by G. K. Parks
The paperwork Thompson provided was the financial information for faculty personnel. I was sure it had been illegally obtained, which meant in court proceedings it’d be fruit of the poisonous tree and the guilty party might get off scot-free. Fortunately, finding Catherine was a higher priority.
I was wrong to think the teachers’ salaries were miniscule. It was a private school with private funding and large endowments. It seemed most of the faculty was well compensated. There were no suspicious bumps in anyone’s personal accounts. Unless the money was in an offshore account, it didn’t appear anyone took a payoff. However, money wasn’t necessarily the only motivation for child abductions.
The majority of child abductions were committed by family members. Typically, it was a custody issue that would lead one spouse to take a child from the other. Depending on how nasty the divorce or separation might be, sometimes outside family members would join in. But three girls were taken. This wasn’t a normal abduction. This was a kidnapping and ransom. Professionals choreographed the demands, the money drops, the locations, everything. I was in the hangar. One of the Seasons had been a hundred feet away from me. Why didn’t I do something?
This was on me. I slammed my palm on the counter hard enough to hurt. Perhaps I could have stopped it from getting to this point. The blood on the dock might never have happened. If I had done something different, Catherine might be at home now, instead of classified as missing. But I did nothing to stop the kidnappers when I had the chance. I pissed them off on the phone. I didn’t negotiate properly. I didn’t listen to what the Cales wanted, and now there was the strong possibility Catherine was dead. O’Connell was right.
Refusing to let the self-loathing completely derail me, I spent the entire night reading through the financial records and pulling up every public record I could find that might explain why someone would be willing to sell out three girls to a team of kidnappers. All roads led to nowhere. After going through the fifty-three school employees, I surmised financial incentive was not the reason for the abduction.
It was four a.m. when the flaw in my logic crashed through the forefront of my thoughts. I was analyzing the situation in reverse. The kidnappers didn’t need to incentivize the insider. The insider had to get the kidnappers on board. Luckily, the hours of hard work weren’t a complete waste of time since the financial records didn’t show any large withdrawals either.
I needed sleep. I was making sloppy mistakes. I shut my lights, checked the lock on my door, leaving the security bar off so Heathcliff could get in whenever his shift was over, picked up my handgun which was next to me at the counter, stripped down to a t-shirt and shorts, and went to sleep.
As I lay tossing and turning and trying to silence my thoughts, I realized the one glaring defect in all of it. Mercer fucked up worse than I did. He met the kidnappers, and the situation escalated into a firefight. Instead of sending him remnants of Adalina, the ransom was doubled. Why wouldn’t they have tried a similar tactic with me and Catherine? Something was off. As I tried to unravel the mystery, I fell into unconsciousness.
Without opening my eyes, I could feel a presence hovering above. In one fluid motion, I flipped the uninvited guest onto the mattress, pinning him to the bed with one of my hands against his chest and the other holding my gun to his temple.
“You might want to reconsider,” Mercer said, seemingly unfazed as he glanced down to the space between our bodies, and I noticed the muzzle of his Sig pressed against my ribs, “unless you think you can flip your safety and pull the trigger before I can fire. It’s your call.” He looked smug.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I growled. I wasn’t lowering my weapon and neither was he. I heard rustling come from the other room, followed by the sound of another gun being cocked behind me.
“Whoa,” Bastian burst into my bedroom, insinuating himself between Donovan and my bed. “This isn’t Mexico. Let’s try to avoid a standoff.”
“Too late,” I muttered, releasing the pressure from Mercer’s chest. Immediately, he flipped me onto my back and stared down at me. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was thinking or if I wanted to know. Eventually, Bastian hauled him away, and without my view being impeded, I noticed Donovan had gone into my living room. Mercer tucked the Sig behind his back, and I lowered my gun, but it didn’t leave my hand.
“Turn about is fair play,” Mercer muttered and went into the living room. “Get dressed. It’s time we talk.”
Bastian lingered behind, looking at me with something akin to an apology. “Ah, love, this might have been more fun if you were the negligee type, but at least it wasn’t quite as embarrassing.” He turned and followed Mercer into my living room.
For the brief amount of privacy I was afforded, I sent Heathcliff an urgent text to get to my place. Then I went into the living room to see what the hell led to the early morning break-in.
“I told you to get dressed,” Mercer commented. He was sitting on my couch, looking completely at ease. Donovan was studying the wall, and Bastian was familiarizing himself with my kitchen.
“What do you want?”
“Working with amateurs is not a high priority for me, but the Four Seasons are not behaving in a manner I am accustomed.”
I snorted. “Are you asking for my help?” Mercer remained silent as he considered his options.
“Bloody hell,” Bastian murmured, peeling an orange he had taken from my fridge, “we want to work together.” Mercer turned an icy stare on him, but Bastian overlooked it as he came around the counter and sat on one of the stools. “Winter and the lot still have the Estes girl. Our boss is getting annoyed that things are taking so long, and we figured you might be able to shake things up.”
“Will you tell me everything you know?” I looked at Mercer who was silently seething at Bastian.
“I’ll tell you what you need to know,” Mercer acquiesced.
“No.” I was adamant. “You will tell me what I want to know. If I ask a question, I want the truth.” Our staring match went on for what felt like minutes before he gave a curt nod. “Fine.” I buried my resentment and anger as best I could. “Make yourselves at home while I get dressed.”
My words were anything but cordial, but Bastian grinned and held up the remainder of the orange. “Cheers.”
Quickly throwing on a pair of jeans and a different t-shirt, I went back out to my living room. Bastian was sniffing a carton of leftover Chinese in my fridge, and as far as I could tell, Mercer and Donovan hadn’t moved.
“Do you mind, love?” Bastian asked, holding up the carton. I looked at him, bewildered, and shrugged. He found a fork and began eating.
“Is Catherine alive?” I leaned against the counter, my gun was in my shoulder holster, but the snap was opened for easier access just in case Mercer and I felt the need to engage in any more gunplay.
“I don’t know.” Mercer was the only one speaking, and I was sure that’s the way he liked it.
“Do you think they would kill her? You defied them much more obviously than I did, but Adalina’s alive. Right?”
“I don’t know what they’d do.”
“Then what do you want from me?”
“Throw them off balance,” he said simply. “The next communication I receive, I’d like for you to answer.”
“Not a good idea.” I flashed back to my heated threat. “Do you want to get another girl killed?”
“If they believe we’re working together, they’ll be caught off guard.”
“What the hell did the Estes family hire you to do?”
“None of your business.”
“Wrong answer,” I snarled.
Donovan cleared his throat, and Mercer turned to him. “Seems she’s narrowing in on the insider,” Donovan surmised. Bastian went to the wall and examined the school records that were pinned up.
“It’s time you start at the beginning,” I commanded, taking a seat on the couch and folding my arms across my chest. “I’m waiting.” Bef
ore any of the ex-SAS could respond, I heard Heathcliff at my door.
“Parker,” he yelled, knocking loudly. I heard the key in the lock, and then the door opened. Heathcliff burst in, gun in hand, and looked at me. “Is everything okay?”
“For now,” I sighed. It was nice to know he took the word urgent to mean imminent danger. “Derek Heathcliff meet Julian Mercer.” Heathcliff holstered his gun and looked questioningly at me. I shrugged.
“Bollocks,” Bastian cursed, “looks like the bird’s got herself a copper boyfriend.”
“We’ve met briefly,” Mercer commented, glowering at Heathcliff, “you were kind enough to release me from lock-up.”
“Is that something I should regret?” Heathcliff asked, coming and standing next to me. Normally, I didn’t deal well with protective attitudes, but on this particular morning, I appreciated the support.
Mercer narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond. “We’d like some privacy.”
“The hell you would,” Heathcliff retorted, and I interceded before things turned into a pissing match or worse.
“Mercer thought he should break-in to my apartment this morning to ask for assistance. He was just about to start at the beginning.” I looked pointedly at him. “Right?”
Twenty-three
Despite the fact speaking in front of Heathcliff was never part of the arrangement, I left Mercer with little choice. He reverted to his inscrutable, stone-faced exterior and began to divulge a good deal of the story. All of it was off the record, of course.
Miguel Estes, the gold mogul, planted a tracking device on his daughter. Two years ago, he had taken out a ransom policy for his family members at the insistence of his business manager, Estobar Santino. In order to get a decrease in the insurance rates, a tracking device was placed inside Adalina’s necklace. The morning the girls went missing, the necklace was delivered to the Estes’ estate with a note. The family was immediately made aware of Adalina’s capture and was instructed to wait for further demands.
Miguel contacted his lawyer, the insurance company, and his business manager for advice on what to do. The insurance company worked with Mercer and his crew before and made the relevant phone calls. Within twenty-four hours, Mercer was on scene to handle the situation.
However, the situation was not the ordinary demand negotiation. The Four Seasons insisted on delaying the initial ransom request until the first girl was released. During that timeframe, Mercer did all he could to track the Seasons and narrow in on their position. This was also when Nick got in touch with Mercer, and the two attempted to locate the girls.
“Why were you certain they were established at the wharf?” I asked. It was where Nick had been shot, but Mercer had yet to explain how his random hunches turned out to not be so random.
“In-depth analysis,” Mercer supplied. “We analyzed everything from the paper stock to environmental elements on Adalina’s necklace to background noise and reflections in the video and audio feeds.”
“We tried that too,” Heathcliff added, “but we never got such an obvious hit on a location.”
“You lack proper access to the equipment needed,” Mercer commented with a level of superiority. Sure, he had friends in high places, but if he was so great and powerful, he wouldn’t be asking for my help. “Needless to say, the detective was spotted. It almost blew the entire operation, and if he didn’t call for help, he’d be dead right now.” Without looking, I felt Heathcliff tense. Thankfully, he held his tongue, so Mercer could continue.
After O’Connell’s initial blunder, Mercer informed Senor Estes of the updated situation. Estes was not pleased and believed that the kidnappers might not be willing to deal, even if the money was delivered. It was at this point Estes hired Barr and Keener to assist Mercer at the drop. It was also around this time that I entered the picture.
“So the Secret Service rejects are the newest additions to the Estes’ estate?” I asked.
“Yes.” Mercer still preferred his one word responses.
“Do you know who was in charge of the Estes’ security at the time Adalina was taken?”
“The normal three team bodyguard unit was supplied by an outside agency. The agency’s contract expired two days before the abduction, and the Estes family was in re-negotiation at the time.”
“What company?” Heathcliff asked, jotting down a note. Mercer frowned. Off the record apparently meant different things to different people. Heathcliff glanced up. “C’mon, it’s very possible they’re involved.”
“They are not. I checked.” Before any more barbs could be exchanged, I decided it best to defer to Mercer’s expertise and get him to continue the story.
“Okay,” I put my hand on Heathcliff’s knee, “who knew of the gap in the Estes’ security?”
“Only the immediate family, Estobar Santino, and the personal security agency.”
Heathcliff scribbled Santino’s name down and excused himself to run background on my computer. The rest of the information Mercer provided was already things I knew from my involvement in the case. He didn’t know where the Four Seasons currently were, and all of the communications he received since the time I lost Catherine were delay tactics. Unfortunately, we didn’t know why.
“Donovan,” I turned my attention to one of Mercer’s minions, “you said something about closing in on the insider. Any leads?”
Donovan looked to Mercer who continued to speak for the group. “We believe someone close to the girl must be responsible for the abduction. The amount of money requested, the timeframe for the funds to be brought here, and the necklace being delivered to their home is all information someone close to the family would know. We ran through friends, business associates, and the security team, but they were all clean.”
“Squeaky,” Bastian added, finishing off the Chinese and tossing the carton into the trash. “How’d the school officials look?”
“Squeaky,” Heathcliff piped up from behind my desk.
All the information was a jumble, but I felt certain there was something to be gained from the mess. I just needed a bit of time to process through all of it.
“You have what you want.” Mercer’s tone drew my attention. “You will assist.” It wasn’t a question.
“Fine,” I sighed, “but recovering Adalina is still primarily your responsibility.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Good.”
Mercer took a burner phone out of his jacket pocket and placed it on my coffee table, along with my MT identification card. “Keep the phone on at all times. If a communication comes in, I will be able to reroute the call to you if I believe it is in the best interest of my client.” He narrowed his eyes. “In the meantime, I’d suggest you and the copper keep this quiet. Off the record means just that.”
“Since when is pick-pocketing in the military’s repertoire?” I snarled.
“It’s imperative I have a complete picture of the people I deal with. Perhaps you should pay more attention when some bloke takes your wallet,” he chided and tossed a glance to Donovan and Bastian. “I’ll be in touch. I strongly urge you to answer when the phone rings.” He stood and approached, close enough that we were practically touching. “Don’t be fooled. I know more about you than you’d ever imagine. Consider it insurance in case you sabotage my mission.” He lingered for a moment.
“I’ve told you, we’re on the same side.”
“Indeed.” He let himself out of my house, followed by Donovan and Bastian.
“It’s been a pleasure,” Bastian smirked, shutting the door.
Heathcliff sat, jaw tight, waiting for my reaction.
“That was Julian Mercer and his merry band of mercs,” I supplied while visually sweeping my apartment. I didn’t put it past Mercer to bug the place. Although, since he had taken my MT security card and had a full dossier, courtesy of Interpol, surveiling me might be considered overkill.
“The text you sent seemed more indicative of a full-scale as
sault.”
“What can I say? Waking up to three men in my bedroom, two of them armed, tends to have that effect on me.” He studied my expression to determine if I was embellishing. “Anyway, did you get anything useful yesterday from the school or at the precinct before the Chief thwarted our brilliant plans?”
“Like I told your pals, the school’s squeaky clean.” He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “Do you have any coffee?”
“Derek, I appreciate the rescue but go home and get some sleep. I’ll see what I can find on Santino and the Estes’ security faux pas.”
His gaze shifted toward the door and then my bedroom. “Maybe we shouldn’t be alone right now,” he suggested. “What happens if you get that urgent phone call?”
“Is my paranoia contagious?”
“Maybe I don’t want to have to rush out of the shower because of another 9-1-1 text from you.”
“Fine. You have two options. You can sleep here, or I’ll pull out the espresso maker.”
“I wouldn’t turn down a nap.”
He jotted a few notes while I converted my bedroom into a guestroom. This wasn’t ideal, but he had a point. And since Thompson was busy coaxing information out of O’Connell, there was no one left to keep me company. After Heathcliff was settled into my bedroom, I shut the door and began reconstructing everything Mercer divulged.
The more I thought about things, the more the abduction seemed to hinge entirely around Adalina Estes. The flaw in her security was perfectly timed, and she seemed to be the hostage the Four Seasons were intent on keeping. More importantly, they supplied the numerous proofs of life for her and continued to negotiate, despite Mercer’s antics. Why would they do this, instead of just making the trade, unless Adalina escaped or was killed? Then again, Catherine Cale was still missing, presumably dead.
I read through the notes Heathcliff made on Estobar Santino, the insurance company providing the ransom policy, and the defunct security providers. Dialing the OIO, I was calling in a few favors. Kate, my forensic accountant friend, agreed to look into the financials for the security firm, the insurance agency, and the Estes’ business and personal funds. All of this was on the down low. Then I spoke with a few analysts to ask if they could run a thorough check on the security firm and Estobar Santino. Someone had to be dirty.