Chapter 32
Tristan
The skyline darkens as the sun descends behind the mountain peaks. Blackness reigns behind the tree line.
My training, designed to help me should I ever be a hostage, has been running through my mind nonstop, no matter how forcefully I push those thoughts away. Torture techniques.
If she doesn’t have the information they want, the methods to kill and dispose of a body.
My personal mobile vibrates for the tenth time. My father’s name flashes on the screen in the passenger car seat. Both my parents have been calling all afternoon. Peltz too. Peltz’s calls were expected given I blew him off after he specifically requested my attendance at meetings today. I assume he called my mother to give her the courtesy of a heads up before kicking me out of the company my great grandfather founded. And she’s probably livid. My father could either be calling me to warn me dear mum is on the brink of an aneurysm, or he’s simply calling to check in now that he knows he might be a grandfather himself one day soon.
I’ll deal with them all after this is over. For now, I’m keeping the line open for information. Nigel’s name flashes on the Interpol mobile, and I can’t accept it fast enough. We’re pushing nine hours.
“Tell me you have an address.” The chances of finding Lucia diminish with each hour.
“Believe it or not, Solonov came through with an address. His lawyer offered it up as part of a plea deal.”
“He’s on red notice. What kind of plea deal could he get?”
“He had a list of requests, among them a request for which prison he’s placed in if found guilty.”
“Are you going to honor it?”
“Let’s see if his intel is correct. But, our intelligence team is betting he’s legit based on where we last observed the car and business ownership records.”
“Who owns the place?”
“That’s the thing. It’s owned by a business entity. It’s not abnormal for people to place estates in a trust, but this entity wreaks of dark money. The only name on the deed is of the esquire paid to set it up.”
“So we don’t know who owns it, or what we’re walking into.”
“Quite right. But Solonov knows he’s not walking. Theoretically, he could send you into a setup. But given his current predicament and his wish list, I’m inclined to think he’s selling out someone who hired him.”
“If he’s willing to sell them out, they must not be that formidable.”
“I had the same thought. But maybe of all the irons in the fire, he offered Lucia’s location because it’s a live case and he had the most negotiating leverage on that one. Anyway, I just texted you an address. You’re to go there and meet up with your back-up team.”
“You’re sending our men out here? Did you notify the local authorities?”
“No. The men you’re meeting up with are private. Arrow.”
“Right. Jack Sullivan’s team.”
“The location I sent you is a five-minute walk from the estate line.”
“How’d Jack get the men together so quickly?”
“Apparently he keeps a small army of contractors at the ready around the world.”
“Nice gig if you never get called in to work.”
“I’m prepping some of ours too, but we’re not notifying the local authorities or making any moves. Since we have a private team, might as well let them go in first. Getting approval to move into an estate without an owner would be time consuming. This is faster.”
“No complaints here.”
“When you meet up with the men, ask for Ryan. I’ll be awaiting your report.”
Three minutes later, and the navigation guides me onto a winding road into the mountain cover. There’s a small cabin up ahead and two SUVs are parked in front. The back of an SUV is open, and three men are standing behind it.
Three men brandish weapons. I roll down the window as I slow the vehicle, on the ready to accelerate.
“Ryan?” I call.
“Right here.” A tall man with salt and pepper hair approaches the vehicle. The others turn their attention to the back of the vehicle. “Tristan?”
I confirm with a nod and he extends a hand. “Ryan Wolfgang. I’m one of Arrow’s partners. Happened to be on vacation in Lake Como when Jack called. Why don’t you park and I’ll take you through where we’re at?”
Intrigued, I do as he suggests, and he rounds my vehicle as I get out of my car. “I’ve got two men roaming the property. We have a drone, but with the dense forest, it’s not as useful. There’s an open area around a historical building. If we’re at the right place, they’re holding the girl somewhere in the building. Looks almost like a storybook castle.”
He extends his phone to me. Puzzled, I take it from him.
“That photo was taken with a long range lens. See the shadow by the window?”
The first image is of a chateau, probably fifteenth century. The building has been renovated and maintained. There’s a tower on one side, and in the zoomed in image of one narrow window pane deep set into the stone, the glass is broken.
“I see the shadow.” The clarity of the image is low. The shadow could be a play of light.
“Someone’s standing there.” Ryan says. “We can’t be sure if it’s her or someone keeping guard. But, other than that person near the window, there’s no sign of security on the premise.”
“You’re trusting the intel?”
“If you’re asking me how reliable I think the intel from a hired assassin is, let’s leave it at a need to be cautious. The absence of security has me on edge. Might be a setup.”
“No guarantees.” I study the shadow in the window.
“Exactly. If my men get caught, we’ve agreed on a cover as tourists in the area. They’ll come across like looters.”
“Are you all tourists?”
“No. Mix of former British SAS and French GIGN.” I can’t make out any details in the shadow and pass the mobile back to him. “We’ll use this cabin as a base. We’re placing cameras around the perimeter and closer up to the house. Or castle, whatever you call it.”
“Someone’s chalet,” I say. In this area of the alps, I’d expect the interior has been renovated countless times.
The absence of security troubles me. If this isn’t where Lucia is, then when we have no more leads.
I pop the back of my SUV open and reach for my kevlar. If we’re not at the right place, then every minute we waste here distances us from finding Lucia.
My personal mobile vibrates in the passenger seat. From this distance, I can’t read the screen, but I recognize my mother’s profile photo.
“Is that the girl? Lucia?” He’s pointing toward my phone, as if he’s thinking she escaped and found a phone to call us. But Lucia’s mobile is at the office. She doesn’t own a personal one. I should’ve bought her one.
“No.” I answer, strapping on a shoulder holster. “Do you have a photo of Lucia Oliviera?” He gives a quick shake of the head. “All the men should have her photo.”
At the front of the car, I pick up my satellite phone and attach it to my vest, then grab my personal phone and flick through the photos. The only photo I have is one that Lucia took of the two of us on our first weekend away, coincidentally not too far from here. I show it to Ryan and he looks from the screen to me.
“Jack said this was personal for you. Why don’t you let my men take the lead?”
“She’s carrying my child.” My throat tightens. “Our child. I’m first in.”
I finish prepping under his silent scrutiny. I shared too much information. While it’s not his business, he needs to understand that from my perspective, this is no longer an investigation. My highest priority is finding Lucia and saving her from these fuckers. There will be no warning shots. I will shoot to kill.