Chapter 189: The Skeletons IX
Fredricksen Estate, London
It was only 20 minutes ago when Marco Evans met Levi in Eastbourne Rd with a bag on his back. The sicked blond asked him to come earlier as he planned on dropping by somewhere on their way to the airport. Little did he know that the very place the blond wanted to ’drop-by’ so to say in the wee hours of the night was none other than the Fredricksen Estate.
His eyes had widened when the blond took a left turn into a long private road; enormous steel gates greeted them with guards waiting by the post. And for a second or two, Marco had no idea where they were until he saw the huge engraved sign on the side of the walls holding the gate. ’Fredricksen Estate,’ it said, and for a moment or two, he didn’t know why they were there.
Levi rolled down his window, a uniformed guard operating his post. Not that he was surprised, the family was probably struck with paranoia.
He shot the gentleman his best smile, "Good evening, Levi Jackson. I wish to speak with Ivan." he said casually while Marco watched the other man cautiously standing on his side. He could see the man was packing a gun behind his jacket.
The guard exchanged looks, and he rang the house through his walkie talkie after stepping away. The two nodded seconds later, opening the mechanical gates for them. The gates swung open slowly, and Levi thanked the two men as he drove inside.
He slowed down in front of the 14,000 sqft Tudor mansion with two front gable pavilions and large dormer style windows. A staff greeted them as they stepped out, and Marco felt like they were in a hotel as a valet took the keys from the slicked blond to park it. Levi brushed his hair in place with his hand, shooting the bearded man a look as he started fixing his old coat. The Irishman rolled his eyes; there was no need to be insecure in the presence of money. It’s just money; everyone has it, although, yes, admittedly, the Fredricksen happened to have tons of it.
"Feeling small, Marco?" he asked as a butler greeted them and ushered them inside. "You should have told me we were heading here." the bearded man whispered. "Would you have worn a suit instead?" the blond challenged. Marco wasn’t the type to dress up after all. He always preferred the laid back, functional look.
For a moment, the bearded man pondered on his question, "Of course not, but I would have worn my best coat." he said.
"Meh. you look fine." The slicked blond answered, entering the parlor, fully furnished with old fashioned mahogany furniture from the 1960s, antique vases here and there. Chandeliers hanging on the ceilings, wide windows with the garden’s majestic view lit with Christmas lights. Fancy antique trinkets filled the room, paintings on the walls above the fireplace, and maroon-colored Turkish rugs under their feet. All of which speaks of the family’s wealth. But what impressed Marco the most was the scent in the air; it smelt like Christmas, in his opinion. However, he did make a mental note on keeping away from the fragile items.