CHAPTER 75
Gideon drove his black Mercedes SL550 down the private drive towards his home. He’d spent the last few hours in the company of an accommodating woman over in Beaver Creek. He smiled at the memory of her silken generosity. He smiled even wider as he recalled her eyes as the life drained out of them.
The interlude had distracted him, for a few hours, from the search for the stone. He couldn’t believe that they still hadn’t uncovered one at the site. Was it possible he had miscalculated? That there was actually no stone to be found?
He pulled to a stop in front of his home. No. They would find the stone. It was just a matter of time.
Before exiting his car, he took a moment to appreciate the beauty of his home. He might actually miss this place, he thought as he walked to his front door.
Pulling out his electronic key, Gideon felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He wasn’t alone. Without giving any indication of his awareness, he dropped his keys and lowered himself to the ground to pick them up. Sliding his hand underneath his jacket, he felt the grip of his handgun.
A whisper of a sound and a shadow came from around the corner of the house.
Bullets slammed into the front door behind him. He threw himself to the ground and rolled behind one of the columns at the entryway. He peeked out. The man had taken refuge behind his car.
Gideon lay down on the ground and peered underneath the car. He could see the man’s foot just beyond the front tire. Lining up his shot, he pulled the trigger. The man howled in pain and fell, his whole body now exposed to Gideon’s view. He emptied two more bullets into the man’s face and chest. The yelling stopped.
Sensing movement to his left Gideon rolled to his feet and swung around. A second shooter was coming around the other side. The man was caught out in the open.
“Amateur,” Gideon muttered disgustedly. He shot the man twice in the chest.
As the man dropped, Gideon stalked towards him, keeping his gun trained. He kicked the man’s weapon away and looked at his would-be assassin. The man was gasping for breath.
He calmly shot him in the face. A face he recognized. He was one of Kensington’s private security detail.
He strode over to the man in the driveway. He was already past help. Wishing he could kill him again, he emptied the rest of his clip into him.
He stomped to the front door and kicked it open, breaking the door frame. Seething, he stopped, looking around his home with narrowed eyes. How dare he. Who does he think he’s dealing with? And only sending two men to kill me? That’s just insulting.
He paused, halfway into his living room. Why would Kensington make this move now? It was bold. And Kensington was never bold, except when he felt he held all the cards.
He turned to his right and walked over to his bar. He pulled a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue off the shelf. Pouring himself two fingers worth, he downed it before re-filling his glass. The drink warmed his throat. Ah, Kensington. You foolish man. You’ve found the stone, haven’t you?
He emptied his glass. Placing it back on the counter, he looked around his home. It had been a good refuge. But if all went well, this would be the last time he saw it.
Smiling, he turned and walked back out to his car.