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One wrong turn leads to multiple wrong turns. Maps continually tells me to turn after I’ve passed a turn, then she re-routes. My palmy hands grip the wheel as I tear down the narrow street. This place is off the beaten path. There’s no shoulder. Just dirt and a distressing absence of road signs.
Maps announces, “At the next intersection, make a U-turn.”
I follow the directions.
Maps announces, “At the next intersection, make a U-turn.”
“What the frick is wrong with you?”
I turn off into a private dirt drive. Pull up a different map source. I study the road names, find my turnoff, and slam on the accelerator. The back wheel lurches downward, and the whole car bounces up. But it’s okay. I regroup, evening out on the asphalt. I smash the accelerator. The horizon angles from left down to right. No, that’s my blessed vehicle angling.
A flat tire.
My British grandmother would say something mild, like, “Fiddlesticks.” But, no, a flat tire when I’m running late warrants a full-out guttural, “Fuck!”
CHAPTER3
18 Hours Missing
Ryan
“Did you get the update on Syria?”
Trevor enters my office as my laptop powers down.
“I read it. What’s your take?” We have a security detail in Syria watching a CIA officer’s wife and daughter. It’s an unusual situation, as the man hired us privately. If his identity has been compromised, the CIA will remove him and his family. He clearly fears this is the case, but he won’t be the first man to prioritize career. Life in the field differs from a life at Langley.
Trevor rests his hands on the back of my office guest chair, leaning forward, his expression thoughtful.
“You think we need to increase security?” I prompt.
“Karsyn said someone is tailing the wife. And he saw their gardener talking to the kid’s tutor.”
Staff talking to each other might seem benign, but in countries plagued with the kidnapping industry, it’s something we watch out for. A general rule of thumb is to not let people who work with you interact. They can piece together your schedule. It’s the advice we give our clients in such countries, and it’s something we monitor to ensure safety. Of course, the vast majority of our clients work for corporations and are targets because their company has an insurance policy to pay the ransom.
The CIA officer presents a more perilous situation. We don’t know what he’s working on, and we would never ask. But if his identity is compromised, then the list of potential reasons for tracking his family expands. Of course, security isn’t cheap. Increasing his security level means additional salaries.
Trevor remains silent, watching me.
“Karsyn is on the ground. What does he say? Does he want additional resources?”
“Says he’s good for now.” Trevor’s lips twist. I know that look. He disagrees.
“What?” I prompt.
“Karsyn doesn’t think our client can afford to increase security.”
I shove my laptop into my bag. Frustrated. Our client isn’t our only concern. If we were better funded, we could throw money at a case like this and not worry about profitability.
“What do you want to do?” I ask again.
“He checks back in two days. Let’s see how things are going. If he’s truly compromised, the CIA may pull him and his family out before we could get additional staff out there.”
Two days will give me time to review the financials for that project. Arrow is doing well. Our original funding came from our Napa-based partner. We’ve been profitable since opening our doors, which is virtually unheard of. But it’s conceivable that we are at one of those growth junctures where additional investment would be advisable.
“How’d your meeting go this morning?”
I let Trevor know I had business in San Diego this afternoon, but I didn’t share details.
