Deep down, there had been a faint hope that somehow she could outwit the intruder, even if she couldn’t outfight him. She wasn’t going to be taken by surprise. Maybe she could whack him over the head with something while he wasn’t looking or…her imagination stopped there. But it wasn’t going to happen. There were two men involved and she wasn’t going to come out of this alive.
“Phone.” This man’s voice was just as calm, just as cold as the other man’s. Cut out of the same mold. Alert, icy and deadly.
Her hand shook as she held the cell out to him.
The man gave a short jerk of his head. “Get in.”
Never get into the car.
One of the cardinal rules for State Department families in countries where kidnapping was a major industry. Never get into the car. Make a run for it. Attract attention by screaming. Carry Mace and use it. But never, ever get into the car. If you got into the car, you were as good as dead.
Wonderful advice. Only one thing. The clever men and women running the State Department Security Force seminars never told their listeners what to do when a loved one was being held hostage.
Never get into the car.
She got into the car.
The man threw her cell phone on the ground, crushed it with his boot heel, kicked it into the scrub off the lot and got behind the wheel.
Never get into the car.
Nicole was in the car and her last hope of reaching Sam was lying in shards on the dark asphalt.
THIRTEEN
Sam walked into his office,which looked like Mission Control. Every single light was on, the banks of computer monitors all lit, and four men were sitting around his desk. Harry, Mike and two guys he had no trouble at all identifying as Feebs.
All looking grim.
“Show me what you have,” Sam said, sitting down behind his desk.
Silence for a moment, then Mike stirred. “Nothing good. First let me introduce the two newcomers. They’re?—”
“FBI,” Sam said. “Yeah, I could tell.”
Two bland looks. “It’s the shoes,” Sam explained. If they’d been from military security they’d have been wearing boots. If they’d been CIA, the footwear would have been top quality.
A moment’s silence. The taller one, obviously senior, nodded. “Special Agent Rapp and this is Special Agent Vanzetti.”
Sam didn’t care if they were Special Agents Mulder and Scully. He’d never liked the Feebs. He just wanted them to cut to the chase.
“So give me the lowdown.” He looked each in the eye.
But it was Mike who answered. He’d been staring at a laptop screen. He turned it around so Sam could see it.
It was a page scanned from a military jacket. Prominent in the upper left hand side of the page was an unsmiling photograph of the man who’d broken into Nicole’s office.
The man was wearing a black beret, had a skull with two crossed knives flash on his shoulder. Ranger tab on the left sleeve.
Dishonorable discharge, for selling military arms off base.
It was all there, the massive threat to Nicole.
Sam’s jaw tightened and he bit down hard on his back teeth as he read carefully. The man’s name was Sean McInerny, 75th battalion. Saw action in Syria and Afghanistan. Dishonorable discharge in 2020.
Sam looked up at the four men. “A Ranger, like you said.”
Special Agent Rapp replied. “That’s right. We’ve been chasing him for a couple of years. After he got his discharge?—”
