Tracing a Kidnapper
Page 12
Someone set a wooden crate down and Dickson climbed up on top of it. She lifted a bullhorn to her mouth. “We will continue to target these CEOs and make them pay. We’re going to turn up the pressure. Make them suffer. Hit them where it hurts the most until they’ve learned their lesson. They want to pretend like we’re not here, as if they can’t see us. Well, let’s make sure they hear us.” Her light brown hair was loose and free, flying wild around her face as she raised her right palm, which was painted red, then clenched it into a fist and chanted, “Hell, no, we won’t go! Hell, no, we won’t go!”
The mob circling her repeated the furious words.
This was perfect. Nothing better than a glamorous event with the press to lure the Red Right Hand like moths to a flame. Simply couldn’t help themselves.
Madeline opened the clutch that matched her Tarik Ediz dress, shifted her FBI credentials to the side and grabbed her cell phone. She dialed Miguel. “Three guesses who is outside AlbrechTech right now protesting.”
“Samantha Dickson,” he said, excitement ringing in his voice. “I’ll pull the guys surveilling Charles Albrecht and have them follow Dickson. This way we’ll know where she’s staying.”
“Make sure they keep eyes on her in case she changes locations.”
“Of course,” Miguel said. “I was just about to call you.”
“Did Liam or Dash turn up anything new?”
“It’s not about the Rhodes case. I got a lead on the terrorist suspect responsible for those two bombings last year.”
Finally. Madeline knew precisely how much this meant to Miguel. The terrorist on their watch list had claimed over a hundred lives and evaded capture. Like every member of the BAU team, Miguel would risk his own life to find justice for the dead and try to prevent any more people from dying.
“I need to follow this lead before the trail grows cold,” Miguel said.
She’d expect nothing less from him. “I understand. Be sure to keep us in the loop.”
“Will do.”
She disconnected and stowed her phone back in her purse. The chanting cut through the silence in the car.
“What reason do they have to be angry with Albrecht?” Madeline asked.
“Take your pick. From new facial recognition software that he sold to law enforcement, which they claim is racially biased, to drone technology for US Immigration and Customs Enforcement that’s used to separate families.”
“Drones,” she said, and understanding of where she was going lit up in his eyes. “What brand does he produce?”
“Two. For the government it’s ABC Daedalus, and commercially it’s—”
“ABC Icarus.” The AB stood for Albrecht. The C for Charles. With them being stretched to the limit on this case, they had missed a small yet important detail.
His blue eyes narrowed, taking on an iciness. “Were Chuck’s drones at Duwamish?”
“The commercial brand, but that doesn’t prove anything. They’re very popular and widely available.”
The driver pulled up to the entrance, stopping the car. Jackson got out, came around to her side and opened the door.
He extended his hand. She put her palm on his and he helped her out. The simple contact, a slip of skin on skin, sparked a tingle she couldn’t ignore.
A flurry of cameras clicked, flashes bursting like fireworks in front of them.
Taken aback by the onslaught of paparazzi, she lowered her gaze.
“Sorry,” Jackson said. “I should’ve warned you what to expect.”
They hurried through the press gauntlet, neither of them smiling, both eager to avoid the cameras. There was a small white tent set up.
The moment they entered, an armed security guard greeted them. “Good evening.”
Jackson presented his special VIP invitation.
When the man swept over the custom holographic foil print with a handheld scanner, a bar code that hadn’t been visible before illuminated.
“What time is the big announcement?” Jackson asked.
“You’re just in time,” the guard said in an accent that sounded Russian. “Should be any minute since the entire board of directors have arrived.”
Jackson nodded his thanks.
Another security guard took her handbag and searched it. Spotting her credentials, he flipped open her badge. He met her gaze, stuffed her identification back inside and gave her the clutch. A third guard, holding a metal detector wand, motioned for her to step forward.
If he did a thorough search, her BUG—backup gun—that was strapped to her thigh would set off the alarm.
Madeline extended her arms while the guard waved the wand across her upper body, moving lower.
As he came to her midsection, she dropped her purse. The guard bent to pick it up, a natural reflex he probably wasn’t aware of. She lowered along with him, moving too fast and close on purpose, and their heads collided.
“Sorry about that,” she said.
“No problem, ma’am.” He also spoke with an accent. The guard grabbed the clutch, handed it to her and gestured for Jackson to assume the position.
A quick swipe over his body, and they were cleared.
“Are the guards always armed here at AlbrechTech?” she asked.
“Since Chuck took over. He’s paranoid to the nth degree.” Putting his hand on her lower back, Jackson guided her into the building. The large, long lobby served as a reception hall. He pressed his mouth to her ear. “I’m fairly certain each invitation had a unique bar code. Chuck will soon know that I’m here. If he doesn’t already.”
That could present an unanticipated set of challenges or opportunities, depending on how the night went.
The decor inside was more lavish than she expected. The lighting was low and there were huge arrangements of flowers everywhere. Servers passed, carrying trays with flutes of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Ambient music flowed and glitzy guests mingled.
“Now what?” she asked.
“We wait.” Jackson took her hand and led her to the designated dance floor in front of a makeshift stage that had been erected.
The first strands of a waltz began. He whisked her into his arms, bringing her close.
Ignoring the tightening in her stomach that had nothing to do with the stress of the case and everything to do with their proximity, she looked up at him. She was a tall woman, at five-eight, but even with three-inch heels, Jackson towered over her by several inches. Despite the wig and mustache, his tailored tux did nothing to hide the bulk of his muscles. With his formidable stature he looked both debonair and dangerous. A tantalizing mix.
They moved easily, fluidly together. He was a skilled dancer, confident in his lead. Was there anything this man didn’t do well?
Relaxing in his hold, she struggled not to think about the feel of his wide, muscular body against hers. But it was impossible. He had a bold, dominant style that was inherently sexual. Not something he tried at. Simply the way he was.
There were hidden depths beneath that handsome face and chiseled body. It was almost unfair to the women of the world that he had brains, brawn, masculine beauty and talent.
He rubbed a hand up and down her back, making patterns against her skin. She wondered if it was deliberate or if he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing.
His gaze traveled around the room. Not as though he was worried about bumping into Albrecht, but like he was casing the place.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, banishing her unprofessional distraction.
He lowered his head and his blue eyes connected with hers. His face was impassive, the picture of calm, yet he vibrated with energy. It was his hesitation that made her certain he was holding something back.
Madeline’s stomach knotted and rolled. “Does our agreement about information sharing stand?”
/> His hand glided up her spine, his fingers playing over her vertebrae as he pressed his body to hers in all the right places. Lifting his hand to cup her cheek, he caressed her skin with his thumb, and her heart fluttered.
“It does,” he said.
She wanted to believe him, truly. But she didn’t.
The lights came up in the lobby, going from intimate to bright, and the music stopped.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a man said into a microphone, standing on the stage, “please gather around and join me as we welcome to the stage AlbrechTech CEO and firebrand, Chuck Albrecht.”
Applause resounded and everyone assembled around the platform.
Albrecht jogged out onto the stage, clapping for himself, wearing jeans, sneakers and a blazer over a T-shirt at his own event. He was about the same age as Jackson, but lanky, average height, forgettable face. Someone who wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Unless he was wearing the exact opposite as everyone else. She could tell he was the kind of guy that people loved to hate.
He took the microphone. “Thank you, thank you. I know this is the moment you have all been waiting for with bated breath, for me to arrive.” The crowd clapped and laughed. “Seriously, we’re going to get to the reason you’re all here in a second. But first, can I point out that we are about to have another rocking quarter?” Cheers and applause erupted. “Our earnings are through the roof! We are trouncing the competition like Emerald Tech Corp into the dust.” The ovation grew louder. “No one can touch this.” He pointed to himself, and the crowd egged him on with more laughter. “I would like to take a serious moment to acknowledge the horrific events a colleague is currently suffering. Jackson Rhodes, over at ETC, I’m sure you’ve heard. His daughter was kidnapped and one of his R&D facilities was bombed.”
Murmurs rolled through the audience.
Jackson stiffened. His gaze was locked on Albrecht.
“I know, it’s terrible,” Albrecht said, shaking his head. “A tough set of circumstances. The guy was going to have a hard enough time already facing our next earnings report and his own limitations trying to cut the mustard as my competition. So, I’ve decided to offer a reward from my trust fund—not from the company—for any information that leads to the safe and speedy return of his daughter, in the amount of one million dollars.”
A flurry of gasps turned into applause.
“What is he doing?” Madeline said to Jackson. This would only invite thousands of false tips to flood the hotline, pushing their resources, already stretched too thin, to the breaking point.
“Chuck is being Chuck. Showboating,” Jackson said through gritted teeth. “I want to snap his scrawny neck.”
“What can I say—I’m just that magnanimous.” Albrecht put his hand over his heart and took a small bow. “And to Jackson, wherever you might be tonight,” he said, letting his gaze travel slowly over the audience, “you’re welcome, buddy!”
Madeline’s lip curled in disgust. How could anyone be so pompous and callous at the same time?
Chuck Albrecht was many of the things she’d assumed Jackson might be before they had met—entitled, arrogant, a jerk. She couldn’t have been more wrong about Jackson.
Compared to Chuck, they were night and day.
Once the crowd settled, Albrecht said, “Without further ado, let’s get to the nitty-gritty of why you’re here tonight. To celebrate. I have achieved something no one else has and every shareholder is going to make a lot of money because of it. Our fully self-driving cars have reached Level 5 autonomy with ten million miles and zero crashes.” Thunderous applause erupted.
Madeline leaned in toward Jackson. “Aren’t there already self-driving cars?”
“Not at Level 5 autonomy, where the car can drive day or night, no matter the type of road or weather conditions. Without any need for human intervention. This is major. An endgame for self-driving technology.”
“Next week,” Albrecht continued, “I’ll have another announcement related to the DOD, but mum’s the word until the ink is dry on the contract. In the meantime, raise your glasses to toast me and you.” Everyone holding a glass lifted it. “Let’s celebrate!”
Upbeat dance music pumped from the speakers and the crowd resumed enjoyment of the festivities.
“This is big,” Madeline said, “but it’s not in the same league as what you were working on.”
“We don’t know what else he has in development, but I need to find out. He has a military contract in the pipeline, and it isn’t for his self-driving cars. There’s more in R&D. Something that’s close to completion. Or since he’s talked about the contract as though it were a done deal, my guess is that it’s already been finished and tested.”
“I suppose we’ll have to wait until he makes an announcement.” She put a supportive hand on Jackson’s forearm, knowing it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“Like I told you at the house, I’m not waiting.”
Before she had a chance to reply, Jackson turned and stalked away. Madeline hurried after him. Where was he going?
She stayed alert to their surroundings: the location of the security guards, who Albrecht was socializing with and the positions of the security cameras.
A guard at the end of the lobby tapped his ear as though listening through his Bluetooth, and then circled around toward the crowd away from a door that led outside. Jackson homed in on the movement and headed for the exit that was far from the crowd.
A red roll ’n’ pole sign warned of restricted access.
Ignoring the posted sign, he pushed through the door and she followed close behind him.
Fresh air hit them. The serenity and distance from the crowd was welcomed.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
Jackson pointed to a patch of trees at the rear of AlbrechTech headquarters. A lit path ran through the center of the woods, leading somewhere.
He started moving down the walkway adjacent to the building, headed in the direction of the unknown.
“What’s out there?” she asked.
“On the other side of the thicket is the R&D facility.” He kept walking. “The equivalent of my Duwamish site.”
“How do you know?” she whispered. “Have you seen it?”
“Only aerial shots of the building, but inside information from a contact confirmed it. Whatever military-related project Chuck is working on is out there,” he said, his voice low.
As they approached the corner of the building, the sound of footfalls drew near.
There must have been guards on patrol. One was headed their way.
Madeline grabbed Jackson by the lapels, yanking him to her as she rose on the balls of her feet and kissed him, long and slow. Without hesitation, he took her lead, wrapping his arms around her like they were a couple.
A guard came around the corner and shuffled to a stop. He cleared his throat quite forcibly. “No one is allowed out here.”
Jackson pulled his lips from hers and lifted his head. “Give me a couple of minutes to take advantage of this opportunity, if you know what I’m saying.”
The armed guard flattened his mouth. The bulge of the gun in his shoulder holster was obvious under his jacket. “The party is inside.”
“And so is her husband,” Jackson said. “I’m an important shareholder. All I need is five minutes and I’ll be sure to let Chuck know how outstanding his security team is. Or I can make recommendations for changes. Your choice.”
The armed guard looked around, his mouth twitching. “Two minutes. Not five. When I pass by again, you better not be here.”
Jackson gave a suave smile. “I guarantee we won’t.” He brought his mouth down to her collarbone and nibbled up her neck to her ear, sending a frisson of desire skittering through her. “We better make it believable.” The gravelly whisper was like a hot finger drawn down her spine.
With one hand at the small of her back, he lowered his lips to hers. She welcomed the hot slide of his tongue against hers, wanting to taste him again as she drove her fingers into his hair. His mouth was warm and firm, more possessive than persuasive, making her pulse quicken and pound through her body down to her core.
The clunk of the guard’s shoes disappeared around the corner.
But Jackson didn’t stop, and neither did she.
The kiss grew rough and urgent. His hands clenched, pulling her ever closer.
She pressed against him, not knowing if this one chance might be her only and last. He pushed her back against the wall. The glass behind her was smooth and cold, causing her to shiver, but Jackson’s clever hands molding to her ignited something inside her. She wanted more than a kiss. So much more.
Another minute of this and the guard would be the least of their problems.
“Jackson,” she gasped, breaking the kiss. With the breath shuddering in her lungs, she looked up at him. His gaze was scorching. “The guard is gone.”
Everything shifted in his eyes, turning sober and wary. Now full of something that sent a chill through her. Determination. “I have to go,” he said.
“We, you mean.”
“It’s too risky for you to go with me. Head back inside. I’ll check out what’s in the R&D facility and come straight back.”
Was this a joke? “You’re not going anywhere without me.”
“It’s not safe for you. You shouldn’t be involved in what I’m about to do next. Trust me.” He cupped her chin and kissed her forehead. “We don’t have time to argue. Please do as I say. Go inside.”
Turning from her, Jackson ran to the corner of the building. He looked around and then he darted down a hill, avoiding the lit path, and disappeared into the darkness.
Unbelievable. Did he really think she’d be a good girl and do as she was told?
Madeline slipped off her shoes to keep her heels from making a racket against the paved path and chased after him. She passed a sign that read: