“He won’t.”
Marcus smiled wider.
“Tony made sure the tunnel explosives are ready.”
Explosives.
Marcus had planned every escape.
Every route.
Every backup.
Someone had spent months studying Vincent’s habits.
Someone Vincent had personally trained.
Elena leaned closer.
“They’ve been preparing this for almost eight months.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“You said nothing.”
“I had no proof.”
She lowered her eyes.
“And because nobody notices the maid.”
For the first time that night, Vincent truly looked at her.
She wasn’t afraid for herself.
She was afraid for him.
That made no sense.
Unless…
“Who are you?” he whispered.
Elena hesitated.
Outside, footsteps drifted farther away.
She reached into her apron.
Instead of a cleaning cloth…
She pulled out an old silver badge.
Not police.
Military.
Italian intelligence.
“My real name isn’t Elena Rossi.”
Vincent blinked.
“My name is Elena Bianchi.”
“I’ve been undercover for three years.”
Silence.
“I was assigned to watch you.”
Vincent moest bijna lachen.
“Regering?”
Ze knikte.
“Ze geloofden dat er uiteindelijk iemand binnen je organisatie je zou verraden.”
“Ze hadden gelijk.”
“Je hebt me bespioneerd.”
“Ja.”
“Je hebt alles gemeld.”
“Nee.”
Zijn ogen vernauwden zich.
“Wat?”
“Ik ben achttien maanden geleden gestopt met rapporteren.”
“Waarom?”
Ze keek weg.
“Omdat de rapporten niet meer overeenkwamen met de man die ik daadwerkelijk had gezien.”
Vincent fronste zijn wenkbrauwen.
“Ik had een monster verwacht.”
In plaats van…
“Ik heb gezien hoe je in het geheim de operaties van kinderen betaalde.”
“Ik heb gezien hoe je anonieme beurzen verstuurde.”
“Ik heb gezien hoe u beloftes nakwam die politici nooit nakwamen.”
“Je hebt vreselijke dingen gedaan.”
Ze keek hem weer in de ogen.
“Maar u bent niet de man die ze beschreven hebben.”
Vincent zei niets.
