by Amelia Autin
Thirty minutes later, the cab turned left off Route 8 before they crossed the bridge to the airport, and Mei-li immediately questioned the driver in Cantonese. His response was incomprehensible to Dirk, except for three letters—BAC. The cabbie then turned right onto Chek Lap Kok South Road and drove along the water’s edge.
Mei-li put her hand on Dirk’s arm to get his attention. “He says he didn’t take the men to one of the passenger terminals.” There was just a hint of excitement in her eyes. “He says he took them to the Hong Kong Business Aviation Centre.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning a private plane.”
Chapter 9
“But—” Dirk began before Mei-li cut him off.
“But all planes were grounded because of the typhoon. Which means I think your daughters are still in Hong Kong.”
It hadn’t occurred to Dirk that his daughters would be anywhere except in Hong Kong, but now he realized how foolish that assumption was. Especially if Terrell Blackwood didn’t plan to kill them, but had no intention of returning them when the ransom was paid. Linden and Laurel could be smuggled out of Hong Kong, and he would never find them.
He frowned at Mei-li. “But if they were brought here yesterday afternoon...” He tried to put his thoughts into words. “Any private plane with them aboard could have taken off this morning, once the typhoon passed and the flight restriction was lifted.”
“That’s why I’m worth every penny you’re paying me,” she told him with a tiny smile. “What you don’t know is that private planes into and out of Hong Kong are last on the priority list, even behind cargo planes. With the backlog of commercial and cargo flights that were grounded yesterday, I doubt any private planes have been granted clearance to take off yet. In fact, I’d be surprised if any take off today at all.”
Although he heard and processed every word Mei-li said, her first sentence jolted him to the realization that they’d never discussed her fee. They’d never talked about it at all. She’d thrown herself into this investigation, had given him the benefit of her sage advice, had let him know he wasn’t alone in his suffering—hell, she even cried for you, he told himself. But it had never crossed his mind to talk money with her. Not that he would have balked no matter how high the price, but still. This was Mei-li’s job, after all, and she deserved to be appropriately compensated.
Only then did he acknowledge that he didn’t want to be just a job for Mei-li. He wanted her to care about his daughters’ safe return because...because he was starting to care for her.
How was that possible? He’d known her less than a day. Okay, he’d met her two weeks ago, but he hadn’t known her. And yet...he’d confided in her things not even his closest friends knew about him. Things only Bree had known. And she’d shared parts of her past with him—intimate details of her tragic story he was sure she didn’t share easily—as a way to let him know she understood what he was going through with his daughters’ kidnapping. That she empathized.
But that wasn’t all, and he’d be lying to himself if he pretended it was. She’d slept in his arms last night. He hadn’t been able to sleep, hadn’t been able to close his eyes, until she’d sat next to him. Until she’d opened her heart and let him see her private pain. Until she’d instilled hope in him that he would survive this.
Then there was the kiss this morning. The kiss that had rocked his world. He’d told Mei-li it wasn’t a mistake, and he’d meant it. He’d also told her it wasn’t over, and he’d meant that, too. Or he had at the time. Because he’d never been turned on so hard, so fast with anyone. Ever. Not even with Bree.
But it wasn’t just sex—because he wasn’t that kind of man. He’d laughed with Bree and passed it off as a joke the first time he’d been named “sexiest man alive” by a magazine. And every subsequent time, too. No one but Bree had known just how much of a joke it was—because Bree had been the only woman he’d ever slept with when that moniker had been applied to him. She still was.
* * *
Mei-li and Dirk went into the Hong Kong Business Aviation Centre, leaving Rafe with the cab. Dirk had donned his sunglasses again as soon as he exited the car and didn’t remove them when he went inside—he wasn’t taking a chance on being recognized. The BluBlockers covered nearly half his face—the most distinctive part anyway—and he’d learned over the years the sunglasses were a pretty fair disguise.
Dirk soon learned Mei-li had been right—no private planes had taken off that morning. Flight plans had been filed, but the backlog of commercial and cargo planes had put private flights on hold for now.
“What about yesterday afternoon?” he abruptly asked the smiling assistant behind the counter. “Any private planes take off yesterday afternoon?”
Mei-li darted him a look that said, “Please leave this to me.” A folded banknote appeared in her hand, and she placed her hand on the counter, with the note tucked securely...but visibly...beneath it.
The smile faded from the clerk’s face, and he licked his lips nervously. He glanced around, as if to make sure he was unobserved, then keyed a query into his computer. “No,” he said after a minute, his eyes glued to the computer screen. He ran a finger down the screen and counted. “There were five planes scheduled, but none had yet taken off when the control tower shut everything down.”
“Five planes?” Mei-li inquired delicately.
She didn’t have to ask outright—apparently the clerk understood the question she didn’t ask, and Dirk was impressed with how Mei-li managed to look helplessly feminine while at the same time conveying her message that she wanted any and all information the man had on the planes in question. The clerk again glanced around, then hit a key and a slew of papers spewed out of the printer behind him. He retrieved them, then placed them facedown on the counter beneath his hand.
Mei-li’s hand moved to the stack of printouts, leaving the folded banknote behind, and the clerk did the opposite. The money disappeared as if it had never been there. Mei-li folded the packet of paper and tucked it into her purse. Another banknote miraculously appeared in her hand—she seemed to have an endless supply—and she asked, “Where can I find these planes?”
This time, the clerk turned toward the back of the room, to the two doors there, as if reassuring himself both were firmly closed. Then, with his eyes darting back and forth from Mei-li’s face to the money in her hand, he leaned over the counter and answered her question.
“M’goy,” she told the man, leaving the banknote on the counter. “We’re done here,” she murmured to Dirk as she turned and walked out.
“You bribed him,” he said, as soon as the door closed behind them. He glanced over, but the cab was far enough away that they couldn’t be heard.
“I wouldn’t call it a bribe. It’s an old Hong Kong tradition—heung yau.”
“Which means?”
“Literally? It means ‘fragrant grease.’ The Hong Kong version of greasing the wheels. Think of it as a tip.”
She tilted her head to look him straight in the eye. “It’s no different than the police or private investigators in your country paying for information, Dirk,” she said, her voice very quiet but implacable, nevertheless. “We needed that information. Did we have a legal right to it? Probably not. Could the police have obtained the information? Probably...but not as easily as we did. And it would have meant calling in the police, something you’ve already agreed isn’t wise at this stage. So what would you have me do?”
He answered immediately. “Exactly what you did.”
She relaxed her militant stance slightly. “I asked you before, but you never answered. So I’ll ask you again. How far are you willing to go to rescue your daughters?” Her tone took on a fierce note, and there was something in her eyes, her face, that made him think of a mother lioness defending her cubs. “Are you willing to do whatever it takes?”
His voice hardened. “Whatever it takes.” And he knew it for the truth.
Her eyes searched his face, as if seeking confirmation of his words, but he knew she couldn’t see his eyes—the most revealing part of his anatomy. She reached up to remove his sunglasses...and he let her. Eventually she nodded. “I am, too. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
They stared at each other for several seconds after that, and something tugged at Dirk. He wasn’t sure what it was; all he knew for damn sure was that they didn’t have time for him to figure it out. “So, I take it our next step is to check out these planes.” It wasn’t what he’d intended to say—he hadn’t even been thinking about the list in Mei-li’s purse. But it broke the spell.
“Yes,” she replied, handing him back his sunglasses. Then she pulled the list out of her purse and quickly perused it. “Three of these are legitimate charter services. Doesn’t necessarily rule them out, but I’d push them to the bottom. This one and this one,” she told Dirk, pointing to the two names, “I don’t recognize. Let’s start with them.” She flipped to pages further back, reading what was printed, and frowned suddenly. “One of these planes is headed to Taipei, in Taiwan. The other filed a flight plan for Manila, in the Philippines.”
“Meaning what?”
“Nothing...yet. Manila’s about two hours away on a commercial flight. Taipei’s less than that. The flight to Taipei specifies four passengers. The flight to Manila has only two.” A reflective expression settled over her face. “Two kidnappers and two children equals four passengers. On the other hand, two kidnappers carrying two small children as luggage, which we already know to be the case...”
It was a sickening reminder, and Dirk flinched inwardly before curling his hands into fists as rage slashed through him. His unconscious daughters transported in duffel bags...treated as inanimate things, not children...
He brought himself under control with an effort. Mei-li had already taken him to task for things he did that accomplished nothing, and letting his emotions rule him was another item on that list. But there will be a reckoning, he promised himself. Even if the kidnappers never went to jail, they would pay. Somehow.
* * *
Lunchtime was a distant memory by the time Dirk, Mei-li and Rafe walked away from the last plane hangar. Not that they’d had lunch, Dirk realized with a flash of compunction. He’d been so intent on getting here when they’d found the cabdriver—and then so intent on finding out whatever he could about the five private planes once they were here—that food had been the last thing on his mind. The cabdriver had munched on his bag lunch while he waited for them, so at least he hadn’t suffered. But Mei-li and Rafe were a different story, and they were probably as hungry as he was.
Especially since they hadn’t uncovered anything meaningful. They hadn’t found his daughters—not that he’d really been expecting to, but he was surprised at how cruelly disappointed he was that they hadn’t. Apparently hope for a miracle is a natural human response, he reasoned, but there hadn’t even been a sign of the twins. And there’d been no red flags—at least none that you spotted, Dirk told himself. Mei-li might have a different take. He turned to ask her, but she must have read his mind—or read his intent on his face—because she shook her head regretfully.
“No, nothing stood out for me, either. Except...” She hesitated.
“Except what?”
“Nothing. Nothing I can point to. I just got a funny vibe from the Aussie pilots of the second plane, the one going to Manila. That’s all.”
“Yeah,” Rafe said slowly. “Now that you mention it, I got a hinky feeling from them, too. I thought it was just me.” He gave a little huff of not-quite laughter. “At first I chalked it up to their impatience to be off—time is money to them, and having to delay the flight because they can’t get a takeoff clearance, well, I understand that. But then when that mechanic volunteered their plane had been damaged in the typhoon and they were having to wait for parts to be shipped from the States...did you see their reaction?”
Dirk nodded. “Almost as if they didn’t want us to know.”
“Exactly. Why would they care? It didn’t make sense. Also, if you know you have to wait for two or three days, why let yourself get bent out of shape? Nothing you can do, so you might as well take it easy. But they weren’t. They were anxious about something.”
They’d reached the cab by this point, and as Dirk held the door for Mei-li, she said, “My question is, why were those two pilots even here? If they have to wait for parts to repair their plane, why weren’t they—oh, I don’t know—seeing the sights, or something like that? Maybe they’ve been to Hong Kong so many times they’ve seen everything. Or think they’ve seen everything they want to see. But it’s still odd they would hang around waiting for parts they know won’t be here today.”
She pulled her cell phone out of her purse. “Hang on a minute,” she told Dirk as she walked a few feet away for privacy.
Dirk glanced at Rafe, who shrugged his shoulders as if to say he was as clueless as Dirk was, and got into the front seat. Dirk stood where he was, watching Mei-li. Wondering why just watching her was different than watching any other woman. Wondering what set her apart. It wasn’t just her beauty. And it wasn’t just that she turned him on the way he hadn’t been turned on since—
He chopped that thought off. Don’t go there, he warned himself. Not now.
But he wanted to. It hurt how much he wanted to. And that shocked the hell out of him.
* * *
Mei-li disconnected and came back to the cab. “Just calling in a favor,” she murmured in English for Dirk’s ears alone. “I’ll explain later. Thank you,” she added as she slid into the backseat while Dirk held the door for her.
When he was seated beside her, he glanced at her for confirmation. “Hotel?”
“I think so.” She checked her watch, a delicate, jeweled affair that had been a gift from her parents when she graduated from college only a year late, despite having switched majors in midstream. The watch wasn’t practical in her line of work—she’d cracked two crystals over the years and badly scratched a third—but she wore it for sentimental reasons. “There’s nothing more we can learn here. Patrick should be back by now with Vanessa and Chet—I want to hear what he has to say. And I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m hungry.” She glanced at Dirk. “Did you want to grab something on the way back, or order room service?”
* * *
“We have to leave soon, Gabe,” Bao Feng reminded his fellow kidnapper. “I told you—my girlfriend’s flight arrives just before eight. She’ll be walking through that door by ten at the latest. We have to get them out of here before then.” Them referred to the twin toddlers huddled in the corner of the bed.
“How far away is this place you say you can use?”
“Two and a half hours by bus. An hour, maybe an hour and a quarter by cab.”
Gabe Croft cursed under his breath. “Cab, then. I’m not riding two and a half hours on a damned bus.”
“We could try to find a hotel—”
“With them?” Croft waved a hand at the little girls.
“It’s only temporary,” Feng said, trying to appease the older man. “I told you, my cousin can put us up, but not until tomorrow.”
Croft’s disposable cell phone rang, taking both kidnappers by surprise. They looked at each other, startled. They weren’t expecting a call. Only three people had this number besides them—Terrell Blackwood, the senior of the two pilots who were supposed to spirit the little girls out of Hong Kong and one other. Which one was calling?
Both girls were awake, and both were whimpering beneath their gags as they clung to each other, their huge blue eyes terrified.
“Shut them up,” Croft said. He was the undisputed leader of the two. The brains. The one Terrell Blackwood had
contracted with. The one who’d planned this kidnapping so meticulously and hired Feng, a Hong Kong native, to assist him. A smuggler and a member of a Mafia-like Chinese tong, a “brotherhood” with local connections. Fortunate, as it turned out, since Croft was now forced to revise his plan.
He didn’t like that his plan had been shot to hell. That he’d been stuck with the little girls for an undetermined length of time until the plane could be repaired—thanks to Blackwood’s queasiness about putting an end to the girls’ existence.
“Later,” Feng replied, indicating the bottle of chloroform on the dresser. “We’ll have to use that on them for the cab ride. We don’t want to overdo.”
“Then make them shut up some other way.” The cheap cell didn’t have caller ID. Croft didn’t answer, and eventually the ringing stopped. Then it started ringing again almost immediately, and he answered. “Yes?”
“Three people were here this afternoon asking questions,” an Aussie voice said in his ear without even an introduction. A voice he had no trouble recognizing. “A local woman—a PI—she showed me some ID. A humongous black guy. And...” The voice paused for effect. “Dirk DeWinter. He was wearing sunglasses, but it was him. You’re going to need to do something about that.”
* * *
Dirk opted for room service, especially since the others were probably waiting for them to return before having dinner. He pulled his phone out to call the hotel and place an order, then stopped and asked Mei-li and Rafe, “Any preferences?”
“Whatever,” Rafe said. “I’m not picky. Hungry, but not picky.”
“Same for me,” Mei-li told him. While Dirk placed his order, she scribbled something on the back of a business card, then leaned forward and spoke to the driver in Cantonese. She passed the business card and a folded banknote to him over his left shoulder, which he accepted. After he looked at the denomination, the driver nodded and said, “Hai.”
