Hidden Tracks | ✓

04 | house of stone

I've been to London quite a few times on various missions, and I can say this with certainty, that when it doesn't rain, you should consider yourself the luckiest person in the world.

Maybe it was just my luck, but every other time I'd been to London I'd had to endure pouring rain. This time, however, it was quite the opposite.

"Wow, this city looks sunny for a change," Soler remarked as we stepped out of the Tube and onto the busy street.

We'd intentionally opted out of using the agency authorised black Range Rovers because we didn't want to draw any attention on the first day here. But of course we'd have a car at our disposal any time we needed to use it.

The three of us walked silently for a few steps before rounding a corner and entering a relatively secluded street. Here the houses were modest yet elegant, the trees lined on either side of the road adding a nice touch.

We walked down the street till we reached the house at the very end. It looked just like the rest of the buildings, blending in quite perfectly. The nameplate said Walter Phillips but we all knew no one of that name actually lived here.

This was one of the authorised safe houses operated by both TIA and Interpol.

And this was where Caldwell and Beaumont had been in hiding.

Soler went in first after entering the combination TIA had given us, in the lock. The house was of course empty, but it looked well-kept. The living room had a sofa set and a TV, the kitchen to its right had all the basic appliances you would need to survive, and there was another room, presumably a study, with its door locked.

We walked upstairs to where the bedrooms were located. Caldwell's and Beaumont's rooms looked basically the same, with minimal furniture and all the windows and doors heavily lined with alarms and motion detectors.

Miranda and I started inspecting both the rooms, while she instructed Soler to keep a watch at the main entrance. We could never let our guard down.

I looked around Amélie Beaumont's room with careful scrutiny. All her belongings were left behind in this room, at least that's what it looked like. Her clothes were hanging in the closet, a few makeup items were carelessly strewn on the dresser, and the en suite bathroom had some toiletries.

There was also a notepad with some pens on a small desk, but its pages were completely blank.

I frowned. That was a bit odd. A notepad lying on her desk for a month (that's how long she'd been at the safe house) and she'd written nothing? No small notes, diary entries or points to remember? Then why keep the pad there at all?

I took the notepad and put it in my bag. I had this nagging feeling it was hiding something from me.

Finally, when I'd finished exploring every single nook and corner in the room, I decided to go through her clothes once again.

One thing which I noticed on seeing her wardrobe was that none of her clothes were from her own label. They were all ordinary, slightly mundane looking pieces from little-known brands. Maybe she was trying to be low-key? But it wasn't as if she was stepping out of the house.

Upon sifting through her clothes for the second time, I noticed a trench coat with the tag loud and clear. Beaumont, Paris.

I frowned, and instinctively, my hands reached for the pockets. Nothing.

Suddenly, as I was about to shut the closet, something caught my attention. Thank god for the sunlight glinting off the thread, otherwise I never would've noticed.

Something had been stitched in tiny font on the edge of the trench coat, the thread of the same colour as the coat so that it was practically camouflaged.

I took out the coat, holding it in my hands and squinting at the tiny writing.

It was a phone number.

I quickly noted it down in my phone amd saved the contact. The country code was of France, that much was clear.

After finding nothing else of interest, I went down to the living room. Miranda was also there. She looked up at my footsteps.

"Found anything?"

I nodded, and showed her the number. She studied it for a moment. "Good work Agent."

Soler rolled his eyes at her compliment.

Miranda proceeded to tell us she'd found nothing in Caldwell's room except some old pictures of him and his family.

Suddenly, Soler quipped, "Did you guys find any money?"

We both looked at each other, and shook our heads. No, there hadn't been any money lying around.

"Maybe whoever abducted them took their wallets too."

Soler looked deep in thought at my theory, and I chose not to say anything else. His thick eyebrows were pinched together, and his mouth was set in a thin line.

I looked away before he could catch me staring and say anything ridiculous.

"Alright," Miranda said, sitting down on one of the chairs. "We'll stay here till we get any more leads. Meanwhile, I'll keep on searching the house and Marco, you can help me with it. Kaia, call up that number and see what you can get."

I nodded and went to the study. The bookshelves were mostly empty, with a few classics lined up sporadically. The mahogany desk had a penstand and nothing else.

I sat at the desk and dialled the number on my TIA authorised phone.

It rang for a long time, and I was almost sure the owner of the number wouldn't pick up, until-

"-Hello?"