“Is Meredith your wife?” Eva pointed at his wedding ring.
Startled, Donovan looked at her, questioning how she could know the name.
“You just said her name.” Eva shrugged. “Are you married?”
“Yes,” was all he said, feeling trapped, unable to explain. He looked at Eva. He’d saved her from these men, but in order to save Stephanie, he’d have to turn her over to the same men who would no doubt kill her. Donovan felt compelled to protect her. There was no way he could subject any woman to the brutality Meredith had suffered. But, deep down, he had no idea how he was going to save Stephanie without condemning Eva.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Stop,” Montero said, as Lauren reached to start her Range Rover.
“Why?” Lauren turned toward Montero.
“We need to talk,” Montero replied. “You’ve hardly spoken since we took off from Johnson City. I mean, you just sat there for the entire flight back here. I know that watching Butterfield die was a shock, but I need to know exactly where you are, what you’re thinking.”
On the flight back to Dulles, Montero had been a whirlwind of phone calls and e-mails.
Instead of doing the same, Lauren had been deep in thought, troubled by everything she’d seen and heard since Montero had arrived. The FBI has a task force investigating William, followed by all the terrible accusations leveled at him by Butterfield. Then there was the horrible reality of the former FBI agent being murdered in front of them. Montero was right; someone was one step ahead of them, and the game had turned lethal. All the rules had changed, and Lauren had needed time to process.
“Let me ask you something,” Montero said. “I understand why you might be upset, it’s been a messed-up day. All the phone calls I made on the flight, I’ve learned some things. If we’re a team, if the two of us are going to keep going, you need to know what I know. Or do you want to quit?”
“I hope you know me well enough to understand I’d never walk away,” Lauren said. “I started with this idea that I could help find Stephanie. Donovan was in so much pain. I’d grown tired of lying to everyone to maintain my husband’s charade, so I called you, the only person on the planet who knows his secret, and is also a trained investigator. In my mind, there was an outside chance we’d uncover something that would lead to Stephanie—but not the possibility of William being a murderer. What we’re doing could destroy everyone I love.”
“You’re right,” Montero replied softly. “You may be too close to this—maybe this is the one to sit out.”
“It’s far too late for that,” Lauren said. “I can’t undo what I’ve already seen and done. Though, at some point, I have to explain all of this to Donovan, or even worse, I have to confront William.”
“We go where the evidence takes us,” Montero shrugged. “We’re also not responsible for the truth we find. You would do well to keep that in mind, because the truth will affect William, Donovan, you, even Abigail. If it turns out that William had a hand in Meredith’s death, the repercussions will be catastrophic. By the time the FBI gets through with their investigation, I have no doubt they’ll uncover the fact that Donovan is Robert Huntington. Can you imagine the headlines? William VanGelder and Robert Huntington kidnap and kill Meredith Barnes—then together they conspire to fake Huntington’s death to avoid prosecution. Never mind that none of it’s true, but the public is still angry, and there aren’t any statutes of limitations for murder.”
“Those were some of the particulars I was processing on the plane.”
“Can I tell you something Donovan told me once? I think at the time, I was about where you are right now. I hated where the facts of a case were taking me, and I wanted it to stop. He told me to quit overthinking, to get pissed off that someone was trying to do me harm, and to fight back. It worked.”
“He’s angry all the time, of course he’d say that,” Lauren replied. “I’m just a little staggered by everything we’ve learned. Typically, the information I analyze doesn’t affect me emotionally. I’m not sitting this one out. We need to keep going, regardless of what we find, but what we’re doing is having an effect on me.”
“As it should. In fact, I’d be worried if it didn’t,” Montero replied.
“Let’s head back to the house,” Lauren said as she started the engine. “I need to make sure my daughter’s safe. Now, what did you find out on the plane?”
“I talked at length with Deputy Director Graham. The preliminary report on Butterfield from the local police in Tennessee, is that he was killed with a single, high-velocity rifle round. All signs point to a professional hit. Due to Butterfield being former FBI, Graham is moving assets to take over the investigation.”
“Did you tell Graham what Butterfield told us?” Lauren asked, as she merged into traffic.
“Of course not, but I did tell my private detective friend in Florida. Butterfield gave us three names. The Rocha family and the Franklin Lange family have been dead for years. But Elijah Knight died two nights ago in Miami. He was shot. The police are calling it a home invasion gone wrong. I have a contact at Miami homicide, and my friend says her gut feeling is it was a murder, made to look like a robbery.”
“So, Elijah Knight is killed and then Gordon Butterfield?” Lauren asked, as she changed lanes and accelerated around a slow-moving truck. “That’s no coincidence.”
“I agree. My PI did some quick digging. Knight was once the CEO of the oil company that bore his name. He was a successful guy, had a building in Houston with his name on the roof, private jets, all the usual trappings of success. But he died poor, in a rented house in a not-so-nice part of Miami.”
“So, he lost all his money, happens all the time,” Lauren replied.
“He didn’t lose his, it was stripped from him,” Montero said. “Sixteen years ago, Huntington Oil began a hostile takeover of Knight Oil. It was a bitter fight, but Huntington won. At the time, analysts were quoted as saying Knight Oil was overvalued, and that Huntington overpaid for their assets.”
“If it was sixteen years ago, then William was on the board of directors.”
“Better yet, he was acting chairman due to an illness of the sitting CEO,” Montero said. “William was running the show and initiated the takeover bid. When it was over, he’s also the one that refused any kind of severance or bonus for Elijah Knight. In fact, William managed to negate Knight’s stock options, and cancel millions in deferred pay. William did whatever he could to ruin the man.”
“That’s incredible,” Lauren replied. “I’ve seen William operate in business mode, he’s the kindest, gentlest man I know. You’re describing someone I’ve never seen.”
“Elijah Knight would disagree, as would two other former CEOs who were treated in the same manner.”
“So it was personal? William, or others within Huntington Oil, wanted to ruin these guys? Are any of them still alive?”
“No, both deceased, but not one of them from natural causes. One died in a car accident, the other was ruled a suicide—possible murders made to look like accidents. My PI didn’t have to dig into la Serpiente. In Latin American circles this guy is no myth—he’s a legend. He’s regarded as a brutal killer. He’s a ghost, no one seems to know his actual identity.” Montero snapped her head to the side as they sped through an intersection. “What’s going on? Don’t you live down that way?”
“I don’t think we should go to the house quite yet,” Lauren said.
“Uh oh,” Montero said as she looked over at Lauren, whose eyes were fixed on the rearview mirror. “Which one?”
“The silver Chrysler sedan,” Lauren said. “I’m pretty sure it’s been with us since we left the airport.”
“Can you think of any place close where we can stop and interview these guys without attracting any attention?”
“What about calling for help? The police, or the FBI?”
“No way, if we bring them in, then these guys have far too many civil rights. This could be our break, and
I want to deal with them personally.” Montero glanced into the side mirror. “I’m looking at two men in the front seat, is that what you’re seeing?”
“As far as I can tell there are only two of them.”
“That makes it a fair fight,” Montero said. “Ideally, I’d like an enclosed parking garage, at least three floors high, without a lot of people coming and going. I’d prefer an office building over a shopping center.”
“I can think of any number of places, except they’re probably filled with security cameras.”
“That’s good. We want cameras. I just want to talk to these guys, but if this thing turns ugly, I want it to be on tape.”
As Lauren moved to the outside lane, she glanced over and noticed that Montero’s Glock was at the ready. She thought back to Montero’s profile, how quick she was to resort to violence—and how adept she was at being the victor. Lauren found comfort in that fact.
“Are you up for this?” Montero asked.
“Yes.” Lauren caught a red light and slowed. She watched in the mirror as the Chrysler stopped three cars behind. Both occupants wore dark glasses and they didn’t appear to be talking to each other, just sitting and waiting. It felt dangerous to be stopped—she felt like a sitting target.
“You have a place in mind?” Montero asked.
“Yes, it’s just ahead. An office building, we’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll explain exactly what’s going to happen. We can orchestrate events up to a point, at which time it’s going to become a fluid situation. When that happens, I need you to do exactly what I tell you to do, without hesitation. Is your gun loaded and ready to go? Can I count on you to react accordingly?”
“I’m good to go,” Lauren said, as she glanced down between the bucket seats where she always wedged her purse. Exactly like Buck had shown her, the butt of her pistol was in the perfect position for quick action.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Someone’s coming,” Eva whispered.
Donovan looked to his left; rounding the corner at high speed was Buck’s Suburban. Donovan and Eva had just finished wiping down the Mercedes, hoping to remove any incriminating fingerprints. The Suburban rumbled to a stop in front of their car, and Buck flew out of the driver’s seat and motioned for them to hurry.
Donovan took Eva’s hand and helped her out of the car. Buck was holding the rear door open. They piled in the Suburban, Buck slammed the door, and moments later they were through the perimeter fence and racing down the main road away from the airport.
As Donovan glanced back at the oily plume of thick black smoke rising from the airport, he wondered how long it would take them to discover the bodies at the center of the inferno.
“What the hell happened?” Buck asked as soon as they were clear of the airport. “Do I even want to know how you managed to end up in a car full of bullet holes? And, am I wrong to assume you had a hand in blowing up an airliner?”
“The 727 blew up when the guys in an SUV that were shooting at us made a wrong turn. The two men trying to force Eva into a Learjet probably escaped though. By the way, this is Eva. Eva, this is Buck.”
“We’ll get to all of that later. But for the moment, let me see if I have this right.” Buck glanced up, caught Donovan’s eye in the mirror. “Michael told me you saw two men trying to drag her into a Learjet. You jumped out of the Galileo, rescued her, then got away—but not before getting shot at, and creating what I’m sure will become front-page news. I thought we’d agreed that we’re supposed to be keeping a low profile.”
Donovan paused, waiting to see if Buck was finished with his tirade. “I talked to the kidnappers.”
“What!” Buck snapped his head around.
“The kidnappers called Eva on her cell phone,” Donovan replied. “Two days ago, Eva saw the men who have Stephanie. We have to get back to the hotel—they told us to have everything ready by tonight. This whole thing could still go down today.”
Buck nodded and whipped the Suburban hard to the left, crossed over the median, and accelerated back the way they’d just come. He studied his mirror to see if anyone copied the move he’d just made. After a minute when no one did, he nodded at Donovan that he thought they were clear, that no one was following. After making a series of turns to detect a tail, Buck pulled up to the front door of the hotel.
Donovan took Eva’s hand and helped her out of the vehicle. He had seen her eyelids drift closed only moments before. He wondered how long it had been since she’d slept. He battled his own fatigue, but knew he’d never be able to sleep—not until this was over. They boarded the elevator and shot up to their floor without a word.
“Get her settled in your room,” Buck said. “Then come down to William’s suite so we can all talk.”
Donovan urged Eva to follow him as Buck brought up the rear. Eva never strayed far from his side as Donovan used his key to open his room. He couldn’t imagine what must be running through her mind. She’d been shot at, abducted, and now she was in a hotel with men she didn’t know. She stood close, uncertainty in her eyes.
“I’m going to go talk to Buck. Why don’t you take a hot shower, order yourself something to eat? There are some shops close by, call down to the front desk and see if someone can buy you some clothes. Charge everything to the room, but whatever you do, don’t leave.”
“I want to stay with you,” she said quietly.
“I’m right down the hall. As you can see, there are guards stationed outside. You’ll be safe. I promise.”
She nodded, but with reluctance.
Donovan closed the drapes and switched on a table lamp. He picked up his briefcase and turned to her. She looked so fragile and scared standing in the near-darkness. Where had the tough-chick act gone? Was it all just an act? Or had her fear finally burned itself out and given way to exhaustion? He wondered how she’d react when it came time to tell her that the kidnappers wanted her as well as the money.
“You won’t leave me?” Eva stepped in front of him before he could reach the door. “You promise?”
“You’ll be fine.” Donovan was forced to stop as she reached up and put her arms around him. “I won’t leave the hotel without telling you. Okay?”
Donovan let himself out of the room, stopped for a moment to give the guards a heads-up about the food and clothes that would probably be arriving, and firm instructions not to let Eva leave under any circumstances.
Donovan knocked gently on William’s door.
“Sit down,” William said as he stepped aside to allow Donovan into the suite.
Donovan found a chair. “Okay, she’s taken care of for the moment. What do we have?”
“We have a mess, is what we have,” William said without ceremony. “Buck was just bringing me up-to-date on the afternoon’s activities.”
“What we need to talk about is Stephanie.” Donovan wasn’t in the mood to be chastised for his impulsive actions. “When I talked to the kidnappers, they said to have the money ready by tonight. This could happen in the next few hours, but they want the money—and Eva. They’ll more than likely kill her if we hand her over, that’s if we can convince her to play along. If she won’t, and I don’t think we can force her—then, according to them, Stephanie will be killed.”
“I’m open to suggestions, gentlemen.” William said.
Buck rubbed his forehead as he processed the latest development.
“We have to find a way to protect her, “Donovan said, “then convince her to join us.”
“She seems rather attached to you,” Buck offered. “Use it.”
“The only way I’d do that is if I could assure her she’d be safe,” Donovan said, his attention still fixed on Buck. “How do you envision all this going down? Is there any safe way to do this? Anything we can use to convince Eva to help?”
“It could happen several different ways. I’ve spent all morning seeing how much help we can expect. It’ll be myself and four other men. I’ll be the one ma
king the drop; the best we can hope for is that they aren’t as professional or as prepared as we are. We also have one card up our sleeve that they don’t know about.”
“What’s that?” William asked.
“The Scimitar,” Buck replied with a small smile. “It was born out of a military drone used in combat. We launch it, and we’ll be able to use its surveillance capabilities to monitor wherever I go with the money. Once the drop is made, we’ll be able to track them. We’ll have the men I’ve recruited stationed throughout the city. That way, everyone should be able to stay close without being spotted. When the time comes, we’ll know, and help will only be minutes away.”
“This could work,” Donovan said as he nodded his approval. “If we explain all this to Eva, maybe she’ll help.”
“We can’t explain anything to her beyond that we need her help,” Buck said quietly. “In fact, I won’t do it if she knows what’s coming. Nothing can destroy an operation faster than an amateur. She’s scared, and if she becomes even more terrified, she’ll start looking around for the help she’s expecting. It’s human nature, and there’s nothing worse than tipping off the enemy to a surprise attack. I guarantee she’ll get everyone killed.”
“That makes sense,” Donovan agreed. “I just don’t know how we’ll be able to convince her that we need her for bait. They’ve already tried to kill her, and, to be honest, I’m not sure what her frame of mind is right now.”
“We have an extra million dollars,” William said. “The kidnappers asked for three million—I brought four. Offer her a million dollars to do this. I’d even go so far as to offer her the million cash and we’ll bring her back to the States with us. I can guarantee her entry. That might represent a deal she’d be willing to risk her life for.”
Aftershock: A Donovan Nash Novel (A Donovan Nash Thriller) Page 14