“Yes. The man who tried to shoot you, who is he? Do you know him?”
“They will kill me,” she said quietly, renewed panic in her eyes. She searched the street behind him. “I must go. They are trying to kill me.”
“Who’s trying to kill you?” Donovan asked, though she seemed suddenly distracted, as if her fear was getting the best of her. She was preparing to bolt. “Please, listen to me. My name is Donovan Nash. I’m staying at the hotel and I can protect you.”
“I am not safe.” She shook her head. “I need to hide—I have seen too much.”
“What did you see?” Donovan raised his voice, hoping to break through her panicked state. “I have to know what you saw!”
“I fled the lake. The volcano was getting bad, and we had to leave.” She leaned forward, placing the palms of her hands on Donovan’s chest. She found his eyes with hers. “They know who I am. I saw them.”
Startled by her closeness, Donovan could smell the wine on her breath and the subtle aroma of lavender. She was trembling. “Who did you see? Who did you see at the lake?”
Behind him, Donovan heard the urgent screech of brakes. As he turned, he found a small blue Toyota at the curb, rusted and dented. He never saw her deliver the sudden blow to his throat. Donovan doubled over, gagging as tears clouded his vision. He tried to stand up straight but couldn’t. He struggled for a full breath, but nothing happened. He felt her hands steady him as he dropped his pistol and went down on all fours to the wet sidewalk. Donovan reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, using all his strength to keep her from running. He lost his grip as he fought to get air back into his lungs.
She bent down and whispered, “I’m sorry. I can’t get you involved.” She patted him on the back as if to comfort him.
Donovan gurgled, unable to answer. Furious, both at her, and himself; he could do nothing. He heard her run away. The door to the car opened, then slammed shut, and the car sped away into the rainy Guatemalan night. It took him a few minutes before he was able to breathe well enough to pull himself to his feet. He reclaimed his pistol and walked back to the hotel in the rain.
The lobby was humming with police. Donovan could see that the body of the gunman had been covered. Buck was waiting, obviously furious. Together they took the elevator up to their floor. The only conversation was Buck confirming that Michael and Janie were okay. Once inside his room, Donovan toweled off as they waited for William and Michael to join them. Once everyone had gathered, Donovan explained what had happened when he left the hotel.
“You’re convinced this woman knows who the kidnappers are?” William asked.
Donovan nodded. “The gunman downstairs was one of the guys in the pictures. The woman claims she saw something, and now there are people who want to kill her.”
“I’d say she’s right,” Michael said. “I mean, the guy just walked in, pulled a gun, and opened up on her. She’d be dead if the embassy guards hadn’t reacted so quickly.”
“She wasn’t sitting there for more than ten minutes,” Donovan added. “Our only hope is that the Guatemalan police might be able to identify the gunman’s body.”
“What now?” Michael asked.
“I’ll follow up with the Guatemalan police,” William said. “But there won’t be any news until tomorrow. Gentlemen, I’d like to talk to Donovan privately. Buck, why don’t you go downstairs, lend a hand if need be. If you discover anything I need to know, please call me.”
“I’m flying Galileo on the Scimitar test flight in the morning. We should land by early afternoon,” Michael said to Donovan as he stood. “Where are you going to be?”
“He’ll be going with you,” William said, as if the matter had already been decided. The stern look in his eyes left little room for argument.
“What time shall we meet?” Donovan asked as he gave in. He knew William was angry with him for chasing the woman and wanted him aboard the Galileo so he’d be out of harm’s way. It wouldn’t be worth the energy to try to change his mind.
“Lobby at seven, wheels up at nine,” Michael replied as he joined Buck at the door. “See you then. Good-night.”
“You didn’t argue. That’s unlike you,” William said as Michael and Buck departed, closing the door quietly behind them.
Donovan got up and walked to the bar. He grabbed a beer, opened the bottle, and then sat next to William. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
William sat quietly, as if searching for the right words. “What you did was beyond reckless. Did you stop to think about anything before you ran after this woman? The answer is no—you didn’t think—you reacted blindly, irresponsibly.”
There was no defense. Donovan also knew it wasn’t so much about him, as about everything else that was happening. “You’re right.”
“I can’t afford to lose you. I’d never be able to look Lauren or Abigail in the eyes again. Do you ever think about those of us who love you when you jump into the line of fire?”
“I was fine,” Donovan replied, trying to get William to calm down. “It’s why I went after her. I want the three of us—you, me, and Stephanie—to get on a plane and leave this place together. Finding the woman from the bar was a link to who we’re after.”
“We’re not after anyone!” William squeezed his eyes shut as if to control his emotions. “We’re here to pay the ransom and go home. Do you have any idea how many strings I had to pull to keep this from becoming an all-out manhunt? The State Department wanted to send people, the FBI would normally have dozens of agents down here, as well as the CIA, and God knows who else. It would be a goddamned three-ring circus, and all we’d be able to do is stand around and wring our hands while those people bickered and got in each other’s way. You know the scenarios as well as I do!”
Donovan nodded. It was exactly what had taken place when Meredith was kidnapped—and more than likely one of the reasons she was killed. “I understand, but if we could find them first—we could turn a ransom exchange into a rescue. I’m not willing to rule out that option.”
“I’m terrified of that prospect,” William whispered. He shook his head and looked down at his hands and his lower lip began to quiver. He collected himself and turned toward Donovan. “So many things can go wrong. I just want Stephanie alive.”
William’s tears caught Donovan off guard. Ever since he was a little boy, Donovan had always looked up to William as a pillar of strength. It seemed as if William could do anything in the world, and, more times than not, he had. Right this moment, all Donovan saw was a fragile, frightened man, and it broke his heart. Donovan leaned over and put a protective arm around the man he loved, just as the phone on the nightstand rang.
“Hello.” Donovan expected it to be either Buck or Michael.
“Mr. Nash?”
Donovan recognized her voice immediately and felt the hair on his arms stand at attention. It was the woman from the bar. “This is Donovan. What can I do for you Ms…?”
“My name is not important,” she said. “I’m very sorry I hit you. But it was for your own good.”
“What do you want?”
“The reason I came to the hotel,” she began, haltingly, “was to find Mr. VanGelder.”
“Go on.”
“I need to meet with him,” she continued. “I have information about his niece.”
“Are you trying to sell this information?” Donovan was growing even angrier with himself for letting her get away in the first place. Now, here he was, listening to her trying to make some kind of deal. If he’d managed to get her back to the hotel, they would probably already know everything by now.
“No,” she snapped defensively. “But it is information that will get me killed if I am not careful. I want to trade.”
“What kind of trade?”
“Get me out of the country. They want to kill me. I know these men, and they will never give up. I must leave Guatemala.”
“Come over and we’ll talk,” Donovan replied, knowing that it probably w
ouldn’t be as easy at that. “You’ll be safe here.”
“Not when the police are there. They cannot be trusted.”
As Donovan listened intently, it sounded as if she put her hand over the phone to speak with someone.
“I have to go,” she whispered, suddenly sounding frightened. “I will call tomorrow evening.”
“Was it Stephanie you saw at the lake? We have to find her!” Donovan practically yelled into the phone. His pleas were met with silence—she’d already gone.
“Well?” William pressed.
“That was her. She wants to make a deal,” Donovan replied. “What she knows in return for a way out of the country. She saw something, otherwise there wouldn’t be people trying to kill her. I think we need to listen to what she has to say.”
“How do we tell her she has a deal?” William went to the wet bar.
“We don’t,” Donovan said and watched the glimmer of hope fade from William’s eyes. “She said she’d call us back tomorrow evening. In the meantime, all we can do is wait.”
William poured three fingers of Scotch and then without joy took a measured sip. “Then let’s pray she can survive the next twenty-four hours.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I say we just call them,” Lauren remarked as she sipped from her cup of coffee. It was a little past six in the morning. She and Montero were both up and had already been working for an hour. “You’re Special Agent Ronnie Montero. You don’t have to ask them—tell them what you want. We want the file on Marie Vargas, her father, mother, and grandfather. See where it goes from there.”
“I get that part. I’m just trying to figure out who at the Bureau to call these days. I didn’t make any friends when I up and resigned.”
“What about Deputy Director Norman Graham? I’ll bet he’ll take your call.”
“Oh, I know he will,” Montero said. “I’m just not sure how receptive he’ll be when he finds out I’m working with you on the kidnapping of Stephanie VanGelder.”
“He can’t still be mad at me, can he?” Lauren replied.
“The story I heard was you belittled him, outmaneuvered him, and then threatened him in front of a room full of his subordinates. He didn’t appreciate all that, but, between you and me, nice work.”
“I was having a bad day.” Lauren clearly recalled each distinct moment of that morning. “Graham was being a monumental jerk and got what he deserved, but he loves you. Give it a shot, what have you got to lose?”
Montero nodded, stood, and stretched, then picked up her phone and dialed a number from memory that was answered immediately. “This is Ronnie Montero for Deputy Director Graham. Yes, I’ll hold.”
“Put it on speaker,” Lauren said, but Montero’s response was to turn her back.
“Good morning to you too, Norman,” Montero said. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
Lauren quietly poured herself another cup of coffee while the two of them exchanged pleasantries.
“The reason I called is to ask a favor.” Montero went to her computer screen. “I’m looking for information on a young girl who was kidnapped eighteen months ago in Los Angeles. Her name is Marie Vargas.”
Lauren was unprepared for the sight of a sudden look of surprise flash across Montero’s face. An instant later, Montero’s eyes narrowed and a subtle smile crept across her face.
“Yes, she’s here. I’m putting you on speaker.”
“Good morning, Dr. McKenna.”
“Good morning, Director Graham, or may I call you Norman?”
“Director Graham works just fine. Now, I can only deduce from Ronnie’s request that the two of you are working on the VanGelder kidnapping in Guatemala? Is that correct?”
“Yes, we decided to take a look into some cold cases to see if we could contribute to the investigation,” Montero offered. “Marie Vargas popped up on the network of missing and exploited children with connections to Central America and Mexico. We were looking for more information.”
“Veronica, that’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard you try to peddle. There must be thousands of missing children with ties south of the border. Level with me, what new information do you have about Marie?”
Lauren saw Montero’s nostrils flare as she placed both hands palm down on the table and leaned in toward the phone. “We’ve talked about that, and you know my name. Now, I asked you a favor, will you help us find this girl?”
“I know both of you think you’re pretty clever, but did it occur to you that despite William VanGelder’s considerable influence, the FBI did not in fact just wave good-bye to him and stop working the case? I have an off-site location with my top analysts looking at Marie, her murdered father, and her very corrupt grandfather. Why should I share?”
“Off-site?” Lauren asked. “What are you hiding?”
“A hunch,” Graham replied.
“Maybe we can help?” Montero asked. “We’re not exactly forced to hole up in a safe house. What’s your hunch?”
“Dr. McKenna, with your connections at the Defense Intelligence Agency, I’m surprised you haven’t already gotten a phone call.”
“What does that mean?” Lauren felt the rush of blood that signaled impending bad news.
“The moment the embassy in Guatemala was notified about Ms. VanGelder’s disappearance, the director of the FBI himself was ready to throw every available asset into her safe release. William VanGelder quashed all of that with one call to the attorney general. The working theory here, as well as at Langley, is that Stephanie VanGelder’s kidnapping is payback, aimed directly at William VanGelder for his transgressions in Central America that stretch back over thirty years. An FBI task force is being formed to take a long, hard look into William VanGelder’s business and political dealings.”
Lauren felt as if she might be sick. That William was in any way dirty was beyond her comprehension—that the FBI was digging, threatening to expose everything, including the fact that Donovan Nash wasn’t who he said he was.
“I find that hard to believe,” Montero said, looking at Lauren as if waiting for a reaction.
“I’ve heard speculation mixed with rumor on the subject,” Lauren said as she carefully calculated her words. “I haven’t known Mr. VanGelder all that long, but I get the impression that you could be correct about his niece.”
“Coming from you, Dr. McKenna, that’s a valuable piece of insight,” Graham said. “Ronnie, I’ll send you some files, but they come with a price tag.”
“What are we talking about?”
“I do have a use for the two of you, but you answer only to me. Is that understood?”
“I’m still waiting to hear the price,” Montero replied.
“It involves another hunch,” Graham said. “I’ll send you the files, but then I want you to make a call to the Central American desk, ask for Special Agent Curtis Nelson. Ask him for the file regarding kidnappings and oil companies. I’ll approve the action. I’m curious what he sends you or what else might come out of the woodwork.”
“I’ve met Nelson, he seemed like an okay guy. Do you think he’s dirty?” Montero asked.
“Maybe not dirty, but there are some flags that say he might be helping some old secrets stay hidden.”
“I see,” Montero replied. “Is that all?”
“For now. Is the e-mail we’ve used in the past still good?” Graham asked.
“Yes.”
“Keep your eyes open and stay out of trouble, both of you,” Graham said. “Again, it’s important to report only to me. I’ll include my private direct number along with the files. I hope all of this turns out to be nothing, but as we all know, rumors sometimes have an origin in the truth.”
Montero reached for her phone; Graham had disconnected the call. She turned to Lauren. “What the hell was that? William is like a father to Donovan.”
“Exactly. I lied so we could be on the inside of this thing,” Lauren said. “We’re going to get a look at what they have
, and for the moment, Graham trusts us with his office politics. The second those files arrive, call Nelson and see what he’ll do for us.”
“Are you sure? We send the pictures to Graham and it becomes obvious that William’s niece being kidnapped was a completely random act.”
“And the men who have Stephanie kill her and vanish,” Lauren replied. “William’s reputation can withstand a few more days of FBI analysts digging around. Hopefully, by then, we’ll have Stephanie back safe and sound.”
“Graham’s e-mail is here,” Montero said as she checked her inbox. “Is there a printer?”
Lauren checked on Abigail while Montero printed out the pages Graham sent. Her daughter would sleep for at least another hour. She returned to the study and Montero wordlessly handed her a sheet of paper. It was a list of kidnappings. The FBI was focused on a group of crimes that they suspected may implicate William. The first victims were a family from Brazil. With a determination she hadn’t felt in a long time, Lauren found a pencil and notepad, then settled in and began reading.
Montero looked up from her pages, glanced at the time, and then made the call to the Bureau and asked for Special Agent Curtis Nelson. She put the conversation on speaker, and, of course, Nelson remembered Montero. He said he’d have to get approval to gather the files, but that he’d get started right away.
Twenty minutes later, Lauren looked up from what she’d been reading. “I think I found what the FBI used as a common thread. All of these kidnappings resulted in either property, drilling, or mineral rights changing hands. Assets went to various companies over the years, but, ultimately, they all ended up as a part of Huntington Oil.”
“Which takes us back to William VanGelder. How long was William a part of Huntington Oil?” Montero asked.
“He resigned his seat on the board roughly fifteen years ago,” Lauren said.
“Of all the criminal files the FBI sent us, when did the last entity finally become a part of Huntington Oil?”
Lauren sifted through the papers until she found the one she wanted. “Right here, Sun West Petroleum became a part of Huntington Oil the year before William stepped down.”
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