by Ron McGee
Danny glanced at Candace, the woman driving. Her eyes darted from side to side, checking for signs of trouble. Candace was Mr. Quinn’s friend from the ERC. She was Ethiopian and no taller than Danny, but she seemed tough and experienced. She’d been very cautious when she picked him up from Jaz’s apartment. They snuck out the back just in case the building was being watched. Security was getting tighter all over the city as the police searched for Anbo and Delilah. Candace had the car radio tuned to a news station, but Danny couldn’t understand a word of what they were reporting.
He hated to leave without knowing if Ryan was okay. But Mr. Quinn needed his sole focus to be on helping his son. He couldn’t afford to be worrying about Danny, too. This time, Danny knew he had to do as he was told, whether he liked it or not.
Fortunately, he’d been able to help Kasey before Candace showed up. Kasey’s idea had been pretty brilliant. She’d asked Danny to go back into Madame Buku’s computer network and see if he could access her banking records. They knew that Madame Buku had paid Braxton Crisp for Lawrence and Nadia’s new identities. If they could learn the account number where she sent the payment, they might gain some leverage over Crisp.
It hadn’t taken long to find it. Two weeks ago, Madame Buku paid two million dollars to an account at a bank in the Cayman Islands. The Caymans were where people put money they wanted to keep secret. There was no name to identify the owner of the account, just a number. But Danny was sure it was Crisp’s.
Two million dollars! This scumbag was making a fortune selling people out. He sent the name of the bank and the account number to Kasey just before Candace arrived to pick him up. Hopefully, Kasey and Mrs. Quinn could somehow use it to help stop Crisp.
“Danny, get down.”
Candace’s tone was sharp. Danny did exactly what she said. He slid down in the passenger seat so his head was below the dashboard.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s a road block.” Candace kept her eyes forward the whole time she talked to him, not looking down. “They’re checking every vehicle.”
“You don’t think my fake passport will fool them?”
“It should, John’s work is always excellent. But it looks like the police have photos. They’re checking every passenger. Is there a chance that any surveillance cameras might have seen you?”
Danny thought about Madame Buku’s compound. Even though he never saw her face-to-face, she had security cameras around. Which meant she could have his picture.
“Probably,” he admitted.
“Then we can’t risk it.” Candace inched the car forward. Flashing blue lights now lit the interior. “I need you to open your door and slip out. There was a corner market two blocks back. If I’m not there in thirty minutes, you need to find your way back to the apartment. Can you do that?”
“Yeah. I can use the map on my phone.” Danny had used Mr. Quinn’s charger, so his phone was now at full power.
“Go quickly. Before they move this way.”
Keeping his head low, Danny opened the passenger door. He crawled out, squeezing through so he didn’t have to open the door very wide. He was in the middle of the street. Three vehicles ahead, he saw a police officer holding up a photo and inspecting the occupants of a truck. Danny scrambled to the back of the car and hid behind the trunk so he wasn’t visible.
When the cars moved forward again, he zipped across traffic to the sidewalk and moved off in the opposite direction. He forced himself to stroll casually so he didn’t attract attention. In less than five minutes, he was at the corner market.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Thirty. And still no sign of Candace.
But Danny didn’t freak out.
He checked the map on his phone and figured out how to get back to Jaz’s apartment. Sure, he was alone in a strange city in a foreign land. He didn’t speak the language. And the cops were probably passing his photo around. But he felt strangely calm. He could do this.
The streets of Houdali were twisty and confusing. He got lost twice, but managed to figure out where he went wrong and head in the right direction. Staying in crowds seemed like the best way to go unnoticed, so Danny kept his eyes lowered and blended in as much as possible.
Candace had been right—cops were everywhere. Any time he saw one up ahead, he turned and took a different path. It took a while, but eventually he made it back to Jaz’s street.
Danny was feeling pretty proud of himself as he turned the corner onto her block. But his good mood evaporated when he saw two squad cars with flashing lights parked in front of the apartment building. A group of people had gathered, their attention on the front door.
The door burst open, and a brutish cop came out. He pushed the onlookers out of the way. Using harsh language, he yelled at them to back off. Two more officers came out, escorting a prisoner.
Danny froze as he recognized Jaz. The young woman who had risked so much for her friends was defiant, struggling against them and forcing the officers to drag her away. They stuffed her into the back of a squad car as Danny waited anxiously.
Was Nadia coming out next? Did they get her, too?
But no one else emerged. The cops jumped in their vehicles and sped away with a screech of tires. Within seconds, the small crowd dispersed, upset and whispering among themselves.
Danny ran down the street and into the building. He took the stairs two at a time. The door to the apartment was standing wide-open. He rushed in, alarmed to see the place in disarray, furniture toppled over and things broken on the floor.
“Nadia?”
There was no one in the living and kitchen areas. The bedroom and the bathroom were both empty, too. The cops had searched the entire apartment. So what had happened to Nadia?
Danny heard the crunch of someone stepping on broken glass out in the living room. He picked up a wooden tribal statue that had been knocked to the ground, holding it like a club. Stepping softly, he made his way out of the bedroom and down the hall. He breathed a sigh of relief, though, when he saw Nadia.
“There you are!” Danny said.
Nadia gasped, spinning around in shock, which quickly turned to confusion. “Danny? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on a plane.”
“They’re locking the city down. The police are looking everywhere for you.”
“They must be checking all of our old friends’ places. We were lucky Jaz saw them arriving. She sent me to hide on the roof until they left.” Nadia took in the trashed apartment, fearing the worst. “Where is she?”
“The cops took her. They didn’t hurt her, though. Not that I could see.”
Nadia’s whole body sagged. “They will.”
Danny had read and seen videos about people getting taken away by corrupt police in far-off countries. But he’d never known anyone personally who it happened to. Jaz had opened their home to them. Risked everything to keep their group safe. And now she’d been dragged off in the middle of the night. What would they do to her?
All of a sudden, those stories about people risking their lives for freedom in distant lands felt way too real.
CHAPTER
38
NEW YORK,
USA
Kasey had called Jacqueline twice since Danny sent the banking information on Braxton Crisp, but got no answer. She didn’t want to risk saying too much in a voice mail, so she’d just asked Jacqueline to call back as soon as possible.
It was midafternoon in New York, the skies overcast again. Christmas was almost here, but Kasey wasn’t feeling the holiday spirit. Not when there was so much to worry about. In a couple of hours, her two oldest brothers would be arriving home from college, and the whole family was going out for dinner. But for now, Kasey was on her own.
She decided to swing by the Quinns’ brownstone to make sure Jacqueline wasn’t there. From the front, the place seemed empty. She knocked and waited, but no one answered. Kasey was about to leave when she noticed a blur of movement across the basement windows
that looked down into the study. Was someone in there?
A metal rail at ground level kept Kasey from getting near enough to the windows to look inside. She leaned as close as she could and thought she heard voices—when a hand grabbed the back of her neck!
“Looking for something?” a man’s deep voice growled.
Kasey turned, but the man held her in a firm grip. He was big, taller than Drew, with high cheekbones and long, black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She thought he looked Native American. His dark brown eyes glared down at her.
“I’m a friend of the people who live here,” Kasey stammered. “I wasn’t, like, trying to break in or anything.”
The man studied her a moment more, then released her. He blocked the stairs up to the front door. “You should go.”
“It’s actually kind of important—”
“You should go now.” The guy was built like a stone wall and wasn’t budging.
Kasey realized he was keeping an eye on the brownstone—that’s why he’d spotted her. He must be working with Jacqueline, which meant he was probably involved in the ERC. How could she make sure without giving anything away, though? Kasey suddenly had an idea.
“I have to talk to Jacqueline right away,” she said. “I’m a friend of Varian Fry.” Varian Fry was the journalist who had founded the original Emergency Rescue Committee, way back in World War II. Not many people would recognize his name.
But the large man in front of her definitely did. His brow furrowed as he studied her. “Jacqueline’s busy.”
“She needs to hear this.” Kasey leaned in close, whispering. “It’s about the leak.”
That finally seemed to convince him. He stared at her a beat longer, then nodded toward the front door. “Downstairs.”
Kasey hurried up the stairs and opened the door. She looked back to say thanks, but he was already moving away, positioning himself to keep watch on the brownstone. Kasey stepped in, closing the door quietly behind her.
Heated voices came from the study. Descending the staircase, she could make out Jacqueline’s French accent.
“You betrayed us all. People have died because of you.”
“Crisp had recordings. I heard Quinn admit that he abandoned my father!” Making it to the bottom, Kasey could see into the study. Jacqueline stood in front of Tasha, who was duct-taped to a chair but still defiant. “Quinn left him to die.”
“No, he didn’t. John went back for Isaac—even after I begged him not to. It was a suicide mission, but John wouldn’t listen.”
“You’re lying,” Tasha said, but she sounded uncertain. The two women were so focused on each other that they didn’t notice Kasey just outside the door.
Jacqueline grabbed Tasha’s chin, forcing the younger woman to look up at her. “Did you know that Braxton Crisp was a spy for twenty years before he went into business for himself? He’s spent his whole career manipulating and controlling people. I don’t know what this recording was that he played for you, but I can guarantee you it had been doctored. It certainly didn’t tell the whole story.”
Jacqueline was fierce. She let go of Tasha, then continued. “John and Isaac went into Iran to get that family out. What John told you was true, up to a point. Your father stayed behind to buy time. It was his choice. His priority was helping the family escape.”
Kasey saw a change in Tasha’s attitude. Jacqueline’s words were getting through. Tasha knew she was telling her the truth.
“Isaac was wounded, but managed to hold off the members of the Republican Guard who were following them. John got the family to a boat on the Caspian Sea. That’s when he called me. He told me he was going back to get Isaac.”
“So why didn’t he?”
Jacqueline’s tone shifted, becoming gentler. “He did. But when John got back, he discovered the Republican Guard had captured Isaac. They tried to make him talk, but he refused. They had … hurt him. And then they killed him. If you don’t think John still blames himself for not getting there earlier and saving Isaac, you don’t know my husband at all. John didn’t tell you the whole truth because he didn’t want you to think of your father suffering. He hoped to spare you that, at least.”
Tasha hung her head. Kasey thought she saw a tear roll down her cheek. “He tricked me. Crisp totally played me.”
“The information you gave to him,” Jacqueline said, back to business, “how did you know all the new identities? You weren’t even involved in most of those rescues.”
“Quinn gave them to us,” Tasha admitted reluctantly.
“John?” Jacqueline was confused. “What are you talking about?”
“When we left Andakar, I brought Quinn to Crisp. He drugged him. Quinn gave us almost every person the ERC has rescued for years. And he doesn’t remember any of it.”
“Oh my god.” Jacqueline stepped back, shocked.
“But maybe we can get them back. I know where Crisp keeps the list.” Kasey thought Tasha sounded desperate. “He wrote all the names and the new identities in a leather journal. He keeps it locked up in a safe in his shop. We could get it back.”
Jacqueline was still reeling. “He must have copies.”
“I don’t think so. Crisp is old-school—he doesn’t keep any digital files. He’s too worried about being hacked. He’s afraid of someone getting their hands on the names and selling them for themselves. He guards that journal like it’s Fort Knox.” Tasha leaned forward, unable to move much because of the restraints. “Please, let me try. I can make this right.”
“You can never make this right,” Jacqueline snapped. “Besides, how would we even get to it?”
“I may have a way.” Kasey stepped into the room as both women turned in surprise. “Crisp loves money more than anything. So why don’t we hit him where it hurts?”
CHAPTER
39
MOUNT SATORI,
LOVANDA, AFRICA
They had been trekking down the mountain for almost two hours. Ryan was already fatigued from the day’s work in the mine even before they escaped, but he forced himself to ignore the exhaustion and keep moving forward. Lit only by the stars, the path they followed was steep and treacherous. But Dad had successfully led them safely away from the guards’ pursuit.
This lower section of Mount Satori was dense forest. A chorus of buzzing insects and exotic birdcalls surrounded them. From the shadows, predators tracked their progress, calculating whether the trio might make a tasty dinner. The only animal brave enough to consider it was a leopard they’d crossed paths with earlier. But Dad’s vicious growl and the beam of a flashlight in the big cat’s eyes had sent it scampering off.
“We’ll stop here.” Dad motioned to an outcropping where two boulders were wedged together forming a crude cave. He took off his backpack, dropping it to the ground. “We’ve got blankets, food, and water in the pack. You two set up here, I’m gonna do a quick recon.”
It was strange seeing his father like this. Ryan had done plenty of camping trips with Dad, but he was completely different now. More like a soldier, constantly vigilant and alert for trouble. This was the side of him that was the ERC operative, a side Ryan had never seen in action before.
“We’re staying here?” Ryan asked.
“Until first light. Lawrence and I hid a car at the base of the mountain, less than an hour away. It’ll be safer to travel in the morning when there’s traffic on the roads. We’ll drive back into Houdali, get Nadia, and get the hell out of Lovanda.”
“You should take your son to safety first,” Lawrence said. “Delilah and I will only make it more dangerous for you.”
Dad glanced at Ryan, then back to Lawrence. “We’re all getting out. I’ll be back shortly.”
A moment later, he disappeared into the shadows. Ryan and Lawrence ducked into the cave and opened the pack, both of them hungry and thirsty. As he leaned back against the rock, Ryan’s feet tingled with relief. He felt like he could sleep for hours.
He looked at Lawrence, re
alizing something. “You called her Delilah just then. The only time I’ve heard you do that was when we first watched the video of her singing.”
Lawrence sat back now, too. “Since we left, she has been Nadia. It was safer to think of her that way—to forget about Anbo and Delilah.”
“Must be a lot harder to do now that you’re home.”
“To be honest, it was never easy. I tried to hide. To be someone else. I thought I could leave all this behind. But being back here, seeing the suffering—this is where we were always needed.” Lawrence took a long drink of water. “Delilah was always more of a fighter than I was. I remember telling her that our voices were our weapons, our way to fight back. She never forgot that. But I did.”
Ryan understood what he meant. “The reaction those guys at the mine had as they watched you was amazing. You’re a hero to them, even after all this time.”
“I guess the music lived on, even if Anbo and Delilah didn’t.”
Ryan leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a moment. He was so tired. He felt like it had only been a few seconds when a loud shriek woke him.
Ryan bolted up, surprised to discover the sun was shining. It was morning—he must have slept several hours.
“It was just a bird,” Dad said, looking down at him. “An egret, I think.”
Ryan sat up, rubbing his eyes. Lawrence was nestled in the corner, still asleep on the hard ground. Ryan looked at his father, sitting at the mouth of their little cave.
“Did you sleep at all?” he asked.
“There’ll be time when we’re on our way home.” Dad was nonchalant, but Ryan could see the dark circles under his eyes. “I put some cream on your hands. They were pretty scraped up.”
Ryan looked at the scratches and cuts from working in the mine. The white residue from the lotion was still visible. He realized they didn’t sting like they had last night and felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of gratitude that his father was here.
“Thanks.” Ryan scooted closer, so their talking wouldn’t wake Lawrence. “Danny must be almost home now.”
