Max picked it up and examined it. “Is it active?” Could they track it back to its owner by following the signal?
Iain shook his head.
“You’re sure?” Max clarified.
“I had our chief technician look at it. He’s an expert with this kind of technology. It’s a common, low-cost, low-power transmitter that broadcasts a GPS coordinate every thirty seconds. He says the battery is already dead.”
This was unusual for a kidnapper. Max wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard of a tracker being planted on a potential victim prior to abduction before. He’d ask Eban to check further.
It was more like a high-stakes international espionage move than a street gang. Max thought about what Lucy had said at dinner when questioning if a foreign power might be involved.
“I would like to send it to the National Laboratory at Quantico to see if they can find any fingerprints or DNA or determine where it was manufactured and sold.” The FBI had more resources than a lot of the other federal agencies. The tracking device might hold remnants of electronic data they could harvest too.
Iain Bartlett looked at the ambassador who nodded.
“I think you should also put this in some sort of shielded container, in case there’s more to it than meets the eye.”
“I’m all for extra precautions,” Iain Bartlett agreed readily as he climbed to his feet. “I’ll box it up and arrange the courier.”
Max remembered the potential issues with his cell phones too. “Is your tech guy able to take a look at my cell phones? Lucy’s too? We spent the afternoon at PFA headquarters and were forced to leave them in a locker.” Max eyed the ambassador. “That’s why you were unable to reach us earlier.”
“Sure. Hand them over.” Iain held out his palm, and Max passed over both his personal and work cells. He wrote the access codes on a piece of paper, and Lucy reluctantly did the same.
They all watched Iain leave the room then the ambassador asked, “Do you have reason to suspect the Argentines or anyone else, for that matter, would want to listen in on your devices?”
“No, ma’am. Not so far. I only know that it’s a possibility I want to avoid.”
She nodded abruptly. She knew the game, she wanted to know if the Argentines had started to become a problem because that was where she could make a difference.
Max didn’t think they would. They wanted this solved as much as the Americans did. It was an embarrassing diplomatic incident that would put a black mark on the country’s ability to keep foreigners safe. For an economy that depended extensively on tourism it was an issue they needed to fix.
“Have you made any progress at all, SSA Hawthorne?” The ambassador tried to keep her voice firm, but Max heard the underlying tremble.
“ALAT Quinn has spent the day manning the phones but the kidnappers haven’t called back since I spoke with them this morning.” Max slowly paced to the window. “Smart kidnappers keep the location of the calls and the location of the hostages strictly separate. They don’t even take the cell phone they are using to make the negotiation calls with them to the site where the victims are being held. Agents at SIOC have not been able to trace the calls as they seem to have some sort of decoy system that is giving us a series of false readings. We have called in a security consultancy firm who is one of the best in the business when it comes to this sort of thing. Cramer, Parker & Gray.”
Max knew Haley Cramer because of her relationship with his boss, and he had heard of Alex Parker by reputation. “If the decoy system can be cracked, these are the people to do it, but it will take time.”
“Did Cabral give you anything new?”
Max could tell Catherine Dickerson was desperately clinging on to hope. He wished he had better news for her. “We spent the afternoon going through the cases related to the Brazilian street gang that operated a couple of years ago. There are minor similarities but whoever is running this show demonstrates a lot more restraint and less volatility so far.”
Max helped himself to a coffee from the machine in the corner of the room. Lucy jolted as if thinking it was her job and that pissed him off. She was way smarter than a freaking coffee girl.
He told the ambassador about the predicament the Lomakins found themselves in sans insurance.
Catherine swore. “I spoke to the British Ambassador to Argentina. He didn’t mention any of this.” A frown furrowed her brow. “Now I think of it, the toad didn’t say much of substance at all except to remind me that the British had a more delicate relationship with the Argentines than the US due to the Falkland Island conflict and to offer me any assistance he could.”
Yeah, war would put the screws on a relationship.
“I put the Lomakins in touch with a contact of mine who will be here by tomorrow morning to run their end of the show.”
“Is that wise?” Phillip said from the couch.
Max gave him a searching look. “Always better to deal with a professional than get into a bidding war with parents who are understandably emotional.”
Phillip made a disgruntled face.
The last thing Max wanted was for the kidnappers to see the girls as separate entities. All they needed to do to bleed both families dry was declare that whoever handed over the least amount of cash would get their daughter back in a body bag.
“Anything else?” the ambassador demanded. She shot her husband a quelling glance.
“A local agent showed me some footage of the girls as they moved through the city on Christmas Eve.” Agente Ramon had offered the material after the FBI had sent the DNA profile to be run through Argentine databases. Max didn’t mention the DNA to anyone here yet. He didn’t want to get the family’s hopes up without a match. “I asked her to forward that footage to me so I can share it with you and your husband to watch and see if you recognize anyone in the background.”
If nothing else, it would keep them occupied for a few hours.
“I’d like to know how and when the gang planted the tracker on Kristen, and you might be able to spot that on the footage.”
“I think it was that day.” The ambassador shook her head. “DSS check us all virtually every time we walk in the door. Plus, the bug was found inside one of her shopping bags.”
Max nodded thoughtfully. “Agente Ramon suggested the most likely spot for someone to plant the transmitter might have been at the Christmas market and she said, unfortunately, that isn’t covered by security cameras.”
It was an interesting twist. These kidnappers seemed to have extensive knowledge of the city’s surveillance system and used sophisticated methods. He hoped they weren’t just starting their crime spree because they’d covered their bases well.
That reminded him. He was still waiting for a call back from the Canadians.
Phillip leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “I’ll examine the footage. See if I can spot anything unusual. It will give me something useful to do.” The last came out with a twinge of despondency.
“How did they know she was going out that day?” The ambassador had reined in her anguish. “They obviously had this set up ahead of time. How did they know she planned to meet friends? Was someone watching the embassy?”
The tension in her jaw suggested DSS would be in deep shit if that was the case, but they didn’t have enough personnel to prevent every conceivable threat.
Max sipped his coffee. “One of her friend group might have inadvertently told the wrong person. The PFA is investigating all members of each household. Also,” Max hated giving away Kristen’s secrets, but this was life and death. “Your daughter was secretly communicating with a young man over the internet.”
“What?” Catherine looked at her husband, aghast. “Did you know about this?”
Phillip shook his head.
“Did you?” she shot the question at Lucy standing over by the wall.
“No, ma’am.”
Max carried on. “Judging from the tone of the messages, it was a romantic relationship, but we don’t bel
ieve they’d met up in person. It sounded like they were planning to though. She did mention she had plans to go shopping with her girlfriends on Christmas Eve about a week ago.”
Catherine looked horrified. “How could she have been so foolish? Didn’t she listen to anything we told her?”
“Kristen was very careful,” Lucy insisted.
The ambassador was staring at her desk, every muscle clenched. “I checked her cell for any compromising images and there was nothing obvious, thank goodness. I didn’t see any text messages.”
“It was via a new social media platform. The FBI is trying to track down this individual. I will let you know if we succeed. Did you mention the fact Kristen planned to go out shopping to anyone? Maybe in passing?”
Catherine Dickerson’s eyes flashed and narrowed as she thought back. Then she frowned. “Only that afternoon, Boris Yahontov’s wife asked me about the children. Phillip mentioned that Kristen had gone downtown shopping with her friends.” Her focus sharpened. “You don’t think the Russians are involved in this, do you?”
Brian Powell shifted in his seat.
“How would they have had time to organize the kidnapping on that timeline? That conversation was only a few minutes before she was snatched.” Phillip scoffed. “It’s impossible.”
Not impossible but extremely unlikely.
“Do you have any reason to suspect that the Russians might be behind this?” Max shot a glance at Lucy. Did these people all know something they weren’t sharing with him?
Lucy wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“Brian?” the ambassador demanded.
The Legat cleared his throat. “I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”
Which was a big fucking yes.
The ambassador seemed to inflate at his words. “If you have reason to suspect the Russians are involved in the kidnapping of my daughter I want to know.” Her hand was already reaching toward her telephone.
“Ambassador. Don’t. Please.” Powell wiped his brow and shot a look around the room. “I’m not at liberty to discuss any of this in front of non-FBI personnel.”
The ambassador’s hand paused. What was she going to do? Call the Russian ambassador and demand they give her daughter back? She knew as well as the rest of them did the Russians would never admit culpability. Maybe she’d jump straight to calling US President Joshua Hague and let him exert the pressure in the form of sanctions.
“I want to know what you know.” Her voice was flinty as ice chips as she stared at Powell.
Powell looked around the room and appeared to come to a decision. “Let’s go to my office, and I’ll brief you.”
The ambassador climbed to her feet and headed for the door.
Phillip stood.
The Legat shook his head. “I’m sorry, Phillip. This is classified.”
Outrage stretched Phillip’s features wide as he looked in askance at his wife. Catherine said nothing. There was nothing she could do.
Miranda moved to follow her boss, and Powell held up his hand. “You too, Miranda. Sorry. This is strictly need to know.”
“But the ambassador might need me.” A line creased Miranda’s delicate brow.
“This is non-negotiable. Nor will the ambassador be permitted to discuss what I tell her with anyone.”
Miranda’s mouth opened in shock, but there was no quarter given in Powell’s tone.
Lucy hadn’t moved nor had she blinked.
Max narrowed his gaze.
“Hawthorne,” Powell paused on his way out the door. “You may as well attend. Everything we discuss will be classified and, if anyone leaks that information, I will lock them up. I don’t care who it is.”
Even the ambassador appeared a little taken aback by that declaration.
Max inclined his head and followed the agent out of the room. Whatever this was, it was big, and it probably involved Boris Yahontov, Russian billionaire and a close friend of the Kremlin. Max hoped to hell it had nothing to do with the kidnapping, but he couldn’t afford to ignore the possibility, not with two innocent lives on the line.
Chapter Nineteen
All Lucy’s considerable acting skills were required to prevent her from pumping the air with joy when she was banned from whatever intrigue the Legat was sharing with Max and the ambassador. The note inside her pocket was burning a hole through her conscience. She didn’t like deceiving Max, or the ambassador, for that matter, but she had no choice.
Max must think she was off her rocker anyway, the way she’d fled the restaurant. He was still being nice, polite, diffident, but there was a quizzical edge to his gaze now that hadn’t been there before her ego had come roaring out in force, and she’d danced the goddamn tango.
Her trainer had warned her this could happen. Apparently, all it took was an attractive man and the desire to be wanted again. The need to connect with another human being.
Idiot.
As if the red-hot negotiator would want her, especially after the truth came out.
She slipped out of the embassy and walked three blocks to a small internet café. Despite the fact it was evening, perspiration slid down her spine. She was grateful for an excuse not to be carrying her phone. She wore sunglasses and had applied her lipstick in a way to deceive any facial recognition programs, not to mention potential suitors. No one wanted to date the Joker.
Inside the café, she paid cash and booked the computer under a false name. She avoided the surveillance camera at the back of the shop.
This was her life now.
Not what she’d originally envisioned.
She slid into an empty spot that wasn’t directly next to the window but did look out onto the street. No one appeared to have followed her.
The possibility that the Russians might be involved in this kidnapping made the fact they were applying pressure to her make a lot more sense. How did she phrase the email without giving away the farm?
What did she know that they might not? What about the “little bird” who was also feeding Felix information? Who the hell was it? What might they reveal? She couldn’t afford to be less than truthful.
The Russians must have tracked her today. How else had they known where she’d taken Max for dinner?
Had she failed to spot a tail driving through the busy streets of Buenos Aires? Possible, but she was normally good at surveillance detection. She needed to go over her car and make sure there wasn’t a tracking beacon attached to it, or her. Although, if Felix was as cunning as she suspected he was, he’d have removed the tracker before he’d let her see his face in that crowd.
She bit her lip and began typing.
Spent the day at PFA HQ translating files from kidnappings that happened two years ago for the FBI as they are looking for similarities between the cases.
No way would she mention the potential DNA of the suspect that the PFA’s lab was now running through their databases. Max hadn’t even mentioned it to the ambassador yet, probably waiting for a positive result before getting hers and Phillip’s hopes up.
Nor would Lucy reveal that the Lomakins did not have valid K&R insurance. She didn’t want to give the Russians any potential leverage over a family in crisis—she knew what they did with leverage.
The plan tonight is to go through surveillance tapes of the ambassador’s daughter downtown prior to the kidnapping.
Her words were truthful and accurate but revealed no real progress. Nor was she the one going through the tapes, but they didn’t need to know that—unless their “little bird” mentioned it. She bit her lip. Only a small, select group had been present at the meeting so that in itself would be revealing.
That should keep them happy for now.
She pressed send, although she didn’t sign it. The email was from an alias and not from any of her personal accounts. If the Russians were watching who came and went from the embassy, as she assumed they must be, then they’d figure out it was her making contact.
She headed back to the embassy. Her des
k inbox was empty which was a relief. No new incriminating photographs today. And Miranda hadn’t added anything to her usual never-ending to-do list. Perhaps her boss was handling everything herself after the ambassador had assigned Lucy to temporarily help Max.
Lucy wiped off the lipstick and tossed the tissue in the garbage. She knew better than to assume there wasn’t more work for her to do. She didn’t want to get called back to the embassy if there was something vital that had to be completed.
She knocked on the ambassador’s office door and entered.
Miranda was on the couch next to Phillip as if she was comforting him. They quickly broke apart.
Lucy said brightly, “I wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything else before I went home?”
Miranda climbed to her feet, cool and unruffled. Phillip covered his face with his hands, as if he’d been crying.
“Don’t worry, I’ll attend to anything else that Catherine needs today. I’m going to sleep here again tonight.”
Lucy wasn’t surprised. Miranda was devoted to Catherine and had been with her for nearly a decade.
“Check in with that FBI agent before you leave though and see if he needs you again tomorrow. He really should get his own assistant instead of poaching mine.” Miranda began picking up the dirty coffee cups from around the room and putting them on a tray.
“Sure thing. I’ll talk to SSA Hawthorne before I leave and text you his response.” Lucy left with a spring in her step. She picked up her purse from her cubicle and then remembered she didn’t have her phone. Dammit.
She headed to the offices used by the Diplomatic Security Service. She knocked and waited. Iain Bartlett opened the door and looked surprised to see her.
“Sorry, I need my phone.” She’d hated handing it over, although there was nothing incriminating on that device.
“Wait there.”
She blinked as he shut the door in her face. She didn’t have a good read on Bartlett. He appeared to be a straight arrow with a decided lack of a sense of humor. Not that Lucy Argentina was a bundle of fun.
A few seconds later, she heard laughter from the other side of the door and overheard someone saying they’d have to pay him to fuck her.
Cold Cruel Kiss: A heart-stopping and addictive romantic thriller Page 20
