The outer door to the suite of offices he was targeting was locked. It took less than ten seconds to extract his picks and open the lock. He repeated the process again and again until he reached the office he required. The security center would be receiving motion detection, door, and thermal alarms. He'd rerouted and spoofed the copper telephone lines from the exterior of the building to the local police and fire departments, so no alarms were going out of the building. That meant nobody was awake to hear them. Justin marveled at the fact a fiber optic, state of the art security system depended on the antiquated telephone system for redundancy. Hell, it made his job easier, but what a waste of money. The guy he was taking the ledgers from could stuff his stolen goods under a mattress for all the good the redundancy of his expensive system did for him.
He moved into the office and dropped the painting behind the desk, chuckling to himself. How stereotypical, but hey, not everyone had imagination. The safe he faced was a bitch to open on a good day. He popped the digital panel and rewired the power source to a battery. Then he cut the power while the panel believed it was still active. If the panel read a tamper it would send an additional five-inch bar into its resting place as a failsafe. The only way to open it then would be the key code. There was one, and only one, key code per safe. Justin worked quickly to trick the tumblers into thinking the pad entered the correct key. It took precision, practice, and patience. At the twenty-seven minute mark, he opened the last tumbler. A thrill skittered up his back. It always did when he defeated the system. He opened the door and... There was nothing in the safe. Not a damned thing. Justin stepped away from the vault and searched the room. Where would he hide documents that he didn't want anyone to obtain? Well, hell, since he didn't have much time, he started with the basics. The desk took three minutes to search, only because he had to get his picks out again. Next, the books that lined the wall were taken down one by one. He opened them to make sure there was nothing hiding between the covers. When he was done, he turned over both chairs before he grabbed the end table and tipped it over. Bingo.
Justin slipped his knife out of his pocket and cut the tape holding the small book to the bottom of the table. He opened it and thumbed through about twenty pages of numbers, names and dates before he stuffed it into his vest and headed to the rear of the building.
There were street cameras on both the exit and entrance of the alleyway, so he'd need to keep to the shadows and time his movements. The back door opened. He could hear the alarms wailing behind the closed door of the security room situated on the ground floor. He glanced at his watch. He had five minutes to clear the area before the gas would no longer be effective. He ghosted into the alley and found the shadows. He lifted his ski mask enough to take off the gas mask and drew a deep breath of fresh air before he lowered the mask again and moved to his right, down the alley. According to the documentation Guardian gave him, the camera at the end of the alley would only catch his back as he rounded the corner. He moved out and hid his face from the camera. A quick twist of the ski mask and he was wearing a skull cap. He kept his head down and rounded the next corner averting his face radically to avoid another street camera. He walked briskly up the three blocks where pedestrian traffic exploded around the bars and restaurants that lined the avenue. Justin walked into a bar he'd selected earlier and headed to the bathroom. He received several long looks but paid them no mind. The establishment didn't have cameras, and people wouldn't remember enough about him to identify him. He locked the bathroom door and stood on the toilet to remove the ceiling tile and pull down his change of clothes. Black slacks, a black button down, a heavy black button-up sweater, and Italian leather shoes mimicked the outfit he wore in, at least in bulk. His wallet with fake identification and passport plus the canvas envelope were tucked away. The little ledger was tucked inside his thick shirt, under the sweater. His gear was bagged and placed in the ceiling. One of Sierra Team's people would retrieve it after he left. Justin flushed the toilet for effect, washed his hands and left the restroom.
He ordered a drink while standing at the bar. A tall man, muscular with brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard took his place next to Justin and ordered a whiskey. Justin took a drink of his beer, because, fuck it, he was thirsty. "You caused one hell of a stink." The low rumble of his drinking partner’s voice was just barely loud enough for him to hear.
"There were complications." Justin took another long pull from his beer. He set the glass down and walked to the door. He knew the man, Wheeler, would follow him. Justin strolled casually through the people on the sidewalk.
Wheeler caught up with him about three minutes later. "Were you successful?"
Justin stopped walking and someone behind him bumped into him. "I'll pretend you didn't say that." Because really? "Was your team successful in retrieving my equipment?"
"Please." The man rolled his eyes and Justin raised his eyebrow. "Alright, I get it, we are all good at what we do. I need the package and Archangel wants a SitRep. They are monitoring the police radio, and like I said, all hell busted loose about a minute after you got to the club." Wheeler placed his hand over his ear, and that is when Justin noticed the earpiece. There was no way he'd ever work with someone in his head like that. "He says if you are alive, he's going to kill you." Wheeler glanced over at him and laughed. "I never want to hear those words come out of Archangel's mouth directed at me. The dude is massive. Have you ever seen him?"
"Once or twice." Justin hid the grin that wanted to erupt. "Take me to dinner, Mr. Wheeler, and I'll give you what you want."
"Ah, sweetheart, I'm sorry, but my heart was broken not too long ago. I'll settle for the package."
"And I need to get it out of my shirt, so unless you are willing to let the traffic cameras see me disrobe and pull out the book you require, you will take me to a restaurant and buy me dinner. You can get what you want from me, but I'm starving, and I'd prefer a sit-down restaurant rather than a police cell. Your choice."
"Not much of a choice. You’re a bossy motherfucker. Anybody ever tell you that?"
Justin laughed and followed Wheeler as he stomped down the sidewalk. "Not once."
The restaurant Wheeler chose was tucked back in between two larger clubs, down an alleyway and out of the main district, literally a hole in the wall. Justin sat down in the back booth with Wheeler and glanced around. "You must have been here before. There is no way you just stumbled upon it as we were walking"
Wheeler waited, nodding at the waiter. Justin glanced at the menu and ordered for both of them in perfect Castilian Spanish. When he was finished, and the server left, he glanced back at Wheeler and lifted an eyebrow.
"My second in command eats. A lot. He found this place a couple years ago. They have good food. Now, if you don't mind, I need to put my hands on that package. The voices in my head are mad and getting madder. My team has checked in, but I haven't. My boss's boss's boss is pissed and yelling in my ear. I'd do just about anything to make that stop." A sheepish grin spread across the man's face.
Justin understood. Jason could go on and on when he was spun up. He hadn't heard that happen since he was a teenager, but he didn't figure it had lessened over the years. The waiter reappeared with their drinks and silverware. Justin couldn't help but notice the water spots on the knife and the people at the door who'd been waiting for almost the entire time they'd been seated. He hoped the food was good because the front of the house was abysmal.
He saw their waiter head to the front of the establishment and used the time to slip his hand inside his shirt, retrieve the book and hand it to Wheeler. Justin watched as Wheeler tucked it inside his jacket. "I'm going to use the restroom, send a message, and come back." Wheeler excused himself as Justin scanned the front of the building. Several police cars careened past the front door, lights and sirens blazing. Nobody stirred or gave them any undue attention. Madrid was a big city, and emergency vehicles were commonplace, but they got Justin's blood pumping. He imagined law enforcement was
scurrying. He'd finish his dinner, walk the ten blocks to his rental vehicle and head back to France, to his true identity and a flight home. That thought put a smile on his face. He couldn't wait to hold Danielle in his arms.
Chapter 20
The third time his phone call went unanswered, Justin became concerned. The fourth, fifth, and sixth time scared the fuck out of him. In all the years he'd known Danielle, she'd always answered or called him back within minutes. Always. Justin glanced at his watch again. Four hours since he'd last called and still nothing. He palmed his phone and moved to the farthest corner of the gate at the airport. He'd be boarding soon. He couldn't endure a transatlantic flight not knowing what was wrong, and he knew in his gut something was wrong. He hit the switchboard number and stood facing the glass, watching the people behind him in the reflection.
"Good Evening, Mr. King. Please stand by while we locate your brother." The same voice, steady, calm, and reassuring. This morning the delay in being put through to Jason ground against his last nerve.
"What's wrong." Justin could hear the sleep in his brother's voice. He glanced at his watch again. Five in the morning here, shit that was midnight in the States.
"She isn't answering her phone. Something is wrong."
"Dude, who isn't answering?"
"Danielle. She always picks up or calls me right back, even before we became involved. It has been four hours since my last call and over eight hours since I called the first time. Something is wrong."
"Alright. Hold on. I'll need an address." Justin could hear Faith mumble in the background. "It's Justin, he's overseas and needs some help. Go back to sleep."
"I'm sorry for waking you up, but this shit is wrong. She's staying at my place, but she has her own apartment." Justin rattled off her address and drew a breath that didn't quite fill his lungs.
"I'll get on it right away. I got your back."
The announcement sounded overhead calling his flight. "I'm about to board."
"We'll have her, or answers, when you land. You're landing at JFK?"
Justin nodded, vaguely realizing he needed to speak. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Jason, I'm not overreacting."
"I didn't say you were. It isn't like you to sound the klaxon when there isn't an air raid. Let me get some people on this. I've got you." Jason disconnected the call. Justin picked up his carry on and headed toward the gate. He'd missed first class boarding and had to stand in the line for economy. He didn't care, his mind ran in circles. Something was wrong.
Justin called Max as he waited in line. "Sir?" The croak in the man's voice told him once again how late it was in New York.
"I need the emergency contact number for Danielle Grant. Immediately." Justin clutched the phone tightly.
"Of course. I need to boot up my computer. May I text it to you in a couple minutes?"
"Please hurry, Max." Justin couldn't keep the concern out of his voice.
"Is Ms. Grant alright, sir? She didn't show up for her meetings today. Her assistant called your office looking for her."
Shit! He knew it. Justin clamped his eyes closed and ground out, "I don't know."
"Right. I'm on it. Give me two minutes."
"Thank you."
"Sir, I know I haven't been the nicest person to Ms. Grant, but I'd never want anything to happen to someone you care so much about."
Justin swallowed back the emotion boiling inside him. "Thank you, Max. I understand, and I appreciate it." He hung up the phone, swiped the face and called up his boarding pass. He held the phone over the scanner and breezed through the gateway but ended up stalled in the middle of the passage. His phone vibrated in his hand. Paul Greenfield was Danielle's emergency contact, as he suspected. Jason pushed the number and put the phone to his ear. The phone rang through to a voice message. "Sir, this is Justin King. I'm worried about Danielle. She isn't answering her phone, and she didn't come into work yesterday. I'm in Paris about to board a flight home. If you have information concerning her whereabouts, would you please call my brother, Jason King. Tell the switchboard operator I asked you to call him." Jason rattled off the number and ended the call. The line stutter-stepped forward while he sent a text to Jason letting him know Danielle had failed to come into work and he’d asked Danielle's father to contact Jason. Once inside the plane, he took off his suit jacket and handed it to the stewardess. His phone vibrated, and he glanced at the face.
> Log onto airplane internet when airborne. Communicate through email dead drop. I'll leave word when we have information.
He stood again and grabbed his tablet. The elderly woman in the seat next to him smiled and pulled out a thick romance book. Thank God, she wouldn't want to talk. He sat down and waived off the mimosa the attendant tried to give him.
Granny next to him grabbed two, "Since the young man doesn't want his." She winked at him and downed one glass in a single effort.
Justin faced forward and closed his eyes. His mind thrashed against the confines of the aircraft. Every fiber in his being wanted, no needed, to be in New York. He felt useless and he raged at his inability to do anything. Where was Danielle? Why the hell wasn't she answering her cell?
Justin leaned forward and bowed his head. Praying had never been his thing, but when you are forced to acknowledge you don't have any control over a situation, a higher power needed to be called in. He breathed out his anger and slowly inhaled before he said his first prayer since the day his father died. Dear God, I don't deserve anything from you, but I believe Danielle does. She's...she's the other half of me and I...I don't know how to do it, but I'm asking you to watch over her. Whatever is happening, please be with her. Protect her...until I can get there.
He lifted his eyes and blinked to focus. The plane took off, and Justin leaned back into the seat. This was going to be the longest day of his life.
Three hours. Three damn hours and all he'd been able to do was to stare holes in the back of the seat in front of him. His head ached from the mental warfare raging in his mind. If something happened to her, he would hunt down whoever caused her harm and he would kill them. A visual picture of his brother, Joseph, flashed to his mind. His brother had tracked down and killed the bastard who had murdered their dad. At the time, Justin didn't understand how he could do it. He had no concept of how a switch could flip and allow his brother to feel that type of anger, especially when all Justin could feel was grief and remorse. In this minute, however, he understood. He knew exactly how Joseph must have felt.
Chapter 21
Justin glanced at his watch and then at his tablet. He'd driven himself insane refreshing the browser. Still nothing. They were on final approach, and Jason hadn't given him a thing. His brother wouldn't leave him hanging if she was alright, so there was something wrong. Of that he was certain.
"Sir, you need to power down the tablet in preparation for landing," the flight attendant casually commented on her way past.
He knew he needed to, but it seemed like he was severing an anchor rope. The freefall to the bottom of whatever was going on with Danielle could quite possibly end his life as he knew it. He jabbed the button and powered it down.
As soon as the wheels touched the tarmac, Justin powered up his phone. There were no missed calls or texts. His gut dropped. He made his way down the gateway and into the gate area before he dialed. He weaved through slower people and headed towards customs.
"Have you landed?"
"Yes, what the fuck is going on?" Justin ignored the irritated look a mom with two kids sent his way.
"Get through customs. Jared will meet you there. You're coming to D.C."
"Jason, tell me what is happening." Justin cut off a gaggle of school-age kids as he hooked right to get into line at customs.
"I can't go into it over the phone. For now, Danielle is alright. That's all I'll say over an unsecured line."
Justin murmured string of curse words, something he rarely did because he seldom felt this fucking useless. He presented his passport
and customs declaration forms to the guard when he reached the head of the line. And yes, he snapped his answers to all the mandatory customs questions. The guard lifted an eyebrow at him and regarded him quietly. Justin drew a deep breath and let it out slowly before he apologized, "I'm sorry, I've received some bad news, I didn't mean to take it out on you." The guard nodded and looked again at his information and well-worn passport. He slid the magnetic stripe through his scanner and waited for the screen to clear. In reality, the act only took a few moments, but the inordinate amount of stress Justin was under made the simple task feel like it took hours.
Once he was cleared, he bolted out of the customs area and damn near fell over his brother Jared.
"Come on. We are heading to the other side of the airport. Guardian has a jet ready to go."
"What the fuck is going on, Jared?"
"Nothing I can tell you now. Let's go." Jared grabbed his elbow.
Justin stopped and jerked it out of his hold. "No! Fuck that. I want to know what is going on, right now. I have a right to know what is happening." Justin had reached the end of his rope. It had stretched all the way across the fucking Atlantic Ocean, and he was damned if it would go one inch further.
Jared grabbed him in a hug and pulled his ear close to his mouth and hissed, "She's been kidnapped. Stop wasting time. We need to get to D.C. and work this situation. Now find your balls, man up, and get your ass in gear."
Justin pulled away from his brother and glared at him. "Don't ever doubt I have enough balls to man up. Lead the fucking way."
The trip to D.C. and the drive to Guardian Headquarters was accomplished in stilted silence. Jared wouldn't share any information other than to say Guardian was working it, and he couldn't disclose sensitive information to people who weren't cleared. Justin's pissed off meter pegged in the molten lava zone on that comment. He had the clearance, but he couldn't fucking let his brother know because of the nature of his work with Guardian. Talk about a fucked-up mess. The only thing that kept him sane through the plane ride to D.C. and the time it took to process into Guardian's headquarters was that Jason would know he was cleared for the information. Jason would tell him what was going on. He'd said she was alright...for now. Fuck. Who would want to kidnap Danielle? There was no reason...except...her father was an arms manufacturer. Granted a legitimate one, but...
Justin Page 14
