He could have stayed in other, more opulent places but he liked the quiet elegance of this particular hotel and the fact that it had an entire floor of suites. The service was excellent and it had all the electronic hookups he needed to conduct his business.
Tomorrow he would meet with one of the fund’s biggest clients, sucking another million dollars out of him to invest. He was irritated to discover he’d left the copies of the proposals sitting on his desk in his office. His secretary could fax them to him but then they’d look like what they were. Bad copies. With this client everything had to be top of the line. Then he remembered this place had an entire floor equipped with anything the business traveler might need. He’d call his office, have his secretary email him the color pdf file, and run it off on the business center’s high quality printer. Then he could get through tomorrow’s meetings.
As he waited at the desk to check in, he pulled out his cell phone and punched her speed dial number one more time. Voice mail. As usual.
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!
Tonight he had a date with a bottle of fifty-year-old single malt Scotch. Then tomorrow, after he completed his business, he’d head back to Florida and his hunt for Katherine Culhane. As each hour passed without a response to his calls or information on her whereabouts, his anger grew incrementally.
When he got his hands on that bitch, he’d show her just who was in control and who called the shots. She’d never walk out on anyone like that again.
* * * * *
“Ten million dollars?” Anthony Delaware raised his eyebrows as he read the latest email, then looked at Ron Pelley. He had returned to the offices of Wright International just as the techs he’d asked for finished setting up their equipment on both Pelley’s cell phone, his desktop computer and his laptop, barely in time to catch the latest messages. “Can you get that much together? Is Wright International worth that kind of money?”
“He doesn’t flaunt it,” Pelley told him, “but he’s worth close to fifty million. Not all of it liquid, of course. And the company ten times that.”
“Try sending an email back to them. Hit reply and type a message saying you’ll need time to get the money together.”
“But—”
“Just do it, for god’s sake.”
Pelley hit the Reply key, typed the message and hit Send. Immediately they got a bounce-back message saying the message was undeliverable.
“Damn,” Delaware swore. “They’ve blocked you so all the messages can only go one way.”
Pelley was rolling a pen back and forth on his desk, not looking at the agent. “So now what?”
“You can access the company funds, right?”
Pelley flipped the pen around and began doodling on the small memo pad, avoiding Delaware’s eyes. “I have the authority to tap into different company accounts. It’s just Enrique pulling out this amount of money. Those kinds of transactions are usually authorized by Eli himself.”
“But you can do it, right?” the agent pushed. “Otherwise they wouldn’t have targeted you to provide the ransom.”
“Yeah, I can do it.” Pelley still didn’t look up from his desk.
Delaware felt something skitter across his backbone, a funny sensation that Pelley was hiding something from him.
“Is there something else you’d like to tell me, Mr. Pelley? You seem a little…hesitant about something. If you’ve left out anything we need to know, now would be a good time to tell me.”
Pelley tossed the pen down onto the desk. “Okay. I wasn’t sure how to tell you this, or what you’d think. Two other people got the same email that I did. Ryan Post, Sydney Wright’s brother and Rand Prescott. He’s a partner with Eli in some of his major business deals and it’s his house the Wrights were supposed to be staying in.”
Delaware gritted his teeth but held onto his composure. It never did any good to lose your temper in situations like this but he wanted to reach across the desk and throttle the man. Who knew how much time they’d lost by not focusing on these other men too.
“Why am I just hearing about this now?” he demanded. “And why haven’t either of them called the FBI?”
“We contacted each other when the first emails came in, discussed it and decided it would be more logical for me to be the one to contact you. And better if you only dealt with one person.”
“I see.” The agent walked over to the window and looked down at the cars speeding by below. “I’m not sure that’s such a good decision. This could change the entire picture. What if the kidnappers decide to deal with the brother next? Or Prescott? Leaving us out of the loop means the kidnappers could make their next move and we’d be unprepared to handle it.”
He heard Pelley’s chair scrape as it was pushed back from the desk. “I don’t see how. What difference does it make, anyway?”
“It brings other people into play, gives these people another source of communication that isn’t monitored. And it means the kidnappers may not trust you to get the full amount of money for them that they’re asking for. They’re hedging their bets.” He studied the other man. “We need to get trap and trace setups up at their places too, on their phones and computer.”
“Is that necessary?” Pelley looked up at him. “We hoped that you’d agree to deal just with me.”
“Not if the kidnappers decide to focus on one of the others. Listen, Pelley.” He didn’t feel the need to use Mister any longer. The man was an idiot and a sneak. “In a case like this, everything is important. Everything. Assuming you really want to get the hostages back.”
“Of course I do,” Pelley exploded. “What kind of comment is that?”
“A very natural one, considering the circumstances. What if whoever this is decides to contact just one of you next time? Which one will it be? Why? And will he contact the others and let you know what’s happening?”
“I’ll do anything to resolve this,” Pelley snapped. “Got it?”
“Fine. Then you’ll have to give me their locations right now so I can get crews over there right away.” He pulled out his cell. “One good thing. It gives us three times the opportunity to figure out who these people are and where these messages are coming from.”
Pelley scribbled the information on a sheet of paper and handed it to Delaware. “What about the people from the Phoenix Agency? What happens with them? How do you plan to keep them from sticking their noses into this? Maybe screwing everything up?”
Again Delaware kept himself under control, aware that there was some real concerns about the Phoenix involvement but he wasn’t about to let Pelley know how he felt. The last thing they needed right now was a civilian mercenary agency butting into this, especially people like Phoenix who answered only to themselves. And unfortunately were damn good at what they did. The worst part of it was, in the end they might be the only ones who could get results.
“Like I said before,” he answered, “let’s wait and see if they call again.”
“And if they don’t? You can’t just assume they’ll leave us alone. They have a personal interest in this.”
Delaware’s control frayed. “I think you can count on me to do my job, Pelley. You just take care of your own business. And be very sure you don’t keep anything else from me.”
Seething and trying to get himself under control, he stepped into the outer area and called his office, asking for his second-in-command. “How are you guys coming with getting me a file on Pelley? Good. The sooner the better. You can add two more names to it. Ryan Post and Rand Prescott. It seems they got the same emails. What? Yes, the jackass thought it wasn’t important to let me know about that. I want everything you can get on them. Their history, their financials, if they have a mole on their butts. Here are the locations Pelley gave me for them.” He read off the information. “I want an agent sitting with each one and taps on phones and computers. Get a warrant signed ASAP.” He listened for a moment. “Right. I want to know every single move they make from here on in. Good. Call m
e back as soon as you have it set up.”
He shoved his phone back into its holster on his belt. Damn it to hell anyway. Something definitely smelled about this whole setup but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
Ron Pelley controlled himself with superhuman effort. This had been such a stupid idea, to involve all three of them and he’d been very vocal in expressing his opinion to everyone. He was the logical person to receive the ransom request. He was the logical person to be the contact. He’d argued and argued about letting the feds know all three had been contacted but he was overridden. Now, because of this stupidity, the FBI would be crawling all over not one but three places, tripping over their own feet and probably endangering everyone and everything at the same time.
He couldn’t believe how badly he wanted a drink. What a mess this whole situation was. Anthony Delaware had to speak to him twice before he was even aware of the words.
“Excuse me?” He looked up at the agent.
“I asked you if you’d figured out yet where you were going to get the money from. And if necessary, if you could get your hands on Eli Wright’s assets to pay the ransom.”
“I’d need the account numbers and locations,” he said. “I don’t get involved in his personal finances.”
“How will you justify pulling that much money out of Wright International? Don’t you have officers and stockholders that you’re accountable to?” Delaware persisted.
Pelley nodded. “Yes but I certainly don’t have time to get in touch with all of them. Right now I just want to pull the funds out. Eli can replace them when we get him back. The problem is, very little is liquid. We have to convert a lot of things and I’ve already started that process.”
With a lot of flak from the banks and the accountants. They demanded an explanation and he couldn’t give it to them. What a freaking mess this all was.
“If these are experienced kidnappers—and I have a feeling they are—they’ll know that and allow for the time.” He grunted his displeasure. “Let’s just hope they don’t decide to do any more damage to their hostages while they’re waiting.”
Pelley felt the sick feeling rise in him again. He was pacing the floor when his cell phone rang. For a moment he just looked at the offending instrument, lying on his desk, almost afraid to find out who was on the other end.
“Well?” Delaware asked. “Aren’t you going to answer it? What if it’s the kidnappers?”
Reluctantly Pelley snatched the phone up, flipped it open and looked at the caller ID. He recognized the number as one written on the back of the Phoenix Agency card. It was almost as if his question to the FBI agent had called them up.
Shit. No, double shit.
Swallowing a sigh, he pushed Talk.
“This is Pelley.”
“Mark Halloran, here. I was just wondering if you’d received any more information on where the Wrights and Mari Culhane have disappeared to.”
Pelley held the phone to his chest, looked at Delaware and mouthed the words Mark Halloran from Phoenix.
Delaware held out his hand. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Pelley?” Mark repeated impatiently. “You there?”
He heard the shuffling sound of the phone being handed to someone else, then a strange voice came on.
“Who am I speaking to?”
Mark held the phone out, stared at it, then put it back to his ear. What the hell? “Who am I speaking to?”
“This is Anthony Delaware, Special Agent in Charge of the San Antonio, Texas FBI office. Want to tell me who you are?”
Mark didn’t know whether to be pleased or angry. So Pelley had called in the feds. Nice of him to let them know.
“Mark Halloran of the Phoenix Agency. I’m going to assume Ron Pelley has told you of our interest in this case and why.”
“Yes. You have a friend whose sister was traveling with the Wrights.” Delaware paused. “I’m guessing your friend still hasn’t heard from her sister?”
“That’s correct.” Mark ground his teeth with impatience. “We’re obviously concerned. I’ve tried to get information from Ron Pelley but he doesn’t seem to be very forthcoming.”
“There’s a good reason for that.” Another pause. “I’ll be frank with you, Mr. Halloran. We have a…situation here.”
“A situation,” Mark repeated. “Care to tell me exactly what kind?”
“First I need your assurance that you won’t interfere with anything that’s going on. The safety of the people involved is the most important thing.”
“God damn it!” Mark exploded. “Are you going to tell me what the hell this is about or do I have to go over your head and rattle some cages.”
The pause this time was even longer and Mark could hear hushed conversation in the room.
“All right.” Delaware was back. “Fine. In a nutshell, the Wrights and Miss Culhane have been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped.” Mark repeated the word softly, his body tensing. Bloody hell. “Do you even know if the hostages are still alive?”
“We’ve had proof of life and now a ransom demand. But we need to handle this as delicately as possible. Which means you backing off and leaving it in the hands of the FBI.”
Mark forced himself to breathe evenly. “No offense, Agent Delaware but I think we’ve had as much experience in this as you have. This proof of life. Does it show them unharmed? And is there any sign of where they’re being held?”
“They seem to be okay right now.” Mark didn’t like Delaware’s cautious tone. “We don’t know as yet where they’re being held but we’re working on it.”
“Working on it,” Mark repeated. “Well, isn’t that just dandy. Can you email me the notes Pelley received?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. You need to let us work this from our end. I promise we’ll keep you in the loop.” He lowered his voice. “I can take this upstairs just as well as you can,” he warned. “My bosses don’t like outside interference.”
“Except when they can’t get the job done themselves,” Mark spat at him.
“Mr. Pelley tells me he has your phone numbers. I promise to keep you up-to-date.”
“How much are they asking for?” Mark demanded.
“Ten million dollars.”
For a minute Mark forgot to breathe. “That’s a hell of a lot of money. Can Pelley get his hands on it?”
“He says he can but he’ll need a little time.”
Mark gripped the cell phone so hard it almost cut into his hand. “A little time. Those people may not have a little time. Do you have a deadline yet?”
“No but we should hear from them before long with that information. Mr. Halloran, I need to get off the telephone now. I promise we’ll keep you informed.”
Mark realized he was listening to dead air.
“Hell and damnation.” He pressed the speed dial button for Andy. “Have you got those emails decoded yet? I need them now. No, make that five minutes ago.”
* * * * *
“The business floor setup is for maximum privacy,” Mike told Kat as they left the elevator. “Instead of one large room for everyone to crowd into, they have several small rooms, each one identically outfitted. That’s why so many high profile business people use this place. It caters to what they need.”
“I’ll bet it’s pretty pricey,” she commented.
“But worth the money. I got a key card for one of the rooms when we checked in, just in case. I never know when I might need their equipment.” He slid the key card into the slot, waited for the light to turn green and pushed open the door, entering the room a few steps ahead of Kat.
Neither of them had noticed the man who exited one of the other elevators, headed down the hall and stopped, his face a mask of shock and rage. They didn’t hear his soft footsteps on the rug, either. In fact, neither of them was aware of his presence, as focused on their errand as they were, until Kat felt a fist grab her hair and yank her backward. The sharp pain brought tears to h
er eyes and a scream burst from her mouth.
“Mike!” She backpedaled as the man dragged her toward him. “Mike, help.”
“I’ve got you now, you little bitch.” His voice had a vicious—and familiar—sound to it. “You can’t imagine how sorry you’re going to be, running out the way you did and then avoiding me.”
At the sound of Kat’s cry, Mike spun on his heels. He was momentarily stunned at the sight of the big man practically yanking Kat’s hair out of her head, the fury in his eyes and the fear in Kat’s. Then he shifted into automatic, moving without even thinking, his reflexes taking over. One leg flew up, catching the man at a painful spot in the elbow, then his hand drove into the man’s throat.
Shocked with pain, Brent Fontaine released his grip on Kat, dropped his briefcase and backed up to the wall, gagging.
“Who the hell are you?” His voice sounded like it was scraping over raw concrete.
Mike had immediately put Kat behind him and now stood nose-to-nose with Fontaine. She knew his relaxed attitude belied the tense readiness of his body.
“The bigger question,” Mike said, “is who the hell are you?”
“Why don’t you ask that whore behind you?” He was struggling to get out every word, his hands still massaging his throat.
Mike took two steps closer and closed his big fist on Fontaine’s throat, brushing his hands aside as if they were wisps of cloth. “You watch your mouth if you want to keep breathing. Kat, who is this animal? Do you know him?”
“His name is Brent Fontaine.” Kat forced the words out, her hands rubbing the spot on her head where her hair had been yanked.
“You know him?”
Kat was afraid for a moment she would faint. Then she almost wished she would. She clenched her trembling hands into fists and shoved them in the pocket of her slacks. Finally, after three tries, she managed to speak.
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