by John Sneeden
“Drenna, what’s wrong?”
Scarcely able to breathe, she dropped to her knees, and the phone fell from her hand.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Reston, Virginia
Olav Jorgensen sat perfectly still in the front seat of the van. Like a leopard watching prey from the tall grass, he studied the interior of the ice cream shop through the front glass. His eyes moved from one person to another until they finally fixed on one of the teenage girls who worked there. She was average in height and slender in build. Her straight brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
He glanced at his phone. It was definitely the same person.
Over the next several minutes, he watched the girl go about her work. Unlike most teenagers, she carried herself in a confident way. She didn’t hesitate to talk to patrons, and when someone came through the front entrance, she always looked up.
As an experienced assassin, Jorgensen knew there were two types of girls. There were the fragile little wallflowers who melted in fear at the first sign of danger. Then there were the fighters who would do anything and everything to fend off an attack. Kick. Pull hair. Shout.
This girl was the latter. He could sense it in his gut.
Just like her mother.
Jorgensen looked at the time on the dash clock. The store would close in twenty minutes, and he guessed it would be another ten to fifteen minutes before the girl clocked out. He hated waiting, but it was a necessary part of the job.
He glanced over at the items lying on the passenger seat next to him: duct tape, plastic ties, and a Taser. It was everything he needed in order to carry out the abduction. Once the girl came out of the shop and got into her car, he would follow her in the van. Jorgensen knew where the girl lived, and he had already determined where he would make his move along the route. He would create a minor accident, something he was quite good at. The two would then be forced to pull off the road to assess the damage. Once he was sure no one was watching, Jorgensen would Taser the girl then pull her into the back of the van.
If all went according to plan, he would use her as bait to lure her mother out of hiding. He didn’t know exactly how he would make that happen, but he’d have all night to figure it out. This time, he’d make sure Drenna Steel didn’t get away.
Jorgensen’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, drawing him out of his thoughts. Corbin. The man was always fretting about something. He probably wanted an update, even though he knew nothing would happen for at least another half hour.
He picked up the phone and read the screen. Just as he thought, the message was from the man who had hired him. As he read it, a frown formed on his face.
Abort. I repeat… abort. The entire operation may be compromised. I think they might even know about the plan to abduct the girl.
Alarmed, Jorgensen scanned the parking lot. He didn’t see any cars that looked like law enforcement or the FBI. Then again, he wasn’t an expert on unmarked vehicles in the US.
He assessed the situation. If the authorities did come, it wouldn’t take them long to spot him. The Lake Anne area was decidedly upscale, which meant his old white cargo van would stick out in the sea of luxury cars. If they asked to search it, Jorgensen knew that under American law, he could refuse unless they had a warrant or could see something through the window. But if he did decline their request, that would make him an immediate suspect. Still, the other option was even worse. If he allowed them to search the van, they would find a number of suspicious items he wouldn’t be able to explain.
Either way, he was screwed.
He cursed under his breath. He should have known Corbin would find a way to ruin things. From start to finish, the American’s entire operation was coming apart at the seams. The man known as the Phantom had become damaged goods, and Jorgensen needed to get away before he got swept up along with him. At least he’d be able to return to Finland with half of his fee.
For the moment, he would keep all the information on the teenage girl. He had a bad taste in his mouth after Steel had managed to slip through his fingers. Many considered her the world’s most lethal assassin, but Jorgensen knew better. He was the world’s top predator. And since he knew Drenna Steel’s identity and the name of her daughter, he just might come back to settle the matter once and for all.
Jorgensen started the van then drove out of the parking lot. Using the GPS, he wound through the residential streets that skirted Lake Anne, careful not to exceed the posted speed limits. The last thing he needed was to get pulled over for a minor traffic violation.
Four minutes later, he turned onto Reston Parkway. Once he had sufficiently distanced himself from the other vehicles, he rolled down the passenger-side window using the controller on the door next to him. He then reached over with a gloved hand, grabbed the Taser, and tossed it out. The duct tape and plastic ties followed right behind it.
After making sure all the incriminating evidence was gone, he closed the window and pressed the accelerator.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Two weeks later
Drenna stopped in front of the upscale clothing boutique. She sipped a caramel latte as she stared at the mannequins behind the glass. It was the middle of May, which meant the display was filled with the latest summer styles. Even though her eyes roamed over the cute tops, her thoughts were elsewhere.
It felt so good to be there under different circumstances. The sun was out, which seemed to be emblematic of the new beginning she was embarking on. The darkness of her world had reached a shocking pinnacle two weeks before, but it was all behind her now. At least she hoped it was.
In an attempt to get back to normal, Drenna had sought her favorite stylist, who had helped her remove the blond hair dye. Although her hair still needed some work, she was slowly becoming a brunette again.
Soon, her thoughts returned to the night she’d discovered the texts on Corbin’s phone. The content was so horrific that it had made her physically sick. She had read of the plans to kidnap Miranda and use her as bait. Drenna wouldn’t have hesitated to give herself up in order for her daughter to be set free, but she knew those types of things often ended up with the captive getting killed too. Why leave behind a witness to provide details to authorities?
It had taken Delgado several minutes to bring Drenna out of shock then another few minutes to get her to think rationally about their next steps. Once she gathered her thoughts, they both decided that driving to Reston to stop the kidnapping wasn’t an option. It would’ve taken at least thirty to forty-five minutes, and that was if they didn’t run into any bad traffic.
Then Drenna fought through the fog and came up with a two-part plan. She would send the assassin a text from Corbin’s phone telling him to abort. She and Delgado used separate phones to call in reports of a man with a gun at the shopping center.
As best they could tell, everything had worked to perfection. After they arrived, they had seen several police cars parked in front of the stores, their lights still flashing blue. There was also no sign of the assassin. In one of the texts, the man had mentioned renting a van in order to carry out the kidnapping, but there was no van in the parking lot. Not only that, but Drenna had also seen Miranda and the other employees standing inside the ice cream shop, waiting for the police to clear the area.
Delgado had contacted a friend with the NSA who tried to track the number of the assassin, but there was no signal. It was clear he had removed his phone’s battery at some point, ending any hope of finding him that way. Drenna knew from the texts that the man had been paid a large sum already, so he had probably flown back to Finland under a fake passport.
He would eventually hear that Corbin had been killed, which Drenna hoped would put an end to the threat. She might try to pick up the man’s trail. Even though he had no reason to want to kidnap Miranda anymore, Drenna couldn’t take the risk that he might. Assassins had egos, and it was possible this man might have a bad taste in his mouth over not finishing the job. She knew s
omething about his appearance, and she also knew what country he lived in. That was more than enough to get started.
Drenna stepped away from the display and started walking again. She saw familiar lettering on the glass of a store just ahead: Duck’s Frozen Treats. She stopped and took a sip of her latte as she watched a mom and three kids come out, ice cream cones in hand. Drenna smiled. If things had worked out differently, that might be her.
She had come to take one last look at her daughter before riding off into a new phase of life. What that phase was, she didn’t know. The CIA brass had already made it clear they wanted her back, but she wasn’t so sure she wanted to do that. There was something nice about taking it easy for a while. She hadn’t experienced that kind of rest in a long time.
Nathan Sprague was still in a coma, so she would at least stick around the area until his situation was resolved. She loved the man and was praying that he would make it out of all this alive.
But whatever the future held, Drenna knew she couldn’t keep coming back to the little ice cream shop. If she did, she might one day cross a line that didn’t need to be crossed. At least not yet. When Miranda was eighteen, Drenna would likely reach out. And even though it would be legally permissible then, Drenna had decided to move forward only with the blessing of Miranda’s parents.
Still, she wanted one last look at the girl who gave her so much joy, even if it had to be from a distance.
As emotions welled up inside her, Drenna tilted her cup back and drained the last of the latte.
She looked at the sign again. Miranda was probably cleaning tables, talking to whoever came in. Drenna smiled. That part of her daughter’s personality must have come from her father because it certainly hadn’t come from her.
Drenna walked over to a trash can and tossed her empty cup away. But instead of continuing toward the ice cream shop, she stepped off the sidewalk and walked into the parking lot.
As she continued toward her car, she looked at the sun.
It’s a beautiful day, she thought. It’s a beautiful day.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
After making sure the coast was clear, Miranda Blake walked quickly toward the car parked at the edge of the parking lot. Her earbuds were in, but there was no music coming through them. She had decided to keep it off so she could hear everything around her.
Minutes earlier, she had taken her afternoon break. Usually, she sat at a table inside, but this time she had decided to sit in her car and enjoy the sun. She had just turned on some tunes when she happened to see a beautiful white Tesla Model S pass in front of her. She had always wanted one, although she didn’t particularly like white. As she watched, the driver of the Tesla backed into a shaded spot underneath an oak tree.
A minute later, a woman got out. She was dressed in stylish jeans and a sleeveless white top that fell over her hips. Even though the woman’s hair was shorter and seemed a little lighter than she recalled, Miranda recognized her immediately. It was the same woman who had visited the store several weeks before. The woman who liked vanilla bean raspberry. The limp had mostly healed, but the woman still favored her right leg slightly.
Ever since that first meeting, Miranda hadn’t been able to get the woman off her mind. She had gone back through their conversation a number of times and was certain the meeting hadn’t been a coincidence. Even though she knew it sounded odd, there had been a meeting of the souls, something that transcended the superficiality of their words.
But if the meeting wasn’t a coincidence, had the woman gone there on purpose? Maybe she somehow knew Miranda’s favorite flavor and had ordered it to trigger their conversation. And if that was true, why had she done it? Was she a police officer? There had been a spate of thefts at school, but Miranda knew for a fact they couldn’t be investigating her. She was just an ordinary teenager who enjoyed hanging out with friends, reading, and listening to music. The worst she had ever done was to beat up a boy who had bullied her two years ago. Maybe one of her friends was involved in something.
Desperate to learn more, Miranda had decided to sneak over to the Tesla and get the woman’s license plate number. She would also take a quick peek through the window to see if anything else might provide a clue to the woman’s identity.
As she continued across the parking lot, Miranda turned and looked at the coffee shop the woman had disappeared into five minutes before. She hadn’t come back out, but Miranda picked up her pace anyway. If the woman had just come for coffee, she might return to her car at any minute.
Miranda knew she was taking a risk that she might be seen snooping around, but she didn’t care. She needed to find out who the woman was and why she had come into the shop.
As she came to the end of a row, Miranda looked at the coffee shop one last time. Several large trucks blocked her view.
Just do it. Don’t be so scared.
Her heart racing, she ran behind the row of vehicles that lined the outer edge of the parking lot. She stooped down and made her way over to the back of the Tesla. She pulled out her phone and quickly snapped a photo of the license plate, which had been issued in the District of Columbia. That struck her as odd. Even though DC wasn’t far away, most of the people who worked there had Virginia or Maryland plates. Miranda wondered if it was some sort of government car. If so, that made the whole thing even more of a mystery.
After making sure her photos were sharp, she crept to the front of the vehicle and peered through the driver’s-side window. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to a tag that hung from the rearview mirror. There were a few printed words and, underneath, a series of numbers and letters. It looked like some sort of parking pass. Bingo. She aimed her phone camera at the pass, zoomed in on it, and snapped several pictures.
She had just finished when she heard the click of steps coming through the parking lot. Keeping her body low, she looked through the window of the Tesla and saw a woman with dark hair coming down one of the rows.
It was her. She was coming back.
Miranda moved quickly to the back of the car and onto the grass. She crept past several other vehicles before finally turning down between two of them.
The footsteps were closer. Miranda rose and looked through the windows of several cars. The woman was visible.
She’s beautiful.
Although Miranda had noticed it on the day they first met, she had almost forgotten how stunning the woman was. She had an aura about her, the kind that would make her stand out in a crowd. Beauty, class, and strength all rolled into one package.
The woman came around the driver’s side of the Tesla and put her hand on the door handle. But instead of opening it, she stood perfectly still.
What’s she doing?
The woman appeared to be lost in thought, although it was impossible to tell without seeing her face. Had Miranda dropped something on the ground? No, that wasn’t possible. She didn’t have anything to drop except for her phone, which was safely tucked away in her pocket.
A few seconds later, the woman looked toward the stores. She seemed to focus on one in particular. The ice cream shop. Was she thinking about going in?
Maybe she came to talk to me again.
Miranda wondered if she should just walk over and introduce herself. Force the issue. It might give her the answers she was looking for. Then again, it might not.
Go talk to her before it’s too late.
Before Miranda could figure out what she wanted to do, the woman turned in her direction, forcing Miranda to duck out of sight. She held her breath, scared to move. Had the woman sensed she was being watched?
Miranda listened for the sound of footsteps coming in her direction but instead heard a car door open and shut. Soon, she heard the faint but distinct sound of tires moving across the pavement.
She’s leaving.
Miranda stood and watched the Tesla move toward the exit. The woman sat at the stop sign for several seconds before finally taking a left out of the lot. As the vehicle finally di
sappeared around the curve, Miranda felt something stirring inside of her. It was the same feeling she got when someone she cared about was leaving and wouldn’t be back for a long time.
But why such deep emotions about someone she knew almost nothing about?
A tear ran down her cheek. She reached up and wiped it away with a finger.
“Whoever you are, please come back,” she whispered. “Next time, I’ll say something. I promise.”
She stood in place for a moment, staring at the street and wishing the Tesla would appear again. When it didn’t, she turned and began the trek to the ice cream shop.
It was time to get back to work.
A WORD FROM JOHN
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