by Cindy Dees
Kloffman didn’t look convinced. Laura spoke quietly. “Somebody has kidnapped our son. He’s six years old. And he’s going to die if we don’t find him. Soon. Please help us, Herr Kloffman. I promise we’ll help you.”
He nodded slowly. “I will give you everything I have. Maybe you can find something about your boy.”
Laura rose to her feet eagerly and Nick did the same.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the files with me. I keep them in a safe place.”
As would she in the same situation. So. It was going to require a leap of faith on their part, too. “Of course, Herr Kloffman. How soon can you get us a copy?”
“Twenty-four hours, maybe.”
A whole day? Her gut twisted in dismay. But it wasn’t like she had any choice in the matter. “Please hurry.” Desperation crept into her voice. “He’s so little….”
Kloffman squeezed her elbow reassuringly. “I shall do what I can to help, Fraulein.”
She nodded, too choked up to say any more. Nick quietly traded contact information with the German and then guided her to the front door.
“A word of advice, Kloffman,” Nick commented as he reached for the doorknob. “Convince whoever’s actually running the show to sell off the pre-1970 ships before you have a major accident. Dump the Euro debt and invest in new, Norwegian-built, fast ships.”
Kloffman stared. “I beg your pardon?”
Nick shrugged. “Spiros Shipping has been in my family for three generations. And it’s being run into the ground. Stop thinking about short-term profit and look to the future before you destroy my company.”
The German stared, flummoxed. “Assuming I still have a job in a week, I’ll try.”
“Thank you for your help, Herr Kloffman,” Nick said soberly as he opened the front door. “We are in your debt.”
Out of reflex, Laura reached for the light switch and turned off the porch light as she stepped outside. The night was dark and cold, and she was more terrified than ever of the forces that had taken her son from her.
Chapter 9
Nick’s breathing still hadn’t returned to normal, and he’d been driving as fast as he dared back toward the estate for nearly a half hour. His company had become a major crime syndicate, compliments of a wife he didn’t remember? Why on God’s green earth had he ever married the woman? He supposed it didn’t matter, now. The deed was done, the damage cascading down on everyone he loved.
Laura burst out, “Do we dare trust him? With Adam’s life?”
“I think we should,” he answered.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “The time may come when we need Kloffman to hesitate before he calls his dogs down on us or Adam. I think we gave him good reason to hesitate.”
Laura sighed beside him. “You’re right, of course. I’m just not capable of thinking that clearly right now.”
He glanced over at her. “You’re not supposed to be thinking clearly. You’re a mother. You’re allowed to be panicked.”
“But Adam needs Super Mommy.” Laura’s voice cracked, sending a glass shard of pain through him. How was she ever going to move past the fact that he’d done this to their child? Even assuming Adam returned home safe and sound—and he refused to consider any other possibility—how were they going to move forward as a couple?
He asked slowly, “Do think you’ll ever forgive me for all of this?”
She stared across the dark interior of the car at him a long time before she answered. “I don’t know. After you lied to me in Paris and then spent the past year knowing you were living under an assumed identity and never told me, I don’t know how I’m going to trust you again.”
If only he could remember why he’d deceived her in Paris! For the first time, he regretted not really trying to work with the doctors who’d attempted to help him regain his memory.
“Now what?” Laura asked.
What, indeed? He was as stymied as she was and hated feeling this helpless. He’d felt this way in his box and had vowed never to be at anyone’s mercy again. No, this time it was his son’s life on the line. His control threatened to crack. Swearing silently, he fought off the urge. Laura needed him strong. Adam needed him strong.
“I don’t have a lot of contacts in the crime world,” Laura commented, “but I’ll put out some feelers. See if anyone’s heard anything.”
“I’d lay odds that whoever kidnapped me grabbed Adam, too,” Nick declared. “I’d love nothing better than to get my hands on that person and wring their neck.”
“You only want to wring their neck? I had something slower and more painful in mind,” Laura replied.
He shrugged. “I got you and the kids out of the deal. I learned things about myself in that box I’d have learned no other way. Things that have changed my life—changed me—dramatically for the better. Yes, the experience sucked. But, at some point, I have to get over it and get on with my life. I’m not kidding when I say that part of my past is over and gone. I don’t dwell on it.”
“I’m not so altruistic,” Laura muttered.
“You can sit around hating your life and bemoaning all your problems. Or you can accept that everyone has them and get on with dealing with yours in a positive frame of mind. I’m not saying life can’t be hard as hell. But it is possible to find joy in small things in the midst of all the bad stuff. I have my kidnapper to thank for making me understand this.”
“Will you be so philosophical if we find out he or she is behind Adam’s kidnapping?”
“I’ll kill him.” He added grimly, “And I’ll be entirely philosophical about it afterward.”
Laura smiled reluctantly and reached over to put a hand on his leg. He took a hand off the steering wheel and covered hers.
“We’ll find Adam,” Nick murmured. “Just keep the faith.” Why did it take something so awful to bring them together like this? How was he supposed to feel anything other than too guilty to breathe when he was finding Laura again in the midst of losing his son?
The house was in an uproar when they walked in. Marta had gone upstairs for Ellie’s 2 a.m. feeding and one of the FBI agents had discovered their disappearance.
The FBI agent-in-charge, a guy named Cal Blackledge, was not amused and chewed them up one side and down the other. Nick blandly explained that the two of them had needed to get away for a little while, to be alone and share their grief without an army of onlookers. Blackledge didn’t look convinced, but Nick and Laura stuck to their story, and there wasn’t much the FBI man could do about it.
As their chewing out was winding down, another FBI agent rushed into the kitchen. “You just got a message from who we believe to be the kidnapper.”
Laura’s coffee mug slipped out of her fingers and shattered into a hundred pieces all over the floor. Nick moved for the door nearly as quickly as she did, but Blackledge still got to Laura’s office first. When Nick stepped into the spacious room, a team of people was huddling in front of her computer. They moved aside, and Laura slipped into her desk chair. He watched eagerly as she clicked on the email message.
Your son and his nanny are safe. They will stay with me until you testify against AbaCo. When those bastards are put away for good, then you can have your son back. Do not fail, or else.
Laura looked up at him in shock, the thought plain on her face the same as the one he was having. The kidnapper was an enemy of AbaCo’s?
He asked, “What’s the kidnapper going to do when the government announces that it’s going to drop its charges?”
Laura paled and started to shake. He knew the feeling, dammit. They had two days until Adam’s life was forfeit. Two days to find and save their son.
Nick had faced some scary crises in his life, but nothing compared to this. His son’s life was in mortal danger. Seeing the threat on the computer screen before him made it real in a way it hadn’t been until now. Nausea ripped through him.
“There’s a video attachment,” one of the FBI agents announced.
Laura
clicked on it. A picture of their son smiling up at the camera flashed onto the computer monitor. The video rolled and Adam placed a bright red leaf into what looked like some kind of scrapbook. “Look at my pretty leaf,” he announced in his clear, sweet voice.
Lisbet’s voice came from off camera. “Tell Mummy and Daddy we’re doing fine and that you’re safe and warm and well-fed. Tell them Joe has been très kind to us.”
Adam nodded. “I’m learning all kinds of neat things about nature. But I miss you. Joe says you’re fighting the bad man for him. Hurry up and win. I want to go home.”
A sob escaped Laura and she turned to Nick, burying her face against his side. He gripped her shoulder so tightly he was probably hurting her. But he couldn’t help himself.
The FBI agents went into high gear around them.
“Identify that leaf.”
“Nature. He’s being held in a rural area.”
“Joe. Get a list of disgruntled former AbaCo employees.”
“The child turned the page in that album. Can we digitally enhance the leaves on the second page?”
“Analyze the grain of the floorboards. They look old. Rough. Maybe in a cabin of some kind.”
The words flowed past Nick, but the only ones that stuck were the final ones in the note. Do not fail or else.
Or else.
Laura lifted her head. “Lisbet used the French word for very, très. She doesn’t speak much French. She was signaling us that the kidnapper is French or speaks French.”
Blackledge snapped, “Make that a list of French former AbaCo employees.”
A flurry of phone calls took place around them while Laura replayed the video over and over, presumably looking for more clues. Or maybe she just needed to see Adam’s face. It was both sweet relief and stabbing pain to see him. He might be safe for now, but that or else hung heavily over the little boy.
“AbaCo is refusing to release any employee lists to us without a subpoena.”
“Then get one,” Blackledge snapped.
“That’s going to be a problem,” someone replied. “They’ll have to release information about their American staff to us, but not their overseas employees.”
Blackledge frowned. “The French courts are notoriously slow, particularly when it comes to cooperating with Americans. We’re not exactly at the top of France’s list of allies these days. If AbaCo refuses to cooperate, it’s going to take too long to get what we need.”
Nick said sharply, “Spiros Shipping had a major office in Paris. AbaCo probably still uses it.”
“Do you think Kloffman—” Laura started.
Nick cut her off gently. “Why go to the top when you can go to the bottom?”
She frowned at him and he explained, “I ran Spiros Shipping for well over a decade. I’m betting Kloffman didn’t fire every one of my old employees when AbaCo took over. People who used to work for me must still be there.”
“What good does that do us?” she asked.
“My family believed strongly in knowing every employee and in building trust and loyalty among them. If I can find some of the old staff, they’ll help me.”
She pulled out her cell phone and slapped it into his hand.
“Let’s see if they bothered to change the phone numbers,” he muttered. He dialed the international number for Spiros Paris and was pleased when the call went through.
“AbaCo Shipping,” a female voice said in his ear.
“Marie? Marie Clothier? Is that you?”
She switched into English to match his. “Oui. Who may I ask, is this?”
“Nick—” Then he corrected, “Nikolas Spiros.”
The woman took off in a spate of excited French he only half caught. When she’d finally wound down, he said, “Look, Marie. I need your help. My son has been kidnapped and we’re trying to figure out who did it. I need a list of all the employees fired from the Paris office since AbaCo took over. Is there someone left from the old days who would do that for me? Quietly and quickly?”
“But of course. Let me connect you with François Guerrard.”
Nick laughed. “He’s still working? Why didn’t he retire years ago?”
“He would have if AbaCo hadn’t cut our pensions so badly.”
“Ahh, I’m sorry. I suppose it goes without saying that it would be best for you if you didn’t mention this little call to anyone at AbaCo?”
She laughed wryly. “That would be correct, sir. Ahh, it is so good to hear your voice again. I never believed what they said about you—”
He gently cut off what was likely to become a lengthy monologue from the talkative woman. “Thank you, Marie. I’m afraid I’m in a great hurry. We need to find my son.”
“Of course, Monsieur Nikolas. I shall pray for him.”
In a few minutes, a list of fired employees was sitting in his email inbox. Blackledge printed it out and his people went to work tracking down every single person on the list. Nick and Laura stayed out of the way and let the FBI invoke its formidable connections with Interpol to do the job.
The leaves were identified as belonging to plants indigenous to the mid-Atlantic states. Nick supposed knowing Adam was in one of a half-dozen states was better than nothing, but not much.
Laura spoke to Nick thoughtfully. “Why did Lisbet make a point of saying they were warm? It has been unseasonably warm all over the East Coast this past week. Is there somewhere substantially colder within this region that would prompt her comment?”
“Mountains or a coast,” Nick replied.
Laura turned to one of the FBI agents. “Would those leaves we saw be more likely to grow at high elevations or near the ocean?”
“The second leaf is a bush that tolerates salt spray well, ma’am.”
“The shore it is,” Laura announced.
Blackledge nodded his agreement. “You sure you don’t want back into this business, ma’am?”
She laughed without much humor. “Just get my son back so I can be a mommy.”
Nick put an arm around her shoulders and was gratified when she leaned against him. Within the hour, hundreds of law enforcement officials were combing the woods of coastal Virginia, searching for an isolated cabin. It was a needle-in-a-haystack hunt, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.
A command center was set up in their living room to coordinate the various search teams, and he and Laura were only in the way. They eventually retreated to their suite to let Blackledge’s team do its job.
It was late afternoon when Nick’s phone dinged to indicate an incoming text message. He checked it quickly. “Kloffman. He wants to meet us in Washington tonight. Says he’ll have what we need then. Do you think Agent Blackledge will lynch us if we sneak out again?”
She answered gravely, “I do. I’d suggest we tell him what we’re up to this time.” Their gazes met in mutual understanding. This was one of those times when no words were necessary for them to communicate perfectly.
Nick nodded. His thoughts drifted to his wife, Meredith, and the roadblock she represented to his future with Laura. “You do know that the minute I’m clear of her, I’m going to ask you to marry me, right?”
“And you’re so sure I’ll say yes?” Laura replied tightly.
He stared, thunderstruck. “You wouldn’t marry me?”
“Nick, my son is gone. Everything I thought I knew about you turns out to be a lie. You have a wife. You cheated on her with me in Paris.”
“Everything I know of her says I barely knew her and she no doubt married me purely for my money. There’s no way it was a love match.”
“I don’t care how good or bad she was. You broke your marriage vows. I have a problem with that.”
“I don’t remember any of it,” he replied with barely restrained frustration. “I can’t imagine ever having married her. And even if I actually thought it was a good idea at some point, I’m not that man anymore.”
“It’s a lot for me to accept on faith.”
“Lau
ra, I love you with all my heart. Adam will come home safe and sound. This crisis will pass, and I’ll still love you. I’ll love you till the end of time.”
“Is love enough?” she asked in anguish. “I’m not so sure.”
“Love is everything,” he replied with a desperate calm that belied the panic beneath.
Without replying, she turned and walked out of the room. His heart broke a little more. He had to find a way to put his family back together. There had to be a way.
How was it she could feel like she was drowning even though she wasn’t even in water? Laura’s world had come apart and she didn’t have any idea how to put it back together again. She’d have thought her stress would have gone down slightly after the note from the kidnapper. The FBI profilers were confident that Adam wasn’t in any immediate danger, and whoever had him was on their side in the fight against AbaCo. That had to count for something, right?
But instead, she could hardly function. Her thoughts were disjointed, she was unable to plan anything, and even the smallest of tasks overwhelmed her. Only Ellie kept her sane. The infant adhered to a steady schedule of eating, cuddling, and sleeping, and Laura was immensely grateful for the infant’s rhythms.
It took twice as long as usual, but eventually, Laura formed a plan of action. First on her agenda was to contact some people at the CIA and see if Kloffman’s claims were true. Had the agency cut a deal with him to block the AbaCo trial from going forward in the name of national security? If so, she planned to pull every string she had at her disposal to get the CIA to delay making the announcement for a few more days.
Laura slept restlessly in the recliner in Ellie’s room, waking up a little after dawn. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed a familiar phone number. The CIA operator forwarded her call to her old boss.
“Hi, Clifton, it’s Laura Delaney.”
“I wondered how long it was going to take you to call me.”
“So it’s true? There’s a deal to stop the AbaCo trial?”
“You know I’m not allowed to comment on such things, dear.”
