Page 10 of The Hijack

So the best thing for me to do was stay away from familiar haunts. In my mind, that meant all of Jolly Old England, though I dearly missed her pubs. As we passed the island with no signs of slowing, I relaxed. Next up was the Atlantic Ocean, and beyond that, either Canada or the United States.

“Where are we going?” I asked my traveling companion.

“Upstate New York,” he answered. “To my father’s home.”

“Your father?” I asked. It was strange for a self-styled eco warrior to fall back on his parents, though I supposed that meant that the relationship was close.

“He wasn’t my father,” Lukas corrected himself. “But the man who trained both Clark and me to be spies.”

“Aah,” I responded, seeing the bigger picture. This wasn’t some kind of happy family reunion. It would be a debriefing at best, but hopefully it would involve people that Clark and I could actually trust. Even better, there might be others who would help me in my search for her.

I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the journey, focusing on what I was going to do when we landed. I had no idea where Clark was, or if she was even still alive. Lukas hadn’t taken me back to the chalet where Clark and I were attacked, so I couldn’t see for myself if there were any bodies.

He assured me that there weren’t. While we drove down the mountain, he sent someone else to confirm that there were no clues to be found. That was when his men found the remains of the missing agents, which only served to frame me.

“We moved the bodies,” Lukas said, guessing accurately what I had been thinking of.

“And you’re sure you didn’t see any sign of Clark?” I asked again, though I’d asked the same question a dozen times.

“We’ll find her,” Lukas promised.

I shook my head. I didn’t like being coddled. I was a British intelligence agent, and in a pinch, I was sure I could take out everyone in the airplane, including the pilot. Lukas didn’t have to stroke my hand or give me reassuring platitudes. I knew the dangers that Clark faced better than anyone.

“They didn’t kill you; that most likely means they didn’t kill her,” Lukas reasoned.

“Why are you helping?” I asked, taking the spotlight off my problems and focusing it squarely on him.

“I’d like to tell you that I care about Clark and I think of her as a sister. I’d like you to believe that I would go to any lengths to protect her because of the past we shared. But I know you wouldn’t believe that,” Lukas offered, watching me with a detached interest that smacked of a mercenary mindset.

“You’re right,” I agreed. “I wouldn’t believe that.”

“Let’s just say that my organization and I are being targeted by the same folks who want to jam you up,” Lukas said.

“Okay,” I allowed. That seemed obvious, and it made for a much better motivation than simple friendship.

“If I help you and Clark, I’m helping myself. They want you separated but alive, and that tells me that they’re afraid of you. So it aligns with my current agenda of self-preservation to help you.”

I nodded, accepting that explanation. While there was still a lingering doubt in my mind, I was much more comfortable knowing that Lukas’s interests dovetailed with mine. I knew he cared about Clark; I’d seen it when we broke into his compound. But more importantly, his selfish desire to get Regg off his back made him an ally. We could part ways when the trouble was over if necessary. For now, I would follow his lead.

We touched down on an airstrip north of the Kennedy International Airport. Unlike many MI6 agents, I didn’t have a whole lot of experience stateside. Sure I’d been to Washington a few times, and one of my jobs had taken me deep into the Florida wilderness. But for the most part, my activities were confined to eastern European and African countries. I had never been to the rural north outside of the big city.

I could see from the bird’s eye view as we landed that though we were surrounded by trees, it was only a short hike to the Big Apple. That notion was reinforced when the hatch opened and we climbed out onto the runway.

“Lukas!” a female voice shouted.

I felt a squeeze in my heart wondering if it was Clark calling her foster brother’s name. But the hope was short-lived. The information went into my brain and sparked an optimism that I thought was dead. But as soon as I digested the tone and the cadence, I knew it wasn’t her.

It was someone very close, though. Someone who had grown up under the same conditions, possibly in the same city or state. And the age range placed the unidentified female somewhere within close proximity to Clark. I looked to Lukas for an explanation, but he was already halfway across the tarmac, his arms flung wide open.

I followed quickly, picking out a Jeep with its headlights blaring into the gloom. A woman came around from behind the vehicle, throwing herself into Lukas’s arms like a much-loved cousin at a family reunion. I wondered if this was another one of Clark’s foster siblings. Hopefully she would be open to helping mount a rescue operation. I didn’t know how close I’d come to hitting the nail on the head until she introduced herself.

“Theo?” she asked, holding out a hand.

I shook it, putting just as much enthusiasm into the gesture as I’d seen Texas oilmen do. “That’s right. And you are?”

“Z,” the woman answered. “I’m Clark’s handler from the CIA. And her sister.”

I found myself squeezing Z’s hand even tighter until she forcefully removed her limb from my grasp and shook it out. She gave me a sideways glance, checking with Lukas to make sure I was legit.