‘What about fitting the parts with a tracking device?’ Finn suggested. ‘At least then, we’ll be able to follow him.’
‘There’s no room,’ said Hart. ‘Each part is a sealed metal cylinder. The guts of it are made up of micro-processors, specifically designed to fit the cylinder. We designed it that way so no modifications were needed to the existing missile system the army is currently using.’
‘What’s the status of the parts?’ asked Finn.
‘They’re in the final testing stage at our research and development laboratory in Nevada. The shipment was due to be made at the end of next week.’
‘How big are they?’
Hart held his middle finger and thumb apart. ‘About eight centimetres. There are two of them – the mechanics are encased in metal cylinders to stop grease and dirt getting caught up in the electronics. You could hold both cylinders in your hand.’
Finn picked up the phone and placed it in front of Hart. ‘Phone them. Tell them to halt the testing and get the parts shipped here now.’
‘But they’re not ready!’
‘I don’t care – and Kaan doesn’t know they’re not ready. Just get them here.’
***
Finn spent the next hour coaching Hart through what he would have to do and say when Yusuf next telephoned with demands.
‘For Christ’s sake remember you don’t know his real name,’ said Finn. ‘To you, he’s still Claude van Zant.’
Hart nodded. ‘I understand.’
‘Good. Now, when he asks if you’re going to hand over the parts, don’t sound too eager, but don’t give him time to add to his demands either,’ said Finn. ‘You can tell him that you’re going to give in and give them to him but make sure he understands you’re having to get them from the testing facility in the States. Get as much time as you can to do that, understand?’
Hart nodded, a picture of misery. ‘What’s he going to do when he finds out they won’t work?’
Finn shrugged. ‘With any luck, by the time he finds that out, it’ll be the least of his problems.’
Now, the three men were in Hart’s office, their patience tested while they waited for van Zant’s call.
Hart paced the carpet behind his desk, unable to sit still while Finn slumped in an armchair, his foot tapping the floor.
He’d closed his eyes, willing his heartbeat to slow down, but still heard the blood rushing in his ears, while adrenalin coursed his veins.
He opened one eye and saw Steve lying on a sofa he’d dragged into the office from the hallway. He had his arms behind his head, eyes closed. Finn envied the man’s outward calmness.
Then the telephone rang, and the men lunged into action.
Hart waited until Steve had the headphones over his ears and gave him the thumbs up before answering.
‘Hello?’
‘Mr Hart, good afternoon.’
‘I don’t have time for pleasantries, van Zant. What do you want?’
‘Very well. What is your decision in relation to the parts I want?’
Ian sighed. ‘You really don’t leave me a lot of choice, do you?’ he said.
‘So you will procure them for me?’
‘It’s not a case of procuring them,’ said Hart, and raised his head to see Finn wink at him. ‘They’re prototypes. They’re not easily obtained.’
‘I’m on a very tight schedule, Mr Hart,’ said van Zant, his voice lowering. ‘So I must insist that you obtain the parts for me as soon as possible.’
‘I’ll need at least forty-eight hours,’ said Hart. ‘I have to contact my testing facility, arrange for the parts to be packaged correctly, shipped here, and then checked through Customs. It’s not going to be easy.’
A silence permeated the telephone line, and Hart looked up and frowned at Steve, who shook his head.
‘You will have thirty-six hours to get the parts to Istanbul,’ came the reply. ‘I will contact you again then.’
The phone went dead, and the men slid the headphones off as Hart put down the receiver.
‘Well,’ said Finn. ‘Thirty-six hours is better than twenty-four, I suppose.’
17
The door burst open, and the two kidnappers strode across the room towards Kate, took hold of an arm each and hauled her to her feet.
‘What’s going on? Where are you taking me?’ she demanded and tried to pull away from them.
‘You’ll soon see,’ replied the older man, a malicious grin on his face. He held up the hood and whipped it over her head before she had time to react.
Her wrist was lifted, and the metal clasp unhinged. She desperately wanted to rub the soreness around her bones, but then both wrists were grabbed, and she felt the familiar rope bind them together.
‘Walk.’
Kate allowed herself to be led from the room and along the passageway towards the stairs. She found that if she closed her eyes, she could concentrate and get her bearings. If she opened her eyes and saw the hessian material of the hood, she panicked, memories flooding her mind. Eyes closed, she could focus and build upon the map she’d created in her mind of her surroundings.
The two men led her down the two flights of stairs and into the room where she’d first met Kaan yesterday.
Was it only yesterday? She mentally checked the day marks in her head. Surely he didn’t need more proof of life?
She began to hyperventilate, visualising what might lie in wait for her, and then gasped as she was forced down into a sitting position. Luckily her backside found the chair, but she wobbled and felt her heart lurch in her chest. Someone grabbed her shoulder to steady her, and she felt balanced enough to place her bound hands in her lap.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
The hood was torn from her head, and she sucked in her breath as a few strands of hair went with it. She blinked in the sudden light streaming down onto her from dirty windows which surrounded one side of the room.
Ignoring the man sat in front of her, she concentrated on the sounds she could hear in the background. Men shouting to one another, as if they were in a hurry, busy.
The man in front of her clicked his fingers in her face.
‘Concentrate Miss Foster,’ he said. ‘You’re going to do something for me.’ He smiled, and Kate’s blood ran cold.
‘What?’
He pointed to a small video camera mounted on a tripod to his right.
Kate’s stomach tumbled, and her insides quivered. Surely not. She looked from the camera to Kaan and back again. Surely they weren’t going to execute her?
The man obviously read her thoughts, and began to chuckle.
‘Fear not, Miss Foster,’ he said. ‘We are not the barbarians you imagine. Your life is not in danger. For today, at least.’ He shrugged.
Kate tilted her head back and breathed out. To hell with it, if the man saw she was relieved, she didn’t care. Her mind raced, though. What did he mean about ‘for today’?
‘What do you want from me this time?’
In response, he pushed a piece of A4-sized paper towards her. On it, in large capital letters, a message had been scrawled out.
‘No way.’ Kate read the message and stared at Kaan. ‘Absolutely not.’
She heard the slap before she felt it. The man moved across the desk so fast, she had no time to react.
Her head whipped round to the right, and the muscles in her neck constricted. Her cheek stung with the blow, and her eyes and nose began to water. Tears of shock and pain ran down her face.
By the time she’d turned back to Kaan, he’d already sat back in his chair, unflustered. He waited until her sobs had subsided, and then leaned forward. ‘You will.’
He looked over her head and nodded.
One of the kidnappers walked across to the camera and began checking the settings. Kate baulked as the other kidnapper dragged the chair, with her still on it, so that it was away from the desk and in clear view of the camera’s lens.
He turned, picked up t
he piece of paper from where it lay on the desk and moved behind the camera, facing her.
‘Do you require reading glasses?’ asked Kaan.
Kate shook her head. Her bottom lip trembled, and she brought her bound hands to her face to wipe the tears away. She sniffed, and then took a deep breath. If she was going to have to do this, then she had better make sure she was damn coherent. She didn’t expect to get a second chance.
‘Begin.’ Kaan’s calm voice resonated around the room, and for a moment Kate wondered why he didn’t record his own message.
Then she realised. Maybe no-one knew his face.
Clever.
The red light on the front of the camera began to flash, and the man operating it nodded at her once.
She took another deep breath, and then began to recite the words Kaan had written.
‘My name is Kate Foster. I am an American citizen, and I am currently a prisoner of Kaan…’
Forty seconds later, it was done.
Kate dropped her head the moment the red light on the camera stopped flashing and closed her eyes.
She opened her eyes at the sound of Kaan clapping next to her.
‘Well done,’ he said. ‘You see, it wasn’t so hard.’ He flicked his hand at the two men. ‘Take her back.’
Kate was hauled to her feet and the hood placed over her head once more.
As she was led from the room, she listened – Kaan was still talking to one of the kidnappers. She shuffled her feet and slowed down, straining her ears.
‘Wait.’
The man guiding Kate towards the stairs stopped. His fingers dug into her arm as he turned back to the room.
‘If we don’t get a satisfactory response within the timeframe we’ve given them, prepare to move her,’ said Kaan. ‘No traces.’
Kate was jerked towards the staircase, her mind racing as she climbed. Reaching her room, the hood was removed and her hands untied before her wrist was encased within the metal clasp once more.
As the door shut, Finn’s last words to her resonated in her mind.
If they move you, they’re going to kill you.
Kate walked to the window and let her gaze fall to the day marks.
She was running out of time.
***
Hart put down the phone.
‘There’s a package at reception I have to collect,’ he said.
Finn caught Steve’s expression and shook his head. ‘You don’t collect anything,’ he said. ‘I’ll go.’
He hurried from the room and ran to the internal stairs rather than wait for the elevator. He swung round the last newel post and burst through the door into the lobby, where the receptionist jumped in her seat at his entrance.
‘Package for Ian Hart?’
She pointed to the reception desk. ‘There.’
Finn walked over to her. The package was rectangular in shape, covered in brown paper, with Hart’s name scrawled across the front in black permanent marker.
To the alarm of the receptionist, Finn pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket.
‘Have you touched this?’
She nodded.
‘Show me where – just point. Don’t touch it again.’
She did as he instructed.
‘Okay, good. That’s not too bad.’ Finn leaned over the counter and took a pair of scissors from the desk tidy. He carefully snipped open the packaging and peered inside.
His heart stopped.
‘When was this dropped off?’ he said. ‘The exact time.’
‘I don’t know – sorry. I’d gone to the bathroom. When I came back, it was on the desk there.’
Finn looked around the room until he saw the security camera which faced the desk and the front door. With any luck, they’d have the courier on record, and would be able to give the image to Emrah.
He picked up the package and raced back up the stairs. As he entered Hart’s office, he held up the USB stick in his gloved hand.
‘I’m presuming your laptop has a multi-media player?’
‘Yes.’
Finn passed the packaging to Steve, who had already donned gloves. ‘Best get this across to Emrah as soon as possible.’
‘Let’s see what’s on the stick first, and then we can let him have a copy of it as well.’
‘Check the security camera too,’ said Finn.
‘Will do.’
Finn moved round to where Hart sat. ‘Move.’
Hart shot out of his chair and stood to one side, hovering.
Finn sat down, pulled the chair closer to the desk. He closed his eyes. ‘Password?’
No answer.
‘Password?’ Finn repeated and looked over his shoulder.
Hart had gone bright red. ‘Francine,’ he mumbled.
‘Jesus.’ Finn shook his head and typed in the letters.
Once he’d accessed the desktop, he located the media player software and inserted the USB stick into the side of the laptop.
Finn adjusted the volume, and then clicked the ‘play’ button.
The recording began, and he clenched his fist at the sight of Kate brushing her cheeks. She’d obviously been crying, and he exhaled sharply at the sight of the red welt across one side of her face.
She began speaking, shakily at first, then her voice growing steady. Her eyes were focused to one side of the lens, and Finn realised that she was reading from a prepared script.
‘You will phone this number when the parts are ready to be dropped off.’
Finn reached over the desk and scribbled down the number she recited and passed it to Steve, before turning back to the recording. He ignored the sound of Steve leaving the room, his entire focus on Kate.
‘Any attempt…’ she began, and then broke off, stifling a sob.
Finn’s heart twisted. He knew what was coming.
Kate began again. ‘Any attempt to trace the parts, rescue me or track down my location will result in my immediate death.’
Her body began to shake, one heel bouncing off the floor with nerves, and Finn saw how she set her shoulders before completing the message.
‘If you fail in your duties, and the parts are not received by the deadline, I will die.’
She fell silent and Finn counted the seconds before the camera was switched off, Kate’s eyes boring into his.
Ignoring Hart’s questions, he replayed the recording three times before copying it to another USB stick.
Pocketing both, he turned from the computer and walked to the command post. Closing the door behind him, he approached Steve, who was putting a copy of the security tape from the reception area into a padded envelope.
Steve turned as Finn approached, and dropped the package onto the desk before placing his hand on Finn’s arm.
‘That bad?’
Finn nodded. ‘Yeah. Give me a few seconds.’
He collapsed into a chair and held his head in his hands. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to calm down. Anger wouldn’t help get him through this. He had to focus. Plan. Execute the plan. He breathed out, and opened his eyes.
‘Okay, how did you get on with the security camera footage?’
‘They used a kid.’
‘A kid?’
‘Yeah, watch.’ Steve played the recording from the security tape and then paused it as a thin teenager in jeans and an old t-shirt walked into the frame.
‘Have we got a face?’
The other man nodded, and ran the recording. When the boy turned from the reception desk, he looked up – straight into the lens of the camera.
‘Can you get me an image capture of that?’
‘Sure can. What are you thinking?’
‘Just a hunch at the moment. Hold on.’ Finn pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket, scrolled through the contacts list, and then hit the ‘call’ button.
The call connected after only three rings.
‘Mr Kadír? Finn Scott here. I’ve got a photo of someone we think might be connected to the kidnapping we�
��re investigating. If I email it to you, could you ask Osman to look at it straight away and call me back?’
Finn wrote down the shopkeeper’s email address, and then disconnected the call.
While Steve uploaded the photograph and sent the message, Finn sat down, tapping his foot on the floor, and stared at his phone, willing the shopkeeper’s son to confirm his hunch.
‘You think the garage owner would use his own son as a courier?’ said Steve, turning in his chair.
Finn shrugged. ‘Sometimes it’s the simplest connection, isn’t it? I mean, we might be dealing with threats from one of the most dangerous people in this part of the world, but it doesn’t mean the people he employs are as clever or ruthless.’
‘They’ve got some nerve.’
‘It’s either arrogance or stupidity, I’m not sure which.’
Finn scratched the stubble which had formed on his chin. ‘I suspect the latter.’
The phone rang, and he almost dropped it. Glancing across at Steve, he checked the incoming called ID then answered it.
‘Mr Kadír.’ Finn ran a hand over his face as he listened, his heart pounding against his ribs. ‘Okay, that’s great – and thank your son for me, will you?’
He disconnected the call. ‘Kadír’s son just confirmed the boy in the photograph is his school friend, Halim,’ he said.
Steve exhaled, leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
Finn stood and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Okay, we just caught a break. Let’s not waste it.’
Steve nodded, leaned forward and began to gather together the security tapes. ‘I’ll get these off to Emrah – did you do a copy of the recording?’
Finn handed both copies to him.
‘If it’s okay with you, I’m going to watch it now.’
‘Go for it. Apart from grabbing the phone number she recited, that’s all I had.’ Finn said, and watched as Steve inserted the stick into his own laptop. ‘The room she’s in has windows – there’s light on her face – but there’s no indication of where she might be.’
‘Okay, let’s have a look.’
Finn sat with his chin in his hands as the recording played in front of his eyes once more. He frowned when Steve replayed the last ten seconds when Kate had started to shake.
Two FBI thrillers: Before Nightfall and Mistake Creek Page 11