The Traitor's Pawn

by Lisa Harris

  A bomb?

  “There are women and children in that lobby. An older couple, and a family of five. You have exactly sixty seconds. Now . . . go.”

  The call dropped.

  Aubrey glanced up from her phone and searched the room for the caller.

  “You’ve got forty-five seconds.” This time the voice came through her earpiece. “Find a way to get the agent standing by the elevator in the baseball cap out of the way, but remember I can hear everything you say—they can’t—and I’m watching you. No signals. Or people will die.”

  “Do you have my father?” she asked, standing up and dropping her phone in the chair behind her.

  “Yes.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He is for now. As long as you do what you’re told.”

  She didn’t miss the irony in the situation. She was being asked to risk her life to save her father? The man who’d never truly loved her. But whoever was behind this didn’t know that. They wanted to use her for leverage, and now not only was her life at stake, but also the lives of everyone in this lobby.

  Aubrey felt a surge of adrenaline as she looked around the lobby. She walked slowly toward the bathrooms. Past them was a set of doors leading outside. There had to be a way to let Jack and his team know what was going on, but there was that family, standing at the counter checking in. No. She couldn’t risk it.

  Aubrey held the gaze of the agent in the baseball cap for a moment. “I need to go to the restroom, but Special Agent Shannon asked that you meet him at the check in counter.”

  “Of course.”

  She continued down the short hall, pushed open the exit door, and stepped outside without looking back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  JACK GLANCED AT HIS watch again, wishing he was sitting inside the lobby with his eyes on Bree instead of in a van parked near the front entrance of the hotel. Even though he knew it was the right decision to stay out here, it was still hard not to question its validity when he couldn’t get rid of the worry.

  But maybe it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be surprised if Bree’s father didn’t show up. The man had a bad habit of breaking his promises. Especially to his daughter. Not showing up would simply fit his character. He’d never been reliable or engaged in her life, so what was going to make this any different? Probably nothing. But he was still praying that the man would show up. It was their last real option at the moment to bring him in.

  Jack forced himself to wait another full minute before contacting her again.

  “Bree . . . any sign of him?”

  Silence.

  “Bree, I need an update.”

  Still nothing.

  His heart stilled for a moment. Why wasn’t she responding?

  “Who’s got their eyes on her? Baker . . . Ortiz . . .”

  There were four agents inside the hotel, and none of them were answering.

  “Simon.” He turned to his IT man who was running the communications from the van. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, sir, but it looks as if our communications have been jammed. Not just with her, but with the entire team.”

  No . . . No . . . No . . . This wasn’t possible.

  “Then unjam them,” Jack said. “I need you to reestablish communication with her now.”

  He jumped out of the van and sprinted toward the hotel lobby, his heart racing as he shoved open the glass door. Their plan was supposed to have been foolproof. Simple. She was to ask her father for a meeting in a public place. When he showed up, they were going to grab him. It couldn’t get any more straightforward than that. The only issue that might come into play was if he didn’t show up, but all that would do was leave them back at square one. And as for Bree . . . Using her was the safest way to get him to come out into the open.

  His thoughts flashed back to Cheng, who’d ended up eluding arrest.

  But this was different.

  Wasn’t it?

  “Bree . . . Agent Baker . . . I need an answer . . .”

  Still nothing.

  What’s going on?

  Inside, he quickly located Agent Baker, who was standing near the elevators. “Where is she?”

  “She went into the bathroom. Our target still hasn’t arrived.”

  “One of you was supposed to have eyes on her at all times,” Jack said.

  “I couldn’t go in the bathroom with her, could I?”

  Jack ran down the narrow hallway toward the restrooms. Maybe he was overreacting, but his gut told him that wasn’t the case. Something was wrong. He knocked on the women’s restroom door, announced his presence, and walked in.

  “Bree?”

  He kicked open the stalls one at a time, but they were all empty. She wasn’t there. A flood of anxiety and anger rushed through him as he ran back toward the lobby. With communications down, he signaled to Baker and the other agents to join him.

  “Detective Grayson is missing, and at this point we can assume she’s with her father, Charles Ramsey. He’s never been violent with her, but he is a person of interest in a murder investigation, so don’t assume anything. On top of that, we know he’s desperate, so don’t take any unnecessary risks. The three of you”—he pointed at them—“split up and do a thorough search of the premises. Ortiz, check the hotel security footage and try to find out where she went and who she’s with. I’ll check the parking lot near the bathroom exit.”

  Jack ran out the side door of the lobby, needing to determine where she could have gone. One distraction, and someone could have grabbed her. But why would her father do something like that?

  The answer was obvious. The man was a traitor, involved in spying on his own government, and because of it, had both the Russians and the Chinese after him. On top of that, he’d added murder suspect to his résumé over the past twenty-four hours. Not only was the man desperate, he’d worked in intelligence and had the tools to pull off something like this. Charles Ramsey would do whatever it took to get what he wanted, even if it entailed using his daughter to get it.

  But he also knew that Ramsey wasn’t the only one who could use Bree as leverage. The Chinese had already attempted it once. If they’d decided to try it again . . .

  “Jack—” Simon’s voice came through Jack’s earpiece.

  “What have you got?”

  “I was able to change the frequencies, and we’re back on now, though I don’t know how long it’s going to last. He could jam them again.”

  “Do everything you can to keep them open.”

  If he could hear Simon, then Bree could hear him if she still had her earpiece in. “Bree, can you hear me?”

  Jack waited for her response, but there was none.

  He kept walking, then stopped midstride. Charles Ramsey stood at the end of a row of cars, holding a young woman in front of him with a gun pointed at her head. Bree stood twenty feet in front of her father, her own weapon pointing at him.

  “We’ve got a hostage situation developing in the parking lot,” Jack said to his team. “Ramsey’s armed with one hostage. Detective Grayson is trying to defuse the situation. I need backup out here now, but keep the perimeter clear for the moment. He’s already spooked.”

  Jack took another step forward.

  “Don’t come any closer,” Ramsey said. “You and your team need to stay back if you want these women to live.”

  “Are you okay, Bree?” Jack lowered his voice so only she and his team could hear him.

  “Yes, but do as he says, Jack. Stay back.”

  “Ramsey, Aubrey wanted to meet with you because she believed she could help you. You want the Russians and the Chinese off your back—”

  “Shut up or I’ll shoot her. I’ll shoot both of them. You weren’t supposed to get involved in this. It was only supposed to be Aubrey and me.”

  The young woman Ramsey was holding sobbed quietly. “Please don’t hurt me. Please . . .”

  “I said—”

  “Ramsey, wait. Please.” J
ack held up his hand. “Just tell me what you want.”

  “What I want? I came to meet with my daughter, but when I show up, there’s an entire FBI team waiting to arrest me.”

  “We’re simply here to make sure Aubrey is safe.”

  “No.” Ramsey shook his head. “If I’d walked in there, you would have arrested me before I even saw her.”

  “Here’s the bottom line,” Jack said. “We know you’re in trouble. She was telling you the truth when she said the FBI wants to work with you. We can help get you out of this mess. All you have to do is put your weapon down and let the women go, then we’ll talk. Just the two of us. I promise. And I’ll listen. Just like we’re doing now.”

  “It’s too late for that.” Ramsey shook his head.

  “It’s not too late. I want to hear your side. Let the woman go. She has nothing to do with this.”

  “Enough.” Ramsey turned back to Bree. “I decided to meet you because you’re my daughter. I hoped you wouldn’t betray me, but I know you’re a detective, so I needed to be prepared. And I was right. You never intended to meet with me. You led me straight into a setup. If I can’t trust you, I certainly can’t trust him.”

  Bree’s voice was pleading. “I need to talk to you. That’s the truth.”

  “And then what happens after we ‘talk’? You know as well as I do that no one is going to let me walk away.”

  “But this . . . ,” she said. “You’re only making things worse—”

  “Worse? You have no idea what’s really going on here. How far they will go to get what they want.”

  “Who? The man who shot Grant McKenna? The men who tried to execute one of their own to keep him from talking? I’ve seen what they’re capable of doing.”

  “Here’s what’s going to happen.” Sweat shone on Ramsey’s brow as he came to a decision. “The three of us are going to leave together. Once I know we’re not being followed, I’ll drop the woman off somewhere safe.”

  “Think about what you’re doing, Ramsey,” Jack said. “False imprisonment . . . aggravated kidnapping—”

  “If she does what I say, she’ll be fine.” Ramsey’s gaze momentarily locked onto Jack’s. “I recognize you.”

  “Jack’s an old friend,” Bree said.

  If you’d been around back then, you’d have known that.

  Jack stuffed down the thought.

  “I’ll go with you. Just you and me. But let her go.” Bree held up her weapon then set it on the ground in front of her.

  “Bree, don’t—”

  “I have to do this, Jack.”

  “Okay.” Ramsey hesitated, then tossed her a pair of handcuffs. “Handcuff yourself behind your back.”

  “Bree, don’t—”

  She turned to face him. “It’s alright, Jack.”

  “You and your fellow agents are going to wait at the back entrance of the hotel without following us,” Ramsey said.

  Jack weighed his options. He wanted to believe Ramsey wouldn’t hurt anyone, but he could hear the desperation in the man’s voice. No, he couldn’t take any chances. Getting a sniper and negotiator in place would take longer than they had, but letting Bree leave with him . . . How could that be his only option?

  “Walk in front of me to the vehicle . . . both of you. I’ve got nothing to lose at this point, so if your men do anything to make me uncomfortable, she pays.”

  Bree caught his gaze. “Do what he says, Jack. I’ll be fine.” She turned and walked to her father.

  He wanted to argue with her. Did she really expect him to walk away and do nothing? No. He couldn’t let anything happen to her.

  Ramsey shoved the woman away and told her to walk toward the hotel before he grabbed Bree’s arm. “Tell your men to back off and go back inside. Now.”

  Jack hesitated. “Stand down, I repeat . . . stand down.”

  “Now drop your earpiece on the ground.”

  Jack did what he was told. Ramsey ushered Bree to a black SUV and forced her inside. As soon as Ramsey pulled out, Jack reinserted his earpiece and pulled out his phone. This was far from over.

  “Simon,” he said, once the call he made had been picked up.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “There’s a black SUV with no visible license plate coming out of the parking lot in the next few seconds. I want you to follow it in the van, but do not engage. I want you to let me know his every move. And establish communications again.”

  “Yes, sir, I’m on it.”

  Jack ran back into the lobby. “Ortiz, get a statement from the hostage. The rest of us will split up into the other two cars and follow Ramsey. Simon is already on his tail in the van.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Thirty seconds later they were pulling out of the hotel parking lot and headed in the direction Simon told them Ramsey had gone. Jack drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. Every second that passed meant Bree was another second in danger.

  “We’re going to find her,” Baker said from the passenger seat. “You did everything you could.”

  “No, I didn’t. My job is to anticipate what the bad guy is going to do. It’s my job to keep something like this from happening. It’s my job to keep her safe.”

  “It’s all of our jobs.”

  Jack heard Simon’s voice in his ear. “I’ve lost him. He blasted through a red light and then I got caught in traffic.”

  “Any idea where he’s taking her?” he asked.

  “At this point, no. There are boat harbors and marinas nearby, but he could also be heading for Houston, for all we know.”

  “We need a plate number so we can track the vehicle.”

  “The plate is gone.”

  Jack banged his hands against the steering wheel. Bree was gone, and they had no way to track her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  AUBREY OPENED HER EYES and stared up at the ceiling, trying to figure out where she was. She started to sit up, but quickly lay back down when the room started spinning. She squeezed her eyes shut. Snippets of memory fluttered to the surface. She’d gone to meet her father, and he’d been late. Someone called her, told her there was a bomb in the hotel that would go off if she didn’t do what she was told. That something would happen to her father. And she tried to save him.

  But there had never been a bomb. The distorted voice on the phone belonged to her father. When she found him in the parking lot, his anger was evident as he accused her of deceiving him—they’d agreed to meet alone, and instead, the place was swarming with FBI. Her response was automatic. She pulled out her weapon, intent on ending the standoff and handing him over to the authorities herself. But from that point, things quickly spiraled out of control. He grabbed a woman walking to her car and took her hostage. And in an effort to save the woman, Aubrey ended up here.

  Light peeked through the window to her left. She scooted off the bed and looked out, suddenly understanding why the room seemed to be moving. In the distance was an oil rig. She was on a boat, surrounded by water.

  He had to have drugged her. She had no memory of last night, and her body felt as if she had slept for days. She had no idea how much time had passed—except that the sun was up, which meant it had to be the next day.

  She tried the door handle, expecting it to be locked, but it wasn’t. She stepped into the adjoining cabin, unsure of what to expect. Her father stood in front of a small stove, flipping pancakes like he used to on Saturday mornings before he left. She studied his familiar figure, surprised like she had been last night when she first saw him. His hair was completely gray now, and he’d lost at least ten pounds.

  “How long have I been asleep?” She didn’t even attempt to keep the anger out of her voice.

  He glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s just after seven. I thought you might be hungry. I made blueberry pancakes, remembering they were one of your favorites.”

  She glanced around the cabin, somehow feeling vulnerable that he would remember something like that. Irritated t
hat he seemed to expect her to think this was all normal.

  She looked at him, incredulous. “You kidnap me, drug me, and now somehow think that offering me pancakes for breakfast is going to make everything okay?”

  “Of course not.” He started scooting the pancakes onto a plate. “And I’m sorry. I just needed time to figure out what to do.”

  She took a step forward. “And this was your answer? Blueberry pancakes?”

  He set the plate on the table. “Why don’t you eat them while they’re hot.”

  She ignored the offer. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? You’ve put my life and Nana’s life at risk. Senator McKenna’s lying in the hospital with a gunshot wound, and Sean Christiansen is dead.”

  “It’s more complicated than you’ve been led to believe.”

  “Really?” She bit back the heated response on the tip of her tongue. “Because it seems pretty simple to me.”

  “What do you think you know so far?”

  “Basically, that both the Chinese and the Russians recruited you as an asset, and you’ve been selling government secrets to them for years.”

  “Sounds like one version of the truth.”

  One version? Really?

  She struggled to stop herself from lashing back. Of course, she was about to hear his set of excuses. He’d always had them.

  He poured two glasses of orange juice and put them on the table while another batch of pancakes bubbled on the stove. As much as she didn’t want to play into his hand, she’d missed dinner last night and was hungry. And there was no telling when this was going to be over.

  She sat down at the table, poured the syrup, and took a bite. “Then tell me your version.”

  “When Peter Cheng first approached me, I didn’t even realize what he was doing. I admit, I was tempted by the money they offered me, but one day you’re doing a professional favor for someone, and then before you know it, they’re asking you to steal classified documents for cash.”