Racing Through Darkness Read online

  “He’s not saying much. They did a procedure on him last night. One of his ribs broke, and it punctured his lung.” Thompson made a face. “They did something to fix it. I don’t know. He’s been sedated and resting mostly.”

  “Jenny’s been with him since it happened. She drove him here,” Heathcliff offered. Martin emerged from the elevator and joined the three of us. Even though he had spent some time with these guys, he seemed out of place. “If you find out what happened, we’d love to know. Shootings have to be investigated, but we’re not allowed near this one.”

  “He’s your partner,” I insisted, “that’s why you’re here for moral support only.”

  “Who the hell is stupid enough to shoot a cop?” Thompson posed the question, but no one had an answer.

  “Alexis, James,” Jen called from a doorway down the hall, “you’re here.” It was time to find out what the hell was going on. Nodding to the boys, Martin and I went to meet Jen.

  Four

  “Formal attire wasn’t necessary. The hospital doesn’t enforce a strict dress code,” O’Connell commented as we entered the room. Thank goodness he was speaking.

  “Well, since you’re here, I thought the place could use some classing up,” I retorted. Jen and I exchanged a brief smile. Then I went to the chair next to O’Connell’s bedside. “What the hell, Nick?” He cast his eyes toward his wife, and I got the unspoken message. “It’s been a long night. Martin,” I turned around, hoping he’d catch on, “would you mind finding us some coffee?”

  “Sure, no problem.” He caught my eye, and I saw the comprehension. “Jenny can lead the way to the cafeteria.” She knew what was going on but shrugged and headed toward the door.

  “Nick, you better be breathing when I get back,” she warned.

  “I promise I won’t kill him,” I replied before she and Martin left the room. Glancing into the hallway, Heathcliff and Thompson were still lingering outside, but they were giving us space.

  “I take it Martin was thrilled that I dragged you away from work,” O’Connell replied sarcastically. He tried to sit up and winced. Giving up, he pushed the controls on the bed and let the mattress contort into an upright position.

  “You called Thursday and told me it was fine. Whatever the hell it is, and then yesterday, your wife tells me you were shot. Stop commenting and start talking.”

  “This is off the books.” He shifted his gaze around the room. “It’s a personal matter, and one that you’re in a unique position to handle.” Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. “Alex, I know you said you’re done chasing down these scumbags, but I trust you.”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “Not a word to Thompson or Heathcliff. Hell, you can’t tell Jablonsky either, understand?”

  “Nick, just tell me.”

  “Five days ago, my niece, Catherine, was kidnapped.”

  “Goddamn.” I slumped back in the chair. His words caught me completely by surprise. “Does Jen know? Why haven’t you turned this over to the FBI? You’ve personally worked with a few agents. I’m sure one of them could–”

  “Parker, stop.” He grabbed my arm more forcefully than I thought possible in his current state. “They said no cops. No agents. You know the statistics, just like I do. Sure, the Bureau says it has a thirty percent better chance of a positive recovery, but it’s just a numbers game.” I blew out a breath and paced the room.

  “They shot you?”

  “Yes.” He was staring holes through me. “It was a warning to follow instructions or else. Remember, no cops. I thought I could get the slip on them. Get around and find out where they were keeping the girls.”

  “Girls?” Too much information, too little sleep.

  “My niece and two of her friends were abducted while on a school field trip. She’s seven.” He swallowed and tried to get out of bed.

  “Stay put.” I sat down next to him. “Is anyone looking for her now? For them, I mean. Has there been proof of life? Ransom demands?”

  Even though he was a cop, he was also a victim. That screws with perspective; I knew this firsthand. Running both hands through my hair, I waited for him to start at the beginning.

  His sister, Evelyn, married Peter Cale, an administrative coordinator to one of the American ambassadors. The family lived and traveled abroad extensively from the time Catherine was an infant. Even though Cale was a glorified personal assistant, he was often seen on the outskirts of powerful political and economic circles. Thus, Catherine went to the right schools, was friends and classmates with the right people, and for all the grandeur, she was kidnapped along with her more influential compatriots.

  “She’s a nobody,” O’Connell insisted. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

  “You said two other girls were taken. Why haven’t their parents turned this over to the authorities?”

  “What authorities?” he scoffed. “Foreign diplomats and influential moguls don’t deal with authorities. They have their own system which circumvents ours. But my sister can’t afford the two million dollars they want, so I thought I could handle it.”

  “Have you learned nothing from my fuckups?”

  “One of the other girls has been released. Her family paid the ransom and got her back safely. But they took off for home first thing, so there’s no information on how things went down.” I nodded and bit my lip, trying to figure out what I could possibly do. “The other family is obscenely rich. Their wealth probably makes Martin’s bank account look like chump change. They own a gold mining company in Peru.” He adjusted into a more comfortable position. “They’ve hired a third party negotiator, a kidnapping and ransom specialist, who brokers deals like this professionally. His card is in my wallet, along with a picture of Catherine.”

  Nick’s wallet was in his jacket pocket, and I retrieved it from the hook and pulled out the card. Julian Mercer – Personal K&R Negotiator. “Is Mercer on the level?”

  “As far as I can tell. He told me not to go in. We were supposed to be there for recon only, but I saw a shot and took it.”

  “You’re supposed to duck.” My attempt at a joke was lame, but I’d been up all night. And O’Connell was on pain medication, so he should find it funny. He didn’t. Probably since his current predicament made nothing funny. “Does Jen know what’s going on?”

  “No. She doesn’t need to. The shooter contacted Mercer, warning him to listen to their demands and follow their rules. He found me, dropped me off at home, and Jen drove me to the hospital. She knows it’s a family matter, but the less she knows, the better.”

  “What do Evelyn and Peter want to do?”

  “They’ve put all their faith in Mercer to get their little girl back. He’s trying to broker her into the deal he’s making on behalf of the Estes family to get Adalina back. And I’m putting my faith in you to help him do it.”

  “Thompson and Heathcliff would bend over backward to work this.” I tried to reason with him. “Maybe you should read them in.”

  “They’re cops. I’m not risking Catherine’s well-being or theirs.”

  “But you’re okay with risking mine?” It wasn’t a fair question, but the words still left my mouth.

  “No.” He let out a groan, shifting positions. “So for once in your life, don’t go running into a situation like you’re invincible. You’re not. I’m not.” He shut his eyes in thought. When they opened, there was a newfound level of conviction. “But you’re not a cop or a federal agent. Not anymore. Therefore, you can assist Mercer, and it should be acceptable to the kidnappers’ demands.” He was determined. “Truthfully, I hoped to take care of it on my own, but Mercer needed a team. I was the only one around and thought we’d be able to handle it.”

  Before I could say anything else, Martin and Jen came into the room. Martin was in the midst of a story about something, and Jen was caught up in the theatrics, allowing a brief reprieve from the current situation. Heathcliff and Thompson entered the room a few seconds after they did.

>   “I don’t understand.” Speaking freely was out of the question, but if a deal was being cut, then why did Mercer need a team to move in? “Why take something when you’re planning to pay for it?”

  “Free and clear would be preferable,” Nick muttered under his breath. We couldn’t continue this conversation any longer. Time was of the essence, and I needed to find Mercer and figure out what the hell was actually going on.

  “It was one hell of a drive,” I said to the room. “Nick, stay in bed and get some rest. After I get cleaned up and check into some things,” he knew I was talking about contacting Mercer, “I’ll come back to see how you’re doing.” Martin wished O’Connell a full recovery, gave Jen a hug, and we were out of the room before Thompson or Heathcliff could stop us.

  “Alex?” Martin questioned as I repeatedly hit the door close button on the elevator, hoping to escape before one of the detectives decided to pursue. “How bad is it? Will he be okay?”

  “He’ll live, but depending on how things turn out, he might not want to. The good thing about rock bottom is there’s only one direction left to go.” It wasn’t true; this could simply be digging the hole that much deeper.

  Outside the hospital, we waited for Marcal to pull the car around. My mind was racing as I formulated a plan. Going into any situation blind was a bad idea, so first thing would be to run reconnaissance on Julian Mercer and Catherine Cale. The fastest way of doing this would be to head to the OIO offices and grab a hold of an analyst, but that would raise too many red flags. Background checks, law enforcement database searches, and internet searches were all I had time for.

  “I need my laptop,” I muttered, “and my gun.” Unfortunately, they were in separate locations. “Time needs to slow down, so I can catch up.” Waiting a couple of beats, I came to a decision and fished out my phone.

  “Hey,” Mark Jablonsky answered on the second ring, “are you enjoying the beach?” Martin must have told him the plan.

  “Yeah, it’s wonderful.” No reason to raise suspicion. “Do me a favor and see what you can dig up on a Julian Mercer. His name came up in the course of a conversation with one of these private security firms, and it sounds familiar.”

  “Parker, you’re supposed to be on vacation with Marty right now. Not burning the midnight oil.”

  “It’s morning, and it’s bugging me. Best to get it resolved or else it’ll drive me crazy. E-mail me what you find.”

  “Fine. But when you get home, we’re having a conversation about exchanging favors when you’re no longer returning them.”

  “Sounds like fun.” I hung up and got into the waiting car. Martin stared at me, shocked. “As far as Mark knows, we’re at the beach. Don’t you dare tell him otherwise.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “My place first and then to your house. Why didn’t Marcal just keep the bags in the car?” I wasn’t answering his question, but he was used to this type of behavior. After all, we had been dating for close to a year.

  * * *

  Two hours later, I was showered, changed, and reading through the information Mark sent on Julian Mercer. Mercer was former British Special Air Service. Now he worked exclusively in private security as a hostage negotiator or K&R specialist, if he wanted to sound fancy. Just another lost soul who left a government career for the private sector. Most of his military career was classified, and few facts were provided about his private sector work. All I had to go on was a dated photo, and Mercer’s stats: 5’11, 180 pounds, forty-two years old.

  A search on the Cale family turned up inconclusive, but like O’Connell said, they were nobodies. Peter was an assistant to an ambassador, but he was just a pencil pusher, not some spy, dictator, or millionaire. I picked up the photo of Catherine. She was seven, big blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair, and tons of freckles. I had to get her back alive. Sighing, I checked the magazine in my gun and stuck it into my shoulder holster. Turning around, I found Martin standing in the doorway with a steaming mug of coffee.

  “I take it you don’t have time for a catnap.” He handed me the mug. “Do you need some back-up?”

  “Are you offering?” I quipped. He provided a bittersweet smile. “I’m just about to call for some.” I picked up my car keys, relieved my car had been at Martin’s since Wednesday afternoon. “If Mark calls, we’re at the beach. I’ll see you soon. There’s a very small window to get things fixed. In the meantime, keep an eye on Jen and Nick. When Heathcliff and Thompson ask where I am, tell them anything but the truth.”

  “Alexis, I don’t know the truth. You haven’t told me what’s going on.”

  Making a split second decision, I opened my mouth and the words flew out. “Nick’s niece has been kidnapped. I’m trying to get her back.”

  “Go.” Without another word, I was out the door.

  Five

  “Julian Mercer,” I said as the door opened, and I was confronted with the muzzle of a Sig Sauer P226, “mind putting down the gun? I have issues talking to someone through a steel barrel.” The man had salt and pepper hair and some premature wrinkles from too much time outdoors, but other than that, there wasn’t any indication of his age. There was a quiet stillness about him as if all movement was carefully contained and controlled because, if let loose, the force would be unstoppable and lethal. He had yet to lower his gun and instead roughly confiscated mine. “O’Connell sent me.”

  “Convenient.” His accent was posh British. He took one step back, allowing me into the room, gun still poised.

  “You want convenient, call a nine hundred number. You want help, then get your goddamn gun out of my face.”

  “Identification.” Maybe he was only capable of one word sentences.

  “I’m going to reach into my purse. If you blow my brains out, I’ll be pissed.” He didn’t comment or react as I produced my wallet and held it out for his inspection. He flipped it open, glanced at it, then at me, and tossed it onto the coffee table.

  “He called, announcing your arrival.” Mercer lowered his gun and set it on the table next to mine. “Like I told him, I don’t need any help.”

  “Quite frankly, I don’t care.” We were getting along swimmingly. “Here’s the thing. You represent the Estes family. I’m here to represent O’Connell’s niece. We can either work together in order to ensure we stay out of each other’s way, or I’ll take care of things the way I see fit.”

  Mercer assessed my appearance. He didn’t strike me as the women’s lib type. To him, I was inferior and unable to provide any type of actual assistance. “O’Connell failed to listen, and he was shot. If I allow you to stay, you will follow my lead and remain in the background.” Obviously, he was slow getting the memo on my inability to follow orders. Oh well, he’d learn eventually.

  “Fine. Catch me up to speed.”

  A group of four men was responsible for the kidnapping of the three girls, but their actual identities remained unknown. They simply referred to one another by the seasons: Winter, Summer, Spring, and Autumn. Thus, the Four Seasons. All communication, phone and video, utilized voice changing software and pixel distortion. Proof of life was provided for both Adalina and Catherine. Along with the photographic proof, the Estes family was given a nonnegotiable demand. They had forty-eight hours to procure the funds to pay the ransom. The demand came in on Saturday at four p.m. which means tomorrow another call would provide further instructions. No demand was made to the Cale family yet.

  “We believe Catherine will be the final negotiation,” Mercer stated. “The demands for the first girl’s release came immediately when the abduction occurred, and she was relinquished yesterday. Following this, the second demand was issued for the Estes girl, along with a warning.

  “We?” Everything about the situation was infuriating, including Mercer.

  “Correction, me. Miss Parker, unless my team arrives, I work alone.”

  “So do I.” My eyes narrowed. “You were hired solely to negotiate the safe return of Adalina Estes. O�
��Connell indicated you had a plan and needed help to get the girls out safely before the payoff was to be made. Is the Estes family unwilling to pay the ransom?”

  “That is not your concern.”

  “Are you making a trade, or whatever it is you do, and riding off into the sunset a hero while Catherine ends up dead because her family can’t afford to pay?”

  “Madam,” he despised me, “I am a man of my word. As I told the detective, with a proper team, there is a chance the location can be breached and the hostages freed.” His terminology made it sound like he was President Carter dealing with Iran. “Unfortunately, as of now, my team hasn’t arrived.”

  “More of your SAS pals?” He squinted at my question, the first sign of surprise on his controlled exterior. “I do my homework.”

  “Who comprises my team is also none of your concern.”

  Resisting the urge to growl, I took a seat on the sofa in this pre-furnished weekly apartment rental and put my feet on the coffee table. We were going to be here awhile. “This isn’t your normal work environment. You typically work abroad doing things like this for the wealthy. The thing is,” I plastered a phony smile on my face, “this is my territory. If you get a location, we’ll get it mapped, figure out how big of a team we need, the firepower it will require, how much finesse, and we’ll get this shit done.”

  He let out a faint laugh or rather the sound of a laugh since he was too controlled to actually laugh. “Little girl, you have no idea how things work.”

  “You’d be surprised.” I stood up. “Last chance, are you going to help or am I doing this on my own?”

  “Stay out of my way.”

  “No, stay out of mine.” I picked up my confiscated gun and wallet and strode to the door. O’Connell would know a location. He must have been somewhere when he was shot. “If an opportunity presents itself, I’m not waiting to make sure your hostage is clear before I free mine. Hopefully, she won’t get stuck in the crossfire.” I was bluffing, but Mercer didn’t know me or what I was capable of.