Flight Risk (An Ingrid Skyberg Mystery Book 7)

by Eva Hudson

  Ingrid stared out at the flashing lights, unsure what was happening. A stretcher bearing a body bag was carried across the lawn by two London Ambulance Service crew. She wondered if it was Hatoum.

  “Agent Skyberg?”

  Ingrid recognized her face immediately and stood up, hitting her head on a storage cabinet. “Ma’am?”

  “Sit down, please.”

  The First Lady grabbed the hand rail and climbed onboard, shooing away the offer of help from her security detail. Ingrid rubbed the back of her head. It wasn’t too hard a hit.

  Wrapped in a blanket with her wet gray hair scraped off her face, the First Lady still managed a smile. She was much less austere in person than she appeared in photos. More of a favorite grade school teacher than a forbidding Principal. “May I?” she asked, sitting down on the cot. Beneath the blanket, the hem of her sapphire satin dress was slashed with blood. She held out a quivering hand and Ingrid shook it.

  “It’s an honor, ma’am,” Ingrid said, her voice desperately in need of a mouthful of water.

  “The honor is entirely mine.” Mrs Brady pressed her lips together, contorting her familiar features, before leaning forward. “Corporal Estevez tells me I owe you my life. That you were the one who fired the first shot?”

  Ingrid nodded.

  “I also hear mine is not the only life you saved.” Her deep brown eyes glistened with tears. “Tonight would have been a far greater tragedy had it not been for you. This will not be forgotten. Now,” she said, composing herself. “Have you got everything you need? Can I get you some supplies?” As she pushed a strand of wet hair behind her ears, Ingrid noticed her earrings.

  “Ma’am, thank you. I am being taken care of. How are you?”

  She seemed genuinely surprised at the question. Her shoulders moved in the tiniest of shrugs. “Shaken, I guess.” Mrs Brady looked down at her hands. “We’ve all seen some awful things tonight.” Her bottom lip quivered as she relived the horrors of the preceding hours. Ingrid sensed that Ringo’s death, the way his neck had been ripped open by her bullet, would never leave her.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why did Hatoum take you to the roof? I’ve been trying to work it out.”

  The First Lady widened her eyes, then nodded. She swallowed. “She said she wanted me to know what it was like.” She blinked back tears. “Hatoum said she had seen too many people torn apart by bombs. She wanted me to bear witness. Then, having witnessed the destruction, she wanted me to phone my husband and tell him to stop our country selling arms to their enemy.”

  Ingrid shook her head. “Really?”

  “If he refused, which he would have done, of course, she would have put a gun to my temple and tried to bargain me for a deal.” Her voice trailed off and she inhaled sharply to sniff back more tears. “It would never have worked.”

  They fell silent as they both recalled the images they knew they would never unsee.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you visiting other people? Here? Tonight?”

  “I’m pretty sure the Secret Service want to get me out of here.”

  “If you can, can you please try to find a woman called Jennifer Rocharde.”

  The First Lady inclined her head. “Go on.”

  “She deserves so much credit. People like me, we’re trained for this, but Jen is my assistant and––by the way, she is a huge fan of yours––she was so cool under pressure tonight. If it wasn’t for her on the other end of the radio, I would never have known there might be a bomb.” Ingrid realized she was crying. Tears fell like acid into the cuts on her cheek and it was hard to get the words past the lump in her throat. “She’s… she’s amazing. If you can…”

  “I will, I promise.” Her Secret Service detail was making noises. “Thank you again, Agent. You must let me know if there is something I can do for you.” She shuffled toward the edge of the cot and stood to go.

  “Actually,” Ingrid managed, wiping her face with her sodden sleeve. “There is.”

  The First Lady turned back, more than a little surprised. “Yes?”

  “This is going to sound dumb.”

  “Okay.”

  “And totally inappropriate.”

  “Probably not okay.” Her smile twisted into awkwardness.

  “It’s for Jen, you understand. Christ,” Ingrid was burning with embarrassment. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask you, but Jen is getting married, and I know she wants to wear a pair of earrings like yours.” Ingrid sat a little straighter. “Could you tell me where you got them?”

  The First Lady’s features pinched together, then cracked into a wide-open smile that never appeared in photoshoots for magazines. “Oh honey,” she said. “I don’t think either of us can believe you just asked me that.” She reached up and unfastened the earrings. “You had me really worried there for a second. Here,” she offered them to Ingrid. “You give them to her.”

  “Really?”

  The First Lady took a step toward her and opened Ingrid’s palm.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Ingrid gripped them in her fist as the First Lady climbed out of the ambulance, reluctantly accepting assistance from her Secret Service agent. Suddenly overcome, Ingrid bent forward and buried her head between her knees. The sobs made her entire body heave and when she opened her eyes again, the constable was once again standing in front of the doors. He had an apologetic look on his face.

  “Is it time?” Ingrid asked.

  “’Fraid so.”

  “Shall we get it over with then?”

  “Like I say, it’s a formality. It’ll all get sorted, I’m sure. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  Ingrid nodded. “Go on then.”

  He sniffed in hard. “Ingrid Skyberg, I am arresting you on suspicion of unlawful use of a firearm. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

  43

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I thought I’d give you a little update from the cockpit.” The pilot’s British accent was authoritative and reassuring. “We’ve made good time across the pond and we should be on the ground in about thirty-five minutes. The weather in Washington is a bracing minus five with light snowfall, so I hope your thermals aren’t in the hold. Cabin crew, prepare for landing.”

  The other passengers started shifting in their seats, looking out the windows to see if they could spot the familiar shape of Long Island or Chesapeake Bay. Others got to their feet for a stretch before the seatbelt was turned on. Ingrid checked her new watch. The timing had to be precise.

  When the digits clicked over to 23:00, GMT, Ingrid unclicked her seatbelt, stood up and stretched out her knee. The cortisone injection had done an amazing job. She walked toward the curtain separating economy from business class. Immediately, a member of the cabin crew approached.

  “Can I help you?”

  Ingrid raised her finger to her mouth and showed the woman her ID.

  “Oh, gosh, it’s you. You were in the paper, weren’t you?”

  Ingrid managed a smile.

  “God, if we’d realized… Well…”

  Ingrid had deliberately asked to be booked into economy. She would have been forced to decline an upgrade if they’d offered.

  “It’s an honor to have you onboard.”

  Ingrid didn’t know what to say. She was going to have to get used to the hero treatment. There was already talk of a medal from the director of the FBI and a reception at the White House. The prospect of resigning had become a little more… distant.

  “I just need to…” Ingrid pointed toward the business class passengers. “Five minutes.”

  “Of course.”

  Three rows down, Ingrid slipped into an empty seat. The man next to the window was watching the latest Tom Cruise movie. Annoyed his space had been invaded, he turned. A scowl was already
etched onto his mouth.

  “Hello, Marcus.”

  His face hardened. He removed the headphones.

  “Enjoying the movie?”

  Marcus Williams looked like he wanted to spit at her. Ingrid clipped herself in and made a show of getting comfortable.

  “Because I’ve got something else you should watch. Much more compelling than Mission Unbelievable. Wanna see it?” She fetched her brand-new iPhone out of her back pocket.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he said, keeping his voice low.

  She found the footage and held the phone for him to look at. “Recognize her?”

  He peered briefly at the screen. “I asked you a question,” he said.

  “I also asked you one.” She jabbed the phone in his direction. “Take a look.”

  He barely glanced at the video. “Don’t care.” He rolled his tongue over his teeth, making his cheeks bulge.

  “Oh, you should,” she smiled. “You really should. If I turn the sound up, you’d hear your name being spoken a lot. An awful lot.”

  Anxious, he took a slug of his whisky and peered at the screen.

  “Her name is Katja. You probably don’t remember her, either because you only met her once, very briefly, and you were a bit distracted. Or because she was a servant.”

  He withdrew, pressing his back into the armrest.

  “She was the girl you found in the hallway at Uppenham Hall. Remember now? You probably do because it was the day you woke up to find a dead girl in your bed.”

  Marcus glanced around nervously, but no one was paying them any attention. No one was coming to his rescue.

  “Can you see where Katja is, Marcus?”

  His expression was one of utter disdain.

  “That’s a police interview room. She’s giving her testimony to Thames Valley Police.” She pressed pause on the video. “She can put you at Uppenham Hall just minutes before you killed Matthew Harding on the bike you stole from me.” Ingrid put the phone away. “Oh. Nearly forgot. Now that your coverup is an international incident, guess what?”

  Fury furrowed his brow. His skin glistened with sweat.

  “Not going to guess? Don’t want to play?”

  He rubbed his nose.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you.” Ingrid was enjoying this a little too much. “Your phone records have—miraculously—been found. It took MI5 to get them. The ANPR images from outside the embassy have materialized too. One piece of evidence puts you in the vicinity of the accident, and the other shows you riding a bike you don’t have a permit for. So—”

  “So nothing.” He jutted out his jaw as his nostrils flared. “Diplomatic immunity, remember?”

  Ingrid had to stop herself from smiling. “Ah, yes. About that. When was the last time you spoke to your mother?”

  His eyes popped. Fear narrowed his mouth.

  “Because it would have been the last time for a while. At twenty-three hundred hours GMT, so,” she looked her watch for emphasis, “about two minutes ago, she was taken into custody—”

  “You fucking––” He reached for her throat, but Ingrid grabbed his wrist and forced his hand back onto his own knee.

  She plastered an insincere smile on her face. “Your lovely mom has just been charged as an accessory to conspiracy and collusion. She thought she could end her career with an unblemished record, but I don’t think any jury is going to look kindly on a senior diplomat who knowingly hired a private security company to hide her son’s crimes.”

  His face was reddening. “You’re lying.” His spittle flecked her face.

  She reached over and tapped his knee. “You’ll be able to turn your phone on when we land. See the headlines for yourself.”

  The seatbelt sign illuminated, and a steward made an announcement asking all passengers to take their seats.

  “Also,” Ingrid drew out the syllables. “You know what you were saying about diplomatic immunity?”

  His breathing quickened. A vein pulsed in his forehead.

  “It’s bullshit. Did you know that? Your friend Sammy, for example, he’s been charged with human trafficking. It really doesn’t matter that his dad’s a prince. His dad will be charged too.”

  “You’re lying,” he spat. “If you’re dumb enough to try, you’ll never make it stick. The State Department, the Foreign Office, they’re going to make you sweep it under the carpet.” He sounded so sure of himself yet, Ingrid noticed, his eye had started to twitch. “Welcome to the real world, Agent.”

  That phrase again. “Talking of the real world, Marcus, you should prepare yourself to come down to earth with a bit of a bump. You might be right about parking tickets and lewd behavior cautions evaporating for those with diplomatic immunity.” She edged over and placed her hand on his forearm. “But you colluded with a foreign power, Marcus. You never asked whose crimes your mom was being charged as an accessory to, did you? But then you didn’t need to, did you? Because they’re yours. You’ve committed an act of aggression against the United States, Marcus. You can take it from me, diplomatic immunity does not apply.” She unclicked the belt and got to her feet, then leaned over the seat. “It’s true you were probably never going to be extradited for the killing of Matthew Harding, but when we land, me and few of my buddies from the Bureau will take real good care you.”

  He wiped his nose.

  “Enjoy your drink, Marcus, because the moment you land on American soil, it will be my pleasure to arrest you for the crime of giving aid and comfort to an enemy of the United States of America.”

  His lip started to quiver.

  “You can look it up if you like. It’s also known as treason.”

  I really hope you enjoyed Flight Risk. I would be very grateful if you’d leave a review. It doesn’t have to be an essay, just a line or two will help new readers discover the Skyberg series.

  Yes, I’ll leave a review!

  Thank you.

  THE INGRID SKYBERG MYSTERIES

  Run Girl - Prequel (A novella)

  Secretary of State Jayne Whitticker is in the middle of delicate negotiations when her favorite grandchild disappears from Paris.

  Special Agent Ingrid Skyberg is hauled out of her FBI training session at Scotland Yard to head the hunt for the eighteen-year-old girl, who the FBI believe is now in London. Will she succeed in her unexpected mission? Or will her failure lead to the collapse of the crucial peace talks?

  FREE to download when you join Eva’s mailing list.

  Download now

  Fresh Doubt - Book One

  A story of lies, secrets and deadly mind games.

  Two hours ago, brilliant American psychology student Madison Faber found her roommate lying in a pool of blood. Now she is in police custody and suspected of murder. Madison persuades Special Agent Ingrid Skyberg to find the real killer, but the investigation soon puts Ingrid in danger. Can she unmask the murderer before she becomes a victim herself?

  Download from Amazon

  Kill Plan - Book Two

  An American trader is poisoned in his office in the City of London. Two days later, a Latvian immigrant is discovered floating face down in the River Thames. These seemingly unrelated crimes are the work of an audacious serial killer working on both sides of the Atlantic.

  When Special Agent Ingrid Skyberg starts putting the pieces together, she also puts herself in the firing line.

  Download from Amazon

  Deep Hurt - Book Three

  In a seedy hotel in central London, the baby daughter of a US Air Force pilot lies lifeless in his wife’s arms. Accused of killing the fourteen-month-old in an uncontrolled rage, Kyle Foster flees, taking his eight-year-old son with him.

  Will Ingrid find Foster before he hurts anyone else? Or will she succumb to the old demons she’s been trying to escape for the last eighteen years?

  Download from Amazon

  Shoot First - Book Four

  A teenage girl disappears after witnessing a gangland murder in Chicago
. Nine months later, and heavily pregnant, she arrives in London only to disappear again.

  Special Agent Ingrid Skyberg has just two days to find the girl and get her to testify or else a brutal killer walks free. But Ingrid isn’t the only person looking for the girl, and a war that started on the streets of Chicago is about to explode in the peaceful English countryside.

  Download from Amazon

  Below Zero - Book Five

  Stockholm is under siege. A bomb has gone off, a series of high profile people have been kidnapped, and the city is in lockdown. Unfortunately for Special Agent Ingrid Skyberg, everything is kicking off on the same day she is in town to complete a dangerous assignment that is so secret, and so illegal, that neither the FBI or the US government can ever know about it. Her instructions are simple: no ID, no credit cards, no trace. If she ends up in jail, or floating face down in the harbor, there can be no way of identifying her.

  No badge, no gun, no back-up: this time Ingrid is on her own.

  Download from Amazon

  Final Offer - Book Six

  A shadowy UK-based group has been trying to hack the US elections. When Special Agent Ingrid Skyberg is assigned to find out who’s funding the hackers, she finds herself up against an invisible enemy who is extremely powerful and utterly ruthless.

  To bring them to justice, Ingrid must go undercover and infiltrate the world of super-rich Russian oligarchs. But money buys all kinds of protection and Ingrid soon realizes that by taking on this battle she’s putting everything on the line – her career, her future, her life.

  In a nail-biting race against time, Ingrid sets out to solve the mystery and unmask the conspirators before they can silence her. Forever.

  Download from Amazon