by A. G. Henley
The waitress saved me from my thoughts by delivering our sandwiches and chips.
“What do you think of Veena’s chances tomorrow?” I asked before taking a bite. The BLT was pretty good; it had thick, salty bacon, a slice of ripe tomato, and a layer of tangy mayonnaise.
“She’s trained hard and looks damned good out there.”
“She said the double V wasn’t ready.”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin but missed a smear of dressing. “She could save it for the Games. From what I saw, she’s got a few other tricks up her sleeve for the competition tomorrow.”
As a trainer, was he supposed to watch her, was he just curious, or was there another motive?
“She seems pretty fixated on the double V though,” I said.
He nodded. “She’s no different than any other elite athlete. She wants to win, and she wants to win big. Landing the double V with steez will win her gold.”
That much I knew. “Are you still traveling to Switzerland with the team?”
“Yeah. What about you?”
“Unless Veena’s situation is resolved before that.”
He leaned forward. “What have you found out about the threats? Any leads?”
His curiosity was normal, I guessed. Ali and Gage had asked me, too, when Veena wasn’t around. “I can’t talk about it.”
“You could tell me, but then you’d have to kill me, right?”
I smiled sweetly. “Something like that.”
We tucked into our sandwiches for a few minutes. His Reuben was gone in short order, and he settled back in his chair.
“Where do you think you’ll go after this job?” he asked.
“It all depends on—” At the same moment, my watch vibrated, and my phone blared. Not a ring—an all-out alarm. “I’m sorry, I have to go!”
I pulled on my coat, scrambled around Connor, and busted out of the door. I’d worry about how to explain this later. Right now, my focus was on Veena.
And why she pushed her panic button.
Fourteen
I dialed Veena’s number as I ran through the narrow lanes, snow whipping my face. Voicemail. I called Brown.
“I got the notification.” His voice was serious but calm. “Could it be a mistake?”
“I can’t get her on the phone.” I was breathless. Snow stung my eyes. “What about her tracker?”
“I can’t find it,” he said. “Disappeared after the panic signal.”
Which meant it either malfunctioned or was destroyed.
“I’ll call the other team lead and call you back.” He hung up.
I twisted and turned through the streets, my heart and legs pumping with adrenaline. I didn’t know where to go, but I couldn’t stop. Why didn’t I ask where they were eating lunch?
A sick feeling bubbled in my stomach. I’d chalked my unease up to the storm and the wrinkles in our plan, but Bart was right. I should’ve paid attention to that tugging of intuition. I ducked into a ski shop. Clutching my phone with numb fingers, my body buzzing, I waited for Brown’s call. Two minutes later I called Bart, who should be with Brown. He didn’t answer. I couldn’t sit still any longer.
I ran out in the snow again. I’d studied a map of the resort last night. If someone had gotten to Veena, where would they go?
They’d have a vehicle. With the interstate closed west of Copper, the only real way out of this relatively remote mountain town was east on the interstate toward Denver or south on a rural road to Leadville, the highest town in this high state.
Please don’t let them have a freaking helicopter. Could it even take off and fly in a storm like this?
Parking lots surrounded the village, built for the ski traffic that flooded in and out each day. I ran toward the edge of the buildings, darting around a few people whose bodies were bent into the wind. I wanted sight lines, but the snow made it almost impossible. My phone rang—Brown.
“Where is she?” I shouted, cupping the speaker from the wind with my other hand.
“She was with her parents at a restaurant on the east side of the village, The Continental Divide. I’ve sent you the location. She went to the restroom and didn’t come out for ten minutes. Bart’s en route, and I’ve called local law enforcement. The other team’s searching, too.”
“Heading that way.”
I disconnected and sprinted east as fast as I could in winter boots on snowy sidewalks. Veena had used the restroom alone because the Venkatesans’ security team was all male. I cursed. My head swiveled left and right as I ran, watching out for vans, delivery trucks, or SUVs with darkened windows, vehicles they could hide a small person like Veena in. Every time I passed one parked, I checked inside, my heart hammering. They were dark and empty. Few cars were on the road.
Wind whistled in my ears, and blood pumped through my limbs. Despite the cold, sweat wet my shirt. Where was she? Ahead, along a road that bordered the village, the side door thudded shut on one of those Mercedes passenger vans that looked like a mini-bus. If I was a kidnapper choosing a vehicle, that would be it. The left turn signal flicked on as the van’s operator prepared to drive away.
I ran to it, deployed my baton, and jumped up to see through the back window. A girl with dark hair was inside. I struck the back window. It shivered but didn’t break. Damn German engineering. I hit the window again. The van had been pulling away from the curb, but it jerked to a stop.
A moment later the driver was beside me, throwing his arms in the air and shouting in Spanish. I dropped into a defensive stance, limbs loose, baton ready. The guy, middle aged with thinning hair and a ski suit on, immediately backed away, hands up. He stammered.
“Stay there.” I pointed at him and threw the back door open.
The luggage area was filled with . . . luggage. Black suitcases, duffels, skis, poles, and boots. Two pairs of frightened eyes peeked over the back seat. Kids. Two teens stared at me from the middle row. One had a doughnut halfway up to his mouth, and the second was a girl with long dark hair who otherwise looked nothing like Veena. A woman hunched protectively between them, her eyes darting between the four children and me. I scrambled in over the luggage, searched the area around the first pair of kid feet and then the next, while the children shrieked and the parents yelled.
As I crawled back out of vehicle, it hit me: I’d terrorized a perfectly innocent family wrapping up their ski vacation.
I apologized to them in broken Spanish and took off. I’m sure I’d hear about this later from Brown, although my error wouldn’t matter much if we lost Veena.
I ran back toward the village, following the directions to the restaurant that he’d sent, The Continental Divide.
I spotted the restaurant. Two of the Venkatesans’ security guys rushed into a nearby store, probably searching for her. That was protocol, but the kidnappers would want to get away from Copper altogether.
A beat-up laundry truck was parked down the block, its shape barely visible in the snow. I jogged that way.
A guy in a snowsuit, wearing a hat and ski mask—which I’d learned was called a balaclava—against the snow and wind, rolled a grubby handcart full of sacks of restaurant linens up a ramp and into the back of the truck. Snowflakes blinded me for a second, but through the wind, I thought I heard a word. Help.
I pried my eyes open. The laundry guy gave it away. In a hurry now, he leapt out, jammed the ramp into a slot on the underside of the truck, and leaped back in to slam the door down.
I hurtled toward the truck and shoved my stick into the gap before the door shut. The blow to the baton reverberated through my shoulder. I yelped and accidentally dropped it.
The door flew halfway back up, and the guy’s foot connected with my face. I staggered back, pain sending a wave of nausea through me, but I didn’t fall. Instead, I shifted my weight forward, rocketed into his shins, and scrambled inside before he could shut the door again.
The truck moved forward and gained speed with the guy, the laundry cart, and me in b
ack. I guessed that the driver had no idea what was happening back here.
I got to my feet. The cart’s brake must not have been on because it rolled toward the partly open back door. In it, the top sack wriggled like a fish in a net.
“Veena!” I yelled.
“Nic!” Her panicked voice was muffled.
I ran to lower the truck door—I didn’t need Veena flying into the street at high speed—but as I pulled down on the handle, the guy’s foot connected with my lower back. I bounced off the door and landed awkwardly, banging my head. Pain bloomed, but I fought through it.
I expected the man to dive on me, and I was ready when he did, rolling him like a burrito. As soon as I was on top, I pummeled him, but he pushed me off.
Use every weapon at your disposal, I heard Xene say. Which now included my principal.
I bolted to the handcart, the village speeding by through the half-open door, and yelled at Veena to get down and brace herself. Loads of laundry surrounded her, so I hoped this wouldn’t hurt. As soon as the guy lifted himself off the floor, I ran the cart into him, launching him toward the front of the truck. He howled in pain.
I pulled back to ram him again, only he grabbed the opposite end and spun us. I used all my weight to drag it the other way, trying to pull him off balance. Veena screamed.
Panting, the man and I sized each other up from either side of the cart. I couldn’t see much of him past his heavy snow gear. Average height, trim, medium build. The brand of his jacket wasn’t familiar. No fear showed in the guy’s black eyes.
He pushed the cart aside and came at me. I lunged away, and he caught my foot, yanking up to pull me off balance, which pulled my boot off. I jumped up and pulled his head down to meet my knee, but he grabbed my leg in the process and dragged me to the floor.
He rolled on top of me again. Instead of panicking, I kept us moving until I was back on top. At some point, our bodies hit the cart, pushing it. Veena screamed with the movement, her voice echoing above the roar of the engine. The cart stopped inches from the back of the truck, two wheels stuck in a crevice.
While we wrestled, the kidnapper’s hat fell off. Black hair. The balaclava still covered his face. I tried to yank the mask off so I could identify him later if Veena and I made it out of this alive, but the truck made a sudden, sharp turn.
I scrambled to pull the cart closer to safety, only my opponent pounced on me before I could get there. Instead of trying to escape, I rocketed the back of my head into his face. My brain throbbed painfully, and my vision blurred for a second. But I cleared quicker than he did.
I threw him off, jumped up, and unleashed a series of blows and kicks to his head, neck, and groin. When he finally moaned and curled in the fetal position, I grabbed an empty laundry sack from the floor and bound his hands and feet behind him with it. I hoped it held him long enough for me to get Veena the hell out of there.
Fighting the truck movement and my own dizziness, I staggered to the cart. As I leaned over it, blood from the back of my head dripped onto the white sacks on top, creating crimson inkblots. Veena fought inside her sack. Non-vegetable curse words spilled out.
“Veena, it’s me!” I yelled.
“Get me out of here!” She sounded terrified.
I dialed my own voice way down. “I will, but you have to calm down so I can untie the top of the sack. I’m here with you. It’s okay.” She stopped moving.
Glancing back at the guy, I fumbled with the ties on the laundry bag. He struggled to free himself. I kicked him in the kidneys to buy me another minute. When I got the knot undone, Veena exploded from the top, her hair and eyes wild.
I helped her out of the cart. As soon as her feet hit the floor, the truck sped up suddenly, sending us both flying toward the back door again. I pulled her down and we rolled perilously close to the edge. The snowy road whizzed by a few feet below.
Gasping for air, one eye on the squirming man, I had Veena hang on to the door’s handle with me. We were going too fast to jump. The snow flew thick and white around the truck.
As I looked out at the mostly empty parking lot we were driving through, trying to think, the truck squealed and slowed. We wedged our shoulders against the door until it stopped. It was a lucky break.
“Let’s go!” I grabbed Veena’s hand to help her jump out, but she froze.
Two men in balaclavas stood behind the truck pointing assault rifles at our faces.
Dread sucker punched me. I pulled Veena behind me and put my hands up. One guy I could handle, but three, two of whom were armed and one about to be? Not a chance.
One of the men leapt into the truck, moving like a big cat. He sidled around us and bent over the one I had tied up, who groaned as his buddy untied his hands. He said something, but it didn’t sound like English. The armed man half-dragged the other off the truck. The third assailant kept his weapon directly on us.
I searched desperately for a plan. If the kidnappers wanted to kill Veena, they would have already, but I was another story. Get rid of me, and they could easily take her.
Veena huddled behind me, breathing raggedly.
Without warning, a shot rang out. I dropped to the floor of the truck. And to my everlasting shame, left Veena standing.
Fifteen
Veena shrieked.
I forced my body to override my brain, reached up, and pulled her down with me. Was she hit? My throat closed with panic at the thought. All my training had gone out of the window when I heard that shot.
Several more shots popped outside the truck; it sounded like a pistol. But the kidnappers hadn’t been holding pistols.
The three men’s heads swiveled to the right. They shot back twice and took off around the other side of the truck. I pressed Veena to the floor, covering as much of her as I could.
Snow whipped across the parking lot, but I got a good look at the new player. Shock flooded through me. It was coffee man from the Vail Ski and Snowboard Club.
He wore jeans, boots, and a winter coat. A hat covered his salt and pepper hair, and he held a Sig P229.
He paused and his eyes moved over Veena and me, then he stepped cautiously to the side of the truck and disappeared around the side.
“Stay down,” I said to her. I crept to the open door, only to throw myself back over her. Four guys raced our way on foot.
“Green!” one of them yelled.
Relief coursed through me when I heard Bart’s British accent.
Three of the Venkatesans’ security team followed him. They all lowered their weapons when they saw us. Bart approached cautiously.
“She’s safe.” My voice was raw and breathy. “They went that way with someone in pursuit.”
The other men sprinted in the direction I pointed. Bart stayed with Veena and me.
An engine roared to life somewhere nearby, and a monstrous white SUV with black tinted windows accelerated past the back of the truck, its rear end fishtailing on the snowy pavement. Gathering speed, it shot away into the snow and mist.
Bart pulled out his phone. “Chief, I have Black Diamond and Green. The targets are headed east out of Copper, toward Silverthorne. Late model white Cadillac Escalade.” He gave the plate number. I hadn’t thought to memorize it as it went by. Then again, my bleeding head was pounding.
Veena huddled on the floor, shivering. She had no coat. I shrugged out of mine and helped her into it; I had enough adrenaline flowing through me to melt a polar icecap.
Even with the coat, her body shook. I knelt beside her. The Venkatesans’ security guys were back. They stood at the mouth of the truck, weapons ready, keeping close watch. They seemed to have the situation in hand—finally.
“Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” I asked her. “Did I hurt you?” I’d pushed and pulled her down hard a few times.
“N . . . n . . . no.” Her teeth chattered. She lowered her voice so the men couldn’t hear. “But I think I peed my pants.”
I couldn’t fight the snort that bubbled up. “It
’s okay.”
I had been petrified, too. My first run-in with live weapons held by live kidnappers. And I hadn’t exactly been stellar. No doubt I’d comb through my choices at length with everyone from Brown to Xene. Right now, I was just grateful Veena was alive and unharmed.
A BMW sedan appeared out of the mist, and Veena stiffened.
“That’s the good guys,” I said. Brown was behind the wheel.
Bart helped us off the truck and into the back seat. He jumped in the passenger seat and Brown took off, leaving the other three from the Venkatesans’ team behind with the truck. Blue and red lights glowed in the distance. About time law enforcement showed up.
The short drive to the hotel was so quiet I heard the snow dripping off our clothes onto the leather seats. The kidnappers must have planned to move Veena from the truck to the Escalade. Hopefully, the highway patrol would pick them up now.
I needed to debrief with Brown and Bart but not with Veena there. Her skin was sallow, her eyes were blank, and she had shriveled in my coat. I’d seen most of her huge range of expressions—but not this defeated one. She looked like she was in shock.
Brown slid into a parking space at the back of the hotel, and as a unit we escorted Veena up a stairway to the top floor. I took position behind her. No way I’d leave her alone again. Now that she was safe, fury sizzled through my veins, burning out the fear. Losing Veena should never have happened in the first place.
A man stood outside room 410—the Venkatesans’ room. He tapped on it when he saw us rushing down the hall, the door opened, and Veena launched herself into her parents’ waiting arms.
Her father glanced up, his eyes shiny. “We’d like a few minutes alone with our daughter.”
I hated to leave her, but Brown nodded, so I stepped back out into the hall.
“Nic,” Veena called.
I turned back.
“Please don’t go far.” Her voice trembled.
“I won’t.”
“You got this?” Brown asked the man outside the door after it closed on us. The skeptical note in my chief’s voice said what his words didn’t. The guy answered that he did.
