Mommy Midwife (11 page)

“They weren’t simply using her cell phone?”

“I disabled the GPS on her phone. My cell is encrypted and secure.” He circled the pile of luggage. “There’s still her purse, the backpack with her birthing equipment and her laptop.”

“Apparently, my daughter finds it necessary to travel with all her earthly belongings.” When he picked up the scruffy-looking backpack, her equipment rattled around like a toolbox. “What’s in here?”

“Stethoscope, fetal monitor, medical stuff.” Troy had already checked the assortment. “Also sheets, latex gloves, scrubs and a couple of teddy bears.”

Richard carefully felt along the seams. “When you first told me that someone was trying to kidnap Olivia, I found it difficult to believe.”

“Initially, I had the same reaction. Being chased down the highway from the mountains by two vehicles convinced me.”

“You never said how you extricated yourself.”

“We had a police escort into town.”

While he described Olivia’s faked labor and equally fake triplets, her dad listened with an expression of concern and amusement. “She did that? My sweet little Olivia lied to a police officer?”

“That’s right.”

Richard smoothed his white hair. “I’m proud of her for thinking fast. At the same time, it scares the hell out of me.”

“I know what you mean.”

“When I look at Olivia, I still see a little girl with a messy ponytail and freckles and scraped knees. She was a blur, always running from one thing to another with no consideration for her personal safety.”

Her fierce, energetic, adventurous spirit was how she’d gotten kidnapped as a child. According to her story, she’d thrown herself into the clutches of the kidnappers. “Protecting her isn’t going to be easy.”

“I’d like to lock her up in a bulletproof case. Being a father is the most difficult and dangerous mission I’ve ever undertaken.”

“Dangerous?”

“I’m quite sure you know what I mean.” When Richard focused, he had a ferocious intensity. In spite of the blazer with gold buttons and the polished loafers, he was a man of action. “A threat to someone you love is far more dangerous and terrifying than a bullet whizzing toward the center of your forehead.”

Troy acknowledged his logic with a quick nod. “You’ve done a good job with your girls. They’re both independent and strong.”

“Perhaps too much so.”

In her computer case, Richard found the GPS locator tucked into a corner. He removed the small device and studied it. “Standard issue. Nothing unusual about this equipment. It could belong to anyone.”

“It’s further proof of the threat.” Troy sat on the edge of one of the twin beds. “Before we go downstairs and join the women, we should come up with a plan of action.”

“Glad you think so.” Richard sat on the other bed, facing him. He crossed his legs and straightened the sharp crease in his trousers. “When you insisted that we share information, I feared that you were open to a free-for-all discussion.”

“I told Olivia that I’d keep her informed and listen to her opinion. But the decision when it comes to her safety is mine. You and I are the professionals. We decide what’s best.”

“And my wife,” he said. “To be quite honest, she’s probably a better spy than I am. Speaks seven languages fluently. And she remembers everything. She started with the CIA as an information analyst, but she’s not the sort of woman who is content with a desk job.”

“Much like her daughters.” Getting these women to agree to protective custody wouldn’t be easy. “I’ve analyzed the nature of the threat, and here’s what I’m thinking. The end goal isn’t to physically harm Olivia.”

Richard asked, “What’s your basis for that conclusion?”

“She said that she had the sense of being followed for several days. If someone had wanted her dead, they had plenty of opportunity. Even when we were being chased, it wasn’t a hard-core pursuit. The vehicles hung back. They weren’t trying to kill us.”

“How very reassuring.”

“That’s why I’m finding it hard to believe that the Hatari terrorists are involved. These guys are violent. They’ve lived through bloody massacres in their homeland. They think nothing of wiping out an entire village in Rwanda. They aren’t clever or subtle.”

“On the other hand, Kruger is known for his adept evasion of discovery,” Richard said. “But I can’t imagine why he’d focus on me. He’s not my nemesis. I haven’t heard his name in years.”

“Maybe you have,” Troy said. “His alias could have changed.”

“We need more information.”

“There’s a problem of jurisdiction,” Troy reminded him. “My marines don’t have authority inside the United States. Our information comes through the navy’s criminal investigators and homeland security.”

“Likewise for the CIA.” Richard stood. “I suggest that you contact your point man for an update, and we’ll join the ladies for lunch. We will inform them—all three of them—that they need to stay here at Bianca’s house.”

“For their own safety,” Troy said.

“Surely, they’ll understand.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.”

* * *

“
N
OT A CHANCE,”
Bianca said as she pushed her chair back from the dining table. “I can’t stay locked up in my house. I have a job.”

“Take a few days off,” Dad said as he returned from the kitchen. “I’m sure your law firm will survive.”

“It’s not about them. It’s about me. I’m on track to make partner,” Bianca said. “There’s an important dinner I need to attend tonight.
We
need to attend. Remember, Dad?”

“Yes, of course.”

Olivia could tell by his guarded expression that her father had completely spaced out the formal dinner that was apparently important to her sister’s career. After her heart-to-heart talk with her mom and Bianca, she felt like the balance of family relationships was in chaos. The polite civility that marked most of their luncheons had been replaced by a reckless urge to blurt out the truth. And the chardonnay was flowing.

She wasn’t drinking, and Troy had left the table to take a phone call, but the other three Laughtons had already polished off one bottle of French wine with their quiche. Standing at the head of the table, her dad pulled the cork from a second bottle. As he poured a healthy dose into Sharon’s wineglass, he said, “Try to understand, Bianca. I’m trying to protect you.”

“I’ll stay home this afternoon,” Bianca said, “but I’m going to that dinner.”

Olivia asked, “What’s so important about this dinner?”

“It’s a reception for a Saudi prince and his entourage. One of our biggest clients, CRG Energy Group, is trying to solidify a deal with him. I met the prince once before, and he specifically asked for me to be there.”

“Maybe you can be wife number three,” Olivia teased.

“Very funny. He’s not married.”

“And quite a handsome young man,” Mom said. “Amir was educated at Oxford, and he plays the violin. Your father and I met him at a recital that featured Yo-Yo Ma.”

“Yo-Yo Ma?” Olivia was impressed. “Really?”

“It’s my cover, dear. Cultural affairs at various embassies.” She smiled fondly at her husband. “We’ve led a very interesting life.”

“Amir remembers them,” Bianca said. “That’s why he wanted them to be invited to the reception.”

“Do you think we can arrange for Olivia and Troy to come?” Mom asked.

Olivia wasn’t thrilled with that idea. She’d rather have private time with Troy. “We’ll skip.”

“This is more than a social occasion.” Mom delicately sipped her chardonnay. “According to our sources, Kruger is involved with the oil business. This dinner might connect to our investigation.”

“Investigation?” Her dad lowered himself into his chair. “We’re not investigating.”

“We should be,” Mom said brightly. “The best way to eliminate a threat is to find the source.”

Olivia wondered how often the gourmet dinner parties that her parents arranged were covers for investigations or opportunities to gather intelligence. Being spies meant they were constantly on the lookout, constantly under threat. The fact that she and her sister had managed to sneak out of the house for late-night parties was kind of amazing.

“Here’s an idea,” Bianca said. “Why don’t we call the police?”

“Oh, my dear.” Mom looked down her nose with none-too-subtle disparagement. “This is much more than a simple police action. The CIA and various homeland security agencies are involved. I would imagine that Troy has also been in contact with military intelligence and NCIS.”

“Why?”

“It has something to do with a sleeper spy named Kruger that your father and I might or might not have known.” She raised her wineglass toward her husband, and they clinked rims. “I must say, I’m enjoying this new atmosphere of truth-telling. We should have done this years ago.”

Bianca stared across the table at Olivia. “Make it stop.”

“Too late,” Olivia muttered.

Her sophisticated parents—Mr. and Mrs. Super Spy—were obviously enjoying themselves. They had so much in common. Shared occupation. Shared interest in the arts. Shared love of world travel. Both slim and elegant, they looked like they belonged together.

When Olivia spotted Troy sauntering down the hallway toward the table, she knew they’d never be a perfect match like her parents. He was a marine, first and foremost. His training directed him toward quick, aggressive action. Her career was all about patience and nurturing. They’d grown up in different worlds, experienced different things.

He straightened his shoulders before entering the room. His chin lifted, and his easygoing manner was replaced by determination. She recognized his attitude in the tensing of his muscles, and she knew he was preparing for battle. Neither she nor her family was the enemy, but they were all strong personalities. Dealing with the Laughtons was difficult, and she admired him for taking on the challenge.

He never gave up. How many times had he proposed marriage? At least a dozen. Any other man would have turned his back and walked away. Not Troy. When he set a goal, he was relentless.

Her hand rested on her belly. Until last night, she’d thought his only concern was the baby and his responsibilities as a father. The way he’d held her and touched her made her think otherwise. He was after her, as well. He wanted her.

And she enjoyed being the object of his pursuit. Seeing him was a pleasure. Looking at his gorgeous body and handsome face made her heart jump. Physically, he was everything she wanted in a man. If he turned away from her now, she might reverse course and start going after him.

Unlike her parents, she and Troy weren’t birds of a feather. They were an unlikely couple, but their bond grew stronger every moment they were together.

The atmosphere around the table changed when he returned to his seat beside her. His bearing was serious, but his voice was matter-of-fact and calm. “I’ve just gotten off the phone with Gunnery Sergeant Nelson. He’s my point man on the Hatari terrorist cell, and he’s coordinating intelligence with several other agencies.”

“Including ours?” her mother asked.

“Yes, ma’am. CIA is front and center. They have the most intelligence on Kruger, who they suspect of involvement in financing arms deals through Africa.”

“Recently?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s how he might have come into contact with Hatari,” her father said. “Has Kruger been identified?”

“He’s still under deep cover.” Troy took out his cell phone, tapped a few buttons and pulled up a photo. “The best they could do were three photographs from twenty-two years ago when Kruger first entered the United States.”

“Three pictures of different men?” Olivia asked.

“I’ll explain,” her father said. “Kruger was supposed to meet with a Mossad agent who was under surveillance. The agent had contact with three different men. These photos were taken with a long-range lens on city streets, and they’re terribly blurred. None of the men could be identified.”

“Wait a minute,” Bianca said. “Mossad is the Israeli secret service. Doesn’t that mean they’re on our side?”

Quietly, Troy said, “Those lines got blurred. The Mossad agent was killed before he could be taken into custody and debriefed.”

“A botched mission,” her father said. “Kruger went his merry way to establish his deep cover identity. We can assume his appearance was altered. His fingerprints were never on file.”

Olivia couldn’t believe they were talking about these things. Sitting around the lunch table with the remains of quiche and a bottle of chardonnay, her family was calmly chatting about spy missions, assassinations and Mossad agents. Who were these people? And what had they done with her ultrasecretive parents?

Troy handed the cell phone with the photos to her father. “I’d appreciate if you take a look.”

“A waste of time,” he said dismissively. “I’ve seen these pictures before.”

“With all due respect,” Troy said, “technology has improved in the past twenty-two years. These photos have been digitally enhanced.”

“I haven’t seen them,” Mom said as she held out her hand for the phone. “Richard, darling, why was I kept in the dark?”

“Twenty-two years ago,” her father said, “you weren’t working in the field.”

Olivia knew exactly what had happened twenty-two years ago. It was after she and her mom had been kidnapped, and the family moved to Washington, D.C., where they settled down until both daughters were through high school. Was it possible that Kruger and the current kidnapping attempt were related to what had happened so long ago?

As her mother scanned the photos, Olivia watched her expression. When she was a child, she’d been able to read every nuance of her mother’s moods. As she grew up, they had lost that connection.

When her mom looked up from the cell phone and met her gaze, Olivia saw a flash of anger. “What is it, Mom?”

“I know this man.”

Chapter Ten

Troy reached over and took Olivia’s hand. She had gasped when her mother had made her announcement, and his natural instinct was to protect the mother of his unborn son. From what? Her own mother? Troy had the uneasy feeling that Olivia’s family could hurt her more than any other perceived threat.