It only took a few minutes for Grant to locate a proper office for Frankel to operate from.

Frankel felt a bit guilty upon entering it. The room was three times the size of the cubby hole they’d given Grant at the precinct. It afforded a view of the Thames below, courtesy of the building being on the Victoria Embankment.

“Hope this will suffice,” Grant said.

“It’s great. Thank you, Austin.”

Frankel motioned back toward the commander’s office.

“You did well keeping him going as long as you did.”

“I could’ve handled it better. I sort of lost my temper there.”

“It could have gone a whole lot worse.”

“I suppose,” said Grant, who didn’t seem to believe it.

“At least we know who we’re dealing with now.”

“It appears so.” Grant remained in the doorway, glancing around. He seemed to be mulling something over in his head.

“I notice that you’re not wearing your wedding ring.”

Frankel was so shocked that he went a bit weak in the knees. And quickly tried to fashion some sort of explanation. “I ended up leaving it back home in Manhattan. Figured it was long overdue.”

Grant nodded.

Frankel inwardly sighed with relief, thinking that might have been it.

Then Grant spoke again.

“Tread carefully, Detective. If she gets hurt, there will be hell to pay.”

Before he could respond, Grant turned and left the room.

That was when John Frankel realized Prior Silver wasn’t the only person in London whom the Scotland Yard Commander was on to.

Chapter 22

22

The phone conversation hadn’t gone quite the way Prior Silver had expected.

Somehow, he’d lost control of the situation and had to struggle to get it back on track. He had decided it was best to cut the exchange short and vowed to be better prepared the next time. There was definitely going to be a next time.

Prior kneaded the wooden cross between his hands like rosary beads while stealing an occasional glance at the Bible that was never too far from his heart.

He glanced over the railing at Marble Arch, the white stone monument on the northeast corner of Hyde Park.

“The triumphal arch was designed in 1827 by John Nash to be the state entrance to Buckingham Palace” came a voice through the tiny speaker by Prior’s knee. His eyes drifted from Nash’s masterpiece to the upper level of the London red bus he was riding on. There were less than a half-dozen passengers up top with him, as most tourists chose to stay below this time of year, watching London’s famous sites move past huge windows that also provided protection on such a cold wintry day.

But Prior found the fresh air invigorating, bolstering his spirit and encouraging him to forge ahead with his plans.