“Courtesy of the Canadians, I’ll be in a car the kidnappers won’t recognize as being from the US embassy. I have enough firepower to do pretty much whatever I need to do. But you have to keep me informed of everything that is happening.”
Donovan was about to ask about the assortment of weapons when Eva’s cell phone rang. Donovan felt his adrenaline begin to pump as Buck handed it to him. “Remember to ask Stephanie a question only she can answer.”
Donovan looked at William, who nodded, and then he answered and put the phone on speaker.
“We’re ready,” Donovan said.
“Who am I speaking with?”
“My name is Donovan. I want to talk to Stephanie.”
“I recognize your voice. You have the money?”
“I told you we’re ready. Now I want to talk to Stephanie.” Donovan’s entire world was focused on the thought of hearing her voice, letting her know he was coming.
“Donovan?”
At the sound of her voice Donovan felt his throat constrict, Stephanie sounded so alone and frightened. He thought of the last words Meredith had said to him. She’d told him she loved him, and not to pay the ransom—for twenty-two years her words had plagued him, haunted him, for she must have already known she was going to be killed.
“It’s me.” Donovan said in a hushed voice, trying to control his emotions. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Stephanie replied.
“Do you remember what I swore I wouldn’t do while I was in Montana?”
“You haven’t shaved?”
“Hang on a little longer,” Donovan said, his voice stronger this time, it was definitely her.
“Listen carefully.” The hard-edged male voice had the phone again. “Take the money, and the girl, and drive north out of the hotel on the Avenue La Reforma. Keep this phone—you are being watched. You have ten minutes.”
“I understand.” Donovan severed the connection, and then slid the phone into his jacket pocket and glanced at his watch. “I spoke to Stephanie, she’s alive. We’ve got ten minutes to get on the road.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lauren jolted awake with a start. For a moment she couldn’t place her surroundings, and she felt her apprehension escalate as she struggled to understand. In the darkness, the dull hum of engines helped her pull it all together. She was on a chartered Gulfstream headed to Guatemala City. Her eyes went to the display mounted on the forward bulkhead. The moving map showed they were at 44,000 feet over the Gulf of Mexico.
With mixed feelings, she’d left Abigail with Montero. They’d gotten along wonderfully, and Abigail loved staying at the country house. Lauren had briefed Montero on the house, its security systems, the armory and safe room in the basement, as well as the means to escape if need be.
They discussed different plans of action, including getting Abigail to Lauren’s mother if Montero needed to vanish. Lauren also left enough cash for Montero to cover any contingency. Without having all the answers as to who might want to hurt them, having a highly trained former FBI agent watch over her daughter brought Lauren some measure of comfort.
Despite their history, she’d grown to like and trust Montero. The woman was capable, smart, and not afraid to act. These qualities Lauren had known about; she was surprised to find that Montero possessed such an insightful spirit. The other not-so-surprising aspect of Montero was her investigative mind. Once they’d decided to focus on Marie Vargas, Montero flew into high gear, and the two of them began to pull together information from Montero’s friend in Miami and Lauren’s government sources. When Lauren had left for the airport, Montero was still digging, connecting seemingly unimportant details. Now, somewhere out in front of her in Guatemala was her husband. With all the information that she and Montero had gathered, Lauren couldn’t ignore the fact that her husband might be in very real trouble.
Each minute, the Gulfstream put her six miles closer to Donovan, and as Lauren ran each scenario, she kept coming back to the one set of events that scared her the most. What if her husband was finished with their marriage? She’d left him almost a year ago, and while the underlying causes of their split were still firmly in place, they seemed committed to working on their issues. Donovan’s self-imposed exile to Montana was designed to give him some perspective, to try to put his ghosts behind him, and live his life focused on the future instead of the past. What if he found his answers and they didn’t involve her? Could he walk away from her? Her husband was one of the most complex men she’d ever met and, as she’d learned over the years, complex worked great when it was functioning, but an upheaval created nothing but chaos. For Donovan, the loss of Stephanie would go far beyond an upheaval. Her death would be catastrophic.
She threw off the blanket and stretched, then smoothed her hair away from her face and pushed the button that would open the louvered window shade. She found the sun was just coming up in the distance.
“Dr. McKenna,” the flight attendant stood beside her, “can I get you anything? Coffee, some juice? We have omelets for breakfast, if you’d like. I could start heating everything up.”
“I’d just like some coffee for now, thank you.” Lauren sat up straight in her seat and pressed her hands into her face, trying to pull herself together. It was a miracle she’d slept at all. Last night, after she’d made the decision to go to Guatemala, she’d talked to Abigail and then put her daughter to bed. In between helping Montero, she’d arranged the details of the flight, thrown together a few things, and then driven herself to the private terminal at Dulles airport. It was a four-hour flight, and Lauren calculated she’d slept for about an hour—which was all the sleep she was going to get for now. She grabbed her purse and headed for the lavatory in the rear of the plane.
Lauren leaned into the soft lighting around the mirror and could see the red spider webs surrounding her pupils, the result of not enough sleep and the dehydration of being in the airplane. She dug in her purse until she found some eye drops and relished their soothing effect. She combed her hair and straightened her blouse. As she returned to her seat she was delighted to find a cup of coffee waiting for her. Lauren took a sip and began to methodically run through what she was going to do when she arrived.
If she went straight to the hotel, she might catch Donovan before he left for the day. She had no idea if he was flying or not. If she missed him, then her second choice was to find William, though at the moment she didn’t want to put herself in a position that would lead to a confrontation. Lauren processed the third and least pleasant option, what she would do if she found Donovan with Eva. Would she confront him, or just quietly go home and wait it out?
“More coffee?” The flight attendant asked as she walked from the galley with a pot in her hand.
“Yes, please,” Lauren said. “Can I check my e-mail from here?”
“Of course,” the flight attendant replied. “We have global satellite capability. There’s a small compartment by your elbow with connections and a card with instructions.”
Lauren had her laptop resting on the foldout table in front of her, and within a minute she’d established a connection and the Washington Post filled the screen. She scanned each page until she found the article she wanted.
FBI involved in Chantilly Double Murder
Fairfax County police are being assisted by the FBI in yesterday’s double homicide in a parking garage in a Chantilly office park. Shortly after 1:00 p.m. reports of gunfire inside the structure were reported. According to the FBI, the security footage has so far discovered nothing of interest. An unnamed source revealed that there were no witnesses and no immediate suspects. The Fairfax police and FBI are asking the public for any help in identifying the perpetrators. The victims’ identities have yet to be released. This brings to twelve the number of homicides in Fairfax County for the year.
Lauren gathered from the article that, thanks to Montero’s call to Deputy Graham, there wasn’t going to be any blowback from their confrontation in the
garage. The FBI was in charge, and since no suspects would be arrested, the shooting would quietly become unsolved.
Quickly, she scanned the international section for any news out of Guatemala. The only snippet she found was an increase in volcanic activity connected with the recent awakening of Mt. Atitlán. Lauren clicked to open her e-mail and seconds later her inbox popped up on the screen. She quickly scanned the list. Most could wait, but there was one from Montero.
Lauren,
Abigail is asleep and all is quiet at this end. I’m still waiting for my West Coast contacts to report back on our earlier requests. I’m interested in what they’ll turn up after eighteen months.
I couldn’t sleep, so I went back through the photographs Buck sent us, the ones Stephanie took on the mountain. I began to analyze each one looking for anything we may have missed. I may have found something. I pulled in some help from a computer guy I know. I only sent him partial screen grabs, so he has no idea what the full images actually represent. I’ve attached four isolated sections I think you’ll want to see.
Regards,
Montero
Lauren double-clicked on the file and drummed her fingers on the table, impatiently waiting while the images downloaded. She adjusted the angle of her screen as the first picture materialized. It took her a moment to understand she was seeing a section of the foliage extracted from the original photo. Just above the shoulder of one of the men in the foreground was a shape. It was somewhat obscured, but when she squinted at it, she knew Montero had found something they’d initially missed. There was a figure in the trees, a fourth man going into the woods instead of coming up the path. She scrolled down and found the second frame and found a far better image. The fourth person was dressed in camouflage, gun in hand, hat pulled down low, a branch obscuring the face. Lauren searched the details and then scrolled down to the next image. Montero had blown it up until it filled the entire screen. It was a tattoo. Lauren studied the ink, it was delicate and high quality, the artwork she was looking at was most certainly an angel. She clicked on the final image and it put everything into context. Lauren could see dark hair pulled up under a hat, telltale strands had found their way down the neck—a neck that could only be described as sleek and feminine—the fourth kidnapper was a woman.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Despite the early hour, the traffic was chaotic. Motorcycles shot by on either side, and the lumbering buses created small strangleholds in the traffic each time they stopped. The windshield wipers stroked back and forth, and Donovan settled down and tried to focus on driving the Suburban. The initial instructions were to turn out of the hotel and travel north. He matched their speed with the traffic and tried to spot Buck in the rearview mirror, but had no idea where the former SEAL might be. His cell phone was on the console, the open line would transmit everything he said to Buck.
“How far does this road go?” Donovan asked Eva. She’d been silent since they’d started. Her mood somber, as if she expected the worst, and had resigned herself to whatever fate had decreed.
“I don’t know.” Eva pulled her hair back from her face and turned around to look out the rear window. “I am not very familiar with the city.”
“Don’t look back,” Donovan said, remembering what Buck had said about telegraphing their moves to the enemy. “They’re probably following us as well as Buck. We need to convince them we’re alone.”
Eva snapped around as if she’d been slapped and faced forward. She sat rigid in her seat. “I am sorry.”
“It’s okay. Try to relax,” Donovan tried to reassure her. “We just do what we’re told and pretend we’re alone. Let Buck and his men do the rest. We’ll be fine.”
“Are you afraid?” Eva asked, slowly turning her head to look at him.
“Yes,” Donovan replied truthfully. “But I’m even more afraid for Stephanie.”
“I hope the people who did this to us die a painful death.”
Donovan was a little taken aback by the force of Eva’s words, the hatred in her voice. He looked over at her and could see her small hands balled up into fierce little fists. A vein pulsed in her slender neck. “Keep that thought and stay focused.”
Eva turned to him and lightly rested her hand on his shoulder. “I have trust in you. You are one of my guardian angels. You’ve already saved me once.”
Donovan was about to reply when Eva’s phone rang. Without taking his eyes off the road, he swept it up and answered. He listened intently as the kidnappers issued the next set of instructions.
“As you go north you will to come to a traffic circle. Veer to the left, then go north on Seventh Avenue.”
Donovan could see the circle. The traffic slowed, and he wasn’t sure which lane he should use. With no obvious markings, the street signs were hard to see in the rain. “The circle is straight ahead. Which way do I go?”
“West, and then north.”
A horn blared behind them. Donovan ignored it as he swung the Suburban hard to the left. He saw Eva brace herself as he called out to her. “Look for Seventh Avenue.” Another horn, this one much louder sounded next to them. Donovan didn’t care. He concentrated on finding a street sign, anything that would tell him which way he was supposed to go.
“I see it!” Eva pointed at a street sign. “Which way?”
“North.” Donovan braked heavily, the tires skidded on the wet pavement. He yanked the wheel to the right, cut off a taxicab, and then nearly ran down a bicyclist. Once he’d negotiated the turn, Donovan merged into traffic. He was still holding the phone. “We’re on Seventh now.”
“Good. Now travel on that road until you see a bank on the left side of the road. It will be Calle Twenty-Eight, turn left.”
Donovan understood, avenues ran north and south and calles, or streets, ran east and west. “Look for a bank on the left,” he said to Eva, trying to talk and drive at the same time. He braked and swerved wildly as a brightly colored bus pulled away from the curb and nearly broadsided them. Donovan knew that a fraction of a second slower and he’d have wrecked the Suburban. A quick glance down told him that his phone wasn’t on the console, it had slipped off. Donovan handed the cell phone connected to the kidnappers to Eva. “You talk to them.”
Eva took the phone, her hands nervously pulling back her hair. “Hola, are you there?”
Donovan reached down and tried to locate his phone by feel. Finally, he felt the soft rubber of the case between his seat and the console. Using two fingers, he slid the phone upward until it was free, but one quick look told him he’d lost the connection with Buck. He fumbled with the device, turning it in his hand until it was right side up, and then thumbed the redial button. Once he was reconnected, he reached up and slid the edge of the phone under the sun visor, careful to make sure the microphone port was exposed.
“The turn is coming,” Eva said.
Donovan put both hands on the wheel, grateful to devote his full attention to driving. He changed lanes to the inside, wanting to spot the upcoming turn before the last moment. His eyes darted back and forth trying to watch the traffic and the buildings and everything else in between. A traffic light ahead turned red and Donovan slowly stopped. He used the opportunity to glance at Eva. She sat looking at him, wide-eyed, listening to the kidnappers.
“He says to drop the other cell phones out of the car now.” Eva frantically gestured for him to lower his window and toss it out. “He says hurry, before the light changes.”
Donovan didn’t have time to think. Furious with himself for allowing the phone to be spotted, he quickly did as instructed and dropped his phone on the pavement. Ahead of him the light turned green and horns immediately began honking as he hesitated. “It’s gone! What now?”
“It’s gone!” Eva said. “I promise, it is laying in the street. Please don’t hurt anyone.” Eva was nearly pleading into the phone. “I can’t do this, I am going to give the phone back to Donovan.”
Donovan held out his hand for the phone. Eva slump
ed, shook her head in dejection, and spoke into the phone. “I understand. I will do as you wish. I can relay the instructions.”
Eva looked at him and swallowed hard. “They do not want to talk to you. Only me.”
“Fine.” Donovan checked the traffic behind him, hoping Buck was still following them.
“He says the bank is one more block,” Eva relayed. “It will be a left turn, followed by a right turn at the intersection after that.” Eva paused as she listened. “We will then be going north on Sixth Avenue.”
Donovan maneuvered around a truck and swerved to shoot the gap in a small group of pedestrians. A few were holding colorful umbrellas against the rain and paying little attention to the traffic. He nearly overshot the next turn and had come to a complete stop. He jammed on his horn to try and move the car that was blocking his path. The driver flipped him off as Donovan inched forward and then whipped the Suburban between two cars, missing each by inches.
As they shot forward, he looked in the mirror. As the intersection fell away behind them he didn’t see any vehicles make the same turn. He slammed his hand on the wheel in frustration. He tried to even out his breathing, Buck still had the advantage. He wondered what everyone aboard the Galileo could actually see from the Scimitar? Donovan eased into the lighter traffic and looked over at Eva, waiting for her to relay the next instructions.
Reading his intentions, she spoke to the kidnappers. “We are on Sixth Avenue now. Where do you want us to go?”
“What are they saying?” Donovan pressed, impatient for the relay.
“They say to go straight for now.” Eva pointed, then listened to the voice on the phone. “Yes, I see it.”
“What are we looking for?” Donovan asked.
“Turn here.” Eva pointed in the direction she intended. “They said to loop around the park.”
As Donovan did as instructed, he noticed that despite the low clouds and rain, it was getting lighter outside. He felt as if the kidnappers were sending them on a prearranged route, that nothing about this was random. With the improving weather the traffic seemed to be getting heavier, harder to negotiate. Off to his left he could see one of the most modern buildings in Guatemala City, an abstract silver-and-white construction with a sloping roof and large oval windows. He had a vague idea where they were.
Aftershock: A Donovan Nash Novel (A Donovan Nash Thriller) Page 18
