F-Stop (12 page)

“I think the men you saw in the yard, Lissa, are just workers on the place,” Mari told her. “Not part of the guard detail.”

“I’m just trying to figure out who worked with the cartel on this. Someone had to set us up, feed them information.”

At that moment they heard wood rattle and the door slammed open. Pedro pointed his gun in a semicircle around the room, making sure he could see everyone in there.

Everyone did their best not to react but he frowned, as if he’d caught them at something. His eyes raked each person from head to foot.

“I hope you haven’t been plotting anything here,” he said. “There is absolutely no way for you to escape. You will do as I say until…whatever.” Eli stepped forward. “Until what? I want to know where we are, what you want and how long you plan to keep us. And who’s behind all this.” He clenched his fists. “I demand to see him right now.”

“Demand, huh?” Pedro laughed, a derisive sound, then without warning reversed the rifle and slammed the butt into Eli’s stomach. He doubled over, pain shooting through every nerve in his body, barely able to keep from throwing up.

“Eli! My god.” Sydney hurried over to him, trying to help him.

“I’m okay,” he told her in a choked voice. “Don’t say anything.” But he knew his wife and saw her look up at the man looming over her. “You didn’t have to do that. Why did you hit him?”

Pedro slapped her, a big ring he wore slashing open the skin on her cheek.

“Shut up or you could get worse.” He looked over his shoulder. “Bring the stuff in.

They won’t give us any trouble.”

The same man who had brought them things before carried in another tray filled again with bottled water and more tortillas. Pedro motioned for him to set it on the floor, then leave.

“We’ll be back for your next big video scene very soon,” he told them, then spat on the floor. “Clean yourselves up.”

The door slammed shut and the bolt dropped into place. Lissa, crying silently, went to help with her father. Mari wet the community handkerchief and cleaned Sydney’s face as best she could.

No one said a word but they were all aware that things had suddenly gotten worse.

And maybe they wouldn’t get out of here after all.

The situation in San Diego was a disaster.

Mike landed at the private airport the Wrights used, taxied up to the terminal and told the man who came out of the adobe building they might only be there for a couple of hours. The man had just finished putting blocks behind the wheels when a man whose badge indicated he was the airport manager came running out to them.

“I monitored your incoming comm,” he said. “Which one of you is D’Antoni?” Mike stepped forward. “I am. What’s the problem?”

“You the one who called here checking on the Wright International plane?” Mike nodded. “What’s the problem?”

Mark came up to stand quietly next to him.

“We just got a call from a man who says he’s the chief pilot for Wright,” the manager told them. “Doesn’t sound too good, I’ll tell you.”

“What did he say?” Mark prodded impatiently.

“Yesterday when he and the copilot left to go into town for lunch their car was waylaid, they were kidnapped and drugged. Apparently they’ve been stashed in some motel and the drugs wore off just a few minutes ago. As soon as they finish the gallon of coffee they ordered to clear their brains, they’ll catch a cab back here. I told them you were coming in.”

“What happened to their car?” Mark asked.

The manager shrugged. “They have no idea. But they gave me the name of their motel. It’s about fifteen minutes from here.”

“They should be here any minute then. What happened yesterday anyway?” The manager shoved his hands in his pockets. “I wish I could tell you. The plane landed, the Wrights took off in one vehicle waiting for them, their security people in a second one and the pilots took care of stuff with the plane. They expected to be wheels up by two thirty.”

“And?” Mike prompted.

“And no one ever came back. I got a call from a man who said he was the chief pilot telling me there had been a change of plans and to tie down the plane overnight. So that’s what I did. I didn’t think anything was wrong until I heard from you this morning.”

“Mike? What about the dead bodies?” He could hear the distress in Kat’s voice.

“Are you going to call the man from the police department and tell him we’re here now? Arrange to meet with him?”

“What dead bodies?” the manager asked. “What’s going on here?” Mike gave him a brief recap of what they knew. “We’re assuming it had something to do with the Wrights’ disappearance.”

“Disappearance?” The manager widened his eyes in shock. “Is that what’s going on? Jesus, the last we saw of them, they were headed to the waterfront for lunch.”

“Mike?” Katherine tugged on his sleeve and he took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

“I’m on it, kitten.” He looked at the manager. “Do you have the car I called ahead for?”

“Yes. It’s on the other side of the building. The keys and paperwork are in my office. Come on. I’ll get you fixed up.”

As they all started toward the building, a cab came barreling through the gate and pulled up to the building. Two men in rumpled clothing with a day’s growth of beard jumped out of the cab, paid off the driver and hurried up to them.

“Are you the pilots for Wright?” Mike asked.

“Yeah,” one of them answered, slightly belligerent. “Who are you?”

“Mike D’Antoni.” Mike held out his hand. “Phoenix Agency.”

“Jack Williams.” He indicated the man with him. “This is Pete Miller. Can someone tell us what the hell is going on?”

Mike introduced everyone in his group and gave the two pilots a concise version of what he knew.

“My sister is Mr. Wright’s assistant,” Kat added.

Recognition lit Jack Williams’ eyes. “Mari Culhane is your sister? She’s one sharp lady.”

“Thanks. I’m worried sick about her and what’s happened.” Mark began shepherding everyone into the building. “Let’s go inside and pick up the vehicle,” he said. “Then we need to meet the cop we spoke to.”

“We could use some more coffee too,” Jack told them. “I think we need a lot of caffeine to wash away the residual effects of whatever they gave us.”

“Okay. Let’s just get moving here.”

The pilots repeated their story for him, not a complicated one. The initial stretch of road from the airport into town was fairly light on traffic. A van had pulled up next to them at the first stoplight, a man had jumped out, smashed the driver’s window with a gun and forced him to open the doors. That’s all they remembered until they woke up in the motel.

“They needed to keep you out of the way long enough,” Mike mused. “I guess they gave you an extra dose of whatever it was just to be sure.” It took only a few minutes to sort things out. Mark called Detective Aaron Wagner who told them where to meet him.

“We need to check out the plane, then find another motel,” Jack Williams told them.

“Can we exchange cell numbers so we can keep in touch?”

The process took scant minutes, then Mike hustled everyone into the silver SUV

waiting for them and headed toward the city. Beside him, Kat was checking her cell phone again, scrolling through missed calls, deleting several. Who in the hell was making her so tense? What problem was she avoiding? Surely whoever it was could be dealt with in one call and be gotten out of the way.

In the seat behind him he could hear Mark talking to Pelley, asking if he’d found out anything, then repeating the conversation with Ryan Post.

“Nothing,” he told them all. “Pelley says he can’t reach anyone who’s heard from Wright and Ryan Post is trying too hard to make us think he cares.”

“Didn’t Andy say there was bad blood between brother and sister?”

“Yup. I told him to dig up more about it.”

Before they’d gone another mile Mike’s cell phone rang.

“It’s Andy,” he told everyone, reading the caller ID. “Maybe he’s got something for us already.”

Mark reached over the back of the seat. “Here, let me take it. You’re driving.” He held the phone to his ear. “Okay, Dragonslayer. What have you got? Uh-huh. Uh-huh.

No kidding. Yeah, keep on it. Okay.”

“What’s up?” Mark asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Andy managed to hack into not only the business systems of the people we told him to but also their laptops. If they’re on the internet Andy can find them. Interesting news item. All three men—the brother, Pelley and Rand Prescott—just got a video email from an anonymous source. It’s encrypted but Andy says it’s a simple code and he should crack it in no time.”

“Can he tell where it came from?”

“Not yet,” Mike said. “Whoever’s doing this has a pretty sophisticated setup so it will take him some time. First he’s going to work on opening the email. He knows that’s highest priority.”

“Interesting that all three of those men would get an email from the same source,” Mike commented. “Kind of makes me think I was right, that they’re all involved somehow.”

“Or else someone wants us to think they are,” Kat pointed out.

“More interesting that neither Post nor Pelley said a word to me about it when I called them just now. You know it had to have something to do with the disappearance.”

“How long before Andy can find out what the message said?” Kat asked.

“He’s working on it,” Mike assured her. “But we know something’s happening.

We’re not standing still.” He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “Let’s meet Detective Wagner and see what he has to say.”

* * * * *

Brent Fontaine jammed his cell phone back into his pocket and took his place in line at the airport gate. Damn that bitch anyway. Who the hell did Katherine Culhane think she was to avoid him that way?

She should be damn grateful he took an interest in her. Spent as much time with her as he did. Telling him it was over infuriated him. Women didn’t walk away from Brent Fontaine.
He
walked away from
them.

Now he had to waste his time on this stupid business trip when he really should be tracking her down. Showing her what happened to women who pissed him off. And brushing him off at a party in front of his friends? That was a big mistake on her part.

She’d pay for humiliating him that way.

He’d just have to take care of business in San Diego as quickly as possible and get back to tracing her movements. He hadn’t yet hired a private agency but he would if he had to.

No one
got the best of him. Ever.

* * * * *

Rip played the video on his computer one more time before punching in the familiar phone number.

“Okay, what’s next? If we’re going to call the FBI, we have to decide the appropriate person to do it.”

“I think you know who that should be,” Nando said. “I leave it to you to guide the others in the proper direction. And if no one else mentions the FBI, then you bring it up.

Remember, we want everyone to act as naturally as anyone would in this circumstance.

And you want the call to go to the FBI’s San Antonio office.”

“Not San Diego?”

“No. Let the SA office call them and get them involved. That’s the last place the Wrights were seen, right?” he reminded him.

“Yes, yes, yes. All right. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Tell the others to set their cell phones to vibrate. You do the same. There’s no telling where any of you will be when a call comes through.” Five minutes later the three men were on a conference call, deciding who should do what. It was easy enough to lead them in the direction he wanted. They were all very careful. If any outsider happened to overhear them, they’d have been convinced that every one of them was equally shocked and upset by the turn of events. If one of them had advance knowledge, it wasn’t in any way evident.

The discussion about the FBI took less time than Rip expected. And deciding on who should make the call was a no-brainer. As Rip pointed out, there was really only one logical person.

* * * * *

Special Agent in Charge Anthony Delaware knew this call was one he had to handle himself. Eli Wright was an international figure. When something happened to him, it was global news. In less than thirty minutes he was sitting opposite Ron Pelley, expressing his concern and asking probing questions.

Pelley spread his hands out. “What I told you is all I know, Agent Delaware. I got the cell phone call, then received the video email on my computer and called you immediately.”

“And you had no idea anything was wrong?” Delaware persisted. “No clue of any kind? You weren’t concerned when you didn’t hear from your boss?”

“I didn’t necessarily expect him to call last night. I knew he and his family and Miss Culhane would be busy getting settled in.” Pelley shrugged. “There wasn’t anything urgent demanding his attention.”

“We need to make some arrangements right away,” Delaware told him. “They’ll contact you again and we have to be ready for that. I’ll want to get someone out here now to put a trap and trace on your cell and your computer.” Pelley raised his eyebrows. “Can you do that with a cell? I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Yes, if we have the phone in our possession, which in this case we do.”

“I can’t imagine who would do something like this.” Pelley jiggled a gold pen as he spoke and a nervous tic had appeared at the corner of his left eye. “And why didn’t they ask for money in the first email, if that’s what they want?” Delaware wondered if the evidence of a developing case of nerves came from the impact of the kidnapping or if Pelley was holding something back from him.

“That’s not unusual with kidnappers,” he told him. “Gets the family and friends on edge, anxious, stirred up, so when the request for ransom comes in no one wants to dally about doing it.”

“There’s something else.” Pelley shifted in his chair. “Then this morning two men from something called the Phoenix Agency showed up with some crazy story.” He repeated what they’d told him. He frowned. “Do you think they could have something to do with this? That they were, you know, just testing me?”