Viper's Nest of Lies Read online

  Twice dead…A living nightmare

  The discovery of a blood-encrusted stiletto knife in journalist Emmeline Kirby’s bag at Heathrow Airport sets in motion a chain of events that ensnares everyone she holds dear. The body of Sebastian Jardine is soon found in the boot of Superintendent Oliver Burnell’s car, leading to accusations that he and Emmeline conspired to commit murder. Desperate to clear their names, she turns to Philip Acheson of the Foreign Office for help. But when two Special Branch officers arrive to arrest him, he is forced to go on the run.

  Gregory Longdon, Emmeline’s husband and a jewel thief/insurance investigator with ties to the criminal classes and MI5, is the only man Philip can trust. Gregory is on his own quest to prove her innocence in a game that makes no sense. Jardine was no stranger. His old friend was a former Interpol agent, who soured on the law and succumbed to his baser instincts. The real problem is Jardine died five years earlier. A fancy pink diamond with a murky provenance that men are willing to kill to possess holds the key to the truth. From London to Malta, Emmeline and Gregory are drawn into a web of corruption and revenge. Will they forfeit their lives for justice?

  KUDOS for Viper’s Nest of Lies

  “Feuds and treachery and a complex coil of a plot—perfect summer reading.” - Tessa Arlen, author of A Woman of WWII mystery series and In Royal Service to the Queen

  “The story races along like a ride in a convertible on the cliffs near Monte Carlo—full of hairpin turns and shocking revelations.”

  - Tracy Grant, author of The Westminster Intrigue

  Praise for the Emmeline Kirby-Gregory Longdon Series

  “Another exciting foray into the world of international intrigue, dark secrets, and double dealings. Along the way, Daniella Bernett always takes me to new places and teaches me new things. This series just keeps getting better and better!” -Alyssa Maxwell, author of The Gilded Newport Mysteries

  “I absolutely adore this fabulous crime thriller series. There is always action and adventure, a lot of red herrings, thrills aplenty and all with a touch of humour. Daniella Bernett writes such wonderfully complex and immersive plots [where] the tension and suspense builds…towards a chilling conclusion.” -Bookliterati Book Reviews

  “Murder, mayhem, intrigue, secrets and possible treason…a lot of twists and turns….The characters have a depth to them….I’ll definitely be back to read more of [Daniella Bernett’s] books and not only in this series, if this is her caliber of writing.” -Novels Alive

  “Scintillating…theft, murder and general mayhem….styled to mirror the writing of classic Golden Age authors. With strong characterization…writer Daniella Bernett has enhanced a series which…has the potential to gain a strong following.” -The Dorset Book Detective

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank Editor Susan Humphreys, who gave my book the extra polish it needed and created the beautiful cover.

  My continued gratitude to the Mystery Writers of America New York Chapter and the International Thriller Writers.

  I would like to thank bestselling author Tracy Grant, who has been on this journey with me from the beginning. My deepest thanks also go to authors Alyssa Maxwell, Tessa Arlen, Emma Jameson and Kate Quinn, with whom I became friends via Facebook and exchange lively ideas about writing and life.

  Other Books in the Emmeline Kirby/Gregory London Series

  Lead Me Into Danger

  Deadly Legacy

  From Beyond The Grave

  A Checkered Past

  When Blood Runs Cold

  Old Sins Never Die

  viper’s nest of lies

  An Emmeline Kirby/Gregory Longdon

  Mystery

  Daniella Bernett

  A Black Opal Books Publication

  GENRE: ROMANCE/MURDER MYSTERY, INTERNATIONAL THRILLER, AMATEUR DETECTIVES

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, businesses, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. The publisher does not have any control over or assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents.

  VIPER’S NEST OF LIES

  Copyright © 2021 by Daniella Bernett

  Cover Design by Transformational Concepts

  All cover art copyright © 2021

  All Rights Reserved

  eBook ISBN: 9781953434562

  First Publication: SEPTEMBER 2021

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Anyone pirating our ebooks will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law and may be liable for each individual download resulting therefrom.

  ABOUT THE PRINT VERSION: If you purchased a print version of this book without a cover, you should be aware that the book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  IF YOU FIND AN EBOOK OR PRINT VERSION OF THIS BOOK BEING SOLD OR SHARED ILLEGALLY, PLEASE REPORT IT TO:

  [email protected]

  Published by Black Opal Books http://www.blackopalbooks.com

  To my mother and my sister Vivian,

  I can never adequately express my love for you.

  Chapter 1

  London, November 2010

  Gregory grabbed their bags off the carousel in Terminal 5 at Heathrow Airport. “Let’s go home,” he said as he pressed a kiss against Emmeline’s dark curls.

  She cast a sidelong glance at him, a smile upon her lips. “Mmm,” she murmured with a nod.

  It had been a lovely few days in Edinburgh. They had done their best to put that harrowing business up in Tobermory with Noel Rallis, Lord and Lady Starrett, and the Russian defector behind them. But it was definitely time for them to go home.

  Home. The word had an alluring cachet. A place where they could settle into married life, at last. They were still newlyweds. The wedding had been just shy of three weeks ago. A heady time for any couple. Only fate had a perverse sense of humor and forced them to cut their honeymoon short. Gregory sighed inwardly at the memory that had set their last imbroglio in motion. What other couple on their honeymoon would overhear a man attempting to hire an international assassin? Was it an ominous omen about their marriage? He certainly hoped not. Couldn’t the world simply leave them alone to get on with their life in peace?

  He tried to shake off these morose thoughts as they passed the WHSmith bookstore and headed toward the exit to catch a taxi to Holland Park.

  A security officer with a shadow of gray stubble spreading across his cheeks and a gleaming bald head stopped them. “Miss, would you mind stepping over there?” he asked politely as he indicated with his chin a table about hundred feet away, where two of his colleagues were standing. “We are conducting random checks.”

  “Certainly.”

  Gregory’s mobile started to ring. He drew it out of his jacket pocket. “I’ll join you in a minute, darling.” He gave her a wink.

  She nodded and followed the officer.

  “Hello,” he said as he watched Emmeline place her bag on the table.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t make your wedding, Longdon, but then I wasn’t invited.”

  Gregory froze. Nerveless fingers pressed the mobile closer to his ear. It was a voice he hoped he would never hear again. “Swanbeck,” he hissed.

  “I thought I’d send a wedding gift anyway. I hope you enjoy it. Give my love to Emmeline.”

  The connection was severed.

  Gregory’s gaze slithered over to Emmeline.

  “Did you pack your bag yourself?” the officer asked her, as he searched through it.

  “Yes,” she replied with a smile.

  He stiffened and straightened up. “Then how do you explain this?”

  Between his thumb and forefinger, he held a stiletto knife with a brown crust of dried blood.

  Emmeline’s eyes bulged wide. A cold, suffocating dread clutched at her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs.

  She licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her mouth was parched. Even sand-driven winds couldn’t make the Sahara this dry, she reasoned illogically.

  “I—I…” But her brain refused to string any words together that would be deemed a suitable and coherent response.

  There were no words for this.

  Her gaze flickered nervously between the two officers, before returning to the offending weapon with its sinister, telltale trace of violence. She gaped at it. Errant thoughts, all of them laced with fear, swirled round and round her mind.

  She took a step backward, but the officer’s bony hand flashed out and clamped down on her upper arm. She could feel his fingers through her jacket biting deep into the fleshy part of her arm. It
hurt and was quite unnecessary. What he needed was a good, swift kick in the shin.

  A scream was trapped in her throat. This was all a terrible mistake. Despite the way it looked, she hadn’t done anything.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled.

  She straightened her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height. This didn’t have quite the effect that she would have liked, as she was only five-foot-two and both officers were over six feet. Still, as Gran would say, a little bluster goes a long way sometimes.

  Emmeline finally found her voice and shrugged off his grasp. “I’m not going anywhere. Do I look like a murderer? I’m a journalist.”

  The officer’s partner threw his head back and gave a derisive snort. “Miss, that means absolutely nothing. We’ve seen all sorts. The worst criminals are the ones who look as innocent as lambs. They think that they can pull the wool over our eyes and get away with anything.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. Oh, such an amusing pun. Fancy yourself clever, do you? Think again, she scolded silently.

  She tossed her chin in the air. “The only way that knife”—she pointed at the gruesome weapon with a forefinger—“could have gotten into my bag is if someone planted it there, either in Edinburgh after it was checked or here at Heathrow. It’s fairly obvious that someone is trying to frame me.”

  “Is it? We’ve heard that before too,” the one who had searched her bag replied cynically. He snatched her arm again. “Now, come on. You have a lot of questions to answer, miss.”

  She struggled to free herself. “Let go of me. You’re making a mistake.”

  They were beginning to cause a scene. But as she swiveled her neck around, she noticed that Gregory was no longer standing where she had left him. Her eyes darted desperately around the arrivals area, but he was nowhere in sight. She felt the blood draining from her cheeks and her body went slack.

  Where was he? Had he seen what had happened to her? Was he in trouble too? For trouble with a capital T this most certainly was.

  The two officers closed ranks, flanking her on both sides and effectively trapping her between them. One of them scooped up her bag in a single motion and waved a hand impatiently to disperse the crowd hovering around them.

  As they walked slowly past the baggage carousels, Emmeline ignored the nervous whispers and the anxious glances being cast in her direction. Her only concern was for Gregory.

  “Wait a minute.” One of the officers drew up short and said over her head, “She was with a chap.” He peered down his nose at her. “Where is he?”

  “Chap? I have no idea who you mean,” she replied nonchalantly. She stared back at him without blinking.

  “Hmph. We’ll get him.”

  Ha. You’re no match for Gregory, she thought with pride. He’ll run rings around you.

  This sense of triumph was transitory. Gregory wasn’t here and she had no idea where he was. She bit her lip. Her mind was racing as they dragged her along. If someone—God forbid—had been killed, where was the body? And why put the knife in her bag? Why would anyone want to implicate her? Who hated her that much?

  She drew in a ragged breath. All at once, she knew the answer. There was only one person. Alastair Swanbeck.

  *****

  Gregory had stood there for several seconds with his mobile suspended in mid-air, as he watched Emmy murmuring brief responses to the officer going through her bag. When the chap discovered the knife and held it aloft, the knot in Gregory’s stomach gave a wrenching twist. All his fears were confirmed. His first impulse was to rush to his wife’s side. But survival instinct took control and he thought better of it. That was exactly what Swanbeck wanted. To have him and Emmy trapped. Swanbeck wouldn’t kill them. Oh, no. At least not so soon. First, he wanted to see them squirm.

  Gregory took his eyes off Emmy for only a few seconds to scan the faces of the travelers in the arrival’s hall. There was no one who looked familiar. Damn. Swanbeck had to be here. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones. However, he couldn’t hang about waiting to be snared by his enemy’s net. He had to get out of the airport. That was the only way he could save them both.

  One last glance strayed toward Emmy. His body tensed when he saw the officers take hold of her. He told himself that she would probably be safer in their custody. He wanted to believe that was truth. It was a risk, but he had to take it.

  Time to move.

  He kept his head down and sliced his way through the throngs of travelers. He didn’t want to attract any undue attention, so he kept his pace swift without breaking into a run. Once out on the pavement, he slipped into the taxi rank behind a rather tired-looking woman with two boys, who were under the age of five and chattering away without a care in the world. He flashed a smile at her, before casually tossing a glance over his shoulder. As far as he could tell, no one was following him.

  A taxi rolled up, he hopped in, and they were pulling away from the curb within seconds.

  Gregory allowed his tense muscles to uncoil slightly as he murmured his destination to the driver.

  He pulled out his mobile and punched in a number he had come to know by heart over the last several months.

  Despite the situation with Emmy, a smile touched his lips when he heard the gruff, familiar voice rumble in his ear, “Burnell.”

  “Oliver, old chap, your phone manner leaves a lot to be desired.”

  “Longdon? What the devil do you want? I thought you and Emmeline were still in Edinburgh.”

  “We’re back in London. Is that joy I hear in your voice? Does that mean you missed me?”

  “Hmph,” Burnell grunted. “Sanity and calm return to my life when you are not around, even if I have to deal with the Boy Wonder.” The latter was a reference to Assistant Commissioner Keith Cruickshank, the superintendent’s much younger boss and the embodiment of a snobbish prat with IDEAS.

  “If you’ve called simply to make a nuisance of yourself, I’m going to ring off because I have work to do.”

  “I actually rang to consult you in your official capacity. I’m in a taxi on my way to Scotland Yard,” Gregory replied seriously.

  The superintendent must have sensed the change in his tone. “Why? What’s happened?” he asked suspiciously. “And why isn’t Emmeline with you?”

  “She’s in a spot of bother at the airport.” He didn’t want to go into the details with the driver listening. “I’m afraid it might be our friend Swanbeck’s doing. I’ll explain when I get to the Yard.”

  Burnell exhaled a long breath, before he exploded, “Bloody hell.” Then he must have put his hand over the phone because his words were muffled. However, Gregory heard him bellow for Sergeant Finch.

  “Where are you now?” the superintendent demanded loud and clear once again.

  “Surprisingly, the traffic is moving at a fair clip. I should be there in about twenty minutes.”

  “Finch and I will be waiting for you. I should never have gotten out of bed this morning. Why does trouble trail after you like cheap cologne? If it was you at the airport, I’d leave you there to rot.”

  “Oliver, you have such a way with language. It’s heartwarming to see how much you care.”

  “Stuff it, Longdon.”

  Chapter 2

  Detective Superintendent Burnell and Detective Sergeant Jack Finch were waiting on the pavement outside the Dacre Street entrance to New Scotland Yard.

  Burnell, hands curled into tight balls thrust in the pockets of his navy overcoat, was pacing back and forth. His bulk made him impervious to the November chill. However, he was not immune to the droplets of drizzle that had found their way between the gap of his shirt collar and the back of his neck. He mumbled something unintelligible, as he impatiently pulled up his coat collar around his ears to keep out the damp.