by Jack Mars
“Kent, we don’t have the fuel for that kind of trip,” said Maria gently.
“Then find some!” he shouted angrily.
“They would have an eight-hour lead on us, at least…” she said.
“What are we supposed to do, Maria?! Just sit in a conference room in goddamned Zurich while my girls are being tortured or killed?” He was screaming now, his face turning red.
“I’ve already dispatched a team,” said Cartwright through the speakerphone. “We’re cross-referencing every guest who’s been in the hotel in the last three days against current guests, and we’ll use those leads to search the area—”
“And while that’s happening, my girls are being taken further and further from there! These people do not waste time, Cartwright! They took me to France in a fucking cargo plane! I can’t…” His mind latched onto the vision of Sara and Maya, hoods over their heads, hands bound, jouncing in the hold of a plane.
Reid slapped the cockpit door again. “Hey! I know you’re in there!” He hadn’t even realized he had pulled his Glock, but suddenly it was in his right hand as his left pounded on the door.
“Kent, put the gun away,” Maria said cautiously.
“Jesus.” Cartwright sighed. “This is what I was afraid of,” he murmured. “Johansson… Protocol Delta.”
“Sir—” she started to say.
“That’s an order, Johansson,” Cartwright snapped.
Reid spun. “What’s Protocol Delta?”
Maria sighed. “It’s… a stopgap.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
She spoke slowly. “It’s a measure to prevent what happened last time from happening again.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Reid was beyond confused. They needed to get to his girls—why couldn’t anyone else see that? “What happened last time?”
She shook her head and stared at the floor. “Kent, when your wife died, you… that’s when you went wild. You went rogue. It was a horrible, bloody trail. We can’t have that happen again.”
His nostrils flared as he shouted. “What is Protocol Delta, Maria?”
She reached into a side compartment next to her seat and pulled out a file folder. “Here, see for yourself.”
He snatched the file folder from her and opened it. He frowned; she had handed him the transcript of the sheikh’s interrogation from twenty months earlier. “What is this? What am I look f—?”
He felt the sharp stab of a needle in his neck.
Reid instinctively lashed out, spinning and backhanding Maria across the mouth. Her head whipped to the side. She didn’t cry out; she simply stared at him dolefully and wiped a small amount of blood from the corner of her lip.
Reid’s vision blurred. His stomach tied itself in knots. His breathing grew labored and slow. She had drugged him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so, so sorry, Kent.”
The edges of his vision blackened. His knees weakened and buckled.
His last thought before he hit the carpet was of his girls, their smiling, beautiful faces, and the fact that he would never see them again.
CHAPTER THIRTY
A phone rang.
“Mm.” Maya groaned as she rolled over to answer it.
“Miss Bennett?” said a cheerful young woman—too cheerful for this early in the morning. “This is your seven a.m. wake-up call.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, and hung up. Beside her on the king-size bed, Sara stirred.
“Come on, Squeak,” Maya prodded. “We got to get up.”
“Don’t call me that,” Sara murmured as she stuck her head under a pillow.
Maya rose and went into the bathroom. She squinted; the fluorescent lights were harsh and uninviting. She used the toilet, washed her hands and face, and brushed her teeth. Then she returned to the bedroom and poked Sara again with two fingers. “Hey. Up. We have to go soon.”
“But we just got here,” Sara groaned.
The night prior, at nearly ten o’clock, they had been at the Holiday Inn six miles away. Maya had decided to check the computer in the lobby just once more before bed—and was glad she did, since she had received the strange message from her dad about meeting two men who would take them somewhere safe.
Even though her dad had proved it was him, something about it still hadn’t felt right to her. She already didn’t feel safe, and with the news that they might need to be protected, Maya’s instincts told her they should move again. She packed up their bags and her sister, and they took a taxi to a Hampton Inn a bit further down the highway. She paid in cash and checked in using a fake ID under the name Miranda Bennett, age eighteen. She had gotten it only a few months earlier under peer pressure from her friends, but she had never used it before. If her dad had found out that she had a fake ID last week, he would have hit the roof and grounded her for a month—but given the current circumstances, she had to imagine he might actually be glad for it.
“Squeak, if you don’t get out of bed in the next thirty seconds, I’m dragging you out,” Maya said sternly. “I need you showered, dressed, and packed. Let’s go.” She hated sounding like a mom—after all, she was only two years older than Sara—but sometimes it was necessary.
Wonderland Pier was a thirty-minute ride from their hotel. Maya had asked at the front desk the night before. There was a bus stop about a quarter mile away that would drop them right at the pier. There they would wait for the two men, Watson and Carver, as her dad had instructed.
She assumed that the two men they would be meeting were police officers. She had no idea what sort of trouble her dad had gotten into; at first, she had been scared for him, especially that first morning when she came downstairs to find both the front and back doors wide open and her dad gone.
But she hadn’t called the police. She called Aunt Linda instead.
Maya wasn’t stupid—quite the opposite. Ever since she was little she had been far more astute than the average kid her age. She knew that her dad used to travel a lot for work, claiming to be a professor… and then coming home with scars, with bandages, sometimes with splints. He would say things like, “Daddy’s just really clumsy and tripped on some stairs.” One time he actually tried to say that he was sideswiped by a car.
But she wasn’t stupid. She didn’t know what her dad used to do and she knew better than to ask, but she assumed that it was more than giving guest lectures and attending seminars. Then, after Mom died, they moved away from Virginia to New York. He stopped traveling and started teaching full time. Life was good—she missed her mother desperately, but life in New York had been kind to them, right up until four days ago when their father went missing.
Still, she knew better than to call the police. Aunt Linda, on the other hand, did not.
Maya had spent most of the last few days staying indoors and watching television. She and Sara heeded their father’s instructions and left their cell phones and tablets at home. Without the Internet, there was little to do but watch TV. Luckily, the Winter Olympics were on, and that was usually enough to distract them, at least for a little while. Maya also kept an eye on the news as often as possible, hoping to find some indication of what her dad might be doing, but there were no reports that she could connect to him.
She was a little surprised, however, to tune into the news two nights ago and see her own face, and Sara’s, staring back. Aunt Linda had listened to her and not called the police when her dad went missing, but as soon as Maya and Sara left their first hotel without telling her, it seemed their aunt called the authorities immediately. Linda had provided the cops with a photo of the two of them from the previous summer, at a barbecue, sitting side by side at a picnic table and smiling over plates of food.
Maya and her sister were officially considered missing persons.
It had frightened her, at first; they were two teenagers, still children, on the lam without a single adult knowing where they were. They were potentially in danger from an unknown threat. But th
en Maya thought about her parents—what would they do? Her dad would likely alert the authorities, regardless of the warning. He had a tendency to be overprotective (though before he disappeared, it seemed like he was working on that).
Her mother, on the other hand… her mom would have kept her cool in this situation. She would have done what was necessary. So that’s what Maya decided she would do too. She had to think responsibly, be an adult, and keep her younger sister safe.
At long last Sara rolled out of bed and dragged herself into the bathroom for about thirty minutes, eventually emerging showered, dressed, and mostly ready.
“Where are we going?” she asked. Maya had avoided telling her younger sister more than she needed to know. “And when do we get to go home?”
“Soon,” Maya assured her. “We’ll go home soon, I promise. But first we’re going to meet up with a couple of people that can help us, okay? Dad sent them. They’ll keep us safe.”
Sara frowned. “Why did Dad send them? And safe from what?”
I wish I knew, Maya thought. But she forced a smile and said, “Just safe in general, so we don’t have to be alone. It’s going to be okay, Squeak… uh, Sara.”
Another half hour later they were packed—they each carried only a backpack stuffed hastily with a few changes of clothes—and then they checked out of their room, paid in cash, and found the bus stop that would take them to the pier.
Maya was very much aware that Wonderland, the small amusement park on the pier, would not be open in February, but some of the other shops and attractions would be. In hindsight, she wished she had chosen a different location. The pier was perfectly public, but there wouldn’t be many people out. Though, she thought, it would make it easier for the two men to find them.
The girls disembarked from the bus at the end of Sixth Street in Ocean City, about a three-block walk down the pier to the meeting place. Maya checked her watch; it was a quarter to nine. The two men would be there soon.
She was right. There weren’t many people out. Not only was it early, and on a weekday, but it was freezing cold out and the breeze that swept in from the ocean made the air feel thick and damp. She put her arm around her sister’s shoulders as they walked briskly from the bus stop to the pier. Most of the small, squat buildings that lined the boardwalk—souvenir shops, pizza places, ice cream parlors, miniature golf courses—were closed, but a handful of hopeful businesses were open. It gave Maya some small sense of relief to know that there were at least a few people around, within earshot.
They were nearly at the entrance to Wonderland when she saw him. A man walked briskly down the pier, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black leather jacket. He was about her dad’s age, tall, white, with square shoulders and a five o’clock shadow. His hair was dark and cropped close to his scalp.
Maya kept her arm around Sara’s shoulders but slowed her pace as the man approached. He was definitely looking directly at them, though every now and then he glanced left and right.
When he was close enough, he said, “Hello, girls. I’m glad to see you made it here safely. My name is Watson. I believe you’ve been told to come with me.”
Maya said nothing. There was something strange about his voice; he spoke plain English, but it sounded strange, almost strained… as if he was trying to affect an accent. But then again, her dad hadn’t specifically mentioned that the men coming for them would be American.
She had an excellent memory, and remembered her dad’s instructions word for word. Be there by 9 a.m., he had said. Don’t wait for more than an hour. Don’t look for them. They’ll look for you. Their names are Watson and Carver.
“There were supposed to be two of you,” said Maya.
“Yes.” The man who called himself Watson smiled placidly. “My partner got held up. But I promise, this is fine. We will meet with him. Please, we must hurry. Come.” He gestured with his head down the pier, back the way they had come. “My car is this way.” He led the way, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure the girls were following.
Maya hesitated. Much like the hotel the night before, something didn’t feel quite right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
They’ll ask for your Skype ID, her dad had said in his message. If anyone approaches you by any other name, you run and get help.
Maya began to follow the man, nudging Sara along with her but walking sluggishly, deliberately slowing his pace. “You were supposed to give us a name,” she said.
The man paused and smiled again. “I told you. It is Watson.”
“No, you were supposed to give me my name.”
“Give you your name?” Watson chuckled. “You are Maya. And that is Sara. Yes? Can we go?”
Maya’s throat felt tight. Alarm bells screamed in her brain. This was not right at all.
“And my father? His first name?”
The man sighed impatiently, but maintained his cheerful (and thoroughly fake) smile. It was not at all lost on Maya that he had not yet taken his hands out of his coat pockets.
“Your father’s name,” the man said, “is Kent.”
Maya’s jaw clenched so hard she was afraid she’d crack a molar, but she forced her sweetest smile. “Okay then. Lead the way.”
They had to get away from this man, and fast.
She let him lead them for a short way down the pier before she spoke up again. “Wait, wait. I’m sorry. I need to use the bathroom.”
A hiss of exasperation escaped Watson’s throat. “There will be bathrooms where we go—”
“It’s an emergency,” Maya insisted. “Look, they’re right there.” She pointed to the nearby building that housed a pair of public restrooms. “We’ll be fast, okay? Thirty seconds.” She grabbed her sister by the hand and pulled her toward the bathroom before the man could respond. He let out a grunt, but did not try to argue. Instead he resumed his lookout, glancing about anxiously.
As soon as the door was closed behind them, Maya quickly checked the stalls to make sure they were alone.
“Maya, I don’t like this,” Sara said softly.
“I know. Me neither. Sara, I need you to listen to me very carefully.” She held her sister by one shoulder and looked her right in the eye. “You’re going to go out the back window…”
“What?” Sara’s eyes went wide.
“Just listen! I’m going to help you out the back window. I want you to run as fast as you can, two blocks down that way. Remember the alien-themed mini golf, with the lasers and UFOs and stuff?”
Sara nodded, her mouth slightly open.
“Good. Last year there was a hole in the back fence. If they haven’t fixed it yet, you can slip inside. Go to the twelfth hole and hide there. Do not come out for anyone or anything but me. Understand? Run there, hide, and stay there until I come for you.”
The color ran from Sara’s face. Maya could tell she was petrified.
“What’s happening?” she asked timidly. “Who is that man?”
“We don’t have time for that. You need to go. Wait for me…”
“What if you don’t come?”
Maya bit her lip. “I will. I promise. You stay there until I do. Got it?” Her sister said nothing. “Sara, you got it?”
“Got it.” Sara’s voice was almost a whisper.
Maya kissed her on the forehead and then helped hoist her up to the height of the window, where Sara unlatched the lock and swung the pane outward. It took almost a full minute, but she managed to wriggle her way outside.
“Okay,” Maya said to herself. She had no idea what she was going to do from there, but at least Sara would be safe. She put on her best fake smile and headed back outside to the waiting “Watson.”
“So sorry,” she said brightly. “My sister is having some stomach problems. She’s really anxious and scared right now. She’ll be out in just a minute…”
“We do not have a minute!” the man growled. “Do you have an idea of what danger you’re in?”
“I have a
n idea, yeah,” Maya muttered.
The man narrowed his eyes. He was catching on. He took his left hand out of his jacket, grabbed Maya by the arm, and pulled her toward the bathroom.
“Hey, let go!” she shouted. “What are you doing?”
The man grunted something under his breath—something harsh, guttural, and unintelligible to her. It wasn’t English. He shouldered open the bathroom door and yanked Maya with him as he checked the empty stalls.
He cursed loudly in a foreign tongue. “Where is she?!” he demanded, hissing in Maya’s face.
“Wait, wait, I’ll tell you,” she said desperately. “Just don’t hurt me. She went out the window.”
“The window?” the man glanced quizzically over his shoulder at the small rectangular portal, perhaps wondering how Sara could have squeezed through it.
Maya reared back and kicked out as hard as she could, landing the toe of her sneaker right into the man’s crotch.
Breath and spittle exploded out of him with the force of the blow. He doubled over immediately, his face turning bright red as he sank to his knees. Maya didn’t see any of that, though—as soon as her kick landed, he released his grip on her, and she took off running. She threw the door open and sprinted out onto the pier, pumping her legs as fast as she could.
She had been on the girls’ track team for the past two years, by no means a star but still light on her feet. She wasn’t great at distances, but short spans were her specialty. Her long legs propelled her forward with every bound as she demanded them to go faster.
She heard panting behind her and hazarded a glance over her shoulder. Panic wedged itself deep in her stomach; the man had recovered quickly, or was running through the pain. His face was still bright red, but now it was a mask of anger, making him look almost demonic.
He was fast, and closing the gap between then quickly.
She stared ahead again, not daring to look back at him, as she tried to will herself to speed up. She felt fingers in her hair. She couldn’t outrun him…