Gideon frowned, struggling to hang onto logic in the face of a sweeping tide of emotion. "No. They left in Brittany's SUV. That appears to make it under their own steam."
Peter huffed. "Just like Anja did."
The three men looked at each other and a deeper, stronger tide pulled at Gideon.
"They didn't," Dash said.
Gideon swore. "They did. They went to meet Anja."
"I'd like to know how they found her," Peter grumbled.
Gideon shook his head, but he couldn't shake away the red fury that erupted inside him. Above the fury hung a black cloud of terror. Olivia had gone to meet Anja? What did she think she was doing? What, what, what? Finding Anja and dealing with her was his job, not hers. "Dammit," he whispered. "Dammit to hell and back."
"We should run a credit card check," Dash said. "Or, better yet, track their cell phones." He got a techno-martial light in his eyes.
"Well, yeah, we could do that, assuming their cell phones have GPS chips." Peter pulled a set of keys out of his hip pocket. With the touch of a button, a harmless nail clipper flicked out to become a professional burglar's jimmy. "But I've got a faster way." He looked over at Gideon. "I'll bet at least one of them took notes."
Peter's way would be fastest, even though Gideon knew damn well Olivia's phone had a GPS chip. He'd put it there himself.
Meanwhile, the rookie was staring at the three of them as if they'd lost their minds. He pointed at Peter's jimmy. "You can't use that."
Peter raised a brow. "Wanta bet?"
"We'll start with Olivia's house." Gideon sighed. "She seems to be the ringleader."
Peter was already opening the side door of the van. "Whatever you say, boss."
Ten minutes later Dash picked up a page of notes sitting on the dining room table of Olivia's house. "Shana's handwriting," he pronounced, examining the precise pen strokes. "They were looking for flights."
Peter looked over his shoulder and frowned. "To Antigua?"
"Jesus," breathed Gideon. Where Hollister had been. Not only that, but it was outside the U.S., and they had quite a head start.
Peter looked over at him. "The NSA keeps a jet fueled in a hangar just outside of the commercial airport downtown."
Dash groaned. "Using which would require requisition forms, in triplicate."
Gideon waved an arm. "Only if we were going to use the proper protocol."
Both Peter and Dash turned to stare at him. "You don't intend to use the proper protocol?" Peter asked.
"It's out of the question." Gideon was already starting for the door. The black fear ate away at him, eclipsing any hold he'd once had on his scruples. "Hollister's off our radar screen and possibly on the point of taking Anja. Olivia and the others are about to walk right into that situation. Do either of you really care about proper protocol?"
"Not me," said Dash.
"Me either," said Peter. "We'll take your Porsche to the airport, Gid. It's the fastest."
~~~
Finding Anja for an intelligent discussion with her was not turning out to be as straightforward or simple as Olivia had imagined. First of all, the flight to Antigua had taken forever, involving two plane changes, one of which had been a hellish transfer in Jamaica. They hadn't made Antigua until midnight on Saturday. Then, after finally arriving on Maria Island via a rusted and very sinkable-looking ferry on Sunday morning, they'd come up empty at the one, European style hotel on the island. Anja was, indeed, registered, but not in her room.
Shana had voted they take a room of their own and wait for her to return. But as Olivia had stood there in the airy hotel lobby with the palm fans turning slowly overhead, she'd felt a growing sense of urgency. Something was wrong. She'd turned from the blandly smiling concierge and taken an arm about each of her friends. "Let's try Marchmont University first."
Shana had sighed and Brittany had grumbled, but they'd agreed.
And now, late Sunday morning they all sat in the elegantly cluttered office of the director of the Life Sciences Laboratory of Marchmont University. But they still hadn't found Anja. Dr. Hagar Subrahmanyam had insisted on inviting them in for a 'spot of tea' after she'd found them knocking on the locked door of the laboratory.
Sitting in a room that looked like it had been lifted straight from a Victorian parlor, complete with fainting couch, Olivia could not prevent her sense of wrongness from expanding.
"Nobody comes to the laboratory on Sunday," Dr. Subrahmanyam told them. A gleam shone on her sleek chignon as she shook her head. "I'm afraid we have a different rhythm, a much slower one, out here on the islands."
"Ah, but you don't know Anja," Brittany muttered.
Dr. Subrahmanyam smiled. "I met Anja two years ago, actually. And I cannot imagine her coming in to work on a Sunday." Dr. Subrahmanyam waved one sari-clad arm. "Not when there are so many beautiful beaches to explore here on our Maria Island. Anja does so love swimming." She halted. "Have you had time to go swimming yet?"
Brittany gave her an 'are you kidding?' look. "No," she said aloud. "We haven't."
"You shall have to be sure to do so. And snorkeling. Anja just adores snorkeling." Dr. Subrahmanyam paused in the act of picking up the teapot. A sly smile crossed her face. "Yes, Anja adores snorkeling, not to mention some of the other...island amenities."
Apparently understanding to what this alluded, Shana's eyebrows jumped.
Olivia felt the same surprise. Oh yes, Anja liked her men, the 'amenities' kind in particular, but she'd come here to work. This was a laboratory wasn't it? And Anja had been desperate to get her dangerous drug into a safer form. She wasn't about to trot off to snorkel, or even enjoy some two-legged amenity.
"Oh, is that cup mine?" Brittany smiled sweetly at Dr. Subrahmanyam as she reached for the delicate china cup. "I think you're right. We were just so anxious to meet up with our friend... I can't think why we'd imagine she'd be working, and on a Sunday, no less." Brittany smiled at Dr. Subrahmanyam in a gesture as good as a wink to her friends. They'd all known Anja to work Sundays, and often straight through the week from one Sunday to the next.
Now, each with a cup of tea in her hands, they sat and sipped.
"Well, that was certainly a waste of time," Shana remarked half an hour later, when they'd finally managed to extract themselves from the cloying tea party.
Olivia followed Shana and Brittany onto a warm grass lawn, welcome reality from the cloistered brick building housing the University.
"She gave me the creeps," Brittany said.
Despite the humid warmth under the palm trees, Olivia hugged her arms around herself. "I agree."
Brittany looked about. "So now what?"
Olivia was ashamed of the thought that jumped into her head. It was to call Gideon. He'd expressed concern that something fishy might happen to Anja, and here they were finding all sorts of fishiness. But Olivia shook the shameful thought away. She didn't want to call Gideon. He was the enemy. Not a good guy. And he did not trust her.
Why should she trust him?
Olivia sighed. "Now, I suppose we go back to the hotel, get a room, and wait."
"Like I suggested to begin with," Shana pointed out in some triumph. "And lunch," she added. "I'm starving."
~~~
Hagar stood at the brick framed window and watched the three women talking to each other on the grass of the University's courtyard. Her arms were crossed and her lips pursed as she saw them finally decide to walk away down the pitted road leading back to town.
A bitter hum rumbled in her chest. Leave it to some rich Americans to waltz in and make trouble for her, looking for Anja. She tapped her fingers on her arms.
On the other hand, they could turn out to be useful...
She swiveled from the window and toward the ancient, rotary dial telephone that sat between the figurines of shepherdesses and goatherds on her desk. From a standing position and with vigorous strokes, she dialed a number she'd used once before.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" a gru
ff voice on the other end of the phone wanted to know.
"You were interested in discovering what was the 'back door' for the virus," Hagar said.
There was a brief silence on the other end. "You know?" Leo accused.
"I do not." Hagar shifted her gaze out the window and smiled. "But the three Americanas who came in on the morning ferry from Antigua do." She paused. "They know Anja. In fact, they are very dear and intimate friends with her."
Quietly, she hung up, before the gruff voice on the other end could ask any difficult questions. With a steadying breath, she walked over to pour herself another cup of tea. But her hands were shaking.
She'd just taken care of the Americans. Leo would not rest until he'd captured them, and Hagar was optimistic he would have no trouble doing so. The three women she'd just entertained in her study were no Anjas. But they could cause Hagar trouble if they were allowed to run loose, asking awkward questions.
With three women to torment about the virus's back door, Leo would leave Hagar alone.
Hagar had just killed two birds with one stone.
But lifting her teacup and sipping, Hagar wondered if she'd taken care of everything. Yes, she'd just occupied Leo and disposed of the women — for the moment. But how long would it be before Leo figured out the Americanas actually knew nothing? And what about the United States government? Might they not come to investigate the disappearance on one small island of so many of its citizens?
Hagar frowned. Eventually both Leo and the United States government would come after her. Trembling, she looked around the office at her Victorian dolls and ornate collectibles while tears gathered in her eyes.
I will buy more, she promised herself. In Switzerland. She smiled as she reminded herself she would have more than enough money to do so.
Then Hagar set down her tea, which was left to cool, unfinished.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The women had not stayed on Antigua. No, that would have made finding them too easy. At eleven o'clock on Sunday morning, bolstered by the two hours of sleep he'd managed to catch on the NSA jet, Gideon stood on the steps of a breezy tourist hotel near the beach in Antigua and listened to what Peter and Dash had to say.
"They stayed here, all right," Peter told him, coming down the steps. New lines bracketed either side of his mouth. "And checked out early."
"They asked the concierge about ferries," Dash added, trotting down the stairs after Peter.
Ferries, Gideon thought bleakly. Hell, this would have been so much easier if he'd been able to get a lock on Olivia's cell phone. But either she'd disabled the GPS or she didn't have her cell phone with her. Or...something even worse. He ground his teeth.
"What does Walter have to say?" Dash asked. "Has he caught up with Hollister?"
The brusque shake Gideon gave his head expressed nothing of the alarm stirring deep inside. "Walter isn't answering his phone." Walter's phone wasn't showing up on the tracking program, either. But Gideon knew Walter should have both his phone and the chip.
Dash and Peter went still at the bottom of the wide outdoor stairway. Blue eyes narrowed and brown ones paled.
"Could it be a transmission problem?" Peter asked.
Gideon huffed a laugh. "Not with our phones."
Dash emitted an oath. It occurred to Gideon that cursing was becoming second nature to the former boy scout. But Gideon was cursing right along with him. If Walter wasn't answering his phone...? Which also wasn't broadcasting a position...? It didn't bode well. Hollister had appeared to be an amateur, but amateurs could surprise you. Gideon hated to think the unscrupulous corporate thief with the half-mad attack dogs might have all of them: Walter, Anja — and the women.
His alarm whipped up to dread.
"I'll go check the ferries," Dash said. "Find out which they've taken."
"I'll run the most recent credit card transactions through the office," Peter offered, taking out his cell phone.
And I'll stand here going bonkers, Gideon thought. Fear and worry had expanded, edging out any anger with which he'd started this caper. Oddly, standing there watching Dash run down the road and Peter walk off with the cell phone to his ear, Gideon was beginning to understand Olivia's point of view, the one she'd been hammering him with for the past six months.
Being left in the dark was awful. Having information intentionally withheld from one was a form of torture.
He even almost understood how she might have been...provoked into doing what she'd done here, taking off in this half-cocked way, trying to find out what was really going on.
"I suppose I could try to reach Walter again," Gideon muttered, and dragged out his own cell phone, though his foreboding only grew each time the phone rang with no answer.
Gideon closed his eyes as he put the phone to his ear. If he ever found Olivia, he vowed he would first kill her, and then get down on his knees and apologize.
It was horrible to be in the dark, and helpless.
~~~
"I'm not one hundred percent convinced this island food is agreeing with me," Shana remarked, frowning as they walked the lazy gravel road back into the town.
"You're the one who was so desperate to eat we couldn't even go back to the hotel first," Brittany pointed out.
"I was hungry. For real food, though, I think." Shana's frown deepened. Gingerly, she set a hand over the flowered tank top she wore.
"All we need is for one of us to come down with some tropical disease to turn this trip into a complete success," Olivia sighed.
"Oh, it might not take that much," Brittany said, in a suddenly animated tone. She threw out an arm, stopping the other two on the grass verge, a hundred yards down the road from their Colonial style hotel. "Tell me if I'm dreaming, but aren't those our three guys coming out of the hotel?"
Shana gasped. Olivia's eyes widened. Brittany was absolutely right. Striding with competent masculinity, Gideon was letting himself down the wide stairway of the hotel, followed closely by Peter in a pair of tan Chinos and Dash in a white business shirt with an unbuttoned collar.
"Quick," Olivia said, and looked around wildly. "Behind this house."
The three of them scrambled against the side of a sagging frame house. Shana's heel caught in the dirt but Brittany grabbed her before she fell. Safely hidden then, Olivia peered around the corner of the house. Shana and Brittany crowded next to her to peek too.
"They look...different," Shana observed.
Olivia had to agree. Now that she knew who they really were, the men did look different, more serious...more dangerous.
"How on earth did they know we were here?" Shana wanted to know.
Brittany gave her a disgusted look. "I guess having the resources of a federal secret agency at their disposal might have helped."
Olivia nodded. "It's not as if we tried to cover our tracks. We used my credit card for the airline tickets."
"And I've called the land line at home several times to check on the boys," Brittany admitted with a grunt. "Peter must have tapped it, after all."
"The pig," Shana said. "So, what do we do now?"
The three of them stood there, straining to peek around the corner of the building. The men appeared to be having their own conference directly outside the hotel.
"Well-l-l." Brittany eased back from the corner of the building. "I know this is going to sound wimpy, maybe even...traitorous, but I suggest we walk over there and say hi."
"What?" Shana stared at her, aghast.
Brittany lifted her shoulders. "That's my suggestion."
"No way." Shana stiffened and pointed in the direction of the hotel. "Those guys are the enemy."
Exactly what Olivia had decided a few hours earlier. But now she peered back out at the three of them, talking to each other at the foot of the hotel stairs. Gideon looked tired, but eminently capable. Olivia frowned and wondered if he was a crack shot, the way Dash was. It seemed a shameful thing not to know about one's own husband.
"Well?" Brittany
addressed Olivia. "What's your vote?"
Olivia shook her head. "I don't know how well he does on a target field," she mumbled.
"What?"
Shana suddenly screamed, or tried to. The scream was interrupted before it could blossom. Olivia swiveled to look, and drew in a shocked breath of her own at the big form bearing down at her, someone with blazing dark eyes and the lower half of his face covered with one of the island's flowered bandanas. He shoved something against her face and the arms she'd put forth to push him away fell. In fact, all of her fell as the world went dark.
~~~
"We're closing in," said Peter, as they walked out of the hotel on Maria Island. "We're only two hours behind them now."
Gideon nodded, acknowledging the false hope behind Peter's words as much as the information itself. The ride over from Antigua in the hired speed craft had been hellish. Even knowing they were cutting half the time a regular ferry would have taken, Gideon had felt the commodity slipping away from him. Walter still wasn't answering his phone. The probability was high that the events Gideon had feared from the first news of Anja's disappearance were all coming to pass.
And Olivia was right in the middle of it.
At the foot of the hotel steps, Dash crossed his arms over his chest and gazed narrow-eyed over the gravel-topped street. "My recommendation is to fan out, investigate the most likely places they might be."
Gideon nodded, even though he was well aware his first priority ought to be finding Anja. She was the one with the dangerous knowledge in her brain, the global threat.
But right now he was letting the globe take care of itself.
"Wait a minute." Peter suddenly lifted his head. Gideon could tell that every one of Peter's agent senses was aware, picking up sights, sounds, even scents. "There's something..."
"Yeah. I'm getting the same vibe." Dash's gaze roved from one end of the street to the other. "There's something off here."
Gideon didn't question the others' intuitive abilities. His agents were trained to listen to their instincts as much as to their more rational senses. He did the same, relaxing the hold logic usually had on him, and letting his unconscious take over. The result came quickly. "There!" He grabbed Dash's arm. "Over there." Gideon turned Dash toward the area between a shop selling cheap tourist trinkets and a fruit stand. "See that dog, Dash?"
Indiscreet Ladies of Green Ivy Way Page 22
