by John Sneeden
“As soon as I’m done checking the area I’m going straight to sleep.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ross,” Amanda said.
“Have a good night’s rest, Amanda,” Ross replied.
Carmen ended the call and tucked her phone and her Beretta inside her coat.
“Are you really going outside?” Amanda asked.
“You want to sleep soundly, don’t you?” Carmen asked. “I don’t like nighttime surprises.”
“It just seems a little crazy to go wandering around, knowing those men could be out there. Of course you’ve done a lot of things that seemed crazy, and yet we’re still here.”
Carmen twisted her hair into a ball on top of her head before putting on a dark gray toboggan. She then pulled the hat down so far that only a small portion of her face was exposed. “They spent all afternoon chasing a woman with long dark hair. Tonight I’ll just be one of a hundred hats that are wandering around out there.”
Amanda shook her head as Carmen paused at the door and said, “Make sure you set the latch when I leave. And no one, I mean no one, is to be let in, besides me.”
With that, Carmen left the room and boarded the elevator just down the hall. As the doors slid shut, her thoughts turned to Zane. To keep him alive, they needed to find him soon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE CALL CAME at precisely 9:07 the next morning. Carmen had just returned from a trip down to the Grande Place to purchase a few staples, and Amanda was blow-drying her hair in front of the mirror. Carmen felt the phone vibrate in her pocket as she walked toward the bed, and pulled it out to look at the screen. It was the Oracle.
She motioned for Amanda to turn off the blow dryer. “Petrosino,” she said into the phone.
“Good morning. How are the operative and her sidekick holding up?”
“Fine,” Carmen replied. “I’ve already been out twice. No sign of our friends, so I think we’re in the clear for now. Have you located Zane?”
“That’s why I’m calling. I have good news and bad news.”
“Let’s hear the good news. I think I’ve had enough bad news already.”
“The good news is we finally got the system up and running, and Zane’s secondary tracking device was still sending a signal.”
“Where is he?”
“Strangely, the signal was only a couple of miles from you.”
Carmen set her bags on the bed and then, as was her new custom, walked over to the window and stared out at the square below. “Where exactly? I can leave immediately.”
“You haven’t gotten the bad news yet.”
“Go ahead.”
“There are actually two pieces of bad news… or challenges, as I prefer to say. The first is the location. We believe we may have gotten a misread. Second, we only received pings for about an hour, then they just disappeared altogether. Nothing. Not even a faint ping that would indicate some kind of blockage.”
“And the system was still up?”
Carmen could hear Brett talking in the background. “Just a moment,” said the Oracle, and the sound grew muffled as though he were placing his hand over the phone. After a few seconds the sound grew clear again. “Sorry about that. Carmen, we do have one possible lead. I’m going to put you on speaker, and Brett will take it from here.”
“Carmen?” Brett asked. “I think Dr. Ross told you that we lost our GPS signal around 1:00 a.m., your time.”
“He did.”
“Well, when the sun came up a couple of hours ago, I was able to obtain a few satellite images of the lake. Initially we thought we had nothing. There were a number of smaller craft, probably sailboats, and two of the larger steam-powered tour boats on the east end where we last received a signal. Nothing to get excited about. Well, I had to move on, and I asked Chris to look at everything behind me. The old two-sets-of-eyes theory.”
“Please tell me he found Zane,” Carmen said.
“We won’t know whether he has or not until we get some more information, but we think we may have solved the mystery of the signal transmitting from the middle of the lake. When Chris looked at the photographs, he started with the smaller boats. I think we all agree that it’s not likely Zane would have commandeered one of them, nor is it likely he’d be transported on one if he’d been taken captive. So, having crossed the smaller boats off the list, Chris moved on to the larger steam-powered boats. He was able to confirm one as a tour boat almost immediately.”
“You’re talking about one of the cruise boats?” Carmen asked. “We saw a few of those embarking from Geneva. I was surprised because I thought they shut down in the winter.”
“They’re not shut down, but there's a reduced schedule until spring.”
“Got it. That makes sense. I think it’s the same on the northern lakes in Italy.”
“Anyway,” Brett continued, “when Chris examined the second boat, he noticed something different right off the bat. Ordinarily, at the back of these tour boats you’ll see some arrangement of tables and chairs for the tourists—a place where they can sit down with a glass of wine and enjoy the view. It’s the same design that every single tour boat uses on Lake Geneva. But not this one. There were no tables and no rows of chairs. Nothing. The back end has been completely redesigned. It basically looked like the back of a yacht.”
“Let me guess—Renaissance has just such a boat licensed in Switzerland.”
“We don’t know that yet,” Brett replied. “Unfortunately it’s been tough putting our hands on licensing information. You know how the Swiss are about the privacy of wealthy citizens. But here is the other strange thing. In examining a number of sequential photographs, we determined that the first boat, the one we were able to confirm as a tour boat, moved across the lake in a pattern consistent with some of the known cruise routes.”
“And the other didn’t?”
“Not at all. It appears to be anchored in place.”
Carmen stared at the lake through the window, almost as though hopeful she might see the very boat Brett had described. “I think Zane is on that boat, Brett.”
“I’d have to agree with—”
“Look, I understand the excitement,” the Oracle interrupted. “But I have to be the voice of reason here. I hadn’t given up on Zane when we lost the signal, and I’m certainly not about to give up on him now, but let’s not declare we’ve found him just because we’ve located an anchored boat.”
“If we can’t get boat licensing information through public channels, I’m going to have to do it the old-fashioned way—I’m going to hack into their system,” Brett offered.
Carmen nodded. “And if they do have a large boat registered, we need to be ready to move.”
“Which reminds me, there is one other thing I wanted to tell you,” said the Oracle. “I think you’ll be happy to know that Reid and Skinner are on their way from Zurich.” He could be heard tapping on his computer. “They’re arriving at one fifteen and will proceed directly to your hotel. Brett has already booked their room on the floor just below yours.”
Connor Reid and Cleavon Skinner had only been with the organization for a couple of years but had already proven their mettle in the field. Carmen had worked with both of them and had a great deal of respect for each. Reid was a short but solidly built man with close-cropped blond hair. Zane often called him the world’s toughest fire hydrant. Cleavon Skinner was a tall African American who operated primarily in the Mediterranean region. He was a weapons and ballistics expert and was often brought into an operation on an as-needed basis. It pleased Carmen that he was on his way to Vevey.
“That is good news,” said Carmen.
“I want the three of you to call me back when they arrive. Hopefully, by then we can confirm the registration of that boat.
“Switching gears, do you have me on speaker?” the Oracle asked, lowering his voice.
“No.”
“I wanted to tell you a couple of things. Brett is heading out on a charter within the hour
and should arrive in Geneva this evening.”
“He’s coming here? Interesting.”
“We have a man missing, and we have an organization that is willing to kill in order to hide something. The Director wants this to have our full attention, and I’m deploying as many assets as necessary to wrap this up. And we haven’t even really discussed the fact that something, an event of some sort, is about to go down. Mironov’s frequent meetings with Marrese, as well as the death of Ian Higgs, indicates trouble is brewing.”
“I concur. There is no doubt in my mind that something is being cooked up as we speak.”
“But the reason I asked if you were on speaker phone is because of the second thing that I needed to tell you. You’re going to need to put the Higgs girl on the next train to Geneva.”
“Of course,” she said in a measured tone, making sure Amanda wouldn’t be able to follow anything that was being said.
“There is no good reason to keep her involved anymore, and I don’t want her anywhere near a tactical operation, assuming we launch one. She’s done all she can, and we can’t allow her to be in harm’s way going forward.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“At some point she’ll need to be debriefed and asked to sign some papers, assuming she’s willing to do that. I’d even like to have someone accompany her back to the States, just to be on the safe side.
“So in the meantime, we’ll put her in a room next to Brett in Geneva, away from the action. I’ll send you an encoded message with the accommodation information when we get off.”
“Understood.”
“Be safe. I’ll be back in touch.”
Carmen ended the call. She looked up and saw that Amanda was sitting on the bed, staring at her.
“So, do they think they’ve found Zane?” Amanda asked.
“It’s hard to know for sure, but we think he may be on a boat on Lake Geneva.”
“A boat?” A confused look spread across Amanda's face.
“Yes, but at this point it’s just a reasonable guess.” Carmen bit her lower lip, measuring her next words. “Amanda, I have something else I need to tell you.”
Amanda frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Actually it is good. It’s possible that we may move forward with a tactical operation soon. In fact, two other operatives are on the way, as we speak. Which brings me to this. Since it’s no longer a matter of following clues that were left by your father and—”
“Let me save you some time. Basically, you’re telling me it’s the end of the road.”
Carmen realized that now was not the time to pussyfoot around and give Amanda the hope that she could still be involved. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m telling you.”
“But I get to stay here, right? I mean, I’m not leaving until we find out what happened to Zane.” Amanda crossed her arms.
“You’ll be in Switzerland, just not here.”
“Where?”
“In Geneva, with Brett,” Carmen said.
There were a couple of minutes of uncomfortable silence, and then Amanda lifted her head and said, “Good. I’m fine with that.”
“Great.” Carmen was relieved that Amanda had turned so quickly, but then again, she almost seemed too compliant. Was she planning on taking matters in her own hands?
Truth be told, if she tried to strike out on her own, there wasn’t anything they could do to stop her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THEY CAME LATE in the afternoon on the day following his interrogation. Four men burst into Zane’s room unannounced. Three carried semi-automatic weapons, which they pointed at him, while the fourth tossed him roughly to the floor. The operative was already restrained by metal cuffs, so he couldn’t help but smile that they sent four men to do a job that could’ve been done by one or two.
Having positioned the operative on the floor, the fourth man pulled out a piece of cloth and wrapped it around his head. After tying off the blindfold, he lifted Zane to his feet and gave him a hard shove toward the door. He almost tumbled over before being grabbed and steadied by two sets of hands.
“Taking me out for a drink, gentlemen?” Zane asked.
The response was a hard blow with the butt of a rifle to the middle of his back. Zane cringed, and his knees buckled from the pain that seared down his spine. But there was no time to gather himself, as he was steadied quickly and then shoved through the door.
Zane had considered every possible manner of escape since coming to the chalet, from smashing through the window and taking his chances on a jump from several stories up, to befriending the humanoid Keiko, who had been in to see him several times. She intrigued him. She seemed loyal to Mironov, and yet there was something about her demeanor that indicated she was different. She seemed to have an air of decency and kindness, if that were even possible in a machine, and for a while it made him think she might offer a glimmer of hope.
But in the end, he reminded himself that she was a programmed computer, and no amount of emotional bonding was going to change that. If programmed to keep him captive, she would carry that out until deprogrammed or destroyed.
A hand grabbed Zane’s shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. They had apparently reached the end of a hall. He heard a sharp ding, like that of an arriving elevator, and then he heard the sound of a door sliding open.
“Get in,” said one of the men, shoving Zane forward.
He heard the doors slide shut again, and the elevator began to move. While Zane’s senses told him they were descending, he had no way of knowing for sure. He hoped they were descending, as it meant they might be leaving the chalet all together.
Finally, the elevator came to a stop, and the door opened once again. Two sets of hands guided him down another hall and then down another set of steps onto a concrete floor. He assumed they were in a garage, which was soon confirmed when he heard the chirp of a car alarm followed by the sound of a door being opened. Seconds later, he was grabbed, hoisted into the air, and dropped into what seemed to be a trunk or the back of an SUV.
As soon as he hit the carpet, he felt two blankets being tossed on top of him.
“You try to move, we shoot,” said a Russian-accented voice.
“I guess this means I’m not getting that drink?” Zane asked.
The operative’s second attempt at humor was followed by the butt of a gun being planted squarely on his abdomen.
As Zane writhed in pain, he heard the rear door close and then other doors opening in the front. The sound was clear, indicating he was not in a trunk but instead was in the back compartment of an SUV.
Seconds later, the engine started, and the vehicle began moving.
It didn’t take long for the men to begin talking amongst themselves in Russian, until one of the men shouted something. The voices lowered after that, before ceasing altogether a few minutes later. Apparently, the message had gotten through.
The ride down the mountain was quick. Zane had initially tried to determine the elevation of the chalet, but it proved too difficult to tell with the road winding back and forth. By Zane’s reckoning, the vehicle came to a stop three minutes later. He could hear the soft electrical drone of a window being opened, followed by several beeps, which he attributed to buttons being pushed. There was no doubt the driver was using a code to open a gate, which was confirmed a few seconds later when the vehicle began to move once again.
Just past the gate, the vehicle turned out onto a highway and gained speed. Zane listened for clues as to their whereabouts, but the only thing he was able to determine was that the road they were on was a busy one. Vehicles moved past them in both directions, and on two different occasions, horns were blown.
But where were they going? The German had indicated there would be a meeting, but with whom? And for what purpose? He still wondered why he hadn’t been killed. Maybe they wanted to interrogate him in order to find out what organization he worked for. Unless they had been able to salvage somethin
g from his phone—which he doubted—for all they knew he could be working for a competitor, for the United States government, or for the family of the deceased. Other than that, he couldn’t think of any reason for an interrogation.
After an hour of driving at speed, the vehicle began to slow. The men in the front, who had been silent for the last half hour or so, suddenly began to whisper among themselves. Zane felt the vehicle make a few quick turns before finally coming to a stop. The driver shifted into reverse and backed into a space. All of the men got out, and Zane could hear them speaking just outside of the truck.
At some point, the voices moved out of range, but Zane doubted they would go very far. They had brought him for a reason, one that didn’t include just leaving him in a trunk somewhere. They were likely going over plans or preparing to enter a building.
Eventually the voices returned in more hushed tones. There was a clicking sound as the back door was opened, and Zane felt the muzzle of a gun placed against his temple. The same voice that had spoken to him before said, “You try to make noise or get away, we shoot you. Understand?”
Zane nodded through the blankets.
“I love the chance to kill you, so make my day,” the voice threatened.
Obviously, the man has a fondness for American movies, Zane thought.
After seeing his nodded affirmation, the men pulled the blankets away and quickly stuffed a rag in his mouth. That was a sure sign he was about to be taken through a public area, which Zane took as a positive. Satisfied that he couldn’t make any noises, they unlocked the cuffs and placed a toboggan over his head.
Then the voice spoke to him again. “When we start moving, you walk quickly. You slow down or try to get loose, I put a bullet in your head.”
Zane doubted that he’d be shot but nodded nonetheless.
“Good. I watching you.”
Zane was pulled from the vehicle and placed on his feet. The movement was so sudden that he teetered for a moment before finally gaining his balance.
He immediately took in the surroundings. The first thing to meet his ears was the squawk of distant gulls. Water. They were near water, but it was impossible to know where.
