They’d run for about twenty minutes when Trevor heard something that made him softly whistle for everyone to stop.
Now able to listen, as one, they all looked up.
“Helicopter?” Garrison asked.
“Sounds like it’s inbound,” Trevor said, pushing to the front and now taking the lead. Because at no other time had they heard vehicles, much less aircraft.
Running, they heard the helicopter approach and then set down not too far away. The engine never shut off, though. And as they raced toward the edge of the thick copse of trees, Trevor pulled up short, holding out his arms for everyone to freeze.
Approximately two hundred yards in the distance, they spotted four men dressed in black paramilitary gear and with rifles slung on their shoulders.
They unceremoniously hauled a limp Peyton Bleacke into the helo, climbing in behind him and immediately lifting off.
“Fuck!” Trevor backed deeper into the trees, to avoid being spotted. “What direction is it heading?”
“Looks to be northeast,” one man said.
Garrison stepped forward as if to give chase, but Trevor grabbed his arm. “No.”
“We can’t let them take him!” Garrison protested.
“Can you shift into a dragon, sprout wings, and spit fire or bullets at them?”
That shut him up.
“Right,” Trevor grimly said. He pulled out his mobile and, of course, didn’t have service. “Everyone, back to the parking area. Now. And stay sharp. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Trevor
Back at the hotel, the men crowded into Trevor’s room and huddled around Wilford’s tablet, where he displayed a map of the region.
“The helicopter headed this way,” Trevor said, pointing it out on the map.
“There’s nothing in that direction,” Wilford insisted. “Except empty wilderness. The occasional homestead, perhaps. We certainly do not have the manpower or resources required to effectively search.”
“Isn’t there a way to track the helicopter’s flight beacon?” Trevor asked.
“Perhaps if they were using one,” Garrison said. “But do you honestly think anyone who’d abduct someone as brazenly as this would use a beacon?” He swiped into another app and pointed. “All it’s showing in this region for the past six hours are commercial aircraft, and those are fixed-wing. They won’t be traceable like that.”
Trevor grunted. “Probably not.” What he wanted to do was put his fist through a wall, but he knew he had to keep his wits about him. Be a leader. “Do we have any other contacts in this area?” Trevor asked.
“No, sir,” Wilford said. “We’re still trying to locate Geir Haugen. Perhaps he might know someone.”
“He won’t be in any condition to help us once he learns what happened to his family,” Trevor said. “We also don’t know who placed the phone calls and murdered the family. They might still be in town. Perhaps even watching us now.” He ran a hand through his hair and turned to Garrison. “How soon do you think we could hire a helicopter or small plane to take us up and look around? See if we can find where they took Peyton?”
Garrison stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his grim expression likely mirroring Trevor’s, and slowly shook his head. “It’s already too late, sir,” he said. “Obviously, this was a set-up. No telling how far away he is by now, or in which direction. And that’s if they didn’t double back and put him on a boat, transfer him to a land vehicle, or continue by air. It would be quite easy for them to move him across the border into another country. By air, it’s less than one hundred miles to Sweden, and less than three hundred to Finland. With the mountainous terrain, it’ll be nearly impossible to track them. Using a helicopter means they could have landed nearly anywhere to meet with a vehicle. We don’t dare split up our teams for fear of further abductions, especially having no idea who killed the family and placed the calls. Unless you have the connections to commandeer military satellites to use for tracking, we’re currently in the dark.”
“What’s the next flight we can take out of here?” Trevor asked. “We need to leave as soon as possible. If we were watched at the house and trailed back here, we can’t risk taking a train or splitting up into smaller groups. That could put us all at risk.”
“There’s a flight to Oslo in three hours,” Wilford said. “From there, you can catch a flight to Heathrow later this afternoon.”
“Book it,” Trevor said to Garrison. “Get us back to London immediately.” He turned to Wilford. “You coordinate with the cleaners once they arrive, warn them to stay armed and watchful. As soon as you reach Geir Haugen, put me on the phone with him. I want to be the one to break the news to him. I owe him that much.”
“What’s our next step after that?” Garrison asked.
“I have a difficult phone call to make to Trent Bleacke,” Trevor said. “And we need to regroup. We cannot be caught flat-footed again and, as of right now, we are at a distinct disadvantage.”
