My last link to Lucas… Pulling up my skirt, I lift my knee. “Do what ye must.”
Lucas…
“What the feck do ye mean, ye lost her!”
Ryan looks up from his multiple monitors, eyes wide. “I dinnae know how, but that jet is shielded. Any external transmissions are blocked.”
We’ve set up his workstation across from Xenia’s. I dinnae like my people mixing with the MacTavish lot, but our building isn’t set up yet. I need every scrap of technology that will help us track my wife.
“Okay, okay, okay…” Xenia’s fingers are flying. “I can still pull a visual trajectory from the satellites orbiting over that airstrip, hang on.”
“Do it.”
Within thirty minutes, Xenia blurts out, “I think he’s taking her back to Morocco. Doesn’t he know that’s the first place we’d look? But the flight path seems pretty clear.”
It’s two more long hours of waiting, of going through every scenario in my mind. Michael and Cormac cross each other, pacing back and forth like the Royal Guard.
Finally, Ryan says, “The jet’s flown past Marrakech, that’s the last private airfield big enough to accommodate Dubois’ jet. Does he have another stronghold, maybe in Algeria?”
“He may well be heading back to the castle,” Cormac says, “he knows with Catriona as a captive, we’re not going to try another rescue.”
Xenia and Ryan spend the next hour desperately hacking into satellite images trying to locate the jet. “They had to have landed, Lucas. He must have a landing strip built into the mountain near the castle, that's the only answer.”
“There’s no sign of one on our topographical maps,” Ryan says. “I scraped every meter of the region to set up for the rescue.”
I’m watching Cat’s tracker screen. If they’ve landed and they’re out of the jet, it should be sending out a signal by now. The screen remains black.
Ryan runs his hands through his hair. “Lucas, that tracking device was state of the art. Presidents and kings dinnae have this equipment yet.”
“He found it.” I stare at the darkened monitor. “It’s the only answer. Send in all our intelligence crews, look for activity at the castle, movement in the smaller towns around it.”
“Marabout Badis has already offered his services,” Cormac says, eyeing me with concern. “He dinnae have our tech, but his men are skilled with fighting in that region.”
“Please send my gratitude.” I canna take my eyes away from the monitor. Just one blip. Anything.
Taking in a deep breath, I say, “We’re going to Setti Fatma. It’s the largest town in the area to conceal us. We’ll move in teams through the closer villages; there must be signs. Transport, men, equipment.”
Ryan’s already pulling cords and sending our tech assistant running for his carrying cases. “Xenia stays here, I’m with ye, brother.”
Cormac grips my shoulder. “Ye ready to bring down a billionaire French pharmaceutical titan?”
“No, I’m cutting a kidnapping, soulless cock into multiple pieces. Slowly. Setting him on fire and scattering the ashes.” Everyone looks a bit uneasy, even for Mafia folks.
“I can help ye with that last part,” Wallace says. He’s intense, unsmiling, but his eyes are alight like the flames of Hades. “I want to be on Lucas’ team.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
In whichthisis a proper Villain’s Lair.
Catriona…
Hugo may have a medical license, but it’s clear it’s been some time - if ever - since he practiced. There’s a trickle of blood running down my calf that I choose to ignore. I’ll clean it and put in some butterfly stitches later.
The bastard at least had the courtesy to numb the area before digging that scalpel in to find my tracker. Maybe he’s still nursing some hurt feelings.
“How will your father react to this news?” he asks, lounging across from me.
“I called him right after we hung up.” I smile devilishly. “I told him I was taking a leave of absence. He was not happy. At some point ye will have to return me in the same condition ye found me in. Alive. Unharmed.”
