Texas Ransom

by Amanda Stevens

  Terrence frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “They think I did it, Terrence. They think I engineered Kendall’s kidnapping to cover up another crime. And as soon as they find out about Michael, I’ll be arrested for his murder.”

  “Why the hell would they think you killed Michael? He was your best friend. He was like a brother to you. You were closer to him than you are to me.”

  What was that strange little edge in Terrence’s voice? Anger? Fear? Bitterness?

  “They’ll believe it because I have a motive. The oldest one in the book. Michael and Kendall had an affair five years ago. The FBI has proof.”

  “What proof?”

  “Trish gave them photographs. Evidently she suspected Michael was cheating and she hired a private detective. When she found out about the affair, she left him.”

  “So that was the reason they split up. I always wondered,” Terrence murmured.

  Graham glanced at his brother. “You didn’t know? About Michael and Kendall, I mean.”

  “Of course I didn’t know,” he said angrily. “You think I would have kept something like that from you? I’m your brother, for God’s sake.”

  “You never told me about L. J. Kittering.”

  Guilt sparked in Terrence’s eyes before he glanced away. “That was different. You and Kendall were separated at the time. I thought you were getting a divorce. I didn’t think it mattered. I didn’t think you would even care. Then after the accident, when you got back together, I didn’t see the point in bringing it up. You were happy. I didn’t want to be the one to spoil it for you.”

  “But you had your doubts about the reconciliation. You never liked Kendall, did you?”

  Terrence shrugged. “Maybe not back then. But she changed after the accident. At least…it seemed so.” He paused, staring pensively out the windshield. “I’m sorry, Graham, but I have to ask this. Are you sure Kendall isn’t somehow involved in all this?”

  Graham wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Two days ago, he would have sworn that the woman he’d lived with for the past five years would never betray him. Never hurt him. Now he had no idea who she was or what in his life was even real.

  “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “All I know is that I have to find her.”

  “Where do I come in?”

  “I need help with the ransom.”

  “How much do they want?”

  “Seven million. I have two million and less than twenty-four hours to raise the rest.”

  Terrence glanced at his watch. “The banks are closed. I won’t be able to do anything until tomorrow morning.”

  “You’ll help me then? In spite of everything I’ve told you.”

  “Like I said, you’re my brother. I may not agree with how you’ve handled things, but I don’t know that I would have done it any differently if I were in your shoes. To tell you the truth, I don’t know how you’re holding up as well as you are after everything you’ve been through.”

  Graham started to turn away, then stopped. His emotions were raw and on the surface, but he suddenly didn’t care if his brother witnessed his vulnerability. The differences they’d had in the past seemed petty and inconsequential.

  He drew a long breath. “I have to get her back, Terry.”

  “I know,” Terrence said gruffly. “But this guy Esteban…he’s not going to let up. You give him the money and he’ll keep squeezing until he’s wrung every drop he can out of you. There’s nothing to keep him from coming back time and again.”

  “That won’t happen,” Graham said grimly. “Once Kendall is safe, I’m going to kill him.”

  It wasn’t bravado, but a statement of fact and Terrence seemed to accept it as such. If he was surprised or alarmed, he didn’t show it. Instead he said slowly, “I may know someone who can help us.”

  Us. Graham swallowed. “Who?”

  “Do you remember a guy named Walter Clarkson? He was an old army buddy of Dad’s. They served in Korea together. He used to tell me every time I saw him how Dad had saved his life. He named his son after him. Nathan was military, too. Special Forces. A real badass, from what Dad said. After he left the service, he worked in intelligence for a while. I never knew any of the details, but a few years ago, he went solo.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He’s a hired gun now. The type of guy you call when the police can’t fix your problem.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Not through personal experience, thank God. Evelyn’s daughter was being stalked a few years back. The police couldn’t do anything about it so Dad called Walter and he put him in touch with his son. The stalking stopped almost immediately.”

  “What did he do?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. The point is, Dad gave me his number in case I ever needed it. I think the incident with Evelyn’s daughter shook him up, and he was worried that something like that might someday happen to one of my girls.”

  “You’ve still got the number?”

  “I dug it out as soon as the FBI left my office. We need to talk to him, Graham. The sooner the better, if you ask me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Terrence made arrangements for Graham to meet with Nathan Clarkson that night at an abandoned farmhouse in Waller County, a rural, wooded community north of Houston. Graham hadn’t spoken to Clarkson personally, nor had he ever met the man. He knew nothing about him other than the scant information Terrence had provided. That their fathers had once been army buddies was hardly a ringing endorsement, and Graham wasn’t particularly in a trusting mood these days.

  But he didn’t see that he had much of a choice. With the FBI out of the equation, he was on his own. And even though the brutality of the past few days had opened Graham’s eyes, he knew he wasn’t equipped to deal with the situation that faced him. There was a reason Esteban wanted the plans to the PemCo Tower. And it wasn’t a good one.

  If Graham wanted to stop Esteban for good, he had to have help. He had to have someone on his side who knew how to operate in Esteban’s world.

  After the call to Clarkson, Terrence had taken a cab back to the office, leaving Graham with Evelyn’s borrowed car. He’d driven to another parking lot, found an inconspicuous spot and tried to catch some sleep. He’d managed to doze off a couple of times, but every little noise awakened him with a start. He’d finally given up, turned on the radio and sat listening to music as he thought about Kendall, wondering how she was holding up.

  What he didn’t let himself think about was the affair. Or what he would say to her when he saw her again. None of that could matter at the moment, not while lives were still in danger. He couldn’t afford to focus on anything but stopping Esteban. He would deal with the rest later.

  Backing the car down the gravel drive in front of the farmhouse, Graham turned off the engine and killed the headlights. He’d gotten to the meeting place ahead of Clarkson, and now he watched the road. He lowered his window so that he could hear an approaching vehicle before he could see it through the trees. In spite of his exhaustion, he was alert and wired, anxious to hear what Clarkson had to say.

  Even though he was expecting Clarkson, the sound of a car engine sent a spurt of adrenaline through his veins and his heart started to pound. A moment later, headlights pulled into the drive, and Graham squinted in the glare.

  The lights didn’t go off. It was almost as if Clarkson was waiting for Graham to make the first move. After a moment of indecision, Graham opened the door and got out. He walked around to the front of the car and stood in the headlight beam. He started to put his arms up to show that he didn’t have a weapon, but the action made him feel foolish and he dropped his hands to his sides.

  A car door opened and a man got out. Slowly he walked into the light.

  “Graham Hollister?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nathan Clarkson.” He held out his hand and the two men shook.

  Graham had never seen Clarkson before and he hadn’t kn
own what to expect. After everything Terrence had told him about the man’s background, Graham supposed he’d formed a vague Rambo-type image in his head that was immediately dispelled on meeting Nathan Clarkson face to face.

  The man was neither short nor tall, not heavy or thin, but completely nondescript in every way. He was by nature and skill someone who blended into his surroundings without being noticed.

  His brown hair was cut short and his wire-rimmed glasses gave him an earnest, boyish look despite the lines around his eyes and mouth.

  He went quickly back to his car and shut off the lights. Then he nodded toward the sagging porch on the farmhouse. “Let’s sit down.”

  They walked through the tall grass and sat on the top step. Graham leaned forward, forearms on his knees as he stared straight ahead into the darkness. It was a warm night, with fireflies flitting through the grass and frogs croaking from the ditches. He could hear an owl somewhere in the trees that surrounded the house. But other than the wildlife, the night was deadly silent.

  “I chose this place for two reasons,” Clarkson said. “If the kidnappers are using your cell phone to track you, they may decide that you’ve come out here to dispose of the body.”

  Graham flinched. “And if they don’t?”

  “I own this place. You can’t tell by looking, but it’s secure. If anyone comes within a couple of miles, we’ll know about it.”

  That made Graham feel a little easier. Assuming, of course, that Clarkson wasn’t just blowing smoke. “So what do we do?”

  “The first thing I need to tell you is this. I’m an independent contractor. I don’t work for the government, although I occasionally do work for the government.” He shrugged. “Fine distinction, but there is one. I’m not limited by laws or international protocol. I do whatever it takes to get the job done. Are you comfortable with that?”

  “Whatever it takes to get my wife back and keep my family safe. That’s all I care about.”

  “That’s easy enough to say, but when it comes down to the dirty work, people like you tend to get a little squeamish.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” Graham said angrily. “I got past squeamish when I found my best friend’s body in the trunk of my car. I want this nightmare to be over. I want my life back.”

  Clarkson nodded. “Okay. We’ve got a few things to go over then. Terrence briefed me about the situation on the phone, but I’m going to need to hear it from you. I apologize for that because I know you’ve probably told it a dozen times or more by now. I still need to hear it. Start at the beginning and give me as many details as you can remember.”

  “All right. But I need to tell you something first that Terrence doesn’t know anything about.” Graham paused, his gaze on the flickering fireflies in the distance. “The kidnappers want more than just money. They want a set of plans to the PemCo Tower.”

  Clarkson was pensive for a moment. “Do you have the plans?”

  “Yes. I drove back into Austin yesterday and got them. I don’t know what Esteban has planned, but it can’t be good.”

  “No, you’re right about that,” Clarkson said. “And it does put a whole new spin on things. But for now, let’s concentrate on what we do know.”

  Graham gazed straight ahead as he told the story from beginning to end, stopping to elaborate when Clarkson interrupted with a question. When he was finished, they both sat in silence.

  “Have you handled this kind of situation before?” Graham finally asked.

  “Kidnappings for ransom? Sure. But we’re dealing with something different here. The amount of the ransom—seven million dollars—is nothing to these guys. By the sounds of the operation, that amount would barely cover their expenses.”

  “Then why bother?”

  “The money is just a smokescreen. They threw out a number that they knew you would be able to come up with to test you.”

  “They wanted the plans all along. They’re going to bomb that building, aren’t they?”

  “All we know for sure is that they’ve gone to a lot of trouble to put you in this position. I have a feeling everything will start happening pretty quickly from this point on. This guy Esteban has set you up to take the fall for Barron’s murder, so he’ll have to move fast before the police and FBI close in on you. I’d say you have a day at the most.”

  Graham’s hands were sweating. He wiped them on the legs of his slacks.

  “This kind of situation is about as scary as it gets,” Clarkson said sympathetically. “And it’ll get worse, believe me.” He paused. “Tell me about Esteban. You said he has acne scars on his face. He’s tall, dark, somewhere in his forties. Is there anything else you may have left out?”

  Graham tried to think back, but the exhaustion was working against him now. His mind was cloudy, and he had a feeling he was leaving out important details. He described Esteban again, taking his time, hoping that something else would come back to him.

  When he finished, he turned to Clarkson. “Have you ever heard of him?”

  “Esteban. No, not the name. I’m sure it’s an alias. But I’ve got a lot of contacts across the border. As soon as we’re finished here, I’ll start making some calls. With the description you gave me, it’s possible we’ll have identification within a matter of hours. Then it’ll be a matter of determining whether he’s flying solo. I don’t think he is. He’s got someone funding the operation, which is why the ransom money is not a big deal to him.”

  “What about Leo Kittering? Do you know anything about him?”

  “Only by reputation.”

  “Do you think it’s possible he could be funding Esteban?”

  “Kittering’s business is drugs. I’ve never heard of him being involved in kidnappings for ransom, and again, seven million dollars is chicken feed to a guy like him. If he’s in this, it’s something personal. A vendetta.”

  “Against my wife?”

  “If he blames her for his son’s death. I’ve already got someone watching Kittering’s compound. If he’s a part of this, it shouldn’t be difficult to confirm. Bribes in that part of the world are a way of life.”

  “What about Kendall?”

  “With a little luck, we may be able to find out where he’s holding her.”

  Graham’s heart skipped a beat. It was the first positive thing he’d heard since this whole nightmare started. “And then?”

  “We go in and take her.”

  “That sounds dangerous.”

  “Not the way we handle extractions.”

  The matter-of-fact way he said it made Graham almost believe him.

  “But even if we do find your wife, it won’t end this,” Clarkson said, dashing Graham’s brief euphoria. “If Kittering and Esteban have formed an alliance, taking Kittering out of the equation won’t stop Esteban. The only way to do that is to take him out. You need to understand that.”

  Graham nodded, knowing exactly what Clarkson meant by take him out. “Let’s do it.”

  CLARKSON swapped vehicles with Graham, leaving him with a fresh cell phone and a card key to a motel room back in the city where he could get some rest that night. Clarkson also took the keys to Graham’s BMW so that arrangements could be made to dispose of Michael’s body.

  Graham was dead tired, and after showering, he wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed, close his eyes and shut everything out.

  But as depleted as he was, it still took him a long time to fall asleep. A knock on the door awakened him with a start. His eyes flew open and he squinted at the light seeping through the closed drapes. It was morning. He’d slept for hours.

  The knock became more insistent. Graham drew on his pants and went to the door. “Who is it?”

  “Clarkson.”

  Graham snapped the deadbolt and drew back the chain lock. He opened the door and Clarkson pushed past him. He had on sunglasses which he whipped off as soon as he was inside.

  He sat down at the small table and started pulling files and photos out
of his briefcase. “Have a seat.” He nodded toward the chair across from him. “We’ve got a lot to go over.”

  “Mind if I brush my teeth and wash my face first?”

  Clarkson shrugged as he continued to dig through his briefcase. “Sure, go ahead. But don’t take too long. Like I said, we’ve a lot to talk about and not much time.”

  Not much time. What did that mean? Graham wondered as he hurried into the bathroom to freshen up. A few minutes later, he came back out and grabbed his shirt from the back of a chair. Slipping it on, he buttoned it up as he took a seat.

  Clarkson shoved a photograph across the table. “Is this your guy?”

  Graham took one look and nodded. The shot was grainy and had been snapped from a great distance on a crowded street. But Esteban was facing the camera and there was no mistake. It was him.

  “His real name is Gabriel Galindo. His mother was American, but he was raised in Mexico by his stepbrother after their father died. The brother’s name is Joaquin Galindo. He was head of the oil workers’ labor union in Mexico until he ended up in prison.”

  “I know who he is,” Graham said. “He’s thought to be responsible for the PemCo refinery explosion that killed all those people a couple of years back.”

  “PemCo’s alliance with Petroleos Mexicanos—Pemex—has created a volatile situation. Do you know much about the oil situation in Mexico?”

  Graham shook his head. “Not really. The industry is controlled by the state. That’s about all I know.”

  “Since 1938, when Mexico first nationalized the oil industry, Pemex has been a sacred symbol of Mexico’s sovereignty. The recent loosening of regulations allowing outside investors—PemCo being the largest—was viewed by some as the first step toward privatization and the exploitation of Mexico’s vast petroleum resources by foreign oil companies.

  “Protests erupted on both sides of the border, culminating in the refinery explosion you mentioned. Galindo had been arrested five years prior on weapons and murder charges and was serving a thirty-five-year jail sentence. But it is widely believed that the bombing was carried out under his orders.”