by G. K. Parks
“I don’t know.” Logan slowly blew out a breath, probably to steady his nerves.
“You said you wanted us to save her.” The brief pause in Mercer’s words was only perceptible to Bastian when he said, “And we will save her.” Logan didn’t look convinced, but the negotiator pushed on. “Do you know when their next communication will be?”
“Tomorrow morning at seven a.m.” Porter inhaled. “I…I don’t want you involved.”
“What exactly did they say?” Bastian asked.
“No authorities. They said if I give them what they want, then they’ll return Sarina, but I can’t get it. I told them that. They said if I wanted to see her again that I would find a way.” Porter turned around, scanning the room again. He paled slightly, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I shouldn’t even be seen with you.”
“We aren’t the authorities, Mr. Porter.” Mercer’s eyes traveled to the three men in business attire that were hovering near the exit. They stood out like sore thumbs. “Who are those blokes?”
Porter shook his head, edging as far away from Bastian as he could. As if the few extra inches of space would somehow indicate that they weren’t conversing. Since the question remained unanswered, Mercer stood. He had two options. He could introduce himself or pretend he hadn’t noticed their unrelenting gaze. Frankly, Julian was sick and tired of playing dumb and succumbing to the pushy bastards from Trila. Striding across the room, he bumped into one of the suited men.
The suit glared and gave Mercer a shove. “Watch yourself,” the guy snarled.
Mercer snorted, smiling wickedly. “My apologies. My friend thought he recognized you. He was afraid that you were following him. I hope he’s mistaken.”
“What’s it to you?”
“You see, I’m working on behalf of the family,” Mercer began, unsure if this could be one of the kidnappers or someone from Trila, “and it’s important that simple fact is understood. I don’t like people getting in my way. And right now, you sir, are in my way.”
The man stepped to the side, away from the door. “I’d encourage you not to get in my way either.”
Without taking his eyes off the group in front of him, Mercer gestured for Bastian and Porter to join him. A moment later, Bastian appeared behind Mercer with his arm slung around Porter’s shoulders. It was the only way to get their client to comply. Mercer brushed past the suits and held the door for his two companions as they left the pub. It was dusk, but the area was adequately lit so Mercer was able to evaluate their surroundings.
“Let’s continue this conversation at your place,” Mercer said, forcing Porter toward his waiting town car. “I don’t think you should be alone in your current state.”
“What did you do?” Porter hissed, but Mercer shrugged it off, sending a quick text to Donovan.
Back-up would be nearby, but it seemed unlikely the kidnappers would make a move against Porter tonight. Unfortunately, with this many unknown players on the scene, Mercer couldn’t risk compromising another secure location. They’d simply play along and utilize Porter’s driver and his estate for their meeting.
“I’m handling the situation the best way I know how,” Mercer replied, wondering if the driver harbored any ill will toward him.
“You’re going to get her killed. They won’t understand. They’ll think this is a trick, or I’m not doing as they said.” Porter paled. “Oh god, they’ll realize that I can’t give them what they want.”
“Sit down,” Bastian insisted, opening the back door on Porter’s waiting town car, “and shut up. This isn’t polite conversation for mixed company.”
Somehow, they managed to keep Porter quiet and his emotions in check for the remainder of the ride. A chauffeured car wasn’t secure, but it ensured anonymity for Donovan and hopefully Hans too. The less information that was disseminated about Mercer’s team would give them a leg up against the kidnappers.
Once they were locked inside Porter’s meticulous estate, Bastian did a quick visual sweep of the normal places for bugs. Even though none were discovered, Mercer turned on the stereo and forced Porter to keep his voice low. He didn’t trust that the home security system wasn’t being used to spy on its owner.
“Tell us everything and start at the beginning. If you don’t believe it’s safe to talk here, we will arrange for a secure location, but time is of the essence.” Mercer gave him a hard stare. “It’s your choice.”
“We should be safe here.” Logan snorted. “Well, at least I thought that before Sarina was taken.” For the first time, he dropped the act, giving up the appearance of being in charge. “I don’t know how they knew, but they did. And they took Sarina, and there’s nothing I can do.”
“Knew what?”
“The protocols. I was in charge of overseeing the security protocols on the new computer systems. There’s a backdoor. Obviously, that’s pretty fundamental with software. Some way for the administrator to check functions and perform tasks without disrupting the user interface.”
“What does this have to do with Sarina?”
“Everything.” Logan blinked a few times. “They want access to the systems and the override codes. That’s what they want in exchange for Sarina.”
“Okay, that’s a start.”
“No, that’s the end,” Logan replied emphatically. “I can’t give them the codes. First of all, I don’t have them. I don’t know them. I checked the software and monitored our progress. I’m not a programmer. I don’t write code. I can barely read it.”
“Maybe Bastian could assist.”
Logan shook his head. “No. You don’t get it.” He began pacing in a tiny circle. “The first thing I did was go to upper management. I told the head honchos at Trila what happened. Of course, they were sympathetic. They hired you. They said this is a kidnapping, so there will be a ransom and I needed a specialist to deal with the negotiation. The company has insurance for this sort of thing. It was a clause in my employment contract. God knows I never expected to need it. I don’t even know that I remember reading it. It’s in there I guess, but how insane is it that they make insurance for this type of situation?”
“Mr. Porter,” Mercer cut in hoping to get the conversation back on track, “I’ve done this before. Most of the time, both sides agree on a price, especially when insurance is involved.”
Logan laughed, a deep bitter sound. “They made it very clear they have no interest in money. Trila knows it, but they refuse to help get Sarina back.”
“Because they won’t let you walk off with their intellectual property,” Mercer surmised. Corporate espionage was a lucrative business, and if these systems were as grand as Porter made them sound, it made sense why this was the ransom demand. Trade secrets could sell for millions. “You can’t blame them for that, but that’s why Trila’s security has been up your arse. You’re a risk.”
“I’m not going to steal it. I wouldn’t even know how,” Logan bellowed.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re in a jam, and you’re desperate. Desperate men are known to do just about anything.” Mercer had been there, and he had watched it happen. It was possible that his team possessed the capabilities to gain the information that the kidnappers wanted, but that was a line he wanted to avoid crossing if possible. “What else have the kidnappers said? Have they provided a proof of life?”
“The only footage of Sarina is on that USB. They won’t let me speak to her. I just…” The words caught in his throat, and he looked away. “I believe they will kill her. I told them it would take time to get what they wanted. They expect answers in the morning.”
“Then we’ll have to make sure they are asking questions that we are able to answer.”
Eleven
By seven a.m., Mercer’s skull was pounding. He and his team had spent the night playing catch-up. The first two days had been a total waste. Little had been accomplished, aside from preliminary background information and investigation. Neither of which would lead to bringing Sarina Porter home
alive. Now, the team had some idea of motive, and they needed to determine who had access and opportunity.
Bastian had borrowed a car and made various trips to one of their equipment lockers that they had established upon arrival in order to properly wire the Porter estate. Every incoming message, whether it was phone, internet, or personal delivery, would be monitored and recorded. He split the Porters’ security system feed, filtering one set into a computer with an expanded hard drive to save any new information that was recorded. Another computer was analyzing the system for glitches, updates, and any changes that might have been made in the last month. And while this was going on, Logan had provided Sarina’s tablet for their review. Even though this information had already been analyzed, Bastian was skimming through it again for signs of hackers.
Whoever took Sarina had to be intimately involved with the family, and while Bastian worked the tech angle, Mercer reviewed the employee list with Logan. Painstaking hour after painstaking hour, each employee was rigorously assessed. The slightest tiff or inappropriate comment meant deeper scrutiny. Hell, even those that appeared perfectly professional came off a bit too clean and needed further evaluation. But with the clock ticking, the possibility of pinpointing the party responsible was unlikely.
“Are you aware a knife is missing?” Mercer asked.
It was five a.m., and he leaned back in the chair to rub his eyes. The racket from the stereo would have driven most men crazy, but he and Bastian were used to it by now. Logan was another story; he had been changing the music selection every hour or so, tired of hearing the droning lyrics over and over again.
“Yeah, I thought it might have dropped down the drain, but I haven’t bothered to check.”
For someone so persnickety, that was an odd comment, and Mercer narrowed his eyes. “Rubbish,” he spat.
“What?”
“That is utter bullshit.”
Logan didn’t deny it. He simply shrugged. “It’s a steak knife. There’s nothing special about it, and I have something more important to occupy my thoughts.”
“When did it disappear?”
“I don’t know.” Logan held Mercer’s gaze. “Honestly, I don’t remember. Why does it matter? Are you planning to buy me a new set?” The hours had made him combative and sarcastic.
“No. It matters because everything about Sarina’s abduction is professional. However, if the knife was used, that would indicate it was a weapon of convenience and something unplanned occurred.”
“Maybe she grabbed it to defend herself,” Logan suggested.
“Perhaps,” Mercer agreed, but questions swam through his head. “Your security footage from that day leaves everything to the imagination.” He stood and stretched his legs. In one corner of the room was a surveillance camera. “Did your wife object to such a blatant disregard for privacy?”
“How did you know?”
“Trila owns your home. That’s a matter of public record.” Mercer glanced at Bastian who hadn’t moved from behind the computer screens. Bastian’s lips were tinged blue from chewing too vigorously on the end of an ink pen. “According to my associate, the information from your security system is stored on-site, and your personal employees are provided by Trila. That includes the two guards at the front gate.”
“I wouldn’t call them guards. They just monitor the system and open the gate. The cameras and sensors are here to prevent break-ins. Despite the lovely accommodations and classy perks afforded by my job, this isn’t a part of the world that boasts much wealth. Trila installed the system and the two sentries as a theft deterrent, and Sarina hated it. She thought they were spying on us.” Logan swallowed, reconsidering what he had just said. “After these last few days, I think she was right.”
“At least they splurged on the kidnapping insurance, mate,” Bastian said, joining them. “The good news is the footage can only be accessed via your network. The bad news is getting onto your network isn’t too difficult. However, it would require a physical proximity to your home. One hundred meters, give or take.” He shrugged, focusing on Mercer. “Someone particularly crafty might have used a drone to hover overhead and remotely access it, but the range on those isn’t particularly great unless we are dealing with military tech.”
“If they had that type of access, wouldn’t they be able to gain access to Trila’s protocols without using the middleman?” Mercer asked.
Bastian considered the point and returned to his position behind the computer. Mercer rubbed his eyes again. All-nighters weren’t that uncommon. However, being unprepared for his first interaction with the kidnapper was. Going in blind had never been beneficial to the former SAS, and something told him that today wouldn’t be any different.
“You should get some sleep while you can,” Mercer said.
Logan looked bewildered. “How can I possibly sleep? I’m not sure I’ve really slept since Sarina’s disappearance.”
Bastian made an amused grunt but didn’t speak. Mercer knew what his friend was thinking. Porter hadn’t faltered from his routine since her abduction, and despite the fact that he appeared distraught, that didn’t mean he really was. It irked Mercer that it had taken nearly three days to get a straight answer out of their client, forcing them to stumble into the situation practically blind.
“Give it a try,” Mercer hissed. “I’m sure you’ll manage.” Frankly, he wanted some time alone to think and prepare. The late hour and the previous day had drained his limited patience even further. “I will wake you in time for the call in case you are needed.”
Grumbling, Logan went up the steps to the bedroom. Once he was gone, Mercer turned off the stereo, no longer needing the blaring sound to mask their voices. He was tired of the music. Frankly, he was just tired. He took a seat at the kitchen table and field stripped his Sig Sauer, cleaned the parts using one of Porter’s fine linens, and reassembled the firearm. Once it was holstered, he took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
“You should call it quits for the night, too,” he said to Bastian. “We’re less than an hour away. Turn that off for now. I want you sharp.”
“How sharp can I possibly be?” Bastian retorted, but he pushed away from the table. “You do realize this wouldn’t be a problem if I still smoked.”
“Do what you want, but those bloody things will kill you.”
“And this job won’t?” Bastian cocked an eyebrow and went to the fridge. “It’s a disgusting habit anyway.” He opened a Tupperware container and gave it a sniff. “And so is whatever’s in here.” He shut the door and began searching the cabinets. “What do these people eat?”
“The shit that Trila feeds them,” Mercer replied. His words earned a warning glance, but he already knew that the tech company had probably bugged the entire house and was eavesdropping on their conversation using the home security system as a guise. “They provide everything, don’t they? I mean they hired us. They gave Porter an insurance clause in his contract. This house, the car, everything is because of them. Maybe they do the grocery shopping too.”
“Jules, stop being ridiculous.” Bastian settled on a spotted, overripe banana from the fruit bowl on the counter. “They aren’t evil incarnate. If they were, they’d pay better.”
“I don’t like being jerked around. Getting set up by those pompous security wankers and arrested was just their way of asserting dominance, and they need to know that we do not fall into their chain of command. We are not their subordinates. We do not owe them anything. We are private contractors, hired to perform an asset retrieval. They do not dictate the terms. Is that clear?”
Bastian finished the banana. “Right-o, but that point has always been very clear to me. Now it should be bloody clear to absolutely everyone.” He focused on the camera in the corner of the room. “But for the record, Trila isn’t our enemy. No one is. We don’t have a horse in this race. We were hired to perform a service, and that is it.”
“Always the diplomatic one,” Mercer muttered under his breath. Hi
s diatribe had been a dig at the eye in the sky that he wasn’t under their jurisdiction and he would do as he pleased. But as usual, Bastian was working to keep the peace. After all, someone had to foot the bill for their toys and gear.
Twelve
Seven a.m. came and went. The phone didn’t ring. The post wasn’t delivered. Nothing happened. Logan Porter stared bleary-eyed out the kitchen window. His cup of coffee remained half full, but his optimism was another story.
“Why haven’t they made contact?” he asked.
“Are you sure they didn’t?” Mercer countered, but the same question was the only thing on his mind.
There were three possibilities. The kidnappers realized Porter wouldn’t deliver on the ransom, so they cut their losses and moved on in which case Sarina’s body would eventually be discovered or she’d return home unharmed. Second, someone prevented the communication. The police and Trila’s security goons were at the top of Mercer’s list of unwanted meddlers. If they interfered, there was no telling whether or not future negotiations could ever salvage the situation and lead to a positive recovery.
“Did they say they would speak to you here?” Bastian asked.
The third possibility was the kidnappers planned to communicate with Porter at Trila International. Maybe the unannounced arrival of their team inside the home had spooked the kidnappers. It was a nice thought to hold on to.
“They didn’t say,” Logan replied. “I just assumed.”
“Don’t.” Mercer examined the security feed on the laptop, watching it scan the exterior and interior. “Why seven a.m.? They know your routine. The car service should be arriving momentarily. It leaves a small window.” The realization crashed through his thoughts. “You canceled the bloody car.”
“Of course.” Logan looked indignant. “It’s not like I could go to work when I have to talk to them.”
“You bleeding moron.” Mercer left the room, knowing it wasn’t wise to berate. He needed sleep. He was getting agitated which wouldn’t help anyone, particularly Logan if he ended up with his head through the wall. After a few moments, Mercer returned to the kitchen. “Go to work. If you hear from them, contact me immediately.”
