Chapter 18 - The Grand Royal Confrontation
At midnight, my armored SUV pulled up to the entrance of the Grand Royal Hotel. Graham, Julian, and I walked through the gleaming marble lobby without waiting for the concierge, heading straight for the private elevator bank that led to the presidential suites on the top floor.
The private keycard Graham had salvaged from Dmitri’s comms unit clicked against the elevator reader, granting us immediate express access to the forty-fifth floor.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. The penthouse suite hallway was silent, dimly lit by warm wall sconces. Double mahogany doors stood slightly ajar at the end of the hall.
We advanced in tight tactical formation. I pushed the heavy mahogany doors open with the barrel of my Browning 9mm.
Sitting in a velvet armchair by the floor-to-ceiling glass window, sipping a glass of rare vintage red wine while looking out over the glittering city skyline, was a stunning woman in her late forties with sharp emerald eyes and silver-streaked dark hair.
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Victoria Thorne didn't even turn around. She simply swirled her wine glass, watching the dark liquid catch the ambient city lights.
“I wondered how long it would take you to trace the signal, Eleanor,” Victoria said smoothly, her voice cool and melodious. “You’ve always been far more observant than Robert or Julian ever gave you credit for.”
