Marta threw the SUV into gear and with wheels spinning, they paralleled the tree line until they came to the main route into town. Marta plowed through a snowbank and was forced to brake heavily to stay on the roadway, but once stabilized, she stepped hard on the gas and they sped downhill.
Marta swerved to pass a slower car, and they rounded a turn just before the ground dropped off dramatically all the way to the valley floor.
“I see them!” Lauren said as she pointed to her right. “Two figures on horseback, they’re down there in the field, paralleling the road.”
As Marta floored the Range Rover, Lauren’s eyes darted back and forth between her daughter and the road behind them, unsure who else might be in pursuit. They closed the distance, and as Marta rounded another curve, Lauren could see that Hannah had them headed toward what looked to be a trail leading into a grove of trees.
“We’re not going to be able to catch them,” Marta said as the road swerved the other way, taking them away from the girls. “I know where that trail leads. They’ll be safe. We’ll meet them on the other side of the trees.”
Lauren spotted the emergency vehicles at nearly the same time as Marta. They were racing up the hill in the opposite direction. Marta slowed and pulled to the side as the official cars roared past, lights flashing and sirens wailing. The moment they were clear, Marta once again floored the Range Rover. Two more turns and she slowed, took a right turn off the road, and they bounced and rumbled across a snow-covered field.
“Jump out, let the girls see you!” Marta said as she brought the vehicle up a small crest and came to a sliding stop.
Lauren climbed down into the calf-deep snow and began running toward where the trail emerged from the woods. The instant Hannah and Gemini burst from the shadows, Lauren began waving her arms and yelling for them to stop. Several seconds later, Abigail and Zephyr were out into the open. Abigail began to rein in her horse, and Hannah, seemingly startled by the scene, at first turned away, and then circled back to join Abigail.
“Mom!” Abigail cried out as she slid off the horse and ran.
Lauren crouched, wrapped up her daughter and held her close, feeling Abigail’s cold cheeks pressing into her neck. The moment was broken by the crunching snow under the Range Rover’s tires as Marta wheeled in next to them.
“Girls, get in the back,” Lauren said as she pulled away from Abigail. “We have to go.”
“What about the horses?” Abigail asked.
“They’ll be fine,” Hannah said. “They’ll find their way back home, it’s not too far.”
With the girls inside the SUV, Marta drove the Rover back across the field until they popped onto the road and were once again speeding toward town. “Hannah, are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Who were those men?” Hannah asked as she peeled off her hat against the warmth inside the vehicle.
“I’m not sure,” Marta said. “Which is why I need to take you somewhere safe. What about your uncle, the one who is a constable in Zirl? If I take you to the police station, will that be okay?”
“Yes, I’ll be safe there.”
“Hannah, I’m so sorry all of this happened, but what you and Abigail did was remarkable,” Marta said. “Tell your uncle exactly what happened, and that we’re all okay. Someone representing my father and I will be in touch with him later.”
“Mom, where are we going?” Abigail asked.
“I’m not sure.” Lauren caught a subtle shake of the head from Marta, telling her to be cautious. Hannah didn’t need to know any more than she already did.
“We’re going to meet up with Uncle Kristof,” Marta said as she slowed the Range Rover, entered the village limits of Zirl, and drove straight to the police station. She parked in front of the main door and then turned toward the girls in the backseat. “Hannah, again, thank you so much. I don’t want you to be afraid. I think those men were looking for my father, so they don’t have any idea who you are—you’re not involved in this at all. Your uncle will be able to protect you. Tell him hello, and I’ll talk to you in a few days.”
The moment Hannah hurried across the sidewalk and pushed through the door into the station, Marta gunned the Range Rover in the direction of Innsbruck.
“Are we headed to the airport?” Lauren asked
“The jet should be waiting,” Marta said, checking her rearview mirrors.
“Abigail and I don’t have our passports.”
“I grabbed your bag on my way out, it’s in the back.” Marta said.
The drive down the valley, across the river, and to the airport took only minutes. Marta parked the Rover, opened the rear hatch, and handed Lauren her bag, then the three of them hurried toward the general aviation lounge. Lauren pushed through the doors to find Kristof waiting. The four of them walked across the ramp and boarded the Gulfstream. The flight attendant introduced herself and took their coats. Lauren held Abigail’s hand and they went down the aisle to the four club seats near the rear of the jet. The door was closed and Lauren listened to the familiar sounds of both engines being started.
“Where are we going?” Lauren asked.
“We’re flying to Luton, north of London,” Kristof said. “We’re going to Stephanie VanGelder’s country home.”
Abigail’s face lit up at the prospect of seeing her aunt Stephanie. “I can’t wait to tell Aunt Stephanie that I rode a horse faster than a bullet!”
“Honey,” Lauren said as the Gulfstream swung out onto the taxiway. “What do you say we tell Aunt Stephanie together, so she can hear both sides of our adventure? Maybe tonight, after we get settled?”
“Okay.” Abigail shrugged and turned to the window to watch the takeoff.
“What about your treatments, your doctors?” Lauren asked Kristof. “Will you be okay?”
“I’m fine for a few days. After the events in Minnesota last night, and now this, the doctors can wait. Stephanie is waiting for us, and as promised, I already made a phone call to Trevor. Our SAS friends are on their way to her home as well.”
“What events in Minneapolis?” Lauren tilted her head as if she hadn’t heard correctly.
“Check your phone,” Kristof said. “I’m sure you were copied on Montero’s e-mail.”
Lauren found her phone. There was a message from Montero and one from Donovan. She clicked on her husband’s first. The moment she saw it was sent on his phone, she knew it would be brief. He hated typing on the small keyboard.
Change of plans. Departed Minneapolis. Girl’s name is Sofya, she’s Russian. Everyone is okay, but we’re on the move. Tomorrow we go north to salvage the Boeing. Be safe. Love, Donovan.
Lauren opened Montero’s e-mail and found a three-paragraph after-action report written in the crisp, concise manner she’d been taught while at the FBI. Lauren read through the recent events and lowered her phone. “Today, the men at the chalet—were they Russian?”
“Yes,” Marta said. “As close as we could tell, they were mercenaries, freelancers, not part of any organized group we’re familiar with. Though I’m completely convinced that everything that has happened leads back to that plane, and to that woman.”
“We don’t know anything,” Kristof whispered, his eyes narrowed into slits. The lines etched into his face conveyed a mixture of physical pain and barely contained outrage. “Except for the fact that they tried to harm the four of us in my home, and I promise, they’ll pay dearly for that mistake.”
The flight to the Luton airport took a little over an hour, and as the chartered Gulfstream broke out of the low clouds, Lauren took in the familiar countryside north of London. Stephanie’s country home was a stark contrast to her modern apartment near St. James Park. Lauren loved the stately, five-bedroom Tudor, surrounded by expansive gardens and trees. Stephanie, an award-winning photojournalist, had exquisite taste and a great eye for detail.
“How long since you’ve seen Stephanie?” Marta asked her father.
“It has to be back when Donovan live
d in Los Angeles. I’d flown over for a party, and Stephanie was there—maybe twenty-seven, twenty-eight years ago.”
The main wheels touched down and the Gulfstream came to a gentle stop. Once they’d cleared the runway, Lauren began the delicate task of waking Abigail. The instant her daughter realized they’d arrived, she began searching out the window for Stephanie. When the jet swung around on the general aviation ramp, Abigail spotted her. The door swung open and the flight attendant requested that everyone remain seated for a quick customs inspection. A uniformed man climbed the airstair, greeted the crew, and was given everyone’s passport. He scanned the declarations and walked back into the cabin.
“Welcome to England,” he said without smiling. “What’s the nature of your trip?”
“Pleasure,” Lauren said. “We’re here to visit friends for a New Year’s Eve get-together.”
“Sounds rather pleasant.” He opened up the first passport. He matched the photo with the person and then handed it to Marta. He repeated the process with Lauren and Abigail, and then finished with Kristof. “How long will you be in England?”
“I suspect we’ll depart on New Year’s Day,” Kristof said. “Or the day after, depending on how everyone feels.”
“Very well then.” The man handed Kristof his passport, turned smartly, and walked off the Gulfstream, giving a wave to the flight attendant.
“We’re all set. You’re free to deplane,” the flight attendant said. “Your vehicles are being brought around.”
With a firm grip on her daughter’s hand, Lauren went down the airstair to where Stephanie stood. Abigail broke from her mother and leapt into Stephanie’s waiting arms. Lauren reached around her daughter and managed to hug her dear friend. Two Range Rovers pulled up. Trevor stepped out of the first one and immediately went to Marta, then to Kristof, exchanging greetings. Lauren turned toward Reggie as he appeared from behind the wheel of the second Rover and waved. It was the first time she’d seen the man since he’d saved her and Abigail in Paris.
“Hello again,” Reggie said.
Lauren smiled and gave him a heartfelt hug. Over his shoulder, she spotted Stephanie meeting Trevor and Marta, and then giving Kristof a kiss. Lauren broke away as Trevor came toward her. He kissed Lauren on both cheeks. Reggie introduced himself to Kristof and Marta, and then Lauren noticed Reggie slip Abigail a red lollipop before suggesting they all get into the vehicles and be on their way.
“Shall we ride with Reggie?” Lauren asked Abigail.
“We’ve actually arranged for Abigail to ride in Trevor’s Rover,” Reggie said. “I was hoping we could use the drive to chat.”
“Come on, Abigail,” Marta said. “Looks like we get to ride with Trevor, Stephanie, and Uncle Kristof.”
Abigail promptly pivoted and followed Marta.
“Thank you for calling us,” Reggie said as they settled into the plush front seats. “I would hate to think you were in trouble and we weren’t there to lend a hand.”
“I remember it was Buck who called you the first time,” Lauren said, feeling the familiar twinge of sorrow at the mention of his name. Former Navy SEAL Howard “Buck” Buckley was an Eco-Watch employee and dear friend. He’d been dead for two years, but the thought of his death was still painful.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral,” Reggie said. “We were helping another old friend, and in our line of work, the first priority is to the living.”
“You sound like him.” Lauren tried to smile, to focus on all that was good about Buck. “He thought very highly of you.”
“And we of him. He was one of the good ones,” Reggie said. “Abigail seems her usual resilient self. How are you holding up?”
“The lollipop was sweet.” Lauren set her jaw against the tears.
“It wasn’t intended to be sweet,” Reggie said. “It’s important to build a bond with younger principals. I need her to recognize and trust me. Now, how are you doing?”
“People tried to kill my daughter this morning. I was forced to shoot a man, and all I can think about is how everything could have gone wrong. I’m scared, angry, and I don’t know when my life reached a point that I need professional soldiers to keep me and my daughter alive. How do I deal with all of this?”
“Exactly as you are.” Reggie reached across and took Lauren’s hand. “You did what any mother would do. You protected your child. Relish that part. You’re strong, smart, and resourceful, and you have a great many people who care about you. We’ll figure it out. I promise.”
“I hope so.”
“I’ve already been to Stephanie’s house and some of my other lads have gone over the layout and it’s good. Obviously, you’ll never see anyone but Trevor and me. We’re houseguests, same as you. That should minimize Abigail’s perception of living among armed bodyguards.”
“Thank you for that. You must have spoken to Kristof ?”
“Yes, nice guy actually,” Reggie said. “I’m not quite sure how an analyst with the Defense Intelligence Agency and her six-year-old daughter have fallen in with the family I believe is known in some circles as Archangel, the long-time arms dealers, but I’m sure stranger things have happened. I just can’t think of anything offhand.”
“Archangel is a secret that needs to stay between you and me,” Lauren said. “What isn’t going to be a secret much longer is Trevor and Marta.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t be the only one to notice the crush they have on each other.”
“Bloody hell.” Reggie shook his head. “I thought I was crazy. That thing is real?”
“Very.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“ARE YOU SURE you’re both okay?” Donovan asked as he paced back and forth in an empty portion of the lobby of the Grand Forks executive flight support facility.
“Yes, we’re all fine,” Lauren said. “Your daughter was remarkable. The way she rode that horse in the snow and through the trees—it was amazing.”
The fact that Abigail was remarkable was something he already knew. Though the image of his six-year-old daughter, fleeing for her life on horseback, caused a tightness in his stomach and throat, and tears threatened to form in his eyes. Even though everyone was now safe at Stephanie’s, and the country house was being guarded by Reggie, Trevor, and other former SAS Special Forces personnel, it did nothing to erase his shock of hearing about the attack in Innsbruck.
“When are you leaving?” Lauren asked.
“Shortly,” Donovan said. “Last night Montero took some pictures of Sofya, and sent them to her guy in Florida. If everything goes as planned, FedEx should deliver a package this morning with Sofya’s new passport and other identification.”
“Then where do you go?” Lauren asked.
“After last night’s mission, Michael landed and spent the night in Minot, North Dakota, well to the west of the snowstorm that moved down from Canada into Minnesota. I talked to him a little while ago. He’s on his way to Winnipeg. Montero and I will drive north with Sofya and clear customs at the border. Montero didn’t want to risk putting Sofya through the anxiety of an airplane flight along with subjecting her to the stress of passing through customs.”
“Overall, how do you think she’s doing?”
“Which one?”
“Start with Sofya.”
“Montero has been working with her, and Sofya seems convinced that we’re on her side and want to help. Montero talked with her the entire time we were driving to Grand Forks, soothing her, and telling her over and over she wasn’t a victim, and that we were her friends. Montero finally released Sofya’s bound hands in a production that was both touching and highly calculated. I can’t tell how much Montero really cares, or if she’s intentionally inducing the Stockholm syndrome. Either way, it’s fascinating to watch. I’ve never really seen this side of Montero.”
“I doubt many have, but take into consideration everything else she’s good at, and it would follow that she takes her commitment
to victimized women seriously. For all we know, it’s what she does best.”
“Maybe, but I also think it’s hard on her, harder than hiding everything behind her toughness.”
“I’m sure. Keep in mind that Montero also just lost her source in Prague. If I remember correctly, she came to that girl’s rescue once upon a time. We both know Montero feels deeply responsible for the people she tries to help, especially the disenfranchised. Give her some space, but make sure she has what she needs. More than anything, Montero wants to solve problems, but try not to let her get overwhelmed. It sounds like you’re going to be with Sofya for a while.”
Donovan looked up as Montero stuck her head around the corner, a FedEx envelope in her hand. “Our package just arrived. We need to go. Tell Abigail Daddy says hello, that I love her, and I’m really proud of her. You have a good evening with everyone, and I’ll let you know what’s happening at this end.”
“I will. Be careful,” Lauren said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Donovan ended the call and went to find Montero and Sofya.
Montero was in a conference room, and as Donovan entered, he closed and locked the door. She ripped open the package, and three envelopes slid out onto the polished tabletop.
Montero opened the first one and pulled out a passport. “We need a pen.”
Donovan handed his to Sofya, and Montero showed her where to sign.
When Sofya was finished, Montero thumbed through the pages and worked the spine back and forth to loosen it up and then handed it to Sofya. “Memorize all the information inside. Know it backwards and forwards. We’ll all work on our cover story while we make the drive.”
“What’s her name?” Donovan asked.
“Sofya Wilkins. She’s twenty-five years old.” Montero opened the next envelope and out tumbled a driver’s license as well as several other cards. “She lives in Melbourne, Florida.”
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