To Catch a Thief (22 page)

D
AKOTA DROVE
with cool precision, edging the Land Rover over quiet back roads like a native. Nell didn't want to think about leaving as her head slanted against his shoulder.

His fingers opened on her thigh. He turned his head, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Then the expression in his eyes faded and the distance returned.

Nell searched for the same distance. “Am I allowed to know your schedule today?”

“Izzy wants me to take one last set of photos at the castle. He has an idea he wants to try that uses texture mapping for 3-D image generation.”

Nell didn't follow, but that was expected.

“Izzy will be coming to meet you before I leave.” Dakota glanced at his watch. “It's going to be tight, Nell. My chopper is waiting.”

She nodded, her heart too full for speech. Fear gnawed at her as she thought of what lay before him.

But Nell forced the fear away. Instead she thought about the tiger curling over his shoulder. Tough man, tough tattoo.

Nell would be tough, too. She closed off her fear. If any man could survive, Dakota could.

F
OURTEEN MINUTES LATER
,
Dakota walked along the castle's gray walls, taking pictures with a heavy white camera. When he was done, he checked the unit and slid it back into his bag.

Nell had to give him one last reminder. “Remember to clean your climbing shoes once you reach the point of ascent. Any mud or grit from the water will ruin your grip.”

“Check.” Dakota glanced down as his cell phone rang. “Teague, where are you? Fine—we'll meet you there.” Dakota put away his phone and stowed his camera bag in the backseat. “Change of plan. Izzy will meet us at the pub back in the village.”

“Great. I could use a cup of tea.”

When they reached the village pub, Nell paced outside, trying to be calm. The last thing Dakota needed was for her to have a case of nerves just as he was ready to leave.

“I've programmed your phone, Nell. Dial four for Izzy if you need him.”

“I'll remember.”

“He's supposed to
be
here now.” Dakota glanced up the road, looking irritated.

“Look, Dakota—my stomach is pretty upset. I'm going inside to the ladies' room in the pub. Maybe your friend will be here by then.”

“He'd better be,” Dakota muttered. He scanned the narrow lanes nearby and a field dotted with sleepy sheep. “Go ahead. I'll be right there.”

Nell followed a sign to the side entrance of the pub and was halfway down the narrow back corridor when she heard an eager voice behind her.

“Nell? I can't believe I
found
you.”

She turned at the familiar sound, amazed to see her climbing partner's clear hazel eyes and lanky frame. “Eric? What are you doing here?”

“Trying to find
you
. Look, I'll explain everything, Nell, but first the good news.” He gave her a high five. “I just got a huge endorsement offer, six figures for only three climbs. Can you believe it?”

Nell fought her queasiness, rubbing her stomach. “Great. But why—”

“They want two climbers. Male and female.” He squeezed her shoulder. “So, what do you say?”

“I—of course, Eric. But—”

He cut her off, jamming his fingers through his hair. “I know how busy you are, so I'll give them a tentative date.” He glanced out the window, frowning. “Our daughter's asthma has gotten worse and the medical bills—well, I
need
this gig, Nell. I need it bad or I wouldn't have bothered you.”

“I can squeeze in a climb. But Eric, how did you find me?” He took her arm gently, but Nell pulled free. “No, I want some answers.”

“Sorry to bother you like this, Nell. It could make all the difference for me.”

He looked tired, she thought. He had lost weight, too. “Eric, what's wrong?”

His eyes flickered over her shoulder. Something closed in his face. For a moment, Nell thought it was guilt.

“I'm sorry, Nell,” he whispered. “So damn sorry.”

“Why—”

She felt a slight sting at the back of her neck, then the jab of a needle. She whirled, one hand in a fist as a man caught her shoulders tightly. She tried to scream, but only a cracked groan emerged as the drug hit her system.

Her hand clenched, sliding into her pocket. She felt the outline of her cell phone and fumbled until she found the speed dial. “Eric, what—”

Already her words were slurring. Her legs seemed too heavy to move. “What—what was in the—the syringe?” She struggled to force out her words. “
Tell
me.”

“I had to help them, Nell. But they won't harm you. They just want information. It's the government, you know. They needed me to watch you for them. Something hush-hush.”

“Shut up,” the man said flatly. “Tell her nothing.”

“W-watch me?” she rasped.

“For three months. Even before Scotland.” Her old friend and climbing partner leaned closer, his voice a whisper. “I saw you that night in San Francisco. The men who followed you into that alley weren't part of this. I promise you they weren't.”

“
Shut up,”
the other man snapped.

Nell swayed. Her partner's voice seemed to come and go.
Stupid
, she tried to say, her gaze slipping to the deserted field and small service road behind the pub. The sky seemed to fade into gray as the two men pushed her through the door, out toward the grass that bordered the road. When she tried to fight, her knees gave way and they pulled her behind them.

“They promised me, Nell. You won't be in any danger.” There was desperation in her partner's voice, as if he was trying to convince himself it was true.

Nell couldn't seem to hear anything more. Her hands shook and the cell phone dropped somewhere in the grass.

Another prick at her ear.

The ground tipped hard.

Cold fingers caught her as she fell.

D
AKOTA GLARED
at the side door of the pub, then looked back at Izzy. “What is taking her so long?”

“Couldn't tell you. Sometimes women need time for whatever it is they do.” Izzy crossed his arms, watching two sheep wander past a little stone fence.

Dakota checked his watch, then strode toward the side door. He heard a plane overhead and the quiet hum of a passing truck.

No screams. No reason for the sudden prickling at the back of his neck.

The corridor inside was empty. He knocked on the bathroom door and called Nell's name, then looked inside.

The bathroom was empty.

D
AKOTA SPRINTED
back outside, checking the parking lot while he waved to Izzy. “She's gone. Damn it, she was
here
four minutes ago.”

“I'll look inside.” Teague was already moving. “Check the far side of the building.”

Everything looked normal until Dakota came to the back service entrance. He bent down, frowning at the marks of three pairs of shoes in the grass.

One of the prints belonged to Nell.

Beside the print he saw the glint of metal. Her cell phone was still open, and he lifted it carefully, scanned the LED screen and saw that a call was in progress. In seconds he was listening to the muffled, recorded message left on her own voice mail.

Her voice sounded thready and anxious.

“Eric, what was in the syringe…”

Another voice came, this one male. “I had to help them…”

Eric. Her climbing partner.

“Teague, over here.”

Dakota scanned the nearby fields. Two furniture trucks lumbered past, half hidden by a tall hedgerow. He jumped the small stone wall as Teague emerged around the side of the pub.

“The furniture trucks.”

“I'm on it.” Izzy looked down as his cell phone rang. “Yes, sir. Lieutenant Smith is on his way. He'll be at the chopper in ten minutes.” He snapped the phone shut. “I'll find her, Dakota. You need to catch that chopper.”

Dakota watched a red dairy van turn at the far side of the square. “Teague, she must be—”

Izzy pulled out a Sig Sauer. “Let me do my job, Dakota. You go do
yours.
”

Dakota watched him jump in and gun his black Range Rover, fishtail onto the road and race after the furniture trucks. Nell had to be close. He could feel it.

And he had to leave her.

Because the mission always came first.

Fury warred with every feeling. His hands fisted.

And then, though it was the hardest thing he'd ever done, he buried his feelings, grabbed his gear bag and pulled out his keys.

Izzy had forced the two furniture trucks off the road and a police car siren was just sounding in the distance as Dakota drove away to meet his chopper.

A
S THE OPPOSITE
corner of the village, a Federal Air truck moved down a long lane hidden by hedgerows. The driver knew his orders.

The woman's motionless body was hidden beneath a neat layer of baskets and freshly cut flowers. Every box was tagged and invoiced for delivery to a luxury flower shop in London.

Nell's climbing partner appeared to be asleep in the front passenger seat. A single blow to the head had halted his stammering protests.

The driver drove without haste. He was to dump the American man, bound and gagged, at the bend of the river ahead and continue north to meet his waiting transport.

He would be in Scotland with the woman before noon.

“W
HAT DO YOU
MEAN
she's not there?” Dakota had been sidelined while the military pilot made preparations for takeoff, checking gauges and completing final paperwork.

Fighting anger, he tried to work through scenarios of what could have happened to Nell. “I saw her, Izzy. It can't be more than ten minutes ago. She said she was going inside for tea.”

“They must have been waiting nearby. Maybe they triangulated the cell phone call she received and were watching the area.” Izzy's voice was clipped. “She started recording a message and dropped the phone, which was damn smart. It was Eric, her climbing partner. He'd been watching her for several months, even during your climb up in Scotland. He could be reporting to Gonsalves, or someone working for him. Her father might have had second thoughts, or maybe they want her expertise for the auction. She's a one-stop shop for conservation assessment or authentication of the painting.”

“Get her back,” Dakota said harshly. “I don't want her anywhere
near
that auction.”

“Working on it. I've got people at every major intersection between here and the airport in Hastings.”

“The chip,” Dakota said. “Her transmitter should still be in place. Why can't you bring up a signal?”

Silence.

“Talk to me, Teague. Damn it, that transmitter was checked out. Ryker said it could withstand direct immersion in water, electrical short circuits and temperature spikes. Why can't you track her?”

“There's no need to yell,” Izzy said quietly.

“Who's yelling?” Dakota saw the pilot turn and stare at him oddly. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “If anything happens to her—”

“It won't. I won't let it. And her chip signal stopped at the same time she vanished. Hold on.”

Dakota heard muffled voices, and Izzy returned. “One of my people reports that a truck driver saw Nell speaking to someone. By the description, it was Eric Burson. She walked out into the parking area with him, a Fed Air truck pulled up, and when our contact glanced back Nell was gone. That's as much as we have. I've got an alert out covering this area and all Fed Air trucks will be stopped. The bad news is that they could have some kind of radio frequency and electrical shielding for their vehicles. We know the Koreans have come up with a powerful portable system.”

“Which would explain the loss of her chip signal once she was inside the truck.”

But Dakota wasn't thinking about electrical shields or Korean electronics. All he wanted to know was that Nell was safe. He glared at the helicopter, torn between duty and emotion, every soldier's frightening scenario come to life.

He couldn't think about Nell. If the October 12th terrorist group bankrolled thirty-five million into a secret offshore account, there was no telling how many more people would die in bombings and kidnappings. But he couldn't walk away without assurances either. “Teague, she's…” He took a sharp breath. “She's in my life now. Find her.”

“I'm on it. Repeat, I
will
track her down. Meanwhile, your orders remain operational. Is that clear?”

Dakota's jaw locked. Fury seethed up. But then he closed down, the way he had to close down.

He knew the facts. No one could do a better job of tracking Nell than Izzy would. Dakota didn't like it, and his mind and being rebelled, but the soldier took charge and forced the man aside. “Understood. I'm boarding now.” His voice hardened. “Keep her away from that auction, Teague.”

“That's a roger, Navy. I'm on it.”

Teague didn't make promises lightly. He would deliver, Dakota knew.

All he could do now was climb aboard the chopper without looking back.

J
ORDAN
M
AC
I
NNES WOKE
with the taste of blood in his mouth. When he tried to sit up, every muscle screamed as if he'd been kicked for a few hours.

Not kicked. Hit with a Taser.

Groggy, he inched onto his side. Images of Martim Gonsalves's remote security device flashed through his muddled mind. What had happened to send the man into a fit? Had the worker really been an embedded spy? And if so, for whom? Brutal and paranoid, Gonsalves had decided to strike first and ask questions later.

His stomach roiling, MacInnes fought his way upright, bracing his back against cold stone. He was in some kind of cell, his hands cuffed. Water trickled nearby.

He heard a small movement and saw a glint of light. A door creaked somewhere beyond his range of vision, and a man peered in, shining a light across the narrow cell.

Jordan saw that there was nothing else in the space. No bed, no chair. No way to escape.

“Let me out. I need to speak to Mr. Gonsalves. I—”

The man walked away without any sign of interest.

MacInnes closed his eyes, sagging against the rough stone wall. They'd taken his shoes and his belt and his watch. He didn't have a clue how long he'd been unconscious. Thankfully he'd hidden his cell phone before he'd gone to see Martim or he'd be dead now.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the outline of a second cell across from his. A dark form lay unmoving on the floor.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Can you hear me?”

There was no answer.

Ignoring the burning pain in every muscle, MacInnes struggled to his feet. He reached along the iron bars until he felt the outline of the lock.

Solid metal. With time, he could pick it, but he had no idea when his jailor would return. His fingers moved through the darkness, then closed around the heavy metal chain woven in and out through the steel bars.

No time.

Leaning over, MacInnes began to cough violently, his body rigid. It was easy to make the sound realistic, easy to appear as if he was choking because his pain was real. So was the blood that he coughed up. Quickly, he pried off the porcelain cap at his left molar.

When the outside door opened again, he was huddled in the corner, shaking, struggling to breathe. “I n-need to see Martim.
Now
.”