The Spy’s Secret Family

by Cindy Dees

  “And you understand the life of an innocent child is on the line?”

  He sighed. “I do. I was so sorry to hear about the kidnapping. Is there any ransom demand?”

  She replied sharply, “Why, yes. There is. The kidnapper is insisting that Nick testify against AbaCo and bury them, or else.”

  Heavy silence greeted that announcement. It was all the answer she needed from Clifton. The CIA had, indeed, cut a deal with AbaCo. “When is it going public?” she asked. “And don’t tell me that information is classified. We have to find Adam before the news is released.”

  “Close of business today.”

  It wasn’t enough time! “You have to delay it. We have to find my son first!”

  “I understand, Laura. I’ll see what I can do. But I can’t make any promises.”

  She hung up, staring in dismay at the happy clouds and dancing unicorns on Ellie’s pink walls. Adam was running out of time.

  The FBI upped the man power over the course of the day, redoubling their efforts to locate Adam, but to no avail. Wherever the kidnapper was hiding him, he’d picked his spot well.

  It was afternoon when another email came to her Laura Delaney address from the kidnapper. She raced downstairs and into the office to see it. Nick was already there, and he smiled encouragingly at her. Did that mean there was good news?

  She sat down at her desk and read the note:

  Thought you might like another video to know your son’s okay. I promise I won’t hurt him as long as you do the right thing and send AbaCo to hell where it belongs.

  The attached video showed Adam playing some sort of pick-up-sticks game with Lisbet and squealing with laughter. For a kidnapping victim, he looked shockingly hale and hearty. The FBI team observing with her murmured in surprise.

  “What?” she looked up at the faces around her in concern.

  Blackledge shook his head. “This is the damnedest case. I’ve never seen a kid having the time of his life being kidnapped.”

  “Stockholm syndrome?” another agent suggested.

  Laura frowned. Stockholm syndrome was when kidnapping victims began to sympathize with their captors. It was an involuntary psychological reaction to the threat of dying.

  Blackledge replied, “I don’t think so. The kid and nanny look like they’re genuinely having a ball.”

  Laura asked, “Are they just making the best of a bad situation?”

  One of the other analysts leaned forward, watching a playback of the tape. “They’re showing no stress-related body language. The muscles of the nanny’s face are relaxed and open, and see the way Adam’s lounging, here? He’s not taking any sort of self-protective posture. These two feel completely safe with their captor.”

  Another agent piped up. “In both notes, the kidnapper has made a point of reassuring the parents that their son is safe and in no danger as long as things go his way. He used the phrase ‘I promise’ in the latest one, indicating he has a strong sense of honor and right and wrong. His word matters. As a profiler, I have to say I don’t think this guy has any intention of harming either of his victims. That’s not to say he won’t snap at some point and change his mind. After all, he’s enraged enough at AbaCo to have taken the drastic action of kidnapping someone. So, he does have a breaking point.”

  Laura made a sound of distress. “And we’re going to see it when he finds out the trial’s not going to happen at all.”

  The call from Laura’s CIA contact came in just a few minutes before five o’clock. The look of abject relief on her face said it all: they’d gotten their extension on the announcement that the AbaCo trial had been suspended.

  She put down the phone and said, “He’s got a firm commitment to delay twenty-four hours and a tentative agreement to postpone the announcement for up to forty-eight hours beyond that. It was the best he could do.”

  It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing. He and Laura could breathe for another few hours. Her shoulders slumped in front of him and it was all he could do not to gather her up, carry her upstairs and make love to her. Anything to escape this endless nightmare for just a few minutes. But no way would she agree to such a thing. Regretfully, he turned his attention back to figuring out something, anything, to do to help find Adam.

  He said thoughtfully, “You know, the kidnapper keeps emphasizing burying AbaCo, not necessarily the trial itself. You already said it to—” he broke off sharply. Mustn’t mention their extracurricular visit to Kloffman. He continued in chagrin, “You said it to me. What if, instead of testifying, I go on a media blitz to tell my story and slam AbaCo all over the airwaves? Done properly, I could probably tank the stock price and get the senior leadership fired. I could mire AbaCo in scandal so deep they’ll never recover.”

  Laura turned around and looked up at him doubtfully. “If you do that, you’ll sacrifice a shot at a legitimate trial at some future date. You’d be giving away your chance to get justice for the crimes committed against you. Maybe you just launch a campaign to overturn the sale of Spiros Shipping and get it back.”

  Nick shrugged. “If I get my son back, who cares about justice or shipping companies? Even if they skate on the kidnapping charges, you have to admit there’d be a certain justice in destroying the reputations of AbaCo’s senior leadership and wrecking the company.”

  Laura winced. “How many people would you put out of work? Do you think you’re capable of destroying the business your great-grandfather built and your entire family poured its heart and soul into?”

  Nick had to unclench his jaw to grind out, “How can you ask that of me? Do you really think I’m that shallow and materialistic? He’s my son. Nothing on earth is more important to me than him.”

  Laura scowled back at him.

  It was one thing to know they were both just lashing out in their stress and panic, but it was another thing entirely to stop the unreasoning fury bubbling up inside him, demanding that he yell at someone, anyone, in his agony. He knew Laura was feeling the exact same way. But it was still hard not to turn on her. They had to maintain a unified front. Work together. Adam’s life depended on it.

  Blackledge broke the heavy tension between them. “May I remind you that a massive manhunt is in progress as we speak? Let’s not give up on the idea of finding and rescuing your son outright, shall we?”

  Laura glanced over at Blackledge in chagrin. He was right. But it was so in her nature to have a plan B in case the main plan failed, and a plan C if plan B didn’t work out, that she couldn’t help coming up with contingencies for the crisis at hand.

  The second video had put her mind a little more at ease. It was a good thing for a mother to know her child wasn’t scared or in pain. And thank goodness Lisbet was still alive and with him. She’d protect Adam with her own life, Laura had no doubt. But there was still the dilemma of how to proceed, given that they weren’t ultimately going to be able to meet the kidnapper’s demand in a court of law.

  Nick’s thoughts must be running in the same vein, because he said soberly, “It would be a calculated risk to launch a media war against AbaCo. Maybe it would satisfy the kidnapper, maybe not. And if not, we’d have blown our shot at a trial that would satisfy the guy. What do you think about it, Laura?”

  She looked up at him thoughtfully. “I think Agent Blackledge is right. Let’s allow the manhunt to play out while we see what our…friends…can come up with now that we’ve got a few more days to search for Adam.” She looked at him significantly. And in the meantime, they’d meet with Kloffman.

  Nick nodded resolutely. “Done.”

  She touched his hand lightly, silently thanking him.

  He responded, “In the mean time, how do you feel about heading up to Washington for the night?”

  She nodded and glanced over at the FBI agents within easy earshot. “You know me well. I’m starting to feel claustrophobic just sitting around here. I’d like to be close to Langley in case I have to twist some arms in person tomorrow. I’ll go
pack a bag for Ellie.”

  Nick nodded briskly. “I’ll call the hotel and have them arrange for a babysitter.”

  Blackledge snorted. “Are you kidding? You’re bringing along an FBI agent to guard your baby.”

  Laura glanced at Nick in chagrin. He said smoothly, “Excellent idea, Agent Blackledge. I’ll call the Imperial Hotel and get us all a suite.”

  The FBI man nodded. “Morris, you’ve got kids, right?”

  Agent Morris grinned. “Yes, sir. Five. I’m fully checked out on diapers.”

  “Perfect,” Laura announced. “We’ll leave in an hour.”

  Ms. I-can-handle-anything, I’m-totally-in-control vapor locked when it came time to choose a dress to wear to dinner. It was the darnedest thing. Laura stood in front of the hotel closet, staring at the dresses Marta had packed for her, mostly conservative business wear appropriate for a mother who was deeply concerned about her child’s safety. And for the life of her, she couldn’t choose one. It was as if her brain just shut down.

  Nick stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower, wearing dress slacks and no shirt, toweling his hair dry. He looked at her in concern from under his towel. “Everything okay?”

  The man really was observant. “No,” she wailed. “I can’t decide what to wear.”

  He moved swiftly to her and gathered her into his arms. Smart man. He knew something was seriously wrong if such a little decision was hanging her up. His body was warm and humid against hers and smelled of his expensive soap.

  He murmured into her hair, “You’re doing great. I have no idea how you’re holding it together the way you are. Just a little while longer, and we’ll get him back. Courage, darling.”

  “I think I’m all out of courage,” she whispered.

  “Then borrow some of mine. Remember that Adam’s happy and safe and the kidnapper has promised not to hurt him. We’ll find a way to meet the kidnapper’s demands. And Werner Kloffman’s going to help us do that. He’ll give us his files, and we’ll be one step closer to getting our son back. But the first step is to pick out a dress and put it on.”

  Wise advice. Just take this one moment at a time, one simple task at a time.

  He turned with her still in his arms to face the closet. “I’ve always liked you in blue. How about this one?” He pointed at an elegant, navy-blue suit dress.

  “It’s not very sexy,” she said in a small voice.

  He laughed. “Sweetheart, you could wear a burlap sack and a paper bag over your head, and I’d still find you sexy.”

  She sighed. “You do have a golden tongue. I don’t know if you mean a word you say, but you say all the right things.”

  He kissed her forehead lightly. “I don’t say them to anyone but you, so I must mean them.”

  She let him help her slip on the dress. He zipped it for her, and the perfectly tailored garment hugged her body with its slim lines. Nick left to finish dressing, and she pulled her hair back into a quick French twist. She added stockings and conservative high heels to the ensemble but stopped short of adding a pearl necklace to the outfit. She didn’t want to look like her grandmother, after all. She tugged the dress’s V-neck wider open and tightened her bra straps to increase the undergarment’s lift. There. Definitely non-granny cleavage.

  She smiled at Ellie who was playing in the middle of the big bed. “Sweetie, you do wonders for Mommy’s assets.”

  The baby burbled back. Verbal early, Ellie was. Must be a girl-baby thing. She scooped up the infant and inhaled deeply of her fresh baby scent. “Mommy’s going to go torture Daddy with this naughty dress for a few hours. It’s going to be loads of fun. Be good for the nice FBI agent, okay?” She blew a raspberry against her daughter’s tummy and laughed when Ellie squirmed and gave her a sweet, gum-filled smile.

  Agent Morris poked his head through the open door. “Mr. Cass is ready whenever you are.”

  She nodded at the man. “Ellie just ate. She should be good for at least four hours. There’s a bottle in the fridge just in case, and she should go down around 10:00 p.m. Order whatever you want from room service and watch whatever you want on TV.” She added dryly, “And no boys in the house, please.”

  The agent grinned. “You forgot to ask me if I have a current CPR license and a babysitting certificate from an accredited after-school program.”

  Laura laughed. “I’m not paying you that much.”

  Morris looked around the plush suite. “Hey, this is the best babysitting gig I’ve ever landed. You and Mr. Cass have a nice evening. Ellie and me, we’ll get along just fine.” He patted the bulge on his right hip and added grimly, “Mr. Glock and I will see to it that nothing happens to your little princess on my watch.”

  Laura nodded, abruptly serious. “Thank you.”

  She stepped out into the living room and Nick made an appreciative sound. “You’re stunning, Super Mommy.”

  She made a face. “I’m not feeling very super at the moment. I feel like I’m hanging on by my fingernails.”

  “Well, you’re doing it with style. You look fabulous.”

  She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over this before. I’m the thirty-year-old mother of two.”

  “That’s correct. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more.”

  Her heart melted a little. It would be so easy to ignore his trespasses from the past. To fall into his beautiful blue gaze and forget everything else. Exactly the way she had for the past year.

  Like it or not, she had to face up to the fact that their current predicament wasn’t entirely Nick’s fault. She’d been as guilty as he of ignoring the past and pretending that nothing bad could be lurking in that giant memory gap of his.

  If she lost herself in him and his damnably magnetic charm again, she’d regret it as sure as she was standing here. Someday reality would rear its ugly head again, just like it had this time, and bite her. Who would get hurt the next time? Her? The kids? All of them?

  It was time. She and Nick had to confront the past head-on and make peace with it once and for all. They had to do it for their children…no matter what the cost to the two of them.

  Chapter 10

  The place Kloffman had picked for their meeting was dark and quiet. The booths had tall dividers separating them and plenty of privacy. Laura sighed beside Nick as they stepped inside.

  “What’s wrong?” he murmured.

  “Too easy a place to do surveillance. Not a good spot for a clandestine exchange.”

  “Really?”

  “Loud, rowdy, and crowded is a better venue. It’s impossible to eavesdrop more than a few feet away, there’s lots of noise pollution to foul up directional microphones, and people are hard to keep track of in a big crowd.”

  It made sense. And she was the former spy, after all.

  She continued, “Our best bet is to get in and get out of here, fast.”

  “We’ll just order drinks, then. We’ll get what we came for and leave immediately,” he replied.

  She nodded beside him and pasted on a pleasant smile as the maître d’ approached. They were led to a booth near the back of the place, and Kloffman was already there, looking impatient. Nick smiled to himself. Typical German. If the guy wasn’t five minutes early, he considered himself late.

  Kloffman stood as they approached. Laura took his hands and greeted the German warmly. Quick on the uptake, Werner kissed her cheek and ushered them to the table like they were old friends. A waitress took their drink orders and left. Finally. They were alone.

  Laura leaned forward and murmured past a warm smile that kept her lips from moving in any significant way, “Do you have the files?”

  “Yes, my dear, I do.” He brought out a small box from under the table, gaily wrapped in hot-pink paper and tied with a wide white ribbon. A white bow nearly overwhelmed the fist-sized box.

  “How delightful!” Laura exclaimed. “You shouldn’t have brought me a gift. Now I feel bad for not bringing you anything.”

  Wern
er laughed back. “My wife insisted. She said you should open it when you get home.”

  Laura duly tucked the box beside her on the banquette. She then led the conversation deftly into a discussion of how Werner’s grown children were doing, and what he’d thought of Southeast Asia, where he’d taken a recent vacation. Nick was impressed. How she knew that about the German executive, he hadn’t the slightest idea. Or maybe she’d just made it up and Werner was adept at following along with her patter.

  Nick forced himself not to look around the place, not to check for listeners or watchers. He leaned back, looping an arm over the back of the banquette and smiling at Laura like a proud husband enjoying his attractive and effervescent wife. It wasn’t hard to act besotted with her. He was besotted with her.

  In due course, he and Werner argued good-naturedly about who would pick up the tab for the drinks, and he ultimately let Werner pay the bill. With a promise to stay in touch and come visit Werner in Germany soon, Nick and Laura stood up to leave.

  And just like that, the entire records of AbaCo’s Special Cargo division for the past several years were in their possession.

  Nick hailed a cab and Laura climbed in as he held the door for her. He settled in the seat beside her. “Now what?”

  “When we get back to the hotel, we open his gift and see what he gave us,” she answered lightly, glancing warningly at the back of the cabbie’s head.

  He supposed she had a point. They couldn’t be too careful at this late date. He relaxed and watched the city lights pass by outside. Washington really was a lovely city, a gracefully aging lady.

  Agent Morris was on his feet, gun in hand and leveled at their chests, when they walked through the door to their suite. Nick nodded his approval as the guy lowered his weapon.

  “You two are back early. Everything okay?” the FBI man asked.

  Laura shrugged. “I made it through cocktails, but I’m not comfortable being away from Ellie. I convinced Nick to bring me back here for a quiet dinner in our room.”