by Powers, Jade
Drake rubbed his eyes, “I thought it would be a few years before you got the itch to settle down. To be honest, the life is wearing on me, too.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to settle down yet, but I want to give it a few months...after we take care of this latest mess. I won’t leave you without backup. There’s a woman in Spokane. We just met, but I feel a spark.”
With raised eyebrow, Drake asked, “Can you keep your head in the game?”
“Hell, yes. I’m just telling you to plan my exit sooner than later.”
They talked and planned until nine. It was early for the Miami crowd, but Sven was ready to crash. He didn’t sleep last night after Joe’s attack and Drake’s call. As tired as he was, he didn’t relax much on the plane either. Now he was stupid tired—never a good combination in a soldier. He could use a good night’s sleep. Drake and three of his men left for the evening’s stake-out.
Sven would take day shift, continuing to watch the hotel where Tom’s meeting would take place.
Nightmares intruded on his rest, rewriting the scene outside the theater. In his dreams Minka died. He burst out of bed with an ache so severe that Sven wondered if he was having a heart attack.
Using the hotel phone, he pulled out the slip of paper with Minka’s number. He longed to hear Minka’s voice. Just knowing she still existed in the world would soothe him. He was almost finished dialing the numbers when he realized that with the time difference, it was midnight in Spokane.
Slamming down the receiver, Sven pushed up from the bed. The sooner they got this problem resolved, the sooner he could go home to Minka. The thought stopped him cold. Since when was Spokane home? He scrubbed his hair in a wild gesture of frustration. Damn it. He wanted to move to Montana. Not Spokane.
But there was no Minka in Montana, and suddenly that seemed like the most important thing.
It was too early to gather the team. Sven showered and dressed, grabbed the complimentary newspaper and headed down to the breakfast buffet for coffee, bacon, and eggs. He grumbled when he got to the quiet lobby. Breakfast didn’t start until five.
It was going to be a long day.
TOM THOUGHT HIS HEART would burst when a young hoodlum in a red t-shirt and a spiky mohawk grabbed him near the elevator of his hotel. He was on his way to the meeting that would determine his son’s fate. Everything that could go wrong had. And here was another obstacle between Tom and his son’s future.
“Hey, man. What you got for me?” He stepped close to Tom, placing his hands on Tom’s shoulders. The gesture was almost friendly. Anyone watching the cameras in the parking garage would be uncertain until Tom reacted.
“Please. I have to be somewhere right now.” Tom wore a light jacket even though the weather was a balmy seventy degrees. His hands shook as he pulled out his wallet. He had more money stashed in the suitcase. With shaking hands, he pushed the fifty into the guy’s hands, at the same time pushing him away. He said, “Lives depend on me.”
With a shake of his head, the guy tucked the money in his jeans’ pocket. “I’m not here to hurt you. You’re about to do business. Will you come?”
“Number one. I’m not stupid enough to go to a meeting with an enemy carrying the technology that will free my son. Number two. Unless I see my son, your bosses aren’t getting anything. So back off.”
Tom tried to memorize the Mohawk’s face, thin and long with a largish nose. He had no illusions about his own safety or that he would ever make it out alive to report to a sketch artist. But if life had taught him anything, it was to be prepared.
Mohawk laughed. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and slapped Tom on the breast just under his shoulder. “The boss would like to meet you. New location with instructions. Make sure you have this piece of paper in its entirety to hand over to my superior. Drake and his buddies are watching the International Sun Hotel. So you’re going somewhere else.
“I didn’t say anything to Drake or Sven or anyone.”
“You’d be dead if you had. So would your son. Better get moving if you want to be on time.”
Tom’s hands were shoved into his pockets. One of them rested on a dragon statuette. The tiny statue was inside his jacket, not in the pocket, but hanging from a ribbon that he had sewn into the lining. Tom had a plan to save the company and his son. He deserved his fate. Suicide by gangster, yes. At least he would die with honor. They would never find the real sphere, nor the real dragon, not unless Tom himself told them. And he wasn’t saying a word until his son was free.
He only hoped he could get Bryce out.
The idea that Drake would always think of him as the rat bastard who betrayed his friends and sold out the company pained Tom too severely for this to go down any other way.
The hotel was decorated in gold and maroon. He strode up to the desk as if he belonged. Just a non-descript guy meeting a business partner at his suite. He prayed his son still lived. At least twice the thought crossed his mind that he should have left the sphere behind. That would be deadly. Hiding the sphere in Miami was his best option, and having the statuette in his jacket would prevent immediate execution while he explained himself.
“Please ring James Smith. He’s expecting me,” Tom told the hotel clerk. James Smith, that was an original pseudonym. It would be funny if there were two rooms out to James Smith...or tragic.
“Room 358. I’ll need to ring up. Can I see your identification?”
Tom opened his wallet, handing over his license. He should have arrived under a pseudonym, too. Maybe if he was lucky, the hotel clerk would remember him and the license and be able to help Sven and Drake in the murder investigation. Or if he was unlucky and things went horribly awry, the police or corporation would find out he was involved and there would be a different punishment.
The clerk looked at the license and dialed the room. Someone answered the phone. “You have a visitor, Tom Langden.”
“Go on up. They’re expecting you.”
I bet they are. Tom thought as he headed for the nearest elevator. He had to be smart about this. He couldn’t risk his son’s life. The statuette dug into him, reminding Tom of the risk. If he blew this in any way, Bryce would be dead.
He hit the button, feeling a strange sense of calm as the doors closed. No matter which way it went, it would all be over soon. The flight to Miami had actually been worse than this final commute to his doom.
He found Room 358 and knocked. A big bruiser answered the door. He was the kind of guy you saw running security at night clubs. Some of that bulk was fat, but Tom wouldn’t want to go hand-to-hand with the guy. As he stepped in, he surveyed the room.
“Where’s Bryce?”
“Give us the sphere and you get your son back.”
“That’s not how this works. I have the sphere in a secure location. You let Bryce go, show me proof that he’s safe, and then I’ll take you to the sphere.”
“You left it in the hotel? What do you take me for?” asked the second guy. “No one with your intellect would leave something like that laying around. Not even in a hotel safe.”
Which was completely true. Desperate times and all. Tom had gone so far out of bounds in hiding the statue that if he died, not even Drake or Sven, knowing him as well as they did, would ever find it.
“Not the hotel, but I’m not an idiot. It’s certainly not on me,” Tom said. He lifted his pockets, pulling them inside out. “Let my son go. Prove he’s free, and then you’ll have me hostage. I’ll give you the sphere.”
Grumbling, the guard picked up the phone and after a lengthy conversation said, “Bring him along.”
Tom found himself back in the elevator. He wondered how often security actually watched the surveillance tapes in the elevators. Maybe they were well paid to look away. That happened a lot in the spy business.
They marched him down an opulent corridor, golden and filled with reflective light, the kind of rich décor that didn’t feel right in the kind of sordid kidnapping and es
pionage that these people were involved in.
Tom’s arms were already starting to hurt. He was older and not in shape like he used to be. A door opened in the corridor and the two guards pushed Tom through the door and turned as one, with arms across their chest.
Bryce sat at the table looking better than Tom expected. Four more men, as big and burly as the first two surrounded him. It was the scrawny guy in a suit who said, “As promised. Here is your son.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Bryce looked miserable. The sleeve of his shirt was ripped, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, but otherwise Bryce was unharmed.
“There’s time for that later. I want you to get out of here. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be along later.” Tom watched the man in charge while spoke. He wanted to get a feel for how this would go down. He hoped his words would somehow lead the way for his son to walk out the door.
“Yes, you’re free to go. Now, where’s the sphere?”
“He’s not even out of the room. I’m not telling you anything until he has walked out of the hotel.”
With a shrug, the guy in charge waved his hand toward the door. He said to Bryce, “We’re trading you for your dad. You’d better hope the device is nearby. Go.”
Bryce stayed. The boy had his mom’s stubbornness in spades, but now wasn’t the time. Tom said, “Bryce, you’ve got to get out of here now. Give your mom my love. I need you to be safe. Go. Don’t talk to anyone about this. Don’t call the police.”
“I’m not leaving, Dad.”
“Can I have a moment alone with my son?” Tom waited until the last of the men had moved to the edges of the room. He hugged Bryce, slipping a piece of paper with directions to the sphere in Bryce’s pocket. Hopefully Bryce would figure out the code. It was based on puzzle games he and Tom exchanged with one another. The piece of paper had been hidden up Tom’s sleeve. He said, “I love you. Get out of here. That’s an order.”
He would never forget the look of guilt on his son’s face, probably a mirror of his own. Tom watched as Bryce walked to the end of the room, as the door clicked.
Tom didn’t trust the guards. He walked to the door. “Open the door, please?”
He wasn’t in a bargaining position, but since he and now Bryce were the only people on earth who knew where the sphere was, he could afford a little bit of negotiation.
One of the thugs opened the door. To his relief Tom found that both of the guards left outside the door were still there. Had they been missing, he would suspect them of following Bryce.
“Where do you think you’re going?” One of the men grabbed him back.
“How do I know you didn’t grab him on the elevator? How do I know you won’t just pick him up as soon as I tell you the location of the sphere?” Tom let himself be pulled back into the room and guided to a chair, then pushed roughly down. He prepared himself for an interrogation and wondered which of the stories he would attempt.
He’d tried three different ones in his head, but none of them seemed quite right. Earlier that morning, he’d taken the metro rail, walked a few streets, and explored random buildings that didn’t mean anything to him. Everywhere he went, he hunted a safe hiding place for Drake’s technology, choosing instead a public place no one would expect. In the end, he feared his choice was too vulnerable.
The scrawny guy flipped open his laptop. “Watch this screen.”
On screen his son walked out of the hotel. He watched as Bryce sauntered across the street and then stopped. Bryce turned around, found a quiet space across the street and settled in to watch the hotel. Tom closed his eyes. Just once he wished his kids would do what they were told. Just once.
“I guess your son didn’t get the smart gene from you.”
Tom stretched his shoulder, his wrists aching from the awkward way they were jammed against the back of the chair. He said, “I have to know he’s safe. You’ve waited this long. You can wait until my son understands that nothing is going to happen and leaves.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Drake has already discovered that you skipped out on our official meeting. Him and his lackey are causing all kinds of trouble for us. So...you don’t have any time left. You’re going to tell us where you’ve hidden the sphere.”
“Downtown,” Tom said. You’ll never find it without me. I’ll go willingly. My son’s safety is not negotiable.”
“Send a message to his son.” The weasel looked at the biggest of the guards. A nod to one of the burly men was all that was needed.
Tom half stood, struggling to get up, “Don’t hurt him. If you do I won’t tell you anything.”
“The way I see it, we kept our part of the bargain. Your son is free. If he’s stupid enough to hang around our hotel, that’s on him. You have an agreement to conclude.”
“Fine. Send me with one of your guards. We’ll go downtown, and I’ll help you find the sphere.”
The blow came from the scrawny fellow. Tom found himself lifting up from the chair and falling. Damn, that hurt. The fall knocked the wind out of him. He felt hands on his body, unzipping his jacket, tearing it off him and then they started on his shirt.
“Hey, Boss. It’s here.” The guard handed the jacket over.
So they found his decoy. Of course they would find it with Bryce lingering on the sidewalk, just waiting to get caught. Tom barely felt the needle prick his skin. He was certain he was about to die.
Chapter 16
MINKA RETURNED TO WORK two days after Joe’s death, having heard nothing from Sven. If he was moving back and forth from his apartment, he did so with vast stealth to the point that Minka found herself standing near the door, listening for him like a crazy person.
A vase of exotic flowers greeted Minka at work. The combination included sunflowers, daisies, blue hydrangeas, bells of Ireland, and snapdragons. Her first thought was of Joe. Had he actually sent them before his death? It gave her a sick feeling as she picked up the envelope.
“What’s wrong?” Alice asked.
Stricken, Minka handed Alice the envelope. “I can’t open this. Please? See who it’s from.”
“Honey, he’s dead.”
“I know, but I haven’t heard from Sven since that night. Why would he send flowers?”
“These came the night after it happened,” Alice said. She took the envelope. Slipping her finger between the fold, Alice carefully lifted the flap. She read, “Unexpected problem at work. Had to leave town. I don’t know how long I’ll be. Please know I would rather be with you, Sven.”
Alice handed Minka the note so that she could read it herself. Sending flowers was what Joe did after screwing her over. Sven wouldn’t want to continue a relationship with a woman who killed her ex-boyfriend. Who would?
With a small expression of dismay, Minka returned the card. “Do you want the flowers?”
“Take them home. He’ll want to see that you’ve enjoyed them.” Alice would have ended the conversation there.
Minka picked up the flowers. Alice wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t see the similarity between Joe’s flowers and Sven’s. But Minka knew it was an apology. And at the cost of these flowers, it was a pretty big one. The last they talked, they were still friends, not lovers, not dating. She expected that Sven would be scarce for the next few months. He sent a final goodbye via flowers and hoped that she wouldn’t notice him slinking back into town later.
Not wanting to argue with Alice, Minka tucked the envelope back in the prongs sticking out of the vase, and moved it to the back of her desk. She said, “I’m sure you’re right.”
Minka’s work phone rang. Just after the flowers were delivered, it had to be Sven.
After a professional greeting, Minka was taken aback by the harangue that flooded her ears. With a shriek, Candy yelled, “You bitch. You set him up.”
“Candy, he attacked me with a tire iron. I am ending this call. Please don’t call here again.”
Returning the phone to the receiver, Minka expelled the breath she
was holding. The phone rang again. She didn’t dare answer. But it was her job.
“Rochet’s, this is Minka.” Her whole body felt like she was standing at the edge of a tall building looking down. Every muscle was tight. Every nerve screaming to flee.
“Don’t hang up. Don’t hang up. I just need to talk to someone.”
Candy again.
“I can’t help you.” Minka focused on keeping her tone calm and friendly. The last thing she needed was Candy making a scene at the office.
“You were there with him when he died.”
“Look, I’m not the person you need to talk to. Go to a therapist. Get help. Call your family.”
“I have to know. Did he suffer?”
Minka visualized Joe on the ground, blood everywhere. God, how could one person bleed so much? He flopped. That was something she hadn’t expected, had never seen before. It was like Minka had watched him short out or something.
Then there was the smell, metallic and heavy. His death was ugly.
“Candy, I can’t do this. I don’t think he suffered. Don’t call me again.”
It took two tries to return the phone. When Minka looked up, Alice was watching her with knowing eyes. Minka shook her head. She couldn’t talk about it. Not with Alice. Not with anybody.
The flowers on her desk mocked her. Minka would have given anything to hear from Sven. Instead, she got an earful from Joe’s harlot. Her urge to take the flowers out to the dumpster overwhelmed Minka. She pushed them to the side and shivered the mouse on her computer. Better to focus on work anyway. For the meantime. It was time to plan her escape from Spokane.
LIKE A HUNTER IN A blind, Sven waited motionless in his perch watching the street below with a pair of binoculars. For fifteen minutes he waited in utter silence, his mind attuned to the street like a monk in meditation. It was half past the hour. He wore a headpiece with a microphone and watched for Tom.
Too much time passed in the heat. Tom should have been visible half an hour ago. One of his men said, “No movement from the inside.”
