The Ultimatum--An International Spy Thriller Read online

  Thief. Manipulator. Con artist. Call it what you will—Bianca St. Ives is the best in the business.

  Growing up, Bianca St. Ives knew she was different from all her friends. Instead of playing hopscotch or combing her dolls’ hair, she studied martial arts with sensei masters and dismantled explosives with special-ops retirees. Her father prepped her well to carry on the family business. Now a striking beauty with fierce skills, the prodigy has surpassed the master.

  She’s known as the Guardian. Running a multinational firm with her father, she makes a living swindling con men out of money they stole—and she’s damn good at it. She does things on her own terms. But her latest gig had a little hiccup—if you count two hundred million dollars and top secret government documents going missing as little. Her father also died on the mission. The thing is, the US government doesn’t believe he’s really dead. They’ll stop at nothing to capture Richard St. Ives, a high-value target and someone who has been on most-wanted lists all over the world for over two decades, and they mean to use Bianca as bait. With only a fellow criminal for backup and her life on the line, it’s up to Bianca to uncover the terrifying truth behind what really happened...and set it right, before it’s too late.

  For a complete list of Karen’s books, visit her website,

  www.karenrobards.com.

  Look for Karen Robards’s next novel

  in the Guardian series,

  available soon from MIRA Books.

  The Ultimatum is dedicated to my husband, Doug,

  and my sons, Peter, Christopher and Jack, with love.

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

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  22

  23

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  25

  26

  Acknowledgments

  1

  It was a small, one-story house nestled all by its lonesome on the shore of Lake Michigan, some fifteen minutes outside the sleepy little town of Port Washington, Wisconsin. Turned silvery gray by natural weathering, its cedar shingle walls blended well with the towering line of shaggy hemlocks that all but hid it from the narrow road that passed in front on the way down to the lake. Had it not been for the muted light glowing through one of the back windows—a bedroom, he guessed—John Kemp might well have overlooked the house in the darkness of the overcast, moonless night. Approaching the house on foot, backpack riding high between his shoulder blades, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his black Polartec jacket to combat the late-October chill, he listened to the wind whistling through the trees, smelled the slightly brackish scent of the lake and observed the acres of woods stretching into the distance with satisfaction.

  The isolated setting couldn’t have been more ideal.

  He was there to kill everyone who lived in the house.

  * * *

  In the house’s sparsely furnished back bedroom, four-year-old Beth McAlister lay snuggled up in her bed next to her mother, Issa, stubbornly resisting sleep. She was too excited, too nervous. Too happy/sad/scared. First thing in the morning they were moving. Her suitcase was all packed and waiting with her mother’s by the front door. Her father was on his way to get them. He would arrive sometime during the night. Which was where the happy part came in: she really wanted to see her dad.

  When he was around, things were better. Her mother was happier. Beth didn’t feel afraid.

  “‘...she said, I did it all by myself. So...’” Dressed like Beth in flannel jammies, propped up on pillows against the headboard with a pile of covers pooled around her waist, Issa sounded tired as she read aloud from one of the stack of books Beth had kept out. The books were her favorites, and they would be packed away at the last possible minute along with Mousie, Beth’s stuffed kitten, which crouched now beside the pillow on which her head rested. Beth badly wanted a real kitten, but they never stayed in one place long enough. Her mother always said, One day. One day they wouldn’t have to move anymore, one day her dad would live with them full-time, one day—well, lots of things would happen one day.

  Beth wished one day would hurry up and come.

  She heard something—a faint crunch like a footstep on gravel—and looked away from the pictures in the book, past the lamp that cast a circle of light across the bed, toward where the plain white shade was pulled down over the window to block out the night. There was a gravel path out back that led from the patio to the lake. It went past her bedroom, and it crunched whenever anyone walked on it. Which it sounded like someone just had.

  She sat bolt upright in bed, smiling.

  “Daddy’s here!”

  “No!” Issa had stopped reading to look at the window, too. Now she sat up and dropped the book and grabbed Beth’s arm when Beth would have scrambled out of bed to peek outside. “Don’t do that. Stay here.”

  The look on her mother’s face scared her.

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Mommy, what?”

  “I don’t think it’s Daddy. Daddy would come in the car.” Whispering, too, Issa grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand. She started punching in numbers even as she flung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “No. Oh, no. There’s no signal.”

  That was bad, Beth knew. The harsh note of fear in her mother’s voice made her heart start to pound. Before Beth could say anything else, Issa turned, grabbed her up off the bed and carried her out of the bedroom. Her mother never carried her anymore—Issa said she was too big. Issa was small and slender, with straight black hair and brown eyes, while Beth was blonde and blue-eyed, tall for her age and sturdy.

  “Who is it? Who do you think’s out there?” Terrified now, Beth wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and hung on.

  “Shh! It’s going to be all right. Remember the hiding game?” Hampered by Beth’s weight, Issa half walked and half ran down the dark hall past the only bathroom. She turned into the laundry room, her bare feet making quick slapping sounds on the linoleum. She didn’t turn on the light.

  Beth buried her face in her mother’s neck. Issa smelled of vanilla and soap.

  “I don’t want to play.” Her voice came out all squeaky because her throat was tight.

  “You have to. We have to.”

  Built into the wall on the other side of the washer and dryer was a big metal cabinet where they kept detergent and stuff. Issa dropped Beth’s feet to the cold floor as she yanked the cabinet open, then crouched down to sweep a bucket and some cleaning supplies to one side.

  “Get in.” Issa’s face showed white through the darkness as she turned back to her daughter.

  “Mommy, no!”

  “Get in.”

  That was Issa’s I-really-mean-it voice. Beth crawled into the cabinet. It was metal and crowded with all the things her mother used to clean with, but the cleared-off spot was big enough for her to sit in. She did, with her back pressed against the cabinet’s side and her knees drawn up to her chin. Swallowing hard, she looked out at her mother.

  “Please don’t leave me.” Beth knew she was probably whining, which her mother hated, but she could
n’t help it. The cabinet was dark and cold and smelly inside, and she was really, really afraid.

  “It won’t be for long.” Her mother’s eyes were enormous shadowy pools in the darkness. Beth made a little whimpering sound, and Issa reached in to stroke her long, loose hair back, tuck it behind her ear. Her hand felt cold as ice. “We’re going to play the hiding game just like we practiced. Remember? You stay in here and be as quiet as a mouse until I come and get you.”

  Beth could feel the tremor in her mother’s fingers. She grabbed Issa’s hand, held on tight. They had practiced, everywhere they’d lived for as long as Beth could remember, with herself huddled up in what Issa called a safe spot and being as still as she could be until Issa came for her and ended the game. But this was different. This was for real. This made her stomach feel sick.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered. “You get in the cabinet, too.”

  “Baby, I can’t. I have to...go do something.”

  A muffled, metallic-sounding thud from the front of the house made them both jump. For a moment they stared in the direction of the sound. Then Issa yanked her hand free of Beth’s grip and stood up.

  “Mommy—” Frantic at the idea of being left, Beth started to crawl out of the cabinet. Issa shoved her back inside with both hands. Beth looked at her in wide-eyed surprise. Her mother was never rough with her.

  “You sit your bottom down and stay in there.” Issa was whispering, but her voice was fierce. Her eyes bored into Beth’s through the gloom. She pointed a warning finger at her daughter. “Don’t you dare make one sound. You hear me? Not one sound. And don’t you come out. I mean it.”

  Beth’s lips trembled as she shrank back and sat.

  “Good girl.” Issa stood and went up on tiptoe to reach for something on the shelf above the cabinet. For a second Beth could only see her mother’s lower half, her blue-flowered pajama bottoms and bare feet. Beth knew what Issa was after: the big shotgun her dad had stashed up there and warned her never to touch. When Issa sank back down and the shotgun came into view, Beth couldn’t breathe.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Issa leaned over to tell her and closed the cabinet door.

  It was instantly dark, so dark Beth couldn’t see anything. The quick pad of her mother’s feet walking away told her that she was alone. She shivered, with cold and with fear, hugged her legs and felt tears sting her eyes. She wanted to cry, but she didn’t. Crying made noise, and she was afraid to make noise. She opened her mouth over her knee, bit down. The fuzzy pajamas tasted weird and felt bad against her tongue, but it kept her from crying.

  She knew what was happening: The Shadow had found them. She’d known about the Shadow for as long as she could remember. The Shadow was why they kept moving to different houses, different towns. The Shadow was why her mother drew the curtains tight every night as soon as it started to get dark. The Shadow was why they left whatever place they were living in only to go to the grocery, or the doctor, or, every once in a great while, to church.

  The Shadow was always out there somewhere, hunting them, wanting to hurt them.

  Now it had found them. It was here.

  Beth hunched her shoulders, trembling.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” Issa shouted. She sounded like she was still in the hall. Her voice was shrill with fear.

  Beth pressed her mouth so hard against her knee that she could feel her teeth sinking into her skin. It hurt. She didn’t care.

  Bang.

  Beth jumped. She knew that sound: it was the shotgun. Her mother had pulled the trigger. She’d heard it before, when her dad had taken her and Mommy out to a big empty field and shown Mommy how to use the shotgun.

  “All you have to do is point and shoot,” her dad had said. “This thing’ll take out a moose. And you can’t miss.”

  And her mother had pulled the trigger, and the big gun had made that sound.

  Now, inside the house, Issa screamed, jarring Beth into jumping again and then squeezing her eyes tight shut. The sound tore through the air, through the metal cabinet, through Beth’s heart and soul, before being abruptly cut off. Beth was so scared she felt dizzy. She bit down hard on her knee and hugged her legs and rocked back and forth. Tears streamed down her face.

  Mommy.

  For a long moment she strained to hear through the darkness.

  “Beth.” It was a man’s voice, soft and kind of gentle, calling her. Her eyes popped open. She stretched them wide, but she still couldn’t see anything, not even her own hands or legs or feet. Just dark. “Be-eth.”

  Beth froze. He was in the house. Every tiny hair on her body stood upright. Her heart beat so hard it felt like a hammer knocking inside her chest.

  The Shadow. That was who was in her house. She knew it, she could feel it. The Shadow was a man, and he had found them at last.

  Her insides twisted. Her mouth was all sour, like fear had a taste.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can come out now.” The voice sounded closer. The Shadow was walking down the hall toward her. She could hear his footsteps, hear the barely there rustle of cloth.

  Mommy. Where are you, Mommy?

  “Beth,” he called. “Beth, come on out.”

  If her mother was still out there with the shotgun, the Shadow wouldn’t be walking down the hall.

  Mommy—

  More tears rolled down her cheeks. Her nose was running, but she didn’t dare sniff. Lifting her head, she wiped her nose on her sleeve instead.

  “Your dad sent me.” The Shadow was outside the door to the laundry room. His voice sounded so close that she shrank back against the wall behind her and tightened her grip on her legs. Her breathing stopped. She trembled so hard she was afraid of making the cabinet rattle. “I’m here to take you and your mom to him. Come on, honey, we don’t have much time.”

  Staying as still as she could, Beth stared blindly into the darkness. Her eyes streamed tears. Her nose ran some more. She wanted to go to her dad. She wanted it so much. But—

  Mommy knew she was in the cabinet. Mommy would come and get her if she wanted her. The Shadow was trying to trick her.

  Be quiet. Don’t come out. She could almost hear her mother warning her. Shaking, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to breathe.

  “Beth.” The Shadow didn’t sound so nice now. He was farther away—she could hear his footsteps moving toward her bedroom. “No more games. Come out right now. Your dad’s waiting for us.”

  There was a rattle from her bedroom. She knew that sound: it was her closet door. When it slid open, it made a sound like that. He was looking in the closet, searching for her. He would check under the bed—

  Cold little prickles of sweat popped out on her forehead. Mommy—he’d done something bad to Mommy or she would be talking and making sounds. If he found her, Beth, he would do something bad to her, too.

  Should she try to run or—

  “Beth, if you don’t come out right now, you’re going to be in big trouble. You don’t want to be in big trouble, do you?” He was next door, in the bathroom. If she was going to run, she needed to go now. Or was it already too late? She heard him open the closet, pull the shower curtain aside, open the cabinet under the sink. If she moved, if she ran, would he hear her, too?

  The laundry room was next. She was crying full-on now, muffling the sounds with her hands pressed over her mouth. Her chest heaved. Her leg muscles were so tight they ached. She wanted to burst out of the cabinet and run as fast as she could toward the front door as badly as she had ever wanted to do anything.

  She pictured the long, narrow hall, the heavy, black-painted door at the far end of the living room. She would have to reach that door, pull it open, push out through the screen door that sometimes got stuck—

  The Shadow was a grown man. He was faster. He would
catch her.

  She could hear him leaving the bathroom, walking toward the laundry room. Butterflies were inside her stomach. She felt freezing cold.

  Mommy, what do I do?

  Beth tried to pray, but the only prayer she could think of was Now I lay me down to sleep and that was no help.

  “Beth.” He was right outside the laundry room door. He sounded mad. The laundry room light came on. Inside, the cabinet was no longer pitch-black. Petrified, she realized that she could see the bucket and the cleaning stuff and the lines of brighter light around the door. When he opened the door, he would be able to see her. “I’m not going to—”

  A cell phone rang. His cell phone, she knew because he answered it. “Yeah.”

  He was close, so close. She’d missed her chance to even try to run. There was only one way out of the laundry room, and he was standing right there in the doorway. When he quit talking on the phone, he would search the laundry room, look in the cabinet. Even though she knew he would see her the instant he opened the door, she pressed back against the metal wall, trying to be as small as possible, trying to disappear. Her heart pounded so loud that it sounded like a drum beating in her ears.

  “I’m wrapping up now,” he said into the phone. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  He was walking again. Beth could hear him. He was heading away from the laundry room, down the hall, toward the living room and the front door.

  “Bye, Beth,” he called as he left.

  He didn’t look in the cabinet. He didn’t find me.

  He’d left the laundry room light on. She could see all the cleaning supplies, the lines of light around the cabinet door.

  She heard the front door open and close.

  She stayed where she was, frozen, listening.

  Was it a trick? It might be a trick. He might still be in the house somewhere waiting for her to come out.

  She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to crawl out of the cabinet and run away just as fast as she could. She also wanted to stay right where she was, still as a rabbit when a dog was nearby.