Sole Remedy Ch 3

Michele Bravo and the Sole Remedy : Chapter 3. Westchester County, New York

I.

During Michele’s six years in the Security Forces, she had networked thoroughly, and when she set out to start her own security company as a civilian, that networking paid off. Her family invested in the business to help get it off the ground, and her first clients were either referred to her by her old Air Force mates, or her old mates themselves, also now setting up in business in the civilian world.

She no longer did any of the legwork at the company…she had twenty operatives for that. (She did do legwork, as an expert agent, but for a different organization entirely. Her Michele Bravo life was her real one, the one she could disappear back into, but it was not her only one.)

Although she firmly believed the showdown with Colin Seaforth would occur at Pretorius’ party, she still ordered three of her operatives to make the rounds of all nearby hotels with a photo of Seaforth. She didn’t expect any success, a man without a job was probably staying at a Motel 6 or a Super 8 somewhere in the wilds of New Jersey. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, even if she put all her operatives on the job – but she had only three to spare.

If she’d had more than three days…but Pretorius’ party was to take place in three day's time. She had no time to waste.

The plane from London landed late at night. The first thing the next morning, Michele made her phone calls to the operatives, and emailed them a scan of Seaforth’s photo. Then she drove out to Pretorius’ estate.

It was an estate. Only about a third as big as the Rockefeller’s Kykuit (through which she’d taken a couple of tours), but that was still very big. Acres of gardens, a nine-hole golf-course, and a 20-room mansion. All of it surrounded by a very tall iron fence. And doubtles a handful of guards, or at least security cameras, patrolling every inch.

There was no way she’d be able to gate-crash that party. She was going to need an invitation. And for that matter, there was no way Colin Seaforth was going to be able to gatecrash. He too wouldn’t be able to get in without an invitation…as a respected art appraiser he probably had friends on this side of the pond, friends who could get him that invitation…

Michele pulled over into a convenient restaurant’s parking lot (on her way back to Manhattan from her reconnoiter) and called Robert in London. But it was six hours ahead, there, he was probably at the theater. She left a message on his voicemail: “Robert, please find out if Seaforth has any art-type friends in New York, and send me their names. Or indeed, any friends here at all. Urgent – I need to know as soon as possible. Ciao.”

Now, how was she to get her invitation?

She knew a lot of people in the art world….but as Taran Tula, an identity that she had to drop. She had not completed that process yet…indeed, she’d done nothing about it but let Taran Tula disappear. Her apartment, her car…those were just sitting there. This would cause no comment in the circles in which Taran Tula moved – she was always traveling, but eventually she’d have to take actual steps…kill the identity off totally.

But only Taran Tula could help her now…she had to use the identity one last time.

Reaching into her bag, Michele removed the “Taran Tula” cellphone from its special holder, and dialed a number. Using her Italian accent she said, “Lawrence, my dear friend…I wonder if you can help me.”

Caller ID would have identified her, if her accent did not. Lawrence Montaigne said warmly, “For you, Taran, anything.”

“I have been travelling, out of the country, for some months, and now that I return I see that there is to be this party fantastico at the home of Alan Praetorius. I wish very much to attend this party, Lawrence. His art collection...the lost Tetsujin painting that has been found...I simply must see it. Do you think it possible you can acquire for me an invitation?”

“Of course, my dear. I know Praetorius well.”

“Ah, do you attend the party yourself, perhaps?”

“Now that I know you would like to go, I wish I were. It would be my honor to escort you. But I have a business meeting in Washington that day that I simply can’t miss. But never fear, I will get you on the list of invitees. That’s all you’ll need. Drive up to the gate, give the guard your name. He’ll check it off his list and in you go.”

“You are very kind, Lawrence. You will call me to confirm I have been invited?”

“Of course. I’ll get in touch with his secretary right now, and call you back within half an hour.”

“Thank you, Lawrence.”

Montaigne was as good as his word. In less than fifteen minutes he had called back to confirm that she was now on the invite list.

Now, all that remained was to find out from where Seaforth could possibly get his invitation. If she could head him off at the pass, before he even set foot on the Praetorius estate, that would be the best solution of all.