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Frederik had fled to Montevideo, the capital of his home country of Uruguay. He’d taken a chartered flight according to Quint’s sources. Aside from a record of the plane’s arrival on a small air strip outside Montevideo, there was no trace of him.
The Orlando family was well-established in the area, and had lived for generations on a hill overlooking the city. They were a large family, and while most of them still lived in or around the capital, they were rarely seen in public.
Some had broken away and lived in society at large, but the majority remained relatively secluded in their homes or in the large ancestral estate where many of the central family members, including Frederik’s parents and sister, lived.
Since the kidnapping, nearly every waking moment of Quint’s day was dedicated to sniffing out alternative leads. The obvious first choice was the Orlando estate, but Frederik could be hiding anywhere nearby.
While it seemed like a baiting move to fly to Uruguay at all, Quint rationalized that there would be no way Frederik would be bold enough to simply return to his birthplace and think he’d gotten away with the kidnapping.
No court anywhere in the world would do anything but throw him in jail, no
matter how wealthy his family was. Frederik had kidnapped Hampton and fled over international borders. This was no minor offense.
While many countries in South America were plagued with corruption, bribery, and outright nepotism, Uruguay had worked hard at becoming a beacon for openness, fairness, and growth in the region. The Orlandos had ties reaching as far back as the Portuguese discovery and subsequent occupation of the area, but even such a connection couldn’t convince any court to sweep Frederik’s crime under the rug.
Having spent days collecting intelligence about the family, their habits, and their properties, Quint texted Amara with his plan in the wee hours of the morning.
The sun hadn’t yet broken over the horizon, and the sky was alight with the eerie blue glow of a time of day few were ever awake to see. Amara rolled over with a groan, already half awake and snatched up her phone.
Since Hampton had been taken, Amara had hardly been able to sleep, catching only sporadic naps of an hour or two when her body simply wouldn’t go anymore. Despite every effort by Quint, Raneesha, and Kari to put her mind at rest, she couldn’t stop thinking about the danger her son was in.
She missed his smiling face, the routines they’d established together. She cried herself to sleep and woke to different tears drying on her cheeks.
In the hour she’d been at dinner that night with Quint, her whole world had been shaken to its foundation, and everything that made her life worth living had disappeared in a moment. It was as if a hand had reached into her chest and squeezed all the blood out of her heart.
She squinted through the tears and the sudden brightness as she unlocked her phone, rubbing her burning, swollen eyes slowly as they adjusted. The text was uncharacteristically terse, only telling her that it was time to go.
The message swept all grogginess and lethargy away. With a powerful surge of energy, she leapt out of bed for the closet to grab both her outfit for the day and the bag she’d packed for the trip.
Originally, Quint was insistent that she couldn’t accompany him, but after an impassioned plea, he’d reluctantly relented. Since then, when they spoke any time the trip came up, he tried to warn her away from coming with him. She’d hear nothing of it, however, and shut him down almost immediately every time.
No amount of danger or hardship was going to keep her from her son.
The drive to Quint’s hangar on the outskirts of town seemed twice as long as the initial trip Quint had taken her on to show her the route. Only the hum and hiss of the tires on the rain-soaked roads was audible.
The security guard at the field entrance stepped out of his booth to check her credentials, but after laying eyes on her, he recognized her and opened the sliding security gate immediately.
Driving across the empty concrete expanse was a strange experience, with no lines to guide her or signs to direct her. Quint’s hangar was the only one open, and his limo was parked to the side of the wide, front opening.
The jet housed inside wasn’t nearly as large or flashy as the one he’d taken overseas, and it had taken the mechanic crew a few days to get it in working order after sitting in storage. Aside from a little extra care taken to address potential engine issues, Quint didn’t seem to be deterred from flying since the crash.
Amara parked next to the limo and slid from the driver’s seat as one of Quint’s assistants came to the side to collect her keys. She was a young, attractive sort, focused, even as the rising sun shone on her professional, bland expression.
“Thank you for coming, Miss Davis. We’ll unload your luggage, then I’ll take your car to the parking area once your flight has departed. Have a safe trip.” She held her hand out expectantly for the keys, and received them after a moment of hesitation.
Every time Amara brushed the surface of Quint’s professional life, she felt out of place and borderline alien. Even the language and tone he used when taking business calls hardly sounded like the man she knew, and this assistant might as well have been a robot.
Thankfully, the men and women inside the hangar were more welcoming and warm. Quint stood near the rear of the plane, phone pressed to his ear, leaving Amara standing with the skeleton crew of three and the lead mechanic. Every one of them assured her that nothing would go wrong with this flight, as if she had to be told. The cause for the earlier crash had never been determined, but the fact that it happened at all had the maintenance crew on their toes and closely inspecting every part.
Quint turned, quickly ending his call and striding toward her. The sight of him moving with such determined purpose was enough to bring her to tears again, and she threw her arms tightly around him as they came together near the small set of stairs that led up into the jet.
He rubbed her back gently, both arms encircling her in a warm embrace. “Hey, Amara, we’re about ready to take off. Do you have everything you need?”
Without pulling away, she gave a short, soft nod.
“And you’re committed to going? I won’t be able to discourage you this late in the game, will I?”
She shook her head and pulled away enough to look up at him. “Not a chance.”
