Deadly Echoes

by Philip Donlay

  “Garrick formed the One Earth Society, a direct reference to her best-selling book, and promised to pick up with violent action where her nonviolent tactics left off. His past ties with her lent him credibility and his visibility grew. At first the One Earth Society did jobs like setting fire to new subdivisions being built on virgin land or attacking Hummer dealerships to protest the gas-guzzling SUVs. They broke into a lab funded by a cosmetics company and rescued animals that were the subjects of tests, setting the place on fire as they fled. Media was on site for that one, masked men running from a burning building holding an assortment of puppies and monkeys. I heard he raised a lot of money from that job, and that’s when Meredith stepped in and condemned his methods and actions, disavowing any and all connections with the OES, and publically denouncing Garrick and his group as nothing more than overgrown vandals. Garrick’s flow of financial support dried up overnight.”

  “I vaguely remember that,” Lauren said.

  “So Garrick did what all belittled men do. He tried to commit some grand act of retribution, as if he could create virtue for himself where there was none. He tried to kidnap the CEO of Zenith Labs, the world’s fifth largest pharmaceutical company. His effort failed and most of the members of OES were arrested. Garrick fled the country. I once heard him say that for a revolution to succeed, it needed violence, the more shocking the violence the more immediate the results. Garrick probably learned a great deal about brutality in a Brazilian prison. We’ve seen on the videos what he’s capable of now, which makes him far more dangerous than he ever was before. Garrick is one of the angriest men I’ve ever met.”

  “He may not be our only problem,” Lauren said. “Donovan also told me that someone tried to kidnap Erica Covington. When I asked him if he thought Garrick was behind it, he said no.”

  “Why would Garrick kidnap the girl? Wouldn’t he just want her dead because she worked at the clinic?”

  “That’s what I thought, but remember what Aaron told us, how Mossad was very interested in a certain woman who may or may not be an assassin?”

  Stephanie nodded.

  “According to Donovan, Erica knows exactly who this woman is. She was at the clinic with Garrick, Donovan texted me her name. She goes by Nikolett Kovarik. I think Mossad wants Erica because she’s a de facto witness to what took place at the clinic.”

  “How could Mossad know about her? How could they have moved on her as fast as they did?” Stephanie asked. “I mean, the CIA just learned there might be a survivor yesterday.”

  “Maybe Mossad had the CIA’s help.” Lauren felt her frustration rise. “I don’t know anything right now except I don’t trust anyone. I want to be free of all of them; Mossad, the CIA, everyone.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “Let’s give it some thought. We have to figure out how to get out of France with both Mossad and the CIA watching us.”

  “We also need to avoid Garrick’s people,” Stephanie added.

  “Garrick’s team got caught, and it might take some time for backup to arrive.” Lauren’s analytical mind was racing through a dozen scenarios she’d put in place the moment she’d arrived in Paris. “I’m going to make some phone calls, but we’re leaving here as soon as possible.”

  “On what pretense?”

  “I don’t know, anything, we’ll go shopping with Abigail, but once we leave we’re not coming back.”

  “What about luggage?”

  “Take what you can’t live without and leave the rest,” Lauren said. “You have a British passport, right?”

  “I have two. I have a British passport under my married name. Once I got divorced, I kept it; it’s still valid for another year. I also have a United States diplomatic passport issued through Uncle William and the State Department. It has my maiden name.”

  “Perfect. We’ll use the British one. If people are looking for us, I bet they’ll look for Stephanie VanGelder not Stephanie Osborn.”

  “What about you?”

  “I have three different sets of identities,” Lauren said. “Donovan saw to that a long time ago. Once I make some calls, we’ll be able to figure out the rest of our plan, but I think sooner is better than later.”

  Stephanie leaned over, gave Lauren a hug, and whispered. “I hope one of those phone calls is to Donovan.”

  Lauren returned the hug, but didn’t say a word. Her husband was the last person who needed to know what she was about to do.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  William shook his head in frustration. “How could I have missed the fact that Garrick was here?”

  “Garrick’s smart and he had all the security codes and passwords from Beverly. If it hadn’t been for Erica, we’d have never known,” Donovan said. “This stays between the three of us. Garrick doesn’t know about Erica or the fact that we know about him.”

  “You need to warn Lauren,” William said.

  “She already knows it’s Garrick. She’s in good hands. Erica and I need to leave. I gather you’re going to stay here.”

  “That’s my plan, unless you need me in Canada,” William said as he initiated a call from his considerable list of stored numbers.

  “No. In fact, I need your eyes and ears on the investigation here. My disappearing is going to make some people unhappy.”

  “That’s an understatement,” William said then turned away as his call was answered. He identified himself as William VanGelder, chairman of the board of Eco-Watch.

  “That’s it?” Erica said. “We’re going to hop on a private jet and go to Bellingham? What do you have in mind then? Sneak into Canada, hunt for this mass grave, and not tell anyone, then what? How is that going to help us find Garrick?”

  Donovan chose to ignore her instead of trying to explain before he was sure of anything. He decided to print out the weather and the image of the logging road and selected each page he wanted. When they were done, he turned to Erica. “I’m going to jump in the shower. We have a long day ahead, and I’ll explain everything, I promise. Right now, though, I want to be out of here in forty-five minutes.”

  Donovan showered, packed, and was waiting in the kitchen for Erica. He decided he had enough time for a quick phone call. “Michael, it’s Donovan, I was hoping you had an update on our airplane?”

  “The good news is it’s a pretty straightforward fix. The compression strut needs to be replaced, so at this very moment we’re waiting for the parts we need. They were overnighted from the factory, so we should be airworthy by late this afternoon.”

  “Good work.”

  “I’ve seen the latest video. Are the FBI any closer to finding out who these people are?”

  “The FBI has been scarce since yesterday. I think they’re happier when we’re not demanding their attention. Buck has things in Alaska under control, and according to Peggy, we’re pretty well contained, at least for the moment.”

  “If anything changes at this end, I’ll let you know. Maybe we could meet for dinner tonight?”

  “I’ll get back with you on that.” Donovan turned as Erica entered the room. “I need to go. Talk to you later.”

  “I’m ready,” Erica said as she brushed past him and walked toward the garage.

  Donovan snatched his briefcase from the kitchen counter and followed.

  “This one.” Erica pointed to the gray BMW X5. “It’ll be the least conspicuous.”

  “Donovan,” William called out, “I just heard back from Gulf-stream. They’ll have an airplane at Signature Flight Support within the hour to take the two of you to Bellingham. The flight is being charged back as a demonstration flight for a local company. No mention of Eco-Watch, no names at all.”

  “Thank you,” Donovan shook William’s hand. “I’ll leave the keys to this thing with Signature. Keep everything under control. I won’t be reachable, but I’ll be in touch.”

  “Be careful,” William said and then handed one of his cards to Erica. “Keep him out of trouble, and call me if you need help.”
/>
  Donovan slid behind the wheel, and they pulled out of the garage, leaving Laguna Beach behind. The midmorning traffic was light and they made good time through the canyon. Erica had taken a shower, but she’d been forced to put on the same clothes.

  “You’re not a very restful sleeper,” Erica said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I woke up in the middle of the night. I was a little freaked out about everything that had happened. Anyway, it’s a big house, but I heard you cry out. I finally found you, but by the time I did, you’d quieted down. Still, you tossed and turned like you were being tortured or something.”

  “I do remember having some bad dreams,” Donovan said with a shrug.

  “Make the next right turn.” Erica pointed. “Let’s drive past the crime scene first, and then we’ll swing around to the apartment.”

  “Okay, but let’s keep our eyes open for anyone watching us.”

  “Slow down.” Erica leaned forward, looked past Donovan. Confused, she looked around until she spotted a street sign. “I don’t understand. We left the bodies down there between those buildings, where those two sidewalks intersect. Shouldn’t there be something there? Crime-scene tape, something?”

  Donovan continued to drive, and they pulled around the corner where he eased into a parking lot and found a space. “Where’s your apartment from here?”

  “It’s behind that building right there.” Erica pointed off to the left.

  Donovan reached into his briefcase, pulled out the pistol, and faced Erica. “Let’s go. I want to walk past where we shot those guys. Then we’ll check out your apartment.”

  They strolled down the sidewalk trying to act nonchalant. Donovan saw what could only be a bloodstain on the concrete. He glanced around for any sign of the spent brass that he and Erica had left at the scene. There was nothing. Even the grass looked undisturbed. As they continued to walk past, there were no signs of a crime scene.

  “How is this possible?” Erica whispered.

  “We need to get out of here. I’m starting to think there were more than two of them last night. Someone cleaned this up before the police showed.”

  “Oh, no,” Erica said as they rounded a corner.

  “What is it?”

  “Jill’s car is parked in the lot. I sublease the apartment from her. She stays at her boyfriend’s, but she still has things here.” Erica had her keys out and quickly opened the outside door that led into the building.

  Donovan followed her down a carpeted hallway. She hurried to a door that read 105. When she turned the key in the deadbolt, the door swung inward. Donovan reached out and grasped her by the upper arm to keep her from charging into the apartment. With the other hand, he gripped the pistol and moved past her into the living room. One glance told him the place had been ransacked. Every drawer, every book, every cushion was lying on the floor. He motioned Erica to follow him quietly. With her behind him, they cleared the kitchen, the bathroom, and Jill’s room. Each room had been searched. Donovan pushed open the door that led to Erica’s room and on the floor amid all of the papers, books, and boxes, were two bodies. Both facedown, blood leaking from the base of their skulls.

  “Oh, God.” Erica pushed past Donovan, dropping to her knees next to Jill, putting two fingers on her neck checking for a pulse. She repeated the process with the young man, slumping when she realized they were both gone. “They’re cold. They’ve been dead for hours. I just talked with Jill yesterday. She didn’t say anything about coming over.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Donovan offered.

  Erica stood and faced Donovan. Tears streaked from pleading eyes as she leaned into him, sobbing, pounding his chest in absolute helplessness. “Those men were looking for me. They found Jill and David instead. How? They’re both dead because of me. How is that even possible?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Lauren casually flipped through an elegant display of summer dresses. Abigail was nearby, playing with a new doll Stephanie had bought her. The three of them were at Le Bon Marché, one of the upscale boutique malls in Paris. She’d placed a series of calls to solidify her plans to escape Paris and leave both Mossad and the CIA behind.

  A glance at her watch told her pieces of her escape plan were still being brought together and she had to continue to be patient. Once everything started, she and Stephanie needed to keep on a precise schedule to reach the rendezvous point that would get them out of the city.

  Lauren’s main concern was her three bodyguards. Henri, Philippe, and Giselle were roaming the floor. She easily found Henri, the tallest and with a shaved head. He was poised over by a rack of shoes that broke up his outline but gave him a sweeping view of the shopping area. As always, he had his earpiece firmly in place and could instantly connect to Philippe and Giselle who were out of sight but close.

  Lauren glanced at her watch. They still had twenty-five minutes before all of the components would be in position for them to make their move. “Do you need to go to the little girl’s room?” Lauren asked Abigail.

  “Oui!” Abigail slid off the chair, carefully clutching her newest doll. Lauren took Abigail’s hand and they walked down an aisle toward the ladies’ room, finding Henri just ahead. She smiled. An instant later Henri’s head snapped backward, and he dropped to the floor as if both legs had failed. Lauren, firmly holding Abigail’s hand, dashed toward the downed man. She’d almost reached him when Philippe materialized from nowhere and scooped up Abigail, quietly but firmly ordering Lauren to go through the curtain that led into the shoe department’s back room. Philippe spoke into his radio, telling Giselle that they were under fire and that Henri was down. He ordered her to collect Stephanie and to bring the car around to the rue de Babylone exit.

  “Let me take her.” Lauren reached out and took a shocked Abigail from Philippe. “Where’s Stephanie?”

  “She’s with Giselle.” Philippe, his weapon drawn, motioned Lauren to take the hallway to their right. “We need to get to the service elevator. It’s this way.”

  “Did you see who did it?”

  “I think there are two of them, a man and a woman, and they moved fast. They had a perfect shot at you and took out Henri instead. Silenced weapon, head shot. Henri was gone before he hit the ground.”

  “Mommy! Where are we going?”

  “We need to do what Philippe tells us. Okay? It’s like when we play hide-and-seek.”

  Abigail nodded, but the apprehension in her eyes told Lauren her daughter knew this wasn’t a game. Voices behind them in the corridor injected a new wave of fear into the equation, and Lauren urged herself to run faster. They rounded a corner, and to the left, Lauren saw an elevator. She got there first, pressed the down button three times, and then when nothing happened, she instantly began looking for stairs. A weak chime sounded, announcing that the car had arrived. The doors began to open slowly. Lauren, with her hand over Abigail’s head, lunged inside only to nearly trip over a body lying on the floor. Lauren spun around so Abigail couldn’t see Fredrick’s sightless corpse. Lauren fought her revulsion and pushed the button for the ground floor as more shots rang out. Bullets struck metal and drywall, tiny fragments stinging Lauren’s face and arms. Philippe fired three quick rounds, backed into the elevator and fired down the hall until the doors eased closed and the elevator began to descend.

  “Who’s he?” Philippe said as he dropped the empty clip from his Glock, shoved it in his pocket, and rammed a fresh one into place.

  “I don’t know,” Lauren lied. Abigail was clutching Lauren as hard as her three-year-old arms could squeeze. Lauren looked down and saw blood pooling beneath Philippe’s leg. “You’re hit.”

  “A little.” Philippe nodded and then spoke rapidly. “Once the door opens, let me clear the hallway and then we’re out and to the left. There should be an exit onto rue de Babylone. Giselle and Stephanie are already in the car headed our way.”

  Lauren nodded, relieved that Stephanie was safe, but the relief was short l
ived as the elevator bottomed out, hesitated, and the doors began to open. Philippe led with his pistol, pointed it first one way and then another. Somewhere in the distance Lauren could hear the distinctive French emergency sirens. The hallway was clear and to their left was a door that led into the retail section and, hopefully, the exit. Philippe took the lead as shoppers alarmed by the earlier gunshots moved toward the large glass doors. Philippe kept his gun low along his leg and motioned Lauren to blend into the crowd. Lauren couldn’t help but see the trail of blood Philippe was leaving as they shuffled to the doors. She kept Abigail’s head down and barely dared to breathe as they drew closer to freedom.

  The small crowd slowed at the restriction of the doors themselves, but Lauren pushed past them, then down a small flight of stairs and out onto the sunlight. The moment she looked up, she saw Giselle flash the lights on the Jaguar. The next moment she saw a familiar face round the corner of the building. Young, pretty, with spiky black hair, and holding a gun. Now Lauren knew who she was running from. The woman in the picture Aaron had shown her—Nikolett Kovarik—the assassin.

  Lauren ducked and moved away, trying to cross the street and put traffic between her and Nikolett. Philippe too saw the woman and raised his weapon to fire just as a slug zipped past Lauren and caught Philippe in the midsection. Nikolett hadn’t fired; the bullet had come from behind them, across the street. The cluster of people still coming through the door screamed and parted, fleeing the blast of gunfire. Lauren searched for the second shooter, realizing they were pinned down.

  Lauren crouched next to Philippe who’d gone white with shock. She picked up his Glock, her desire to protect Abigail far outweighing any hesitation. Desperately, Lauren scanned for Nikolett’s accomplice until she spotted a man coming toward her. Lauren saw the gray Jaguar coming fast. Lauren fired at the man, causing him to hesitate long enough for the Jaguar’s front grill to hit squarely into him. His gun tumbled away as his body tossed into the air and slammed into a parked delivery van. Giselle expertly backed away, fired three shots toward Nikolett, pinning her behind a parked car.