Nautier and Wilder (26 page)

FOURTEEN

J
ed entered the restaurant where Carla had allegedly used her credit card. He flashed
his I.D. and asked to speak to the manager, then reviewed the video surveillance of
everyone who’d been at the restaurant during the time period her card had been swiped.

No one matching her description had eaten or had a drink there. The person using the
card was a middle-aged woman with sunglasses and brown hair. She’d worn a scarf, but
made no effort to hide her face from video surveillance. She’d stopped at the bar,
had a cocktail, used the card and left.

But it wasn’t Carla. She had the same build and hair color, but it wasn’t Carla.

He’d called Grange, who reported the same thing at the retail store where her card
had been used. A woman with the same type of description had bought two blouses, used
the card and left the store.

“So two women fitting Carla’s description both use her card for small purchases, make
no effort to hide from video surveillance then leave,” Jed said. “Smells like a setup
to me.”

“Agreed,” Grange said. “It’s like someone wanted us to go on these wild-goose chases.
Why?”

It hit Jed right away. “To separate us from Elena.”

“We need to get in touch with Pete right away. We have to warn him. I’ll meet you
at the helicopter pad.”

Jed broke speeding records on his way to the helicopter pad. When he got there, his
heart fell to his feet. The look on Grange’s face was grim.

“What?” he asked.

“Pete’s not answering his phone. And I can’t get in touch with the copter pilot. I’ve
made arrangements to get another helo here pronto. ETA is thirty minutes.”

When every second counted, thirty minutes just didn’t seem fast enough.

Jed paced, ran his fingers through his hair, watched the sky and paced some more,
trying to formulate a battle plan. While he walked in one direction, Grange went in
another, neither of them saying anything to the other. When Jed heard the whir of
rotor blades, he almost yelled in triumph. As soon as the helicopter landed, they
were airborne again and heading to the island.

He hoped they would find the other helicopter standing by and Pete waiting for them
with an explanation of cell trouble.

His hopes were dashed when he saw the helicopter gone and no Pete standing there wondering
why the hell there was another helo landing on his island. Because if Pete were able,
he should be waiting there with a gun in his hand ready to fire on an intruder.

Grange and Jed pulled out their weapons and ran through the jungle.

“I’ll take the right, you take the left. Shoot anybody that isn’t Elena or Pete.”

That was Jed’s plan anyway. By the time they got to the house, Jed already knew Elena
was in deep trouble. Maybe they were connected in some emotional way, because he knew
she was gone. He didn’t feel her nearby.

She wasn’t in the house. Neither was Pete.

“We tear this island apart,” Grange said.

Jed was right on his heels as they moved through the island with precision, looking
through the jungle, checking trees, bushes or anyplace Elena could be held. When they
broke through the clearing and saw the other house, Jed looked at Grange.

The front door was partially open.

“Supply house,” Grange said. “And Pete always keeps it locked.”

Jed lifted his weapon as they pushed the door open. It was cold in there.

The main room was clear, so they went in through the next room, a hallway leading
to other doors. They checked each door, which was locked. Jed kicked them in one by
one.

When they got to the one with the cell, he turned to Grange.

“I never saw this room. Only the main supply room. Pete told me the others were electrical.”

Grange walked in, picked up the blanket, saw the simple cot, and then the clothes.

“Carla. Sonofabitch, he’s had Carla all this time.” Grange picked up the cot and threw
it across the room. “Fuck, all this time and I never knew.”

“Why?” Jed asked.

“I was supposed to relieve him that day in Beirut so he could pick up Dina. I was
delayed, didn’t get off in time. If I’d relieved him, he would have picked her up
and she wouldn’t have been at the embassy when it was bombed.”

He lifted sorrow-filled eyes to Jed. “I had such guilt over that, but Pete said he
never blamed me, that there was nothing I could have done differently, that it wasn’t
my fault. He had lost his wife and he was consoling me. Turns out all this time he’d
been waiting for this moment to get his revenge.”

“Why wait until now?”

Grange shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe he was hoping I’d get married, then he’d
take my wife away like his was taken away. Only I didn’t. I had a career, never got
around to finding a wife. So maybe he got tired of waiting and he figured he’d take
the two most important people in my life—my sister and my niece.”

“Jesus, Grange, he’s one disturbed bastard.”

“There’s not even a window in here. And it’s fucking cold. How could he do this to
her? Who knows how long she’s been in this room? I’ll kill him for making her suffer
like that.”

Grange started forward, but Jed stopped him. “General, I know you’re in charge of
this mission, but you’re not thinking with your head right now. Frankly I don’t give
a shit what you do to this guy when you find him, but if you go out there without
putting a plan together, you might lose them both. And I don’t intend to lose Elena.”

Grange stopped, sucked in a breath and nodded. “You’re right. We need a plan.”

“The first thing we have to do is figure out where he took them.”

“Helicopter. They need a flight plan, and radar may have picked them up. We’ll hit
that first.”

They ran back to the house and Grange made some calls. They pulled up area flight
radar while Grange got them connected.

“Helicopter took off south. He’s headed out of the country. I’ve got our pilot firing
us up and ready to track him, plus military jets on the way to intercept if he’s still
in flight.”

They packed up duffels of firepower and were on the helo in fifteen minutes, in touch
with the military trying to track where Pete’s helicopter had gone.

“We’re in luck. He’s still in the U.S. Small island off the coast of the Florida Keys,”
Grange said. “We’re going in hot and heavy. Not sure if he’s there alone or he has
help. He’s amassed a lot of money doing mercenary work over the years. He’s made some
friends in low places, too. This might get ugly.”

Jed was heavily armed and just pissed off enough to put a bullet through Pete’s head
the minute he saw him, and ask questions later. “Understood.”

“I wish we had time to bring a bigger team in. I’ve called in a few favors, so we’ll
get some backup, but I don’t know when that’ll be. There’s no police jurisdiction
where we’re going, so right now it’s just you and me.”

“I’m ready for whatever he’s got, General.”

He hoped Pete was unprepared for the hurt Jed was going to rain down on him. Because
Pete had his woman and his woman’s mother, and that meant he was going down.

* * *

Elena hoped that not only Pete burned in hell, but also the pilot who’d helped Pete
drag her and her mother out of that refrigerated room and onto the helicopter. She
hoped he was paid really well, though she doubted the money would do him any good
when he rotted away in some prison somewhere.

Pete had cuffed them, chained their ankles together and tossed them onto the helicopter,
then flown them somewhere south and landed on yet another godforsaken uninhabited
island, where he’d dragged them off the helicopter, again with the help of his minion,
and locked them in the bedroom of a house.

This house wasn’t as ostentatious as the last one. It was smaller, less fancy and
far less spacious. Not that she cared since they were still stuck out in the middle
of nowhere. And chained.

Her mother had cried out when they’d been taken out of the room. After so many weeks
in the dark, the sunlight had played havoc with her eyes. Elena had told her to keep
her eyes shut tight. That, coupled with the chains around her ankles, meant her mom
kept tripping and falling as they were dragged to the helicopter. Pete, finally disgusted,
threw her over his shoulder and carried her. When they landed on this island, he told
her mother if she didn’t get out and walk, he’d shoot her and leave her on the deck
of the helipad.

Elena’s mother somehow managed to squint and walk to the house, but she was crying
now because her eyes burned so badly. She needed medical treatment.

Elena swore she’d find a way to kill the sonofabitch for all the torment he’d caused
her mother.

She wished she could help her mom take a shower. She said the only thing she’d had
access to was water, soap and a washcloth. She craved a shower and a long, soaking
bath. But with them being shackled up like this, she couldn’t even have that.

Elena sat on the edge of the bed while her mother slept. At least this bed was more
comfortable than the cot her mom had been forced to sleep on for so long. And it was
warmer here. Her mother slept soundly, no doubt exhausted and likely malnourished.
She’d lost weight, her dirty clothes hanging loose on her much smaller frame.

Elena raised her cuffed hands and swept them over her mother’s hair.

She’d resented her mother for so long, had ignored her, had tried so hard not to be
like her. Now she’d do anything to save her.

Elena’s hand brushed something metal. She slid her fingers into her mother’s hair
and pulled out one of those thick hairpins and smiled. Her mother was always sticking
those things into her unruly curly hair to keep it away from her face.

Then it hit her. She dipped her fingers into her mom’s hair again, searching, and
found another pin.

She stared at the two pins in her hand, then at the handcuffs, and grinned, remembering
the lessons she’d been taught long ago.

She straightened the hairpin, then bent down and worked at the lock holding the chain
at her ankles. She slid it into the hole and began to work it around. After about
fifteen minutes she’d worked up a sweat and had gotten nowhere, so she opened the
second pin and used two of them, forcing patience when all she wanted was for this
damn thing to—

The lock clicked open. Oh, my God, it worked. She resisted the urge to pump her fist
in the air and squeal. She pulled the lock off and removed the chains, then set about
on undoing the handcuffs, which were a lot easier to pick than the lock. She had those
off in a few minutes, climbed off the bed then set to work on the lock at her mom’s
ankles.

Her mother stirred and sat up, her eyes still shut. “Elena?”

“Shhh, Mom, stay quiet.”

“What are you doing?”

“Picking these locks with your hairpins.”

“What? How can you do that?”

“I had to amuse myself somehow when you dragged me over to Paco’s when I was a kid.
Some of his friends taught me how to pick a lock.”

She sighed. “The influences I exposed you to as a child . . .”

The lock released. “Have come in handy. Let’s take a look at those handcuffs now.”

She had her mother out of the cuffs within ten minutes.

Hope lit a flame inside her. She helped her mother to the side of the bed so she could
get her bearings, then stood to look around the room. The windows were barred, so
no way out there. She went into the bathroom. Same thing with the windows. She went
back into the bedroom and opened the closet door, looking for anything that would
help her get them out of there. She rummaged through the racks of clothes hanging
there, then bent down and pushed aside the boxes of shoes.

Her breath stopped when she saw the bright red numbers and the countdown on the black
box tucked in the back of the closet.

That looked an awful lot like a bomb. And the clock was ticking down. Time left was
a little over sixty minutes.

She sucked in a shaky breath and gently shut the closet door, turned to her mother
and kept her voice calm.

“We have to get out of here before Pete comes in and realizes we’ve gotten free. How
are you feeling?”

“A little weak, but I can handle it.”

“How are your eyes? Can you see anything?”

Her mother tried to open her eyes. “Light hurts still. I’ll manage. I’m ready to get
out of here and go home.”

“Me, too.” She was going to have to try the door, which she figured would be locked.
She took her mother’s hand and led her to the door, tried the knob.

It turned.

“Door’s not locked.” Why should he when he had the bomb in the closet?

Bastard.

She turned to her mother. “Stay very quiet, and be ready to run like hell. Don’t let
go of my hand.”

Her mother nodded, squeezed her hand. “I love you, Elena. I’m sorry.”

Elena pulled her into a hug, tears welling in her eyes. “Nothing to be sorry for.
And I love you, too, Mom.”

Her first priority was getting her mother as far away from the bomb as possible. That
was their best chance at survival. The second option was to find a phone so she could
call for help. She knew Grange and Jed would be tearing the world apart searching
for them.

That gave her comfort. They’d find her and her mom. In the meantime, she’d do whatever
it took to get them out of there and away from that lunatic Pete. She had to get her
mother out of this house and now.

She inched the door open and peeked out. The room they were in was at the edge of
the hallway. She could see a living area and kitchen. Two men holding guns were in
the kitchen having a beer and staring out the open back slider toward the beach. No
sign of Pete.

“Stay here,” she whispered to her mother, and inched out of the room, wanting to take
a look around the edge of the wall.

They were right at the front door. If she could somehow get past those men in the
kitchen, or if the men would go outside, she could grab her mom, get out of the front
door and make a dash to freedom. She didn’t know how big that bomb was, but if they
could clear the house, maybe they’d be okay.