Down to the Wire

by Lyn Stone

  “We’ve had an emergency call for you, sir, from a Mr. Duquesne. He asks that you call him back immediately at the number he gave. The matter’s urgent.”

  Apparently so. It was highly unusual for anyone to get clearance to contact a plane’s cockpit directly to reach a passenger. Had to be life or death, he would imagine. He reached for the phone on the back of the seat. “The number?”

  The hostess frowned at Martine, then glanced briefly to either side at the other passengers. “If you’ll come with me, you might want to use the phone up front,” she said, then added, “for privacy.”

  “Joe?” Martine started to get up when he did.

  “Stay here. I’ll be right back,” he told her. He couldn’t imagine what Matt Duquesne had to tell him, but he felt fairly sure the man wasn’t calling just to warn him off Martine. It would take a damn sight more than brotherly outrage to get that kind of clearance.

  “Could I get anything for you?” the attendant asked.

  “Jack and Coke,” Joe replied as he dialed.

  The hostess remained nearby, pretending not to listen. Her face was a study in concern, so she must have been told what the problem was.

  “Duquesne here,” Matt answered in the middle of the first ring. “Corda?”

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “It’s Humberto again. I hate like hell to tell you this, man, but he’s got your sister and your niece. I’m sorry, he didn’t give me any names, so if you have more than one, I don’t know which sister it is.”

  Joe almost dropped the receiver. “What? How did he…no, where? Where is he holding them?”

  “He called from Panama City and asked for me here at the office. He said I’d better find a way to reach you. He’s wanting to make a trade. He’s demanding you and Martine for your sister and the child.”

  Joe felt his stomach plummet to his feet. He had no frame of reference for this. No idea what to do. His instincts were not kicking in, not where the safety of his family was concerned. His immediate urge was to find Humberto and blow him away. Not a productive idea for a rescue plan.

  Matt paused for a second, then continued. “He assured me he doesn’t plan to kill Martine. Not that I believed him. I told him she was with you and that it would take a while to locate you in D.C. because I wasn’t sure where you worked. Since he has no idea you’re almost to Florida already, that might give you some time. I’m leaving here now, getting a friend to fly me down. Where you want to hook up?”

  “Stay there,” Joe ordered. “Please. You’re his point of contact. With that cast on your leg, you couldn’t do much anyway. Marline will be safe. I’ll send her back to Atlanta the minute I can get her on another plane.”

  Reluctantly, Matt agreed. “Anything else I can do? How about calling Mercier? Wasn’t he with the FBI?”

  “No,” Joe answered absently, his mind shooting off in all directions, trying to form some kind of plan. “Look, I need to get off the phone and think. Call me on my cell with any further developments.” He rattled off the number.

  “You bet, and tell Martine—”

  “You can tell her yourself. I told you I’ll put her on a plane home.”

  “Good luck doing that,” he thought he heard Matt say as he snapped the receiver back into place on the wall unit.

  The hostess put a hand on his arm. “The captain said this has to do with a kidnapping in your family. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

  She handed him a plastic cup filled with ice and Coke. She also offered him a miniature of Jack Daniels, which he had ordered earlier.

  He downed the soft drink in a few gulps, but refused the liquor. “Ms. Duquesne and I will need to exit first when we land.”

  “Of course. Could I make any calls for you while we’re in the air? Have the authorities meet you?”

  He pulled out his credit card and handed it over. “No, but if you could please, call ahead and have a rental helicopter standing by. I’ll need my bag off-loaded right away. Also Ms. Duquesne’s.”

  “Certainly. Describe your bags and I’ll have them rushed to you. We’ll be preparing to land in about twenty minutes.”

  Joe told her what the bags looked like, then turned around to head back to his seat. Martine was standing directly behind him. “Who’s been kidnapped?” she demanded.

  “My sister and niece,” he told her. “Let’s go and sit down. We’ll be landing soon.” They quickly settled in their seats and he turned to her with the rest of the story.

  “Humberto didn’t give names, but I think it’s most likely Delores and her oldest, Nita, who is six. My other niece is just an infant and Humberto did mention a child, not a baby.” He hurriedly explained how Matt got involved and what Humberto was demanding.

  She remained quiet for a minute, thinking, then gave one succinct nod. “Then we’ll have to agree to the exchange,” Martine said. “Humberto will let them go once he has us. He’ll want his pound of flesh before he gets rid of you and me, so that will afford us a little time to act after we turn ourselves over. We can take him.”

  “Or he could kill all four of us immediately,” Joe argued. “We can’t risk it. We’ll have to locate him beforehand and get Delores and Nita safely away. Then I’ll move in.”

  She raised one perfect eyebrow. “You’ll move in, huh? All by yourself.”

  “That’s the plan,” Joe said, holding her gaze with one even more determined than hers. “I promised Matt I’d send you home.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “Then I’ll put you somewhere safe.”

  “How about a cave? Got any caves around Panama City? That’s about the only place you could put me where I’d be incapacitated enough to let you do this alone You’re never going to let me live down that one weak-ness, are you?”

  “That’s not fair, Martine. Did you hear me recount anything to anybody about your claustrophobia? Did you?”

  “No, but you’re thinking about it right now,” she declared, clasping her hands in her lap and looking Out the window. “You don’t trust me to pull my weight.”

  Joe heaved out a heavy breath and shook his head. “I would trust you with my life, Martine, but I can’t stand the thought of Humberto getting his hands on you. And I’ll do damned near anything to prevent it.”

  “I can handle Humberto,” she said with a huff of indignation.

  Her overconfidence really worried him. “Well, we have to find him before anybody can do anything. Right now we need to decide what Matt should tell him when Humberto calls back to set up the exchange.”

  She shivered, chafing her arms with her palms. “We don’t dare keep him waiting too long before giving him some kind of answer. He’s not well known for his patience.” Her gaze bored into his then. “Your eyes look a little too wild, Joe. You know you have to keep your cool.”

  Joe blinked, forcing himself to take a deep breath and exhale slowly, to channel his almost overpowering rage into an energy that wouldn’t get everyone involved killed.

  Martine slid her hand into his again. “You’ve got to let me help you with this. Nothing you do will work if Humberto thinks I’m out of the picture.”

  Damn it all, she was right. Joe just couldn’t reconcile himself to putting her out there with a target on. He recalled that quick click of a vision he’d had in McLean. Martine with blood all over her face, her eyes closed.

  But his visions always came in sequence. The other one he’d had more recently, right here on the plane, where she was swathed all in white was the only thing that gave him a little measure of hope. It came after the one with the blood, so didn’t that mean she would survive to become a bride?

  He looked at her again, that earnest expression, those beautiful features. His heart caught in his chest. Had the white been a bridal veil? Or the white satin lining of a casket?

  Less than half an hour after they landed in Tallahassee, Joe boosted Martine into the chartered helicopter and they were off to Port St. Joe. He needed to make
some calls, but knew there would be too much noise in the chopper.

  His parents would be insane with worry if they already knew what had happened. He could only hope that they weren’t aware of it yet. If they were, his dad would have immediately called the authorities and the local cops and FBI would be all over this by now.

  Martine had said little and remained silent as the chopper lifted off. She appeared to be lost in thought, no doubt planning how to effect the exchange with the least risk of his family being hurt. It touched him that she would not only volunteer to surrender herself to Humberto in order to save two people she didn’t even know, but that she also seemed convinced that right would prevail in the end. She just hadn’t been in the business long enough to know that the good guys didn’t always win.

  He watched for coastline to appear on their left when they’d had time to near the Gulf. Something settled inside him when it finally came into view.

  This was home, waves lapping foamy tongues at the shelly sands, shacks and quaint private cottages dotted among time-share condos and pastel hotels. Souvenir shops sporting garish signs, atmosphere provided by decrepit, peeling boats half buried in the dirt outside. There would be the ever-present gulls darting for fish and scraps from tourists. Not the most beautiful beach in the world, but it was his beach.

  If not for the nightmarish circumstances that marred this homecoming, Joe knew he would be feeling an incredible rush of peace now. It’s what brought him back here every chance he got. He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember why he’d ever left in the first place.

  This return was different, a result of his failure in Colombia, his reticence at becoming a straight-out assassin and killing Humberto with a couple of rounds to the head or a swift twist of the neck. He’d had numerous chances to do both but he hadn’t.

  Didn’t that decision prove he should get out of the business?

  Chapter 11

  “It’s beautiful!” Martine mouthed. Joe couldn’t hear her words over the sound of the chopper. He smiled as she leaned over him to look down at the coast. He knew that up close the place wouldn’t be all that impressive unless you already knew and loved it.

  The sand wasn’t Daytona white and the waves weren’t surfer high. In the stretch fondly called the Redneck Riviera, you’d find only a few upscale amenities. But it had been a great place to grow up, a family place. He wouldn’t trade it for the ritziest coast in Hawaii.

  Joe directed the chopper to land on a flat section of beach near the causeway just off Highway 98. They ducked their heads against the downdraft, hefted out their two bags and Joe waved the pilot off.

  They would have to hoof it for about a mile. He could call his folks to come get them, of course, but then he’d have to explain over the phone what was going on. Better to do that face-to-face.

  Instead of heading for the highway where they might have caught a ride, he took Martine’s weekender from her and nodded toward the east. “That way. Kick off your shoes, but watch out for broken shells.”

  The whap-whap of the chopper blades had faded in the distance and left only minor traffic noise, the squawking of a couple of gulls and the swishing rhythm of the waves.

  Joe drew in lungsful of the salty air as he began his trek home, welcoming the scent and humidity like old friends.

  “Your family lives right on the beach?” she asked.

  “Mom and Dad do. The others are farther inland. Linda lives about ten miles north. Delores has a house here near the school. I figure that must be where she and my niece were snatched. She walks over to pick up Nita at noon.”

  Shoes in hand, she trudged beside him, staring out at the Gulf. “We’ll get them back, Joe.”

  “I know. Just a matter of time.” He had to believe that. But he didn’t have the faintest idea how to go about it. They had no clue where Humberto was. There was nothing for it but to wait until he made further contact.

  Martine’s cell phone chirped. She quickly snatched it out of her purse and answered. Her eyes widened as she offered it to Joe. “It’s Mercier!”

  Joe dropped the bags in the sand and took the phone, remembering that he had turned his off on the chopper. This must be important for Mercier to have gone to the trouble to get Martine’s number. “Corda here.”

  “Matthew Duquesne called and told me what’s going on. We’re in.”

  “No way,” Jack argued vehemently. “Humberto warned against calling in the troops. He says he’ll kill my sister and her little girl.”

  “Hear me out. You’ll be running the show. All I’m saying is that you have all our resources at your disposal, Joe. Every agency represented by Sextant. Anything you need—info, manpower, weaponry, supplies, funds—you name it.”

  Joe felt overwhelmed by the offer. It was a godsend and he wasn’t about to turn it down. “Breaking rules, aren’t you? This is not within Sextant’s scope. National security’s not threatened here.”

  “Hey, you said yourself that Humberto’s a foreign national, a known criminal working against his own government, who has entered our country to do deliberate harm to U.S. citizens. Four citizens targeted so far, two of them women and one, a child. Not to mention a government agent. As far as I’m concerned, that’s terrorism at its most personal.”

  He paused for effect, then added, “So tell me what you need and let’s take care of this.”

  “We need everything. Right now we’re at square one,” Joe told him.

  Martine piped in with specifics. “Trace on the phones at Ames for the call back. Check on local rentals in the past few days. And abandoned properties. Get photos of Humberto if they can find any.”

  Joe repeated what she said verbatim.

  “We’re on it. Turn on your phone and keep it on so we’ll have two numbers to reach you. When either of you think of anything else you can use, give us a buzz. I’ll get back with you soon. Oh, and give my regards to Martine,” Mercier said.

  He had used her first name. Joe wasn’t sure he liked the note of familiarity.

  “Yeah, sure.” Joe thanked Mercier, signed off and returned Martine’s phone. “That’s quite a deal. Sort of stunned me for a second.”

  “He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” she said with an encouraging grin. Then she picked up her suitcase before Joe could grab it and walked on down the beach.

  He felt another stab of jealousy. Jack Mercier would definitely appeal to a woman like Martine. To any woman, Joe suspected. Jack probably had some smooth moves. Definitely had a position of power and impressive resources. Those were resources Joe desperately needed himself at the moment, so he knew he had to squelch any personal animosity toward Mercier, deserved or not. It wasn’t that Joe didn’t like the guy. He did. He just didn’t want Martine to keep noticing how great Jack was.

  That worry was quickly supplanted by another more immediate concern. A wave of dread rippled through him as they passed the Williams’ rustic little beach house and approached his parents’ home.

  He felt like the snake in the garden of Eden. He had brought this ugliness to paradise. If not for his damned job, this would not be happening. He should have quit sooner. Just one mission earlier and everything here would still be fine.

  He stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up to the deck of the sand-colored stucco dwelling and shifted the bag in his hand.

  “Well, this is it. My dad’s gonna go ballistic and want to call in every law enforcement agency on the planet. Mom will probably have a heart attack.”

  God, he hoped not. There was no way to break this gently. How were their hearts? Had he even asked about their health lately?

  She placed a palm on his back, just a comforting touch, support that he really needed right now. He looked down at her and she smiled encouragement. “I’m right behind you. If I see I’m in the way and they want privacy, I’ll retreat and wait for you outside. If it goes the other way, I am trained in CPR.”

  Prepared for all contingencies, that was Martine. Joe wished he had time
to hug her and tell her how much he appreciated her no-nonsense attitude. But that would have to wait.

  Martine knew Joe was too preoccupied at the moment to focus on the investigation. She would have to pitch in until his equilibrium was restored. Thank God she had called Matt in private earlier and instructed him to get Mercier’s number and tell him everything.

  Any boss who would go the distance that he had to get Joe safely out of Colombia, even to paying a mere like Matt to bring him home early, would surely go all out to show Joe what the Sextant team was all about.

  This kidnapping would provide a perfect opportunity to accomplish that if the rescue proved successful. It would also obligate Joe to stay with the team after everything was resolved. Mercier was no dummy. Martine had counted on that.

  Once Joe got through this ordeal of telling his parents, she would question them, get the particulars on where the sister and her daughter might have been picked up and how long they had been missing. Hopefully, that information, combined with what Mercier would glean, might provide a starting point.

  Joe knocked. In a couple of seconds a dark-haired little girl skipped across the glassed-in porch and unlatched the door. “Hi, Uncle Joe! Grandma, Papi, it’s Uncle Joe!” She flung herself at him and clung like a little spider monkey. “What’d you bring me?”

  “Nita?” His voice was a broken whisper as he clutched her with one arm. Then he cleared his throat, dropped his bag on the steps and peeled her off of him. Holding her by her slender shoulders, he crouched and looked her straight in the eye. “Where’s your mama, Nita?”

  The child beamed. She was a beauty except for the gap where her front teeth used to be. “She’s making cookies. C’mon.” She grabbed his hand with both of hers, tugged and danced backwards as she led them inside, through a living/dining area and to the doorway of a large eat-in kitchen. “Mama! Look who’s here!”

  Joe seemed to be having trouble assimilating the fact that his niece and sister were accounted for and safe. His other sister, the Cordas’ youngest, had an infant. Martine feared she knew what was coming next, but she kept silent.