by Ron McGee
“It looks like there are rooms upstairs,” Ryan whispered. “I bet that’s where they’re keeping Lawrence and Nadia.”
Danny saw the staircase on the side of the building that led to the second floor. At the top, another of Laughlin’s men guarded the door that led inside.
“So what do we do?” Danny really hoped the next words to come out of Ryan’s mouth wouldn’t be “break them out.”
“Get out of here and get a message to my parents. Hope they can organize some kind of rescue.” Danny breathed a sigh of relief as Ryan watched the men. “Those guys are pros. They’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
Danny pulled out his phone. He had less than a third of his battery left, but there was a strong signal here. When he tried to access the internet, though, he was disappointed.
“This system’s password-protected, too.” Danny looked back at the main residence. Two of the Sekhmet satellite dishes were visible on top of the chateau’s roof. “If I could get to one of their computers, I could hack in.”
“Reilly, you copy?” Laughlin’s voice crackled from a radio sitting on the hood of an SUV.
One of the men grabbed it. “Go for Reilly.”
“Change of plans,” Laughlin said. “We move the prisoners to the city tonight. Make sure everyone’s ready.”
“Copy that.” The man named Reilly yelled to the others, “Don’t bother unpacking. We’re taking them to the jail in Houdali.”
The other men groaned, then moved off. Reilly followed.
Danny could see Ryan deliberating. His friend glanced up at the windows of the rooms over the garage. Danny knew what he was thinking: Time was running out for Lawrence and Nadia.
“Ryan, get me in the house,” Danny said. “We’ll find a computer. It’s the only way we’ll get a message to the ERC soon enough for them to help.”
Ryan finally nodded. “Okay. But I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Not exactly the encouragement Danny hoped for.
CHAPTER
24
NEW YORK,
USA
As they drove through the streets of Manhattan, Kasey received a crash course in surveillance techniques from Jacqueline. Her head was swimming with all the new information.
“It’s not about being a master of disguise,” Jacqueline instructed. “Shadowing is about blending in. Do it right, and she’ll never know you’re there.”
“Okay.”
“You always want to keep several people between you and your target. Pick out something they’re wearing that’s easily identifiable—a bright scarf or distinctive hat. Their coat, maybe. Something you can keep in your peripheral vision without having to look directly at them.”
Kasey recognized this as one of the lessons Ryan’s parents had secretly taught him growing up. “It’s like ‘Follow-the-Monkey.’”
Jacqueline was surprised. “You know about that?”
“Ryan told me all about the games you played with him. I wish my dad had played those kind of games with me.”
“Be glad he didn’t,” Jacqueline said. “The problem with having certain skills is that you feel compelled to use them. Even when you probably shouldn’t. I imagine that’s why Ryan ended up in the mess he’s in now.”
Kasey heard the worry in her tone. “Mr. Quinn will find him. He’ll bring Ryan and Danny back.”
Jacqueline shifted in her seat, craning her neck to look ahead. “Tasha’s pulling over again.”
Jacqueline drove a nondescript sedan she’d rented, always staying a couple of car lengths behind Tasha. Using the GPS tracker, they had caught up to the BMW easily. So far, Tasha had driven uptown to a diner where she had parked and then gone inside. Jacqueline had left Kasey in the car, then inched up to the picture windows out front. After confirming that Tasha was eating alone and not meeting anyone, they’d waited in the car until she was on the move again.
Tasha drove to the other side of Central Park, parking her car and getting out once more. Jacqueline looked around but realized there was no place for her to park.
“You’ll have to follow her until I can find a space.” She stopped the car. “Stay in touch, and I’ll catch up shortly. We’ll trade off, just the way we discussed.”
Kasey took a deep breath, then opened the door. She didn’t head right for Tasha. Instead, she moved into a small group of people walking past, mingling among them. Safely concealed, she could observe Tasha from a distance.
Remembering Jacqueline’s advice, Kasey focused on the camel-brown color of Tasha’s distressed leather jacket. A black hoodie sticking out of the collar created a stark contrast that was easy to see in a crowd. Dialing Jacqueline, Kasey hurried to keep up as Tasha disappeared around the corner.
“She turned onto Columbus,” Kasey reported. “Heading north.”
“I’ll drive up a couple of blocks. Let me know if she changes course.”
As Kasey disconnected, Tasha suddenly stopped and started to turn around. Not wanting to be spotted, Kasey switched directions. Don’t look back, she cautioned herself. She crossed the street to the opposite side, then glanced back.
Tasha was gone.
How could she just disappear? Kasey hurried to the end of the block, scanning the sidewalks in every direction. But Tasha was nowhere to be seen. Kasey had screwed up. She’d lost the target.
Calm down. Think.
This block of Columbus Avenue was mostly brick apartment buildings with smaller markets and boutiques at the street level. Tasha could have popped into one of the stores. Or she might have gone up to an apartment.
Kasey studied the spot where she’d last seen Tasha. There were two little restaurants close by, one served sushi and another pizza. Tasha had just eaten, so probably not those. An antiques shop displayed a collection of swords and knives in its windows, while a corner market offered fruit and fresh flowers. There was also a single glass door between them, which looked like the entrance to the apartments upstairs.
Just in case Tasha had noticed her, Kasey put on the gray knit cap she’d brought and took off her coat. Voilà—instant change. Crossing back to the other side of the street, she checked out the market. Two older women talked to an Asian grocer, but otherwise it was empty.
She stopped at the apartment entrance and peered through the glass door. No one was in the lobby or on the stairs that led up to the apartments. Kasey moved on to the antiques store. As she reached for the handle, the door unexpectedly opened, and Tasha stormed out.
“Jerk,” she muttered, then headed back the way she’d come without even glancing at Kasey. Following from a distance, Kasey quickly dialed Jacqueline.
“I just found a space,” Jacqueline started, but Kasey cut her off.
“I think she’s going back to her car!”
Jacqueline cursed, surprising Kasey. “I’ll circle around.”
Kasey noticed that Tasha was now carrying a large envelope. It was stuffed pretty full, tucked under Tasha’s arm protectively. She definitely didn’t have it before she went into the shop. Which meant that Tasha had met with someone inside.
Acting on impulse, Kasey returned to the store and went in. As the door closed behind her, the commotion of the city was silenced, replaced by soft classical music. Rows of old-fashioned wooden display cabinets lined the walls. Down the middle of the store was a long table piled high with timeworn books and catalogs. An imposing antique desk anchored the far end, but no one sat there. The entire place was empty.
The cabinets were filled with weapons of every shape and sort: eighteenth-century dueling pistols, Civil War sabers, ornamental Japanese daggers, medieval axes and pikes. A dazzling gold belt buckle caught her eye. Kasey took a closer look. She was appalled to see that it was adorned with the winged eagle and swastika symbol of the Nazi Party. German Luger pistols from World War II were displayed alongside it.
“You have a keen eye.” Kasey turned as a man approached from the back. “Memorabilia from the Third Reich is getting
increasingly difficult to procure.”
He was completely bald and wore a polka-dotted bow tie and a tweed suit. The man scrutinized her like she was a bug under a microscope. He appeared harmless enough, but something about him made Kasey’s skin crawl. If he was the one who gave Tasha the envelope, she had to be careful.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Kasey said, pretending to have an interest in the buckle once more.
“Would you like to hold it? That treasure once belonged to a rather prominent Nazi captain.” He was obviously proud of it.
“I think I’ll pass. But thanks.”
“Then how can I help you?”
“I’m, um, Christmas shopping for my dad,” she improvised. Kasey had told her father she’d be Christmas shopping all day today, and sticking with the truth as much as possible seemed like the best bet. “He’s really into this old stuff.”
“Were you looking for anything in particular?” The man in the bow tie was losing patience. Kasey felt her phone vibrate in her coat pocket but ignored it. She needed to get this guy’s name before she left.
“Daddy just loves knights and chivalry and all that,” she said, trying to sound like a spoiled rich kid. “Mom wants to buy him an authentic suit of armor for Christmas.”
He was interested now. “You know, a suit of armor is expensive. Twenty thousand dollars or more.”
“Is that all?” Kasey hoped she was convincing. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like you have any.”
“They’re not particularly popular in Manhattan.” He took a small case from his jacket pocket and extracted a business card. “But I pride myself on being able to find whatever my clients desire.”
Kasey took the card. “Then I should totally have my mom give you a call.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Thanks—bye!” Kasey hurried out of the store, anxious to get away from the distasteful man. When she was outside, she read the business card:
BRAXTON CRISP
Acquisitions & Information
All Inquiries Strictly Confidential
Her cell vibrated again. She answered, already hustling down the street. “Sorry, I couldn’t pick up. But I think I may know who Tasha is working with.”
CHAPTER
25
LAKE TARU,
LOVANDA, AFRICA
It’s creepy in here.”
Ryan couldn’t agree more. Madame Buku’s home was like a museum. The whole place was crammed with antiques. Flowery paper covered the walls and crystal chandeliers hung from every ceiling. The eeriest part was how empty the place was. Cavernous rooms and long hallways with nobody in sight.
Since they’d climbed in through an open window, Ryan had seen only a few scattered staff workers. They were all dressed in the same white shirt and black pants as the valet, moving through the house as silently as ghosts. The chateau was vast, but it seemed like Madame Buku might be the only person actually living here.
So far, they had covered most of the first floor and found nothing. Ryan cautiously opened each door, checking for a computer or phone. Each room was painstakingly decorated in period furnishings. It was like stepping back in time to the 1700s. And in keeping with the theme, there were almost no signs of technology anywhere. For a woman who owned a high-tech company, Madame Buku was definitely stuck in the past.
“The faucets are made of gold!” Danny whispered, popping out of a bathroom.
“Nothing but the best for Madame Buku.”
“But I have a question: Flush or don’t flush?”
“You can’t. They’d hear it all over the house.”
“That’s what I figured. Kinda gross, though.”
Ryan froze, hearing footsteps approach from around the corner. “Quick—back inside.”
“Bad idea,” Danny whispered.
Ryan pushed him into the bathroom, then carefully closed the door. The smell hit him immediately. He looked at Danny, wrinkling his nose.
“I know, man.” Danny glanced at the toilet. “That’s why I asked.”
After the soft pads of rubber-soled shoes passed by in the hallway, they left the bathroom and resumed their search. The end of the hall opened into a high-ceilinged entryway. The front doors were colossal and gleamed with gold plating. Two gaudy marble staircases curved up on each side of the foyer, leading to the upper floor.
Through a set of open double doors on the opposite side of the vestibule, the boys could see bookshelves and leather club chairs.
“That looks like a library or something,” Danny suggested.
“Or an office.”
The entryway was wide-open with no place to hide. Crossing it would leave them exposed for several seconds. But the whole place was so freakishly quiet that Ryan decided it was worth the risk.
“I’ll go first. Wait here till I signal.” Ryan checked to make sure the coast was clear, then darted across the marble floor. He had to fight the urge to stop and stare at the sheer extravagance of it all: Grecian statues peered down from lofty perches and the ceilings looked like Michelangelo himself had painted them.
Ryan poked his head inside the library and saw it was empty. He gestured to Danny, who ran and joined him. Inside, they hit pay dirt.
“Finally!” An ornate desk was situated in front of a bank of monitors. Several played muted newscasts from around the world, but Danny’s attention was focused on a high-end computer system sitting atop the desk. As he plopped into the rolling chair, his fingers started flying over the keyboard.
Ryan closed the open doors. “Send the message to Kasey, but I’ll also give you email addresses for my mom and dad. We have to make sure somebody gets it.”
“Aren’t you afraid of alerting whoever’s leaking the ERC information?”
“We have to take the chance. If the ERC can’t rescue Lawrence and Nadia tonight, it’ll be too late.” Ryan spotted the phone on Madame Buku’s desk and grabbed it. “I’ll call Dad, too.”
“I’m telling them the execution is scheduled for tomorrow at Liberty Plaza in Houdali, right?”
“Right.” Ryan had just dialed the international access code for the United States when he heard voices. Somebody was right outside the doors and coming closer. Ryan slammed down the phone. “Behind the couch!”
Ryan and Danny barely made it to the long, flowery sofa, ducking behind it as the door opened.
“All I’m saying is why make the same mistake you made when they were arrested the first time?”
“Because public executions are an excellent deterrent.” This was a woman’s voice, smooth and refined, with an aristocratic British accent. Ryan and Danny exchanged a look—that must be Madame Buku! “There have been too many protests lately. It’s not good for business. The deaths of Anbo and Delilah will encourage obedience.”
“But dead is dead. If I take care of it tonight, there’s no chance anything goes wrong tomorrow.” Ryan couldn’t believe how offhand Laughlin sounded as he discussed killing two innocent people.
Madame Buku was having none of it, though. “Nothing will go wrong. I’ve paid more than enough to the government officials to ensure the executions go as planned.”
Laughlin sunk into the couch. He was less than a foot away from Ryan and Danny. “Speaking of payment …”
“I assume gold will be acceptable?”
Laughlin chuckled. “Gold’s my favorite color.”
Ryan was unexpectedly overwhelmed by the anger he felt. They were both so coldhearted and uncaring. Laughlin was a thug who did anything for money. Madame Buku was even worse, using her wealth and power to keep everyone else down.
“Gold, it is,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable. We’re going to be here for a little while.”
Fuming behind the sofa, Ryan heard the door open and shut as Madame Buku left the room. Without even thinking about what he was doing, he stood up behind Laughlin.
Rage fueled him as he punched Laughlin from behind, hitting him with a roundhouse blow t
o his right temple. Caught completely unaware, Laughlin’s body jerked sideways, then tumbled to the floor.
“Oh my god!” Danny jumped up and gaped at the unmoving mercenary. Wide-eyed, he turned to Ryan. “Did you kill him?”
“No,” Ryan said, moving around the couch. “Just knocked him out. With a punch my dad made me swear I’d never use. But it won’t last long—we have to hurry.”
Danny was dangerously close to losing it. “Please tell me you have a plan.”
“Sure,” Ryan said. “We grab Lawrence and Nadia and get out of here.”
“Not quite as specific as I was hoping.”
“Actually, I may have an idea.” Ryan unclipped the radio from Laughlin’s belt. Making his voice as deep as possible, he produced a barely passable imitation of Laughlin’s rough British accent and keyed the radio.
“Reilly, you still at the coach house?” he barked.
Danny’s head dipped. “We’re so dead.”
But the radio squawked back immediately: “Right where you left us.”
“Prisoners secure upstairs?”
“Yeah. Want us to load them up?”
“No, stay put.” Ryan hooked the radio to his jeans, then snatched Laughlin’s gun from the shoulder holster.
Danny stared at the gun. “What are you gonna do with that?”
“I don’t know. But I definitely don’t want him to have it.”
“Just for the record—I hate this plan.”
“I’m open to suggestions.” Ryan ran to the double doors and looked out. The entry hall was empty.
Danny sighed. “Let’s go get Lawrence and Nadia.”
Ryan raced out, Danny hot on his heels.
CHAPTER
26
LAKE TARU,
LOVANDA, AFRICA
Crouching behind a low wall, Ryan studied the coach house. One of Laughlin’s men remained at the top of the outdoor stairway, guarding the rooms where Ryan believed Lawrence and Nadia were being held. The other men talked and laughed inside the garage.
