“Got it sorted, now?” Finn glares at a young woman who nods.
“Yes.”
“Do it.” The negotiator motions to his team and dons a headset.
“Wa'alaykum as-salam. I have a most urgent matter for the master of the house. Is he in?”
I snatch a pair of earbuds and twist them in deep.
“Who can I say is calling?” The man on the line speaks with the Queen’s English, a strange contrast to Finn’s brogue.
“That’s not important. I would like the release of something belonging to my client and he is most anxious to get it back.”
“Please hold.”
For five damn minutes, we wait in silence. Lucky raises his brow when I open my trap to speak. He’s right. Our time is coming soon enough.
The man returns, his voice calm. “I’m sorry but he’s in a meeting and cannot be disturbed.”
I’m about ready to blow a gasket but Finn’s body language shows no sign of stress, a walk in the park. “I understand the position I’m putting you in and apologize profoundly but should you not inform him, I fear his reputation could be at risk.”
“I will need to-”
Finn suddenly changes his tone, a Baptist preacher in a tent full of sinners. “The holy book states clearly…Nor come nigh to fornication or adultery: for it is a shameful deed and an evil deed and it opens the road to other evils.Surely, you’d not want your king to know you associate with those who sell women.”
The threat is subtle but real.
“Please hold.”
“Hello. Who is this?” A second male voice clips his words, close to shouting.
“My name is Timothy Finnegan and I’m calling to negotiate the release of fourteen Americans.”
“I’m afraid you are mistaken.” A smug smile belies his words.
“I don’t believe I am. Did you know one is an FBI agent, fiancé to a Navy SEAL, beloved daughter of the New York City police chief?”
The man sucks in his breath. Goddammit. If I could, I’d reach through the phone, wrap my fingers around his neck, and squeeze.
“I have no idea what you are talking about. Goodbye.” The Saudi disconnects.
Shaking his head, Finn purses his lips. “He might not be in on it, but the bastard knows something.”
Grayson curses, pulls out his mobile, thumbs a number, and puts it to his ear. When he hangs up, his eyes meet with everyone’s in the room before adding, “It’s a go. There’s a car waiting out front.”
“Thank you, Gray. I mean it.” I shake his hand, glad to finally have something to do.
“Just don’t get caught.”
“No sir. Not an option.”
Minutes later, we pile out of our SUV and onto a navy base. A couple of SEALS greet us and bring us to a large open office where blueprints are laid flat on a table.
“You better be as skilled as Patten claims.” The commander scowls and mutters something about fucking civilians as one of his men points to the building plans.
While I study, a young serviceman nearby stands up. “Sirs? The drone has images.”
An aerial feed from an infra-red camera displays in the front of the room and Jack, mostly silent up to now, places his index finger to the blueprint. “They’re here. Back room. Top floor.”
