Authors: Pamela Hegarty
Percival caught up to Donohue as the man crouched and held up a closed fist. The other two men with them had advanced to the door leading into the kitchen, somehow keeping an eye on Donohue. They stopped, crouched.
Lucia, he couldn’t wait another second. She was right there. With only Daniel. No guards in sight. This might be his only chance. He sprinted across the open lawn to the rear door of the conservatory. His legs pounded ahead so fast he nearly tripped over himself. His heart hammered in his chest. His breaths came quick and shallow. Donohue’s voice behind him, a muffled shout into the radio. “Rabbit on the loose.” What the hell was that supposed to mean? He lunged for the glass door, grabbed the lever handle, yanked it up, down, pushed, pulled. Locked. He rattled the handle furiously.
The strike force was attacking, he was sure of it. They’d be blasting in, guns blazing. Three from the east side of the mansion, two from the west. He and Donohue were to “secure” the conservatory. A shout come from the dining room, then the clash and clatter of pans falling in the kitchen. Two of the men were then to head upstairs, join up with the recon man who had entered through the balcony window and acquire the housekeeper. The men downstairs had to subdue any unforeseen guards.
In the conservatory, Lucia hugged her legs. She was crying, distraught, looking around wildly at the sounds, not able to see the scary things that could have made them. He snatched the taser from its holster. He smashed the butt of the gun into the pane next to the door latch. The glass shattered to the floor. He reached in, turned the lock and kicked the door inward. The goggles obstructed his peripheral vision, but he sensed movement behind him. Donohue pushed by him, rushing across the conservatory for the door that led into the main house. The colonel disappeared into the darkness of the interior.
Daniel, crouching, banged his thigh into the corner of the glass table. The jolt shook the laptop awake. The light from the monitor, amplified by the night vision goggles, hit Percival like a blinding beam. Lucia screamed hysterically. Percival’s eyes adjusted enough to see Daniel lunge for her and embrace her as they both stared at him in horror.
“
Lucia,” he called out. She screamed all the louder, an anguished panic. Dropping her Barbie to the ground, she clung onto Daniel. He must look like a monster. He ripped the night vision goggles from his head and reached out his arms.
“
Behind you,” Daniel yelled. He swooped Lucia off her chair and curled around her, shielding her with his back.
Percival spun around. A man burst through the conservatory door from the back yard, gun drawn. Percival raised the Taser, aimed, fired. Wires spiraled outward, hitting the man in his chest. A nauseating, electric buzz zapped through the conservatory. The man grimaced, shaking wildly, arms flailing, then collapsed to the floor. A wisp of acrid smoke twisted through the scent of citrus and peat. Percival twisted toward Lucia. She was still beneath Daniel. Thank God she hadn’t seen what her daddy had done. He swallowed hard, or, in another moment, she’d see him throwing up. He set the Taser behind a red-berried bush to his side.
Daniel looked up cautiously, his wide, frightened eyes taking in the guard lying, arms and legs splayed, unconscious. Lucia pressed her hands over her eyes.
She was all right. Everything was going to be all right. “Lucia,” he said. “I’ve come to take you home.” She slowly pried apart two fingers to peak through. He held out his arms. She pushed off Daniel’s chest and rushed into his embrace.
“
All clear.” It was Donohue’s voice, breathing hard, coming from the main house. It seemed very far away, beyond the invisible shield that Percival had mentally lowered around him and Lucia. The lights turned back on. Donohue crossed the threshold into the conservatory. Although he was decked out in black special ops clothing and gear, the man’s face softened. He began to resemble his next door neighbor again. The stern colonel blinked the moisture from his eyes as he cleared his throat. “Three armed guards,” he said. “My men have them locked away with the staff. They didn’t even put up a fight. Shock and awe works, when implemented in the right situation.”
“
Shock, especially,” said Percival, nodding to the guy sprawled on the floor behind him.
Donohue frowned. “Probably alerted by that crash when you busted through the door,” he said.
Daniel stood, brushing off his pants. He drew nearer to Donohue. “Baltasar Contreras left here just minutes ago,” he said. “We can’t let him get away.”
“
Daniel Dubler,” said Percival, “meet retired Colonel Clint Donohue, my next door neighbor.”
“
Neighbor?” Daniel asked. “Then the authorities haven’t been alerted yet?”
Donohue stiffened his stance, crossed his arms over his chest. “We needed Lucia safe before we can go after Contreras,” said Donohue. “We did what we had to do, when we had to do it. Hunter tells me you’ve been in contact with Christa. Where is she?”
“
Didn’t get caught by Contreras, if that’s what you’re worried about,” answered Daniel. “It’s a long story.” He looked pointedly at Lucia. “Not G-rated. Suffice it to say you’re going to need my help to help her.”
“
Debrief when we’re out of here,” said Donohue.
Percival offered his hand to Daniel. He had clearly misjudged the man. Daniel had protected Lucia, helped save her. “Thank you,” he said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say that came close to being adequate.
“
Let’s move,” Donohue said. He hit his radio button four times.
Percival scooped Lucia up in his arms. She felt heavier than usual, a sure sign that she was exhausted. She was uncharacteristically quiet.
Donohue smoothed back a curl from her forehead. “Kids are tougher than we know,” he said.
He nodded. He wasn’t so sure. “Come on, Lucia. Let’s get you safe.”
Daniel picked up the Barbie from the floor and handed it to her, first brushing off the doll’s hair and smoothing its dress.
Lucia pouted. “What about Mommy?”
He hugged her tighter. “Mommy will be home soon.”
“
Can you ask her when, through the computer?” she asked sleepily, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “Mister Profit let me talk to her. She’s in the rainforest again, in Colombia.”
Percival sucked in a breath. Donohue seemed to understand immediately the implication of what Lucia just told them. Contreras had Gabriella. That’s why they hadn’t been able to reach her. Donohue grabbed the computer mouse, bent to look at the monitor. It was the blank boot-up screen, asking for the user password. Donohue slammed his fist on the table. He shut the lid of the laptop, pulled out the cords connecting the power and mouse, and tucked it under his arm. “I knew this rescue was too easy,” he said. “Fall back and regroup. We need a new plan.”
Percival felt stunned. He had his daughter, safe, in his arms, but his wife was in grave danger, deep in the jungle, half a world away. He felt Daniel’s hand on his shoulder. “Percival, we’ll get her back,” said Daniel. “I have intimate knowledge of that area from our trip last summer. Trust me. Work with me. Tell me what you know. And I swear to you, Gabriella and Liam will be saved.”
CHAPTER
51
Baltasar’s Rolls Royce Phantom eased to a stop by the Hudson River pier at the World Financial Center in downtown Manhattan. Little Lucia’s innocent smile, her tender curls, teased his mind. Perhaps he should have kept her. A child that age would quickly get over missing her mother and father. It wouldn’t be long before she accepted Baltasar as her real Dad. In the next few minutes, he would be well on his way to becoming the most powerful man on the planet. He would need a successor, one whom he could mold from a young age. And it was about time that a woman ruled the world. “Have you ever thought about having children, Rambo?”
“
Yeah, that’s why I don’t have any,” Rambo answered, without a hint of mirth. The man was inscrutable.
Baltasar’s driver opened his door. The biting, howling wind sprang at him like a hungry beast from the water’s edge. He stepped out of the car, shrugged into his tuxedo jacket and straightened his bow tie. He scrutinized the mega-yacht at the far pier. It dwarfed the other yachts and pitiful sailboats in front of it. One hundred and eighty feet long and three, tapering stories high, its sleek lines looked more ominous than pretentious, something Captain Nemo might design if he wanted to terrorize the seas from the surface rather than below it. Mohammad El-qazar owned it, the shadow who controlled the finances of Saudi Arabia. He had named his ship
The Flying Carpet
.
“
There they are, Rambo,” Baltasar said, “twenty of the most powerful people on Earth, in control of the most profitable corporations and, by rote, the twenty largest national economies around the globe. They call themselves the Alliance, but not since the gods of Mount Olympus has such a league of self-styled deities held so much hatred for their peers.” They moved like shadows in the backlight of the windows that encircled the massive lounge on the yacht’s main deck, and so they were. “They are the shadow G-20, the masters who pull the strings of the public G-20 finance ministers at the banquet tonight. They work to control the world through their huge conglomerates, from media monopolies to oil cartels, causing booms and busts, poverty and prosperity, war and peace.”
Rambo skirted around the rear of the Phantom and came to his side. “If I were them,” he said, nodding to
The Flying Carpet
, “I’d shoot you the minute you walked in.”
“
That is why you, my dear Rambo, are not them,” he said. “They could have killed me with a single phone call, but their greed stopped them. They are trained not to leave money on the table, as they put it, at any deal. They thought I might still be useful to them.”
“
They kicked you out,” said Rambo.
“
They were afraid of my power,” he said. “
I love power. But it is as an artist that I love it. I love it as a musician loves his violin, to draw out its sounds and chords and harmonies.”
“
Nero?”
At least the man had recognized that what he just said was a quote. “Napoleon Bonaparte,” Baltasar corrected.
“
Before or after he was exiled to Elba?”
“
Rambo, they are not gods,” he said. “They only think they are. Indeed, they are quite vulnerable, as I shall show them.”
“
So are you. One bullet to your brain, then dump your body right over the side wrapped in a spare anchor chain,” said Rambo. “No witnesses. Even the rats have gone into hiding.”
“
Eerie, isn’t it?” He breathed in deeply. Despite the chill, a warmth tingled through his extremities. The streets were under a virtual martial law, emptied of all but the crazies and the cops. “It feels apocalyptic. I like it.”
Rambo dug his phone from his pocket, read the text. “Homeland Security,” Rambo said. “Christa Devlin is booked on the overnight flight to Phoenix. An FBI special agent is escorting her, badge said Neidemeyer. It’s got to be Fox.”
“
For once my outrageous tax bill has gone to something useful,” he said. “Homeland Security should be granted extraordinary powers. It comes in very handy.”
“
I got your private jet fueled and ready at Newark. I’ll catch Fox and Devlin, after I make sure you live through this.”
“
Why, Rambo, I’m touched that you are concerned about my welfare.”
“
I’m concerned about my wealth,” he said. “They kill you and our scheme is dead in the water.”
Baltasar grinned at the play of words. Perhaps his friend had a sense of humor after all. “They will not kill their savior,” he said. “No, my dear Rambo, you need to go after the gemstones. I’m counting on you for that.”
“
I’d feel better if I rode shotgun on this one. Nobody the wiser. Anyone with a uniform and a gun is tamping down the riots and fights. They’re conveniently overwhelmed, with all the NYPD, FBI and Homeland Security guys we got manning the perimeter around the United Nations and Trump World Tower in response to the threat against the G-20 banquet.”
“
Pity the Lux et Veritas sword won’t be presented. It was a masterful piece.”
“
It made its point,” said Rambo, straight-faced, but pausing for effect. “You wanted quiet down here tonight. You got it.”
“
If only they knew the true threat was gathering aboard that yacht just there.” The silhouettes moved in a kind of shadow play across the yacht’s windows.
“
There’s more wealth in that yacht than in the Federal Reserve down the street.”
“
And so much more ready for a substantial withdrawal,” said Baltasar.
“
I still don’t see the need to get those damn stones.”
“
Trust me, Rambo. Victory depends on it. You get the stones for me, you’ll get your riches, enough to start three of your mercenary armies, wage your own war against terror,” he snugged the cuff of his glove, “and win it. So do refrain from killing Devlin and Fox until you’ve acquired the stones in their possession.”
Baltasar started down the pier, alone, carrying only his laptop under his arm. He sensed the reptilian eyes of snipers who had trained their sights on him. The armed guards lurking in the glow of the instruments of the control room crowning the topmost deck had no doubt alerted the shadow G-20 below to his presence. They could very well be scanning him for bombs and weapons with prototype gadgetry. But something else was targeting him, even more sinister.