Chasing Ivan by Tim Tigner Read Free Book Online Page B

is his top priority. You hear that, Achilles? Nothing is more important to the CIA on this day than catching Ivan. Nothing.”
    “You don’t need to remind me.”
    “Good. Then stop talking, and start doing.”
    I’d read that Steve Jobs was a real prick, but people lined up to work for him because he was such a genius. Well, Oscar was no genius.  
    There was a sizable gaggle and a lot of hubbub coming our way along the dock, including a TV camera and a boom mike. A trio of sailors was out front like the head of a spear, firmly but gracefully clearing the way.  
    “We’re in luck,” Jo said, over her mike. “Here comes the prince.”  
    I wasn’t sure that was lucky. If an alert had gone out after our little incident at the gate, the prince’s security would surely have it.
    I watched Jo size up each member of the entourage as though she had something in mind. We’d spread apart earlier to avoid looking like a couple in case there was a BOLO alert, but once her royal recce was complete she moved back to my side. I wasn’t sure what she was up to, but something about the look in her eye made me willing, even eager, to play along.  
    Still watching the oncoming procession, she began to talk with animation, gesticulating left and right out of context. “Did they tell you how I came to S-O-G?”  
    “No. They didn’t tell me anything. Not even your full name.”
    “It’s Josephine, like Napoleon’s love. When I was born I think my parents had plans for me that were far above their station, but they never called me anything but Jo, so that’s who I’ve always been. Anyway, from the time I could walk, if I wasn’t in school I helped out with the family business.”
    “Which was?”
    “We ran sophisticated confidence scams. Relieved those with too much money of some of their burden. Long story short, a year ago I ended up, quite by accident, with the briefcase and wallet of the US Ambassador to France.”
    “You what?”
    The gaggle was just a few feet from us now, and Jo spun about and began walking backwards so that she could face me while she talked, all the while continuing with her wild gesticulations. “It was a dangerous situation for me, and an embarrassing situation for His Excellency. You know, if there’s one thing you learn growing up with con artists, it’s how to look at a situation from different angles. I chose to look at that situation as an opportunity to switch professions.” Jo spun back around, colliding as she did so with a younger man near the rear of the prince’s entourage. It was a full-on collision, causing them both to tumble like drunken dancers into the woman he’d been speaking with. Jo began apologizing immediately and rapidly in French, trying to comfort the victims of her carelessness, while she steadied them like a pair of floor vases she’d caused to totter. She was so clumsy. So stupid. So sorry. The procession moved on without notice, all eyes still riveted to the prince, all ears straining to hear his witty reflections on this year’s event.
    Jo returned to my side and continued walking as though nothing had happened. After a few steps she pressed something into my hand, holding it for a moment for appearances’ sake.  
    I shifted my grip to check her pulse. Slow and steady. Using a feigned wipe of my brow to check the contents of my palm, I said, “You may be new to S-O-G, but you’re no stranger to the field.”  
    Jo had passed me a small stack of business cards. They were embossed with the coat of arms of Monaco and bore the vague but powerful title, Office of His Highness, Prince Albert II of Monaco . No doubt she’d scored the woman’s card for herself. “Very nice. What’s your title?”  
    “Secretary to His Highness.”
    “You reckon these are our tickets to the party?”
    “I do reckon.”
    We were still a half kilometer from Anzhelika . The sun was setting and the dock was clearing, but the yachts were coming to life as champagne corks