A Father's Desperate Rescue

by Amelia Autin

  He knew it was Mei-li before she said a word. No way would anyone else dare intrude, not when he’d made it very clear he wanted to be alone. He didn’t turn around, just continued staring out the window, but he forced himself to say in as reasonable a tone as he could muster, “What is it, Mei-li?”

  The door clicked shut as she closed it behind her. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? You didn’t do anything.”

  “Yes I did. I’m the one who insisted you needed photos of Linden and Laurel so we could to try to obtain their GPS coordinates from the photos...and to prove your daughters are still alive.” There were shades of meaning in her voice. “But I shouldn’t have let you see it. I should have known...”

  Dirk’s lips tightened. “You couldn’t have stopped me from looking.”

  “You’re my client. It’s my job to protect you from the emotional trauma something like this was bound to bring.”

  That made him turn and face her. “Is that what I am? A client?”

  She nodded slowly, her face expressionless. Then she blinked twice and shook her head. “And something more. I don’t know what that is...and I’m not sure I want to know. But I’d be lying if I said otherwise.” She drew a sharp breath and let it out in a rush. “I know I told you earlier I have a hard time maintaining an emotional distance from my clients, which is true. And yes, I’ve experienced something similar to what you’re going through. But I haven’t lost a child, much less two. I can’t even begin to fathom what that’s like.”

  It’s like someone reached into my chest and ripped my heart out. He couldn’t say those words out loud—he could barely think them in his mind. “I thought I’d experienced the worst that could ever happen to me when I lost Bree,” he said, ruthlessly suppressing his memories of that day, hanging on to his composure by a thread. “But this is worse.”

  She stood with her back to the door, literally only a few feet away from him, but in reality across a yawning gulf. “How can I help?”

  Their gazes locked and held, and in her eyes he saw the memory of that morning, when holding each other—kissing, caressing—had kept the darkness at bay for him. But that wasn’t what he wanted...for her. He didn’t want to use her to block out the nightmare he was living through, didn’t want to use her to forget—if only for a few brief moments—that he was as powerless where his daughters were concerned as he’d been when Bree died.

  “Just keep doing what you’re doing,” he told her, his voice husky with repressed emotion. “Just keep doing your job to the best of your ability—and your best has been pretty damn impressive so far.” She started to speak but he cut her off. “And don’t worry about tiptoeing around my feelings.” His face hardened. “Let me deal with my own guilt. You just do whatever you need to do find my daughters. That’s all that matters—bringing them back alive.”

  * * *

  Patrick and all three bodyguards left as soon as dinner was over—Patrick for home, the bodyguards for their hotel a few blocks away. Dirk had already called the banker and made arrangements to pick up the money as soon as the bank opened for business the next day.

  “The bank opens at nine. I’ll be here by eight,” Patrick assured him.

  “Ditto,” Rafe said before either Mike or Chet could volunteer. “No way you want to be carrying a million dollars around town without protection.”

  “You’ll need more than one bodyguard with that much cash,” Mike threw in, “so I’ll be here by eight, too.”

  Vanessa excused herself to go to her room, saying she was worn-out and needed an early night, and Dirk noticed Chet’s eyes following her departure before he left himself. There was no reason why the two couldn’t be romantically involved with one another. But if one is working with the kidnappers, he reasoned, the other has to be.

  Mei-li waited until they were alone before she pulled a file folder from her purse and handed it to Dirk. “What’s this?” he asked.

  “The kidnappers.”

  He froze for a second. Then he flipped the folder open, and a stranger’s face confronted him. He stared at it for several seconds, mesmerized by the eyes. Hard eyes. Cold eyes. The eyes of a killer.

  At the bottom of the sketch were several words in Chinese. His eyes met Mei-li’s, silently asking for elucidation, and she explained softly, “That’s the one giving the orders, according to Mr. Lin.”

  Dirk glanced at the sketch once more, and suddenly he remembered Vanessa saying, I didn’t recognize them. But I’d know them if I saw them again, especially the second man, the one who wasn’t Chinese. The one with a gun. His eyes. They were so cold.

  Doubt regarding Vanessa’s guilt crept into his mind. If she’s working with the kidnappers, why would she describe him like that? he wondered. Why would she—

  “There’s more,” Mei-li said abruptly, cutting off his thoughts. “Look at the next sketch.”

  Dirk fanned to the next page and was hit with the same thing Mei-li had obviously already noticed. He cursed under his breath, and the face he raised to Mei-li’s was troubled. Guilty. “It’s the same guy,” he rasped. In this sketch drawn from Vanessa’s description, the kidnapper was masked, but his eyes...his eyes were the same as in the first sketch, the one prepared with Mr. Lin’s assistance. A killer’s eyes. And Dirk knew that whatever else Vanessa had lied about, she hadn’t been lying about this.

  He quickly flipped to the other two sketches in the folder—Mr. Lin’s and Vanessa’s descriptions of the other kidnapper as depicted by the sketch artist. Vanessa’s was too vague to be of any use. But Mr. Lin had noticed details. And the sketch artist appeared to have done a good job getting those details down on paper.

  “The cabdriver is at my friend’s apartment right now,” Mei-li told him. “I gave him the address and five hundred Hong Kong dollars to go there after he dropped you and Rafe off. I promised him another five hundred if he showed up, and five hundred over and above that if he worked with my friend to come up with sketches of the two men he drove to the airport yesterday.” She paused for a moment. “If the sketches based on his descriptions match the sketches based on Mr. Lin’s descriptions...”

  “We’ve got them.”

  “Yes. But we can’t use the sketches. We can’t go public.”

  Dirk nodded slowly, understanding what she was saying. They couldn’t release the sketches to the media...unless his daughters were dead. If that happened he’d move heaven and earth to find these two men, including plastering these sketches across television sets and the internet—they could run, but they couldn’t hide. But if his daughters weren’t dead—and he desperately wanted to believe they were alive—releasing the sketches would cause the kidnappers to panic. Which would be the worst thing he could do.

  There was one thing he could do, however, and that was apologize to Vanessa and Chet for suspecting they were involved. But when he voiced that thought to Mei-li, she shook her head in denial.

  “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “How did the kidnappers get your cell phone number?”

  Chapter 11

  That stopped Dirk cold. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but it should have. His cell phone number was unlisted, and only a very few people had it. His close friends. The producer and director of whatever movie he was working on—who were one and the same person in this case, Mei-li’s father, Sir Joshua Moore. And his employees. Hannah. Vanessa. Chet, Mike and Rafe.

  “Someone gave them your phone number,” Mei-li said softly. “I didn’t mention it before because all signs were pointing to Vanessa’s involvement, so of course she could have done it. It could still be her—the sketches seem to clear her, but we can’t be sure. And if we can’t clear Vanessa, we can’t clear Chet, either.” She paused, but she wasn’t finished. “On the other hand, if they are innocent...that narrows the field.”
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br />   “Mike or Rafe.”

  In the silence that followed, her words dropped like a bombshell. “Or Hannah.”

  “Or—no! I won’t believe it.” His tone was harsh. “Not Hannah. No.”

  “She’s not here...but she usually is. Isn’t that what you told me?”

  “She broke her leg. Are you implying she broke her own leg deliberately? So she wouldn’t be suspected?”

  “I’m not implying anything,” Mei-li said in her reasonable way. “I’m merely pointing out the possibilities.”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “No! Not Hannah.”

  “Then Mike or Rafe. Someone is involved.”

  “Mike’s an ex-cop.”

  Her face was impassive. “And Rafe was a US marine before he retired.” She let that statement lie there for several seconds, then said, “We don’t really have to know who. Not at this point. But we do have to keep whatever we find out to ourselves from now on. That’s not going to be easy.”

  “You’re right. It won’t.” An idea occurred to him, an unpalatable one. But if Mei-li had raised the question of Hannah, then... “There’s one other person it could be,” he told her.

  She frowned. “Who?”

  “Patrick.”

  “Patrick?” The suggestion had obviously taken her by surprise. “No,” she insisted, shaking her head. “That’s impossible.”

  “Why impossible? Patrick has my cell phone number—I gave it to him the very first day he drove me.”

  “Patrick called me in on this case.”

  “Yes, but if he’s involved he knows you don’t have any experience in kidnapping for revenge. And it’s the perfect cover.” His voice dropped a notch. “He’s no more impossible than Hannah, but you didn’t hesitate to suggest her.”

  “And you immediately ruled her out. I’m doing the same for Patrick.”

  “Because he’s your cousin?”

  “Because I know him!”

  “Are you willing to bet my daughters’ lives on it?”

  The words were uttered in such an intense undertone that Mei-li didn’t answer right away. Then her eyes widened in something akin to shock. “No,” she breathed. “I’m not willing to bet your daughters’ lives...not on anything.” She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “That means I can’t trust anyone but you and—” For a minute it looked as if she was going to say something else, but changed her mind. “You have to promise me the same—trust no one but me.”

  Dirk touched her cheek, emotion washing through him as he realized he’d be completely alone...completely isolated...if not for Mei-li. His voice was husky when he said, “I promise.”

  They stared at each other for several seconds, and Dirk wondered what she was thinking. Wondered if she was feeling what he was feeling, if she felt the tug of the strong bond that seemed to exist between them. He almost asked her, but then she blinked and her next words broke the spell. “Do you have a computer?”

  “A laptop. But if you need something printed, you’ll have to go downstairs to the business center.”

  She shook her head. “I already forwarded the email to myself to check it out at home, but if you have a laptop we can do it right here. Those GPS coordinates?” she reminded him when he raised a questioning eyebrow.

  He hadn’t forgotten—well...yes he had. Seeing Linden and Laurel, so obviously terrified, their faces covered with tears, had driven everything else out of his mind. But Mei-li hadn’t forgotten. She seemed to think of everything. “Let me get my laptop,” he said, fitting word to deed. He was back in less than a minute. He set the laptop on the dining room table, sat down, powered it on and keyed in the password to unlock his user profile. He paused for a minute when his desktop appeared—a picture of Linden and Laurel in happier times, posing with their favorite cartoon characters. He remembered that day he’d taken them to Hong Kong’s branch of a child’s fantasy resort. They were really too young to fully appreciate it, but how could he pass up the opportunity? And when he’d tucked them into bed that night—exhausted but happy—both girls had twined their arms around his neck and hugged him. Pressed their tiny rosebud mouths against his cheeks, and—

  “Don’t,” Mei-li told him in a sharp voice, snapping him out of his emotional downward spiral. Jerking him back into the here and now. “It doesn’t help, Dirk. Honestly it doesn’t.”

  “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “How could I not?” Understanding and compassion crept into her eyes. “It’s a cruel contrast. That photo,” she said, touching the laptop’s screen, “juxtaposed with the one the kidnapper sent you. It’s hard, but you can’t lose focus.”

  Then her voice turned brisk. “Access your email account on your laptop,” she instructed. “Download the attachment into a new folder. I’ll take it from there.”

  A couple of minutes later, Dirk said, “Okay.” He slid the laptop so it was sitting in front of her. “Show me the GPS coordinates.”

  “I can’t promise they’re there, but...” Mei-li right-clicked on the JPEG file and selected Properties, then clicked on the details tab and quickly scrolled down. Her eyes closed suddenly, and she breathed deeply, then whispered, “Thank you, God,” under her breath. When her eyes opened again and met his, they were filled with excitement. “Look,” she said, turning the laptop so Dirk could see the screen better. There it was, about three-fourths of the way down. A small section titled GPS. And underneath that header were three rows labeled Latitude, Longitude and Altitude.

  Dirk found his voice at last. “What do the numbers mean?” he asked.

  “Altitude is height above sea level,” Mei-li replied. “But the latitude and longitude are in hours, minutes and seconds.”

  “Which means what, exactly?”

  “It’s easy math,” she explained. “Add the first number in the latitude string to the second number divided by sixty—that’s the minutes,” she clarified. “Then you add that sum to the third number divided by thirty-six hundred—that’s the seconds. North of the equator is a positive number, and south is a negative.” She smiled at Dirk. “Then you do exactly the same for the longitude, only east is a positive number and west is a negative. Hong Kong is a positive-positive latitude and longitude. Once you do the math, you key in the latitude and longitude numbers into Google Maps, and it will pinpoint exactly where the picture was taken.”

  Dirk stared at the screen for several seconds, then looked at Mei-li. “It can’t be that simple.”

  Her smile grew. “Yes it can. And that’s not all. Look what else the photo tells us.” She scrolled up on the details tab until she came to the camera section. “Whoever he is, he’s using an iPhone, same as you. But he didn’t upgrade to the latest model, see? Not a regular camera or a disposable cell. But there’s one more piece of data stored in the photo,” she said. “Just as important as the GPS coordinates.” She scrolled almost all the way to the top, until she reached the origin section. “Look,” she said softly. “This is the date and time stamp that’s really important. Not the date and time stamp on the file itself—that just tells you when the file was last saved.”

  Dirk looked where Mei-li was pointing, and sure enough, right there on the screen were the words Date Taken, followed by a date and time. Today’s date. And the time was two minutes after the kidnapper’s last call.

  “They’re alive,” Dirk said in a harsh voice he didn’t recognize as coming from him. “Sweet mother of God, they’re alive.” Energy surged through him—a restless energy he couldn’t contain. He stood suddenly and paced to the window looking out over Victoria Harbour’s nighttime skyline, his emotions threatening to get away from him. He hadn’t realized until that moment just how badly he’d wanted it to be true—that his daughters were still alive—or how afraid he’d been that it wasn’t.

 
He closed his eyes briefly as thankfulness shuddered through him, and when he opened his eyes again he saw himself mirrored in the window—a desperate father who’d just been given a priceless gift...the gift of hope. Mei-li stood right behind him, a slender silhouette that barely came to his shoulder, and yet...indomitable. The woman who’d given him that priceless gift.

  He swung around, and he knew she could see the dampness in his eyes he couldn’t possibly suppress. His heart was thudding in his chest when he repeated in a voice barely above a whisper, “They’re alive.”

  * * *

  Dirk walked out of the bank the next morning flanked by Rafe and Mike, with a duffel bag crammed with a million dollars in cash. A hundred neat bundles at ten thousand dollars each, with each bundle containing a hundred hundred-dollar bills. It looked relatively small and didn’t weigh all that much...until he thought about trying to transport twenty million in cash. Mei-li had been right. It would have been too much even for two men to carry easily.

  He hefted the bag over one shoulder and headed for the Rolls-Royce waiting at the curb with Patrick at the wheel. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly remembered Patrick telling him weeks ago that parking in Hong Kong was so bad, if you had a car it was cheaper to hire a driver rather than pay for parking. It boggled the mind, but it had made sense when Patrick first mentioned it. Space in Hong Kong was at more of a premium than it was in New York City—so many people crammed into so little space, even cemeteries were vertical rather than horizontal. It also added credence to why the kidnappers had taken a cab instead of having a getaway car.

  Mike slid into the front seat while Dirk and Rafe got into the back. Patrick pulled away from the curb into traffic, saying, “Everything go okay?”

  Dirk’s thoughts flew to his discussion with Mei-li last night. He didn’t really suspect Patrick of being involved in the kidnapping, but...he couldn’t be sure. It’s a hell of a world where you have to suspect everyone, he mused sadly. But all he said was, “Good to go.”