by JL Bryan
Jenny thought about the girl Seth had hooked up with in Charleston, the one that looked so much like Ashleigh that Jenny had thought, for a moment, that the evil girl had somehow cheated death and returned. Why would Seth have picked a girl like that, out of all the girls in the city, unless some part of him really wanted to be with Ashleigh again?
It hurt to think that her entire relationship with Seth had been a trick to get her under Ashleigh's control...but if anyone was capable of a manipulation like that, it was Ashleigh. The thought frightened her deeply, and left her feeling very alone.
“You're quiet,” Alexander whispered. “Falling asleep?”
He stood up.
“You don't have to go,” Jenny whispered. She reached out and took his hand. “Stay with me. But you have to let me sleep.”
“I'll stay.” He lay down beside her. Jenny kissed him, then wrapped an arm around him. She buried her face against his solid, warm chest, listening to his heart. And then she fell asleep, trying not to think about Seth.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Seth sat in the reception area on a wide, soft couch, looking at a portrait of Nathan Hale that glowed under track lighting. The other art in the room had cold, modernist designs without any meaning, but the framed print of the Revolutionary War spy held the most prominent place. The latest issues of Fortune and the Wall Street Journal sat on the coffee table in front of him. Elevator music played over the speakers—Seth could swear it was the song “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC, minus the vocals, played at one-tenth the usual tempo on a violin and piccolo.
He sipped the coffee the receptionist had served him. Behind her massive round granite desk, the receptionist looked like a beauty queen in a black blazer, not much older than Seth himself. She made good coffee.
Behind the slender blond receptionist, the words HALE SECURITY GROUP were mounted in sleek, metallic letters on the wall. The company was headquartered in Manhattan, but Seth was visiting their Atlanta office, since it was much closer to his home and he might need to make follow-up visits.
He didn't have an appointment, partly because he was cautious about using his phone when he knew Homeland Security might be monitoring him. He'd been waiting here almost an hour. He wondered if people in a back room somewhere were checking out his identity.
The heavy double doors at the back of the reception area opened themselves without a sound. Another ridiculously beautiful young woman in a black coat and white blouse emerged, her hair cut into a bob. She gave Seth a glowing smile that could melt ice caps.
“Mr. Breisgau is free to see you now, Mr. Barrett,” she said. “We apologize for the wait.”
“No problem.” Seth stood up and straightened his coat. He'd dressed in a dark gray suit with a muted earth-tone tie. He hoped he looked professional.
The young woman led him back into a midnight blue corridor with deeply piled carpeting. More modern art hung on the walls here, between office doors. Each office had a large, black-tinted window that revealed nothing about who or what was inside, though presumably the people in the offices could look out into the hall.
She led him past an empty assistant's desk, white and plain and curved into a semicircle. The wall behind it was floor-to-ceiling black-tinted glass, with a single door. She opened it and led Seth inside.
“Mr. Breisgau,” she said. “This is Jonathan Barrett.”
“Come on in.” The man who rose behind the desk might have been in his fifties, with silver streaks in his dark hair, but the solid form beneath his tailored suit looked like it belonged to a professional boxer. His hand gripped Seth's.
“Would you like coffee? Or water?” the young woman asked.
“I already had some, thanks.”
“Thank you, Misty,” Breisgau said. She closed the door behind her as she left. Breisgau's blue eyes locked on Seth's, and he offered a salesman's smile. “Have a seat, Mr. Barrett.”
“You can call me Seth.” Seth took one of the leather-upholstered chairs in front of the man's desk.
“Then call me Jerome.” Breisgau sat across from him. “Sorry about the delay. I was in a meeting. What can Hale Global do for you, Seth?”
“I saw you offer ransom and extraction services for people who've been kidnapped. Like those two oil executives in Nigeria last year.”
“You've done your research.” Breisgau shook his head. “Kidnap and ransom is a multibillion-dollar business around the world, unfortunately. And American businesspeople are the number one targets. Do you know somebody who's been captured?”
“Maybe,” Seth said.
“Maybe?”
“It's my girlfriend, Jenny.” Seth fought to stay calm. Just saying her name made him want to cry. “She disappeared a while ago. I think someone might have kidnapped her.”
“How long ago?”
“A couple of weeks. There was a riot in Charleston.”
Breisgau nodded. “I saw that on Fox News.”
“That was the last time I saw her. She hasn't been home or called her dad, which is really strange for her.”
“You think something happened to her during the riot?”
“Right.”
“There's been no contact at all since? No ransom demands?”
“No,” Seth said. “Well, there was a postcard, from Seattle, sent to her father.”
“What did it say?”
“It claimed to be from Jenny. She said she was traveling around on her own and she was happy.”
“But you don't think it was from her?” Breisgau asked.
“It didn't really sound like her,” Seth said. “And the choice of the postcard...I don't know, it just feels wrong to me. Plus, she would have called her dad by now.”
“Wouldn't she have called you, too?”
“She was sort of mad at me last time she saw me.”
“So...maybe she's just taking a break. Going to 'find herself.'” He made finger quotes in the air. “You know. Women.”
“Maybe you're right,” Seth said. “I hope you're right. But...” Seth shrugged. He was feeling very nervous now, hoping they didn't turn down his case. “What if they took her?”
“Do you have any idea who might have kidnapped her?”
“I do,” Seth said. He almost told the man about Ashleigh, but Ashleigh was officially dead. Her spirit had inhabited Darcy's body temporarily. He had no idea what kind of body she might have now. “There's...four of them.”
Breisgau grabbed a light pen and scribbled something on his tablet PC. “Names?”
“The first one is...the only name I have for him is 'Tommy Goodling,' but that could be a fake. I can describe him for you.”
“Where's he from?”
“I don't know.”
“What do you know about him?”
“I know what he looks like.”
Breisgau shook his head. “Next name?”
“Um, he might have a Mexican girl with him. I don't know her name. I've never even seen her, just heard about her.”
“Mexican-American or Mexican Mexican?”
“I'm not sure. I don't know anything about her.”
“What do you know about the other two?”
“One will be female,” Seth said. “But I don't know her name or what she looks like. The other one is a guy, I can describe him for you.”
“I suppose it would be too much for you to give me his name.”
“Sorry,” Seth said.
Breisgau looked at his tablet. “There's very little information here. Why do you suspect these people?”
Seth didn't know how to begin explaining that. The truth would make him sound like a crazy person. “It's just what I've heard. A group like that might have taken her.”
“Heard from who?”
“People who were at the riot.”
“Four suspected kidnappers,” Breisgau said. “No names, except an alias. No pictures. No idea where they come from or where they could have gone.”
“That's why I came here,” Seth s
aid. “You guys are supposed to be the best. Ex-CIA guys, Secret Service guys. Right?”
Breisgau nodded. “Most of our professionals have a deep background in intelligence or Special Forces. But I'm not sure that's what you need here.”
“Why not?”
“So far, we're just looking for a teenage girl who went missing not far from her home,” Breisgau said. “She might not even be a victim of any crime. Hiring us for this is like using a flamethrower to swat a housefly.”
“You don't want to do it?”
“We'll be happy to look for her. But it's going to cost you.”
“I need somebody good,” Seth said. “And discreet.”
“All our clients enjoy full confidentiality, of course,” Breisgau said. “All of our data and communications are sealed behind the most advanced encryption available.”
“Good.”
“It seems to me that our first step would be to find the girl and assess whether she's in danger. If she's traveling around by choice, we'd have to leave her alone.”
“And if she's not?”
“Then there's a step two—ransom and extraction.”
“What if the kidnappers don't want a ransom?” Seth asked.
“Then things will get expensive fast.”
“Okay.” Seth had plenty of money in his college trust fund, which had opened up when he was accepted to college. He could at least afford Hale Security Group's retainer, and maybe the whole fee, from that fund. In any case, spending from there was the best chance to avoid his dad noticing the big chunk of missing money, at least for a while.
“We'll need her full name, pictures, Social Security number—”
“Jennifer Miriam Morton,” Seth said. He slid a manila envelope across the desk. “I have everything here.”
Breisgau opened the envelope and rifled through the pages inside. “Looks like a good start. One of our associates will probably call with follow-up questions.”
“I don't know how secure my cell phone is.”
“I suppose we could provide you one of our encrypted phones for our conversations, if you'd like,” Breisgau said.
“I'd appreciate it.”
“It's your bill.” Breisgau shrugged. “We'll start looking for her right away. If she can be found, our associates will find her. We'll contact you the moment we determine her location and whether she's in danger. Until then, you'll receive a weekly report, either in writing or by telephone—”
“Use the encrypted phone,” Seth said. “Wait, weekly reports? How long do you think this will take?”
“We don't know, Seth. We don't have much information yet. With any luck, we'll find her happy and content in Seattle. Speaking of which, get us a copy of that postcard and a large sample of her handwriting. We can determine whether she actually wrote that message to her father.”
“Okay, that sounds good. But even if she wrote it, maybe somebody forced her to do it—”
“Always a possibility. I'll have Misty check out a secure satellite phone for you, and she'll set up the wire transfer for our retainer.”
Seth nodded. While Breisgau gave his assistant instructions over the phone, Seth clenched the arms of his chair, worried about his decision to hire this platinum-grade private intelligence company. If Jenny really had struck out on her own, then she needed to lay low, because the feds were after her. Hale's investigation might draw the government's attention to her, especially considering the sort of people who worked here, lots of former spies and spooks.
Seth didn't believe Jenny was safe, though. Ashleigh Goodling had been back, somehow possessing Darcy's body and getting close to Jenny. Whatever had happened in Charleston, it had almost certainly been the result of one of Ashleigh's plots. And Seth was never going to find her on his own.
“While we wait,” Breisgau said, “I happened to notice that Barrett Capital has a lot of interests in the technology sector, over in Asia, India.”
“That's my dad's venture-capital obsession.”
“I just want to tell you that Hale Group Asia has a number of offices in the region, and a lot of friends. Corporate intelligence, risk assessment, security design. Sometimes you have to pay a little extra fee to local officials to keep things smooth. Sometimes you can hire state police at bargain prices. We can negotiate all of this.”
“Oh, yeah? I'd have to talk to my dad about that.”
“I would enjoy talking to him myself.” Breisgau slid a business card across the table. “We can offer a package of security and data-gathering services customized to your company's needs.”
“Right. Gotcha.” Seth pocketed the card, which felt like silk in his fingers. “But right now, I want to focus on Jenny.”
“I'll put a team on it today,” Breisgau said. “We would certainly like to see this as the beginning of a long and mutually beneficial relationship between Barrett Capital and Hale Security Group.”
“We'll see,” Seth said.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ashleigh stood at the window of the room at the Four Seasons Hotel, looking down through the curtains at Rodeo Drive, and the smog-heavy city stretching away to the horizon. She was naked except for a beaded necklace, with a matching bracelet and anklet. Each strand of beads included a few ovals of ivory, cut and polished from the pieces of her old skeleton—as long as the bone beads touched Esmeralda's skin, Ashleigh could continue inhabiting Esmeralda's body.
Esmeralda herself slumbered deep at the back of Ashleigh's mind, completely ensnared in the thick golden web of Ashleigh's love.
“Come back to bed,” the congressman said. He lay on the bed behind her, also naked. “We only have a few more minutes.”
“I think you need a bigger strategy,” Ashleigh said.
He laughed. “Now you want to be my strategist? I don't think Greenburg will like that.”
Ashleigh flipped her hair as she looked back at him over her shoulder. “Have I ever steered you wrong, Senator?”
“It's still Representative,” Brazer said. “Let's not get cocky.”
“Let's do.” Ashleigh walked back and sat on the corner of his bed. “Let's get really cocky. I don't think Greenburg's ads are making the biggest impact.” She gave him a sad smile and stroked his leg, pouring love into him.
Six days after she'd begun volunteering for the Brazer campaign, Eddie Brazer himself came by to chat with the volunteers. Ashleigh had shaken his hand. Three hours later, they'd been in bed together at the Four Seasons. Over the past three weeks, they had spent four lunch breaks together.
“You don't like the new ads?” Brazer asked. “'I believe in the Three E's: Education, Employment, and the Environment.' What's wrong with it?”
“It depends. Are you trying to put everyone to sleep?”
“You don't want to panic people,” Brazer said. “They want to hear that things will keep ticking like always, only better. Remember, it's mostly the elderly who vote.” He traced his fingers across her stomach, up to her breasts. “Now, enough about work...”
“I'm not kidding,” Ashleigh said. She'd insinuated herself into his life, even helping revise his speechwriter's drafts. Ashleigh had helped him make simple, emotional appeals for the issues that would appeal to his base: the need to protect the environment, the continuing importance of labor unions, the right of a woman to choose what to do with her own body.
“Fine, what's your big idea?” Brazer asked.
“Are you making fun of me?” Ashleigh teased. She lay her hand on his chest.
“Never. I love it when volunteer kids tell me to remake my entire campaign, four months from the election.”
“Hey, I'm on the payroll now,” Ashleigh said. “If you can't trust your Social Media Coordinator, who can you trust?”
“So you really think I should ax the ads.”
“It's not about the ads,” Ashleigh said. “You need to do something bigger, to generate tons and tons of media. Something that will make you a household name.”
“Lik
e putting naked pictures of myself on Twitter?”
“Right, that would be a brilliant move.” Ashleigh had to force herself not to glance at the slightly parted closet doors. On the top shelf, between stacks of spare pillows and blankets, she'd stashed a video camera to record the two of them together. If you were going to hook up with a congressman, you might as well get full mileage out of it. “But seriously. People need to see you as a leader. A crusader.”
“Not the Muslim community.”
“I mean, you need a hot issue. Something you can use to attack the President and his whole party.”
“The economy. The endless wars.”
“Nobody understands the economy,” Ashleigh said. “And nobody cares about the wars. You need outrage. You need to make them feel threatened, and make them understand it's the President's fault.”
“You are diabolical.” He drew her down alongside him and kissed her. Brazer was in his mid-forties, married, reasonably good-looking, not that great in bed. “But if I'm going to be Jack the giant-killer, I'll need a pretty big ax.”
“I have a couple of ideas.”
“I knew you would.”
“Have you heard about this thing in South Carolina? A bunch of people disappeared in some little town. Homeland Security was all over it for a minute and then went away.”
“I don't think I've heard of that one.”
“People are saying that a bunch of people died, hundreds of people died. There was some kind of extreme toxin. Maybe even a bioweapon kind of thing.”
“What people are saying that?”
“On the Internet. A bunch of people.”
“Esmeralda, you can't trust everything you read on the Internet.”
“And don't talk to me like I'm some little old lady who just discovered the computer lab at her nursing home. I think there's something to this. I think somebody screwed up, and a lot of people died, and the White House used the Department of Homeland Security to cover it up.”
“You don't want to go poking around national security issues,” Brazer said. “That can explode in your face.”
