Authors: Kim Baldwin,Xenia Alexiou
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Suspense, #Lesbian
No one was there. She released the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
It was an office, with a cluttered desk, a small TV, file cabinet, and coffee maker. She searched the desk for an invoice or anything to help determine her location. No help there, but she was alone, at least for the time being. Time to call Luka.
She pulled out the cell phone, the one the woman had been using, she realized, and dialed Luka’s number. When Luka answered, she kept her voice low. “It’s Hayley. I’m in a shitload of trouble, and I can’t talk long.”
“Where are you?”
“I was kidnapped. I’m in DC. I can see the monument in the distance, and I’m surrounded by factories, but that’s all I can make out. I’ve got a gun, they might find me any minute. They’re supposed to turn me over to somebody tonight.” She knew she was ranting, but her time was limited.
“Hayley, listen to me. I’m coming to get you. Try to breathe,” Luka said. “Are you on a cell phone?”
“Yes. It belongs to some woman named Jack. Oh, she was talking to someone, her boss, I think, when I woke up. The number should be in her list of received calls. I’m going to put you on hold so I can get to it.”
“Don’t call it!” Luka said. “Get the number and read it back to me.”
The most recent received call, in fact, the last several calls, read private number. It wouldn’t display the number of the caller or allow a callback. She checked the list of dialed calls, too, with the same result.
Fuck.
“No luck. They all say private number. I don’t think there’s any way to retrieve it.”
“Keep it turned on,” Luka said. “It’ll help me locate you. Hide it wherever you have to but keep it on. And Hayley, just in case, clear the list of dialed calls so they won’t know you contacted anyone.”
“Okay. I’m going to try to get out of here,” she said. “Should I call 911 first?”
“No. It’s not safe. Wait for me. I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay, Luka. I’m going to hang up. I’m afraid someone might hear me.”
“Be careful.”
“Hurry.” She ended the call, cleared the list, and shoved the phone in her pocket.
“Hey,” came a male voice from her right. “What the hell?”
Hayley had taken her eyes from the doorway for only a second, and she hadn’t heard him approach, but suddenly a man stood there, the guy who’d subdued her at the marina—as shocked to see her as she was to see him.
But she had her gun out, and he didn’t. Yet. He started to reach for his, so she brought hers up in his direction without thinking, gripped it with both hands because she was shaking so much, and fired. Twice.
She wasn’t aiming at any particular body part, simply trying to shoot before he did. The first shot missed, but the second hit him in the leg and he went down. The wound wasn’t serious enough to keep him from being a threat, but he was no longer as intent on getting his own gun out as long as she still pointed hers at him.
“Don’t move.” She kept both hands on the gun as she edged toward the door. He was blocking it, so she couldn’t give him too wide a berth, but he remained still as she passed by because she kept the gun trained on his head.
“Very slowly now,” she said once she got to the door, out of reach, “take your gun out and slide it over here.”
He silently did as she instructed, and she picked up the weapon and stuck it in her pants before she bolted down the hall and through the door.
She ran headlong into Jack and a third man, running to investigate the shots she’d fired, and she had no time to react. They subdued her easily, retrieved both guns and the cell phone, and returned to the interrogation room just as the guy she’d knocked out was coming to.
After Domino hung up, she searched for transportation. In the secluded corner of a Metrorail parking lot she switched license plates on two cars, then hotwired a Toyota Corolla, a very popular model in the greater metropolitan area.
Her next step was to track Hayley, and for that she needed help. She couldn’t return to her home or the surveillance apartment, so she didn’t have the equipment she needed. If Pierce’s number was blocked, he would have instructed everyone in the EOO not to contact or acknowledge her. But hopefully one person would ignore that order. Mishael Taylor, another ETF. They had been brought into the EOO at the same time, been in the same classes and grown up together. And though personal attachments of any kind had been discouraged, hopefully their bond would transcend loyalty to the Organization.
She tried Mishael’s private number, which forwarded to voicemail.
Damn
. “It’s Luka. I need a favor…as a friend. Call me from the office, ASAP. Don’t let them know I’ve contacted you. They have this all wrong, Mishael, and I need to make it right.”
As Jack retied Hayley’s hands and feet, the guy she’d hit over the head glared at her with a boy-do-I-wish-I-could-kill-you look. Through the open door, Hayley could hear the man she’d shot cry out in pain, then the sound of approaching footsteps. It was the guy who’d helped Jack end her bolt for freedom.
“Dennis says he thinks she was on your phone when he walked in,” the man reported.
Jack took out the phone just returned to her, checked the menus, and frowned. “Dialed numbers have been erased,” she said, more to herself than him. “Who did you call?”
Hayley remained silent.
Hurry, Luka. Hurry.
“I said,” Jack repeated, clearly at the end of her patience, “who did you call?”
“I didn’t,” Hayley said. “He came in as I was about to.”
“She’s lying,” one of the men said.
“No shit,” Jack said wearily. “Undo her feet. We have to move her, fast. Cops may be on their way. Let’s go.”
It took ninety minutes for Domino to get the callback from Mishael.
“What the hell’s going on?” her friend asked.
“I’m not certain, but I need your help to find out.”
“I sure hope you know what you’re doing,” Mishael said, “because they’re—”
“I know.” She was heading back to the car. “I’ll explain later. We don’t have time. I need you to locate a cell phone through the GPS. The last call received on my number.”
“It’ll take a few minutes. Was the ID concealed?”
“Yes.”
“Hang on. I’ll hack into your provider, then find and hack the caller’s ID.”
“They’ll be able to track this phone call as well,” Domino said. “You need to delete our conversation from the record.”
“Give me some credit, will ya? Have I given you the impression I’m looking for that kind of excitement? Hold on a minute. Okay, let’s see. Here it is. The cell’s IMEI number and the card’s SIM are registered to a Jaclyn Norris.”
She started the engine and pulled away from the curb. “Locate it.”
“I’m on it.” Mishael hummed off key. “Bingo,” she said. “Can’t give you an exact location, Luka, the signal’s too weak. Too much concrete in the area. I can get you within a quarter mile or so.” She gave Domino the street names.
“Thanks, Mishael. I owe you.”
“And don’t you forget it. Be careful.”
She disconnected and sped toward the area.
It took more than a half hour to reach an industrial district, full of factories and warehouses, all of them apparently closed for the holiday. It fit Hayley’s description, but Domino couldn’t tell exactly what building she was in.
She drove slowly up one street and down the next, seeking a clue.
They blindfolded Hayley when they moved her but didn’t take her far. In five or ten minutes they stopped again. One guy holding each arm, they led her into another building, tied her to a chair, and left her alone, still blindfolded.
Then all was silent, giving her too much time to think and an eternity to be afraid. Could Luka find her, now that they’d moved her? She should’ve called 911. Who was coming to pick her up? And what did they plan to do with her?
After another two and a half hours she got her answer. By that time, fear had blossomed into terror, and her hands and feet were numb from the bindings.
The door opened, then closed. Someone approached, though he didn’t speak right away, as if studying her. “Good evening, Miss Ward,” he said at last, with a chillingly friendly tone. “You’ve been a very busy woman since I sent you that tape, haven’t you?”
“Who, what, where, when, why. Always the reporter,” the man replied. “But not today. Today I get to ask the questions.”
She jumped when his hand touched her shoulder.
“How did you find David Rabinowitz? Did you get his name from Detective Vasquez?”
He knew about Vasquez. Her alarm increased.
Did he kill Manny? Just for talking to me? Jesus
. “He was on a list of names and numbers in a case file of Manny’s,” she replied. This man obviously knew quite a lot about her already. “I called a lot of them. I don’t know why he’s so important to you. I don’t know anything,” she said, unable to keep desperation out of her voice.
“Who else have you told about Rabinowitz?”
The distinct sound of duct tape being pulled from a roll came from her left. He placed something against her stomach and her panic ramped up, especially because she couldn’t see.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re on
who
, not
what
,” he replied calmly. “Who else have you told about Rabinowitz?”
He pressed firmly against one of her shoulders, then the opposite hip. The sound of more duct tape being ripped filled the silence, then he pressed against the other shoulder and hip. He was taping something to her—something hard—against her stomach. Rather large.
Damn this fucking blindfold.
“No one,” she said. “I haven’t talked to anyone except this ex-cop called Manny Vasquez. And he didn’t tell me anything.”
“And he certainly won’t be telling you anything now, after his unfortunate accident,” the man replied cryptically, as he pulled off more tape. Then he moved behind her and pushed her to lean forward, and she could tell he was wrapping the tape around her middle. So tight it squeezed her if she tried to take a deep breath.
“What about Luka Madison? You didn’t tell her? She was the one who helped you out of the motel, wasn’t she? Who is she?”
Fuck.
He knew about Luka. But apparently not that she was connected to the EOO. Something about the man’s speech niggled at the periphery of her awareness. He sounded vaguely familiar. But she knew he wasn’t David Rabinowitz. His voice had been much higher, with a trace of New York.
“Someone I’ve been dating. That’s all. She’s no one,” Hayley said. “I haven’t told her or anyone else about this. I promise if you let me go, I won’t tell anyone this happened. I won’t go to the police.”
“No. You won’t be telling anyone about this. Not the police. Not the EOO. Not anyone.”
The ominous declaration redoubled her fear.
“Time for the
who
, Hayley.” His hands fumbled at the back of her head, untying the blindfold.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Senator Terrence Burrows. Not only was his face splashed across numerous magazines and newspapers every other week, but she’d interviewed him once, had been impressed with his clear vision of where he wanted to go and his determination to get there.
She remembered thinking at the time how much alike they were.
Burrows didn’t look like the typical presidential candidate right then, however. In place of his ever-present, perfectly pressed blue suit, he wore blue jeans, a T-shirt and windbreaker, and baseball cap.
Hayley had barely digested this information when she glanced down at her stomach and saw what he had taped there.
A bomb.
“Holy fuck!” In a blind panic, she fought desperately at her restraints, kicking and pulling at the tape.
“Stop that.” He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed so hard she winced. “You don’t want to upset the bomb and start the fireworks early, do you?”
The words froze her in place. “You son of a bitch,” she shouted. “Why? I’m no threat to you, Senator.”
He ignored her as he untied her from the chair and stripped the tape off her ankles so she could walk. Then he yanked her to her feet with a firm hand on her elbow. From a duffel bag at her feet, he withdrew a woman’s jacket, pulled it around her, and snapped it shut to hide the bomb. Finally, from his pocket, he withdrew a small remote control, black plastic with a single red button in the center. “See this? If you try to run or do anything foolish…well, I think you know what’ll happen. Now, let’s go. We have an important appointment, and we don’t want to be late.”
“Where are you taking me?”
He tugged her along, out of the small windowless room they were in and down a hallway. Jack and her goons were nowhere in sight.
“I knew you’d get to the
where
about now,” he said. “Patience, Miss Ward. All your questions will be answered soon.” They came to a steel door, and he paused there to look outside before proceeding.
She had lost all sense of time, but she could see it was fully dark.
“You’re going to meet the objects of your quest,” he said as he put her into the passenger seat of a car waiting outside. The old, battered Buick wasn’t at all the type of car she would expect the leading candidate for the presidency to drive. He’d planned this all very carefully, she realized, and was making sure he didn’t attract any attention. Not that there was much chance of that. They were still in the warehouse district with its deserted streets.
As he started the car, he turned to her with his polished politician’s smile, and she realized he was actually enjoying this.
“Do you know why I picked you to take those bastards down?” he asked. “You want the inside story, don’t you? I thought you, of all candidates, would understand I won’t let anything stand in my way. Do you understand?
Nothing!
”
His voice grew louder and his up-until-now calm demeanor cracked. “I’ve paid all my debts to these people. I’ve worked too fucking hard to get where I’m going, and I know you of all people appreciate hard work. The hunger and drive for success. You see, Hayley, you and I, we’re the same. Get the job done, no matter who or what. I liked that about you when we met. That’s why it had to be you. I knew once I sent you the tape you wouldn’t let go of the story until you had something. And I was right. But you took a direction you shouldn’t have.”
“Listen, I don’t care about your involvement, whatever it is. Please let me go.” Tears streamed down her face, but Burrows didn’t seem to be listening. “I don’t care about the damn story.”
“That really doesn’t matter anymore, Hayley.” He was suddenly calm again, and this Jekyll-and-Hyde thing terrified her even more. “After tonight, nothing and no one will stand in my way.”
He was quiet as he maneuvered through mostly side streets, devoid of heavy traffic, heading out of the city. They drove for a half hour or so, until they came to a single ten-story building on a stretch of lonely road. It looked abandoned. The nearest possible help was a convenience store a mile or two away.
The parking lot near the building held one car, and they pulled up beside it. From that angle, Hayley could see one light on the fifth floor.
“We’re here,” the senator said. “Don’t move.”
Hayley was terrified, but didn’t see any alternative but to comply.
Burrows threw his duffel bag over his shoulder, then came around to her side and pulled her from the car. She allowed him to lead her into the building.