Seconds to Midnight Page 5

  Donovan waited. He’d seen Montero endure a great deal in the years he’d known her. He knew her to be a woman of tremendous determination, drive, courage, and strength. He was also one of the few who knew her human side. With Montero’s strength came considerable passion, and whatever she’d just heard was so bad she had to struggle to keep herself together.

  “Talk to me,” Donovan said quietly. “I’m here.”

  “My contact at Interpol, Anna. You’ve heard me talk of her?”

  “Of course. She’s the woman whose life you saved years ago, who then started to help you.”

  “I spoke with her this morning after I heard from you. Since we initially thought the jet was registered in Saudi Arabia, I sent her the photographs and prints you sent.” Montero didn’t make any effort to avoid the first tear that escaped and trickled unchecked down her cheek. Her voice wavered as she continued, “She was just found dead in Prague. She’d been tortured before she was killed.”

  Donovan understood that this was one of the worst things that could happen to Montero. She’d had a rough upbringing, and her life could have taken many wrong turns, but she was lucky, she had options and ended up on the right path. When she was still with the FBI, she began working with battered women’s shelters in South Florida. Once she left the Bureau, she expanded full-time into helping at-risk women, as well as missing and exploited children. For Montero to lose someone she’d helped was devastating.

  Montero blinked and more tears rolled down her face, but then she sniffed and popped the trunk release. “Get your gun, we’re leaving.”

  “What are we doing?” Donovan asked, unprepared for her sudden change in behavior. “I have a rental car in the emergency lot.”

  “Leave it, we’ll call them later,” Montero said. “We need to get to work. If Anna is dead, we have to assume that whoever killed her knows about the woman who was rescued by Eco-Watch, and they also know we’re in Minneapolis. They may even know we’re in the hospital parking lot. We need to go. Now.”

  Donovan wasted no more time. He ran to the rear of the car, collected his briefcase, and slammed the lid closed. He slid back into the passenger side, and Montero pulled out of the lot. Moments later, they were speeding toward the hospital exit.

  “We’re in trouble,” Montero said. “The woman’s warning is real, and we can assume they’ll come for us, all of us.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “SO, WHAT DO we think about these developments out of Minneapolis?” Kristof asked as he took a sip of his red wine and selected a tool to poke the last of a dying fire.

  They’d finished a late dinner when Lauren had gotten a phone call from Donovan. She could hear and feel the frustration in her husband’s voice as he described the woman escaping. What she couldn’t gauge was Donovan’s reaction to the news about the murder of Montero’s source inside of Interpol. The three of them gathered in the great room, and she shared what she’d just learned.

  “She certainly has some skills to make her escape the way she did,” Marta said. “But honestly, anyone with even the most basic military training could have pulled that off. It wasn’t all that impressive.”

  “I agree,” Kristof said. “Though I find the fact that her first instinct was to flee, and use brute force in the effort, more telling. She woke up in a hospital, in a country she couldn’t have expected, and didn’t ask a single question before deciding to run.”

  “It sounds to me like someone who is clearly terrified, which coincides with the warning she gave Donovan from the very beginning,” Lauren said. “When you connect her actions with the murdered informant in Prague, perhaps she has every reason to be scared.”

  “We certainly have to tie the two together,” Marta said. “What is the media in Minneapolis reporting?”

  “Donovan said it’s somewhat contained,” Lauren said. “They’re saying that a person was assaulted at a local hospital. No mention if the assailant was an employee, a patient, or a visitor. It’s vague enough at this point that we can be cautiously optimistic that it doesn’t point a finger directly at anyone.”

  “We need to look at the broader picture,” Marta said. “Someone, somewhere, has an overdue jet on their hands. What’s aboard the jet? Is it people? Cargo? Who are they, where are they, and what are the people at either end going to do about it?”

  “What are you suggesting?” Kristof asked, prodding the logs again, causing a shower of sparks to float upwards.

  “Is there anything in the Eco-Watch arsenal that would allow us to watch the lake?”

  “No, not really,” Lauren said. “That part of the world isn’t a threat, so to task a satellite is out of the question, and even if we planted surveillance gear, the solar storm has already disrupted communications that far north.”

  “What have you heard from William?” Kristof asked. “Has he gotten back with you yet? I’ll feel better when he’s in the loop about recent events.”

  “No, and I’m not sure why,” Lauren said with a shrug. “He’s usually so good at returning calls. I’ll try again later. I have another question, and I don’t mean to pry, but one of the subjects that Donovan brought up was the status of our security here?”

  “You’re not prying, and I understand his concern. His wife and daughter are here, and he wants to make sure you’re safe,” Kristof said. “The chalet is protected by a total of twelve armed men. You’d never know, or suspect, but I own the house next door, which is actually my security headquarters. It’s specially outfitted with state-of-the-art surveillance systems, and at any given moment there are four men on duty, twenty-four hours a day. There are no other properties on the street, and as you know, it dead-ends up the hill. I own the property behind the chalet all the way to the foot of the mountain and for three miles in every other direction. Any vehicle traffic is monitored far in advance of arrival at the chalet. You’ve already seen the safe room downstairs. There is also a tunnel that leads to a similar space next door. So, as you can see, I believe we’re well protected. My men have orders to stay out of sight, especially with you and Abigail here, but they’re there, and ready to protect all of us.”

  “Thank you,” Lauren said. “I had no idea. I lived with round-the-clock protection for a time, and I grew to hate it.”

  “When was this?” Marta asked, leaning closer, curious.

  “I don’t talk about it often, but three years ago, Donovan and I were separated for a while. I took Abigail and moved to Paris. I had friends within Mossad that provided twenty-four-hour security.”

  “Ah, yes.” Kristof nodded. “Donovan explained to me about the events that brought Montero into your lives. There was all of that ugliness with the attempted terrorist attack on Washington. I can see how you garnered your ties to Mossad. I’m sorry, continue.”

  “Abigail and I were in France, Donovan was in Virginia working. Yes, after the failed terrorist attack, Mossad decided that we needed their protection. It all went fine until we were attacked in Paris. Stephanie VanGelder, one of my closest friends, was visiting from London. Kristof, you know Stephanie, right?”

  “Of course, William’s niece—she’s like a sister to Donovan. When he was at Oxford, I saw her often and I even had a momentary crush on her. She had the good sense to avoid me and all of Donovan’s other unruly friends.”

  “So, Stephanie and I were in Paris, and Donovan was getting threats, so we were at least warned that we might not be safe. I had a bad feeling, and we were in the process of leaving when the attack came. It started in a department store, and after a running gun battle, we escaped by car to a rooftop pickup point. We barely got out via helicopter. It was the first time I met our friends, Trevor and Reggie; they’re both former SAS. In the end, my entire security detail was killed protecting us—it still haunts me to this day.”

  “I had no idea that was you,” Marta said, wide-eyed. “I know of that attack. We all read of the chase through the streets of Paris and the daring helicopter escape. You’re one of the fe
w who ever survived being targeted by Nikolett Kovarik. I met her once, years ago in Budapest. She didn’t know who I was, but she was clearly a dangerous psychopath. Wait, did you kill her?”

  “No, someone else did.” Lauren shook her head and immediately changed the subject. “My point to all of this is that I don’t want anyone else sacrificing their lives to protect Abigail and me, and I don’t want to make the two of you a target of any kind. Maybe I should think about leaving?”

  “Nonsense, you’re not going anywhere,” Kristof said. “This threat affects us as well. Marta and I both know Trevor, and we think highly of the man. As for Reggie and his team, does Abigail know these men?”

  “She knows Reggie.” Lauren dabbed at the unexpected tears that had formed from her telling of the events in Paris. “After the fire-fight and we were safely aboard the helicopter headed low and fast out of Paris, Reggie calmly produced a red lollipop and gave it to Abigail. That single act of foresight and tenderness helped Abigail, at least for a moment, put aside the trauma she’d witnessed, and it won me over forever.”

  “I’ll make you a promise,” Kristof said. “If we have to leave, or if the threats escalate, we’ll reach out to these men for additional help.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Marta said as she got to her feet to give Lauren a comforting hug.

  “Thank you,” Lauren whispered.

  “I’m off to bed,” Kristof announced, and clutched his cane for support as he rose. “You ladies sleep well, and we’ll talk at breakfast. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Dad,” Marta said.

  Lauren got to her feet and gave Kristof a hug. He patted her affectionately on the back and then limped out of the room. Lauren turned to Marta. “I didn’t upset him by bringing up Trevor and Reggie, did I?”

  “No.” Marta shook her head. “Quite the opposite, not that you needed to, but I think you earned a great deal more respect with him this evening. I know you did with me.”

  “That wasn’t my intention.” Lauren sat down and reached for her wineglass. “Being married to Donovan Nash came with a steep learning curve, and most of the time I’m still working to catch up. I’ve been in situations I never expected, or could even have imagined. I mean, I’m a scientist, a housewife, not a spy. The most thrilling thing in my life before meeting Donovan was riding through hurricanes in airplanes.”

  “That sounds pretty thrilling—and now?”

  “There doesn’t seem to be a limit. I’ve had to learn how to defend myself with a gun. I’ve killed people. I’ve lived through two airplane crashes, as well as a helicopter crash. Like we talked about earlier, I survived the assassin Nikolett Kovarik, and it never seems to end. I keep thinking that somehow things will settle down, go back to some semblance of normal. Whatever I thought my life was going to be has changed completely. Even I don’t recognize it sometimes. My worst fear is that Donovan and I will finally get everything figured out, we’ll get to this place we both talk and dream about, and the moment we do, something will change, and it’ll vanish.”

  “Tell me about that place.”

  “I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s a distant future where Abigail’s grown up, she’s found and hopefully accepted her unique place in the world, she’s surrounded with people who love her, and maybe she has children of her own one day. We’ll lose William eventually, as well as my mother, and I dread when that happens. But someday, Donovan and I will retire, and be together all the time, and hopefully be content. I want us to look back and feel that we did the best we could. I guess it’s the thought that one day, short of death, there can be peace.”

  “Let’s hope that happens, but until then, don’t forget that you’re one of the most capable women I’ve ever met.” Marta raised her glass toward Lauren. “If you want something, you’ll find a way to make it happen.”

  “Thank you.” Lauren smiled. “I’m very lucky to be surrounded by good people.”

  “Some incredible people. I mean, Donovan is fearless, and Montero is a force to be reckoned with. I sometimes can’t believe that I know her, that she’s a friend,” Marta said. “What she did to stop one of the boldest terrorist attempts in history is legend. I know Donovan played a huge part as well, but Montero became famous after what she did—she’s amazing.”

  “Montero is one of a kind, and I know she thinks highly of you, which is significant, coming from her. Marta, I can’t tell you how nice it is to be able to talk freely to another woman, especially one who found herself in a situation completely beyond her making, and then thrived.”

  “Thank you, I feel exactly the same way about you. As you can see, there’s a considerable lack of female friends in my life.”

  “But not a lack of male company, I gather.”

  “What are you talking about?” Marta said.

  “It’s just a hunch, women’s intuition,” Lauren said, sensing she was right.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Marta said. “Not yet at least.”

  “He’s not married—is he?” Lauren decided to press. “Do I know him?”

  “It’s been a long day,” Marta said. “I think I’ll turn in.”

  “Very well,” Lauren said. “So much for getting Archangel to reveal a secret. Just remember, I’m your friend. You can trust me, and I’m here if you need to talk.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “HOW DID SHE sound?” Montero asked, the moment Donovan got off the phone with Lauren.

  “She’s good, concerned, but good. The thing about my wife is that she needs a little time to process all of the data before she formulates a final opinion. We both know how smart she is, so this processing doesn’t take very long, but it needs to take place. It’s then that I fully understand what she’s thinking. It’s frustrating at times, but always worth the wait.”

  “That’s a perfect thumbnail summation of one of the most complicated women I know,” Montero said.

  Donovan watched Montero take the exit off of Excelsior Boulevard and loop onto the expressway that would take them toward downtown Minneapolis. She was in her zone, her eyes shifting to each car that she passed and then darting to the rearview mirror. He knew that if you asked her to close her eyes and describe the vehicles in play around them, she could not only recite the make, model, and color, but also the number and gender of the occupants, plus the license number of any she was concerned about. She had decided to head downtown so they could quickly respond in any direction if they heard anything about the location of the mystery woman.

  Montero’s phone rang and she glanced at the screen. “My guy in Florida. I’m going to put it on speaker.”

  “Hello, are you there?” a male voice asked.

  “I’m here,” Montero said. “I’ve got you on speaker. I’m with my boss. What’s up?”

  “I was able to access the hospital security system. I have all of their video files. I’m sending you two of the screen captures. The woman in question left in the company of two men, and they departed the hospital parking lot in a black Chevy Suburban.”

  “Did she leave voluntarily or by force?” Montero asked.

  “It’s impossible to tell for sure, but I think one of the men is armed. Based on body language alone, my hunch is she was taken against her will.”

  “Thanks,” Montero said. “Anything else?”

  “I’m still working on Prague. I have all available sources scouring the world for any leads. You’ll be the first to know if I find something.”

  “Thanks.” Montero disconnected the call without taking her eyes from the road.

  Donovan didn’t miss the fact that Montero had winced at the mention of Prague. “Are you okay?”

  “Quit asking me that.” Montero handed her phone to Donovan. “Take a look at the security camera shots he sent and tell me what you see.”

  Donovan took the phone and brought up the first attachment. He studied the image; it was taken from high up in the hallway with the field of view aimed at a doorway.
<
br />   “What is it?”

  “Part of the woman’s face is visible, turned upward toward the camera. If she’s such a professional, why look up at the camera? There are two men, medium to large build, one on either side of her. The guy on the right is wearing a coat that seems at least a size too large, and I can see what looks like the barrel of a pistol poking down from his sleeve. There’s no way to know if she’s being kidnapped, or walking away with friends.”

  “Her looking at the camera is the tip-off,” Montero said. “I think she’s being kidnapped. I wonder if the reason she went off at the hospital was that she realized she was in danger, and then maybe these guys showed up. What’s the second picture show?”

  “It’s the parking lot. The Suburban doesn’t have any stickers or markings that I can see. There is a partial license number, it’s a Minnesota plate, but another car is blocking the view. We’ve got nothing. How did they get so far ahead of us on this one?”

  “Prague,” Montero said. “Whoever killed Anna knows who this girl is and wants her. They had several hours to put something in motion. They could have been waiting for you when you landed, followed you from the airport to the hospital, and then grabbed the girl.”

  Donovan’s phone rang. He saw it was Michael.

  “Donovan, I know it’s not quite six o’clock, but I’m awake and wondering what you had in mind for tonight?”

  “I lost the woman,” Donovan said. “We think someone forcibly took her from the hospital.”

  “So, she’s on the loose?” Michael said. “I say you and Montero get to the airport, and we get out of this place as fast as possible. Let’s go somewhere and regroup.”

  “You get to the airport and start getting the Galileo ready to fly. Montero and I will be there as fast as we can.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Put on enough fuel to fly us back up north. We still need more reconnaissance. We can talk about the rest when we get there.” When Donovan glanced at Montero, he saw a new look of concern in her eyes. He disconnected the call.