Seconds to Midnight Read online

  When the video ended, Kristof looked up at Lauren and then over at his daughter. “Play it again.”

  After the second viewing, Kristof leaned back. “Do we know what was jettisoned from the Boeing’s exit? Was it a person?”

  “Not yet,” Lauren said. “Though, from the data they collected, we can come very close to pinpointing where it landed.”

  “Who knows about this?” Kristof asked.

  “As far as I know, just the Galileo flight crew, the scientists on board, Montero, and the three of us,” Lauren said.

  “What’s Donovan going to do?” Kristof asked as he pushed away from the table and stood. Using his cane, he went to the credenza, selected a crystal decanter, and poured himself a drink.

  “Montero is on top of this, but as it stands, he has several options. Dad, do you know something you’re not telling us?”

  “I’m just thinking,” Kristof said as he took a small sip of his drink.

  “What do you think?” Lauren asked. “Is this woman’s warning credible?”

  “I think Donovan needs to treat it as such,” Kristof said. “Abductions are a nasty business; there are so many variables in play. She could be anyone by now. Three years is a long time—people change, or can be changed. She could be a call girl, a spy for either a government or a corporation. She could be a professional killer, a con artist, or simply someone being blackmailed. Whatever the case, Donovan needs to be very careful.”

  “I say we do two things at once,” Lauren said. “Let’s see if we can track the airplane. We certainly have the resources to start that process, but what if we also do some digging in Krakow?”

  “That’s not impossible,” Marta said. “We could pull in some contacts in Poland. We have people who go back far longer than three years.”

  “Leave it to me,” Kristof said, looking over his shoulder toward the doorway. “There are still some things an old man can do. I’ll make some calls.”

  Abigail, her long, reddish-blond hair still tousled from her nap, rounded the corner, heading straight for Lauren.

  “Hello, sweetheart.” Lauren pulled her daughter onto her lap and hugged her. “How do you feel, honey?”

  “Okay.” Abigail brushed her hair away from her eyes. “Mom, can I go help Hannah feed the horses and say goodnight to them?”

  “Of course.” Hannah was a wonderfully sweet girl from a nearby equestrian center. She was the trainer Kristof had arranged to tutor Abigail. He’d also made arrangements to temporarily board two Austrian Haflingers, Gemini and Zephyr, for the duration of Abigail’s stay. The horses reminded Lauren of a Palomino, but the Haflingers were shorter and stockier, bred for the rugged terrain in the Alps. Hannah was knowledgeable and very careful with both horse and rider. Abigail had immediately fallen in love with Zephyr. With renewed energy, Abigail flung herself off of Lauren’s lap and headed for the back door of the chalet.

  “Go,” Kristof urged Lauren. “We’ll start digging into some of these issues. It’ll be dark soon, and then we’ll have dinner.”

  Lauren followed Abigail and helped her with her boots and cap, made sure she had her gloves, and then threw on her own coat and followed her daughter out the door. Hannah waved as Abigail ran toward the stable, swerving back and forth to travel from the sidewalk through the unbroken snow covering the lawn. Lauren loved watching her daughter enjoy the snow, the mountains, and especially the horses. At six, Abigail’s rapidly expanding world mostly revolved around horses, her friends at school, and her parents. She had her own horse, Halley, stabled near their home in Centreville, Virginia. Lauren sometimes rode with her daughter, but most of the time she was just an enthusiastic spectator, amazed at Abigail’s constant improvement as a rider.

  Behind the chalet, the terrain rose gently, and snow-covered trees surrounded several beautiful meadows. Ultimately the rolling hills gave way to the mountains that jutted skyward into the magnificent Austrian Alps surrounding Innsbruck. The sunshine mixed with the brisk late-afternoon air seemed like a kiss from the heavens, and Lauren breathed deeply as she heard her daughter’s laughter roll from the stable. The peaceful moment was interrupted by the chime of her phone—a text from Donovan. She quickly thumbed to the page.

  I’ll call as soon as I can. We’re about to land in Minneapolis.

  Love, Donovan

  CHAPTER SIX

  WITH DONOVAN WATCHING over his shoulder, Michael taxied slowly, glancing back at the Galileo’s wingtips as he followed the lineman’s directions until they were parked next to the hangar. Though Donovan knew it was only twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit outside, it was going to feel warm after Northern Manitoba.

  Michael shut down the engines, and Donovan checked the cabin to make sure everyone was ready. As far as customs knew, they’d departed Minneapolis the night before and hadn’t landed anywhere else, so technically they’d done nothing more than overfly Canada. No inbound clearance or inspection was required. Donovan lowered the airstair down to the ramp. He motioned for Samuels and Yates to deplane ahead of him. They’d all made their plans on the flight. Samuels was going to the Marriott to sleep. Yates would be staying with friends. They all agreed to meet in the lobby of the Marriott that evening prior to going to the airport.

  After the science team departed, Donovan motioned for one of the linemen to join him at the top of the stairs.

  “Yes, sir, what can I do?” the young man asked.

  “Would it be possible for you to bring my rental car around to the plane? It’s a black sedan parked in one of the crew slots just to the left of the main lobby.” Donovan handed him the keys. “We had a passenger get pretty airsick today. She took some Dramamine and she’s been out since.”

  “Sure, no problem.” The young man grabbed the keys and hurried off.

  “Are you sure you have this?” Michael asked as he climbed out of the cockpit.

  “Yes. I have all the instructions from Montero and she’s on her way here. You and Rick get some rest. I won’t bother you before five o’clock. If anything urgent comes up, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Donovan heard a car door slam. His rental car was now sitting, running, at the bottom of the stairs. He went back to where the woman lay in the cabin. He lifted her and carried her through the cabin and down the stairs. As the lineman opened the passenger door, Donovan placed her into the front seat of the car. He fastened her seat belt and closed the door. He handed the lineman a twenty-dollar bill, thanked him, slid behind the wheel, and slowly eased the car away from the Galileo toward the gate.

  Donovan had memorized the directions Montero sent, and minutes later, he merged into traffic on Interstate 94 west. He followed the blue signs off the highway and finally wheeled past the emergency entrance of Methodist Hospital, coming to a stop in an empty parking space. He ran around to the passenger door, slid the woman from the car, and raced through the sliding doors, cradling her in his arms.

  “Through here!” A man in scrubs opened a door and motioned toward a gurney.

  “She said she wasn’t feeling well,” Donovan said in a rush as he laid her down. “I’m not sure what happened. She just blacked out. Please help her.”

  Another man in scrubs and a nurse wheeled the gurney into the emergency room and into a stall. They immediately drew the long curtains to block the view. Moments later, a woman rushed toward the room, but not before she shot Donovan a curious once-over look.

  “Excuse me,” a woman’s voice said from behind him. “I need you to follow me, please. There’s paperwork we need to get started. Have a seat in here and someone will be with you shortly. May I have your name please?”

  “Mr. Gregory,” Donovan said as he gave her the name of an alias.

  As Donovan sat in the waiting room, he tried to guess how many of those in the circle of chairs were patients and how many were friends or loved ones. He was too amped up to sit and read a magazine so he pulled out his phone and started sifting through e-mails and checking the latest news.

&n
bsp; He looked up when a different woman walked in and called his name. She led him to an open cubicle. He took a seat across from her desk and pulled out his wallet.

  “My name is Francie and I’m with admissions,” she said as she slid on reading glasses that had been hanging around her neck on a gold chain. She nudged her mouse to bring her computer screen to life and then looked up at him. “Okay, first, I need the patient’s name.”

  “Diane,” Donovan said, and Francie looked at him, waiting for more. “That’s all I know.”

  “What is your relationship to the patient?”

  “We’re friends,” Donovan said.

  “I see,” Francie said as she let her glasses drop. “Do you know where the patient lives? Did she have a purse?”

  “I’m not sure where she lives. St. Louis Park? Does that sound familiar?” Donovan stuck with the script Montero had provided.

  “I’m going to need to see your ID.”

  Donovan had switched wallets in the plane. At Montero’s insistence, he always traveled with a separate identification, complete with driver’s license, credit cards, insurance and prescription cards, as well as pictures of a wife and child that bore no resemblance to the ones he actually had. He slid his driver’s license out of its slot and handed it across.

  “Mr. Gregory, is this your current address?”

  “Yes,” Donovan said, though the address didn’t actually exist.

  Francie made a copy of the license and handed it back to Donovan. “Will you be taking care of the patient’s medical expenses?”

  “I’m happy to cover the costs.” Donovan glanced down at his hands and then back up at Francie. “Not through insurance, though. Is there a way to keep all of this quiet?”

  “I see,” Francie said.

  A door opened behind him and he heard footsteps coming his way and turned. It was the woman he’d seen earlier, the one he assumed was a doctor.

  “Francie, I need to ask this gentleman some questions.”

  “Of course, Dr. West. Mr. Gregory and I can finish when you’re done with him.”

  “Mr. Gregory, come with me, please.” The doctor turned and walked down the tiled hallway.

  Donovan followed, noting that not once did the doctor check behind her to see if he was still in trail. Donovan guessed she was in her early to mid-forties, attractive, slender. She moved quickly, the purposeful stride of someone who was comfortable and in charge. Her straight brunette hair was pulled back into a pony tail that swung back and forth as she pushed through a set of doors and kept walking.

  “Where are we going?” Donovan asked as they went through another set of doors that led into the emergency room. She remained silent and continued until they came to the bay where they’d taken the woman. She opened the drapes and held them open for Donovan, then slid the drapes closed behind them.

  Donovan saw the bed was empty and turned to face the doctor. “Where did you take her? Is she going to be okay?”

  “I’ve seen a hundred men your age bring in their young unconscious girlfriends. What drugs did you give her?”

  “I didn’t drug her,” Donovan said. “She’ll confirm that. Where is she?”

  “All of her symptoms point to a dose of some type of narcotic. I sent her for an MRI to rule out any head injuries,” she said as she pulled out her buzzing phone, clearly annoyed at the intrusion and brought it to her ear. “Yes?”

  Donovan watched her frown get deeper as she turned and made eye contact with him.

  “Seal off the hospital,” she said. “Find her, we can’t let her leave.”

  Moments later, the overhead speaker announced a code green in radiology. “What’s happening?” Donovan asked.

  “An emergency in radiology.” Dr. West yanked the curtain open. “It’s where I sent your friend.”

  “Which way?” Donovan asked.

  “You need to stay here.”

  Donovan ignored the doctor and rushed from the room. He spotted a sign that pointed toward radiology and began running. He charged through the double doors and found himself in a small seating area. Just beyond, a group of people were leaning over a figure on the floor. Through the gaps, Donovan caught sight of the patient, a woman with a similar frame as the woman he’d brought to the hospital. He could tell from the movements they were attending to the woman’s head, applying a compress. Donovan finally glimpsed the woman’s face, and despite a large bandage on her forehead, he realized she wasn’t the woman from the lake. He heard a woman in scrubs describing what happened to another nurse.

  “There was a commotion in the unit; I saw a panicked woman in a hospital gown run from the room. No one saw where she went after that. One of the techs found this woman lying half naked outside the changing room.”

  Donovan turned away and stepped out into the hallway. If the woman had fled, she’d need a place to change from her hospital gown before she could get out of the hospital. He spotted a set of restrooms and moved toward them. As he approached, he heard a noise from the women’s room, and when he reached for the handle, the door to the men’s room opened behind him and something solid slammed into the back of his head. Donovan dropped to his knees as he felt another blow. He fought for control of his thoughts and his body, but in the end, he collapsed facedown on the floor and closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DONOVAN’S HEAD ACHED. He opened his eyes and looked at his watch, surprised to find he must have dozed off. Two hours had passed since they’d escorted him to the emergency room and given him a bed as they examined the bump on the back of his head. Beyond the curtain, he heard Montero’s voice. Her tone told him she was angry, and making no effort to hide the fact.

  “We’re leaving,” Montero said as she threw open the curtain and breezed into the space. She motioned for him to get up and follow her.

  “Thanks,” Donovan said as he gathered himself and they walked out. There were three security guards posted in the outer room, which was most likely the audience that Montero had just addressed. One guy in particular caught Donovan’s eye. He appeared smitten by Montero, and his eyes followed her as she left the room.

  “Don’t say a word until we’re outside,” Montero said as she led the way to the elevator. Donovan could tell she was fully focused on their problems. In this state, she was all about results, and her determination was one of the traits that he respected most about her.

  They burst out of the hospital into the brisk late-afternoon air. A breeze whipped through the parking garage, and Montero hurried toward her rental car, unlocked the doors, and got behind the wheel. Donovan lowered his still throbbing head to brace himself against the chill and slid into the passenger seat. She cranked the engine and turned up the heat, but made no move to put the car into gear.

  “Thanks for getting me out of there,” Donovan said. “Did you find out anything at all about the woman?”

  “I didn’t see any of this coming. I anticipated some momentary suspicion with you bringing a Jane Doe into the emergency room, but I fully expected the woman to wake up and at least recognize you as the man who saved her,” Montero said. “No one saw who hit you, so it could have been the very woman you saved. Who is now missing, along with any details of her threat. Turns out, as we feared, she’s a total mystery with a serious set of escape and evade skills.”

  “The hospital’s security tapes,” Donovan asked. “Did she leave alone, or did she have help?”

  “I don’t know what the tapes show. All they told me was that you were no longer a suspect in any crime. I did talk to Dr. West. She is certain that the woman was drugged and thinks her meds wore off. When she woke up in the MRI, she freaked out. She assaulted the woman who was changing clothes and fled in her clothes and stole her purse. By now, she’s somewhere in the Upper Midwest with at least an hour and a half head start.”

  “We need to see their security footage.”

  “To them, we’re strangers off the street. They’re not going to share.”

&n
bsp; Donovan waited, sensing that Montero probably wasn’t finished.

  “Everyone’s attention was fixed on the poor woman on the floor. I think our woman from the lake is a pro. You don’t needlessly kill people or make a bunch of noise unless you have to. Confusion and misdirection are the earmarks of someone who knows what they’re doing. Think about it. In a matter of minutes, she woke up in a strange place, a different country no less, and found clothes, an ID, perhaps cash, credit cards, and access to a car. I’d call that pretty damn resourceful.”

  “Is there a way to piggyback off of the hospital’s search? Maybe play nice with the security guy who has a crush on you?”

  “I figured you’d notice that.” Montero pursed her lips. “He was cute, very knowledgeable, and impressed by my taking down a terrorist organization.”

  “Ancient history,” Donovan said. “I believe the question was, can you use him for information?”

  “Probably,” Montero said. “I already have my guy in Florida running down everything there is on the woman who was attacked: address, credit cards, phone, you name it. We’ll have it as fast as the police can get it, maybe sooner, since we operate without red tape.”

  “That’s a start,” Donovan said. “How was Jesse?”

  “Whatever you said to him seemed to make a difference. He was uncomfortable, but all business. He carried himself well and looks like he’s in good shape. Let’s say I’m cautiously optimistic. When we were at the Minneapolis airport, he stowed the equipment he brought from Norfolk aboard the Galileo. We can talk about all of that later. I did grab your briefcase and suitcase. They’re in the trunk. Your Sig is there as well.”

  Montero’s phone buzzed in her pocket. In one fluid motion, she glanced at the screen then slid it to her ear. She mouthed to Donovan that it was her guy in Florida. “What do you have?”

  Donovan watched Montero’s face fall and her expression crumble. She squeezed her eyes closed as she listened. It seemed to take all of her effort to control her emotions as she acknowledged to the caller that she understood. When she ended the call, her hand dropped in her lap and she sat motionless.