Chapter 18
“If you can’t face the wolves, don’t go in the forest.” ~Unknown
Gwen
I did not account for Evan Danbury’s painstakingly lengthy negotiations. However, I did predict Ledbetter would continue to have the weasel act as his intermediary. His use of a Swiss bank surprised me, but it shouldn’t have. The FBI’s most wanted arms dealer would employ sophisticated methods, unlike in movies where criminals conduct business at gunpoint.
After refreshing my emails, I forward the link to Trever. I trust he will verify the murder video is genuine and not AI-generated. In precisely one hour, the FBI will have the evidence it needs to prove my husband did not kill Joanne Cormack.
Phase one of my plan completed, I embark on part two and enter my apartment. Once I pack a bag, I drive to Dulles Airport, drop off my rental, and as per the email instructions, walk toward the security gate.
Have I made a mistake? Where’s my tail? Adhering to risk mitigation #34, I stop to ask for directions. When I turn, a short, stocky man wearing sunglasses, and a wrinkled navy polyester suit grabs my arm.
“Scream, and you die.” While he whispers in my ear, his hypodermic needle pricks my skin.
There is no way Ledbetter wants me dead, so I call his bluff, inhale, and yell, but nothing comes out.
Oh my Lord, he drugged me? As I collapse on rubbery legs, my attacker smiles at the gathering crowd.
“Thank you for concern. My wife have brain cancer. She have attacks. She take medicine and okay, she be well.” The thick man lifts me into a courtesy shuttle, then nods at the driver.
Hold on! I’m supposed to go through the private jet security station. I blink fast, willing someone to take notice. Surely, the airport’s cams will pick up my unorthodox departure.
“Relax, Dr. Wulf. Relax. We’ll be there in a moment.” Mr. Phony Russian Accent pats my cheek, my lids grow heavy, then drop closed.
I wake unable to move. My heart races as I struggle to wiggle my arms and legs. Am I permanently paralyzed? With my lashes glued to my cheeks, my eyelids initially refuse to lift. All at once, they open, and I gasp.
The bullet-shaped room and the long line of windows cannot be mistaken for anything but a private jet. Unlike the Patten plane, which contained a conference table and chairs, this interior resembles a Fifth Avenue man cave.
Six men rest in leather lounges. One stands and offers drinks. I assume there are two pilots. That’s nine against one.
Fuck. The monitor in front of my nose tells me we’re halfway across the Atlantic. Taking a deep breath, I quiet the tsunami of panic about to crash over me. If the teams follow my project plan, I will return home in no time.
“Ms. Wulf, you’re awake.” An elegant, bearded man in his mid-fifties eases into the seat beside me and swivels until our knees touch.
Perfectly manicured nails reach into his pocket to retrieve a switchblade. He clicks it open, and I suck air as he scratches the sharp tip across my right cheek.
“Fear. Excellent.” Smiling, he lowers his weapon’s metal edge to the rope binding my hands together. A quick flick of his wrist, and the fibers drop to the floor.
“I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but I had to ensure you wouldn’t run. Forgive my manners, I’m Thomas Ledbetter.” Upon freeing my ankles, he pats my arm.
Using superhuman willpower, I hold back the puke threatening to spew and shoot him my best smile. “No problem. By the way, it’s Doctor Wulf. Did the FBI receive your video?”
He opens his phone and places the murder link under my nose. “Are you willing to fulfill your obligation?”
My head bobs up and down at my pathetic attempt to appear enthusiastic. “Yes, of course. This is what we agreed upon. And, if you’re happy with my work, in a month, I hope you’ll let my daughter join me.”
“You are not what I expected.” His long perusal up and down my body reminds me of fingernails on a chalkboard.
After I swallow my disgust, I pretend to return his unspoken sexual appreciation. If the man wasn’t an evil sonofabitch, I might consider his classic Italian face handsome. He has thick dark lashes, high cheekbones, and plump lips. His shiny nails turn me off, but a particular class of woman would no doubt call him irresistible.
“Do you like what you see?” Brown eyes focus on my chest.
Risk mitigation #54 in mind, I shrug and play coy. “Hmm, perhaps…Hard to tell with all those clothes on.”
His reptilian smile resembles an angry Komodo dragon, only hungrier and creepier. “We can explore those options later.”
When he squeezes my thigh, I resist the urge to slap his face. My timeline depends on his belief that I find him attractive.
“Where are we going?” While I speak, the moonlight shines and paints the clouds below in silver light.
“My home.” Standing, he grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I have a well-equipped lab there and a staff waiting for you. You will want for nothing. Sleep now. I will expect you to start work the moment we land.”
Confident I can lead his team in circles, I nod. “What kind of RF weapon are you creating?”
His chuckle sends a chill down my spine. “Old news, cherie. I have assembled a group of brilliant minds which will blow you away.”
“Care to fill me in?”
“GPS disruptors. From the palm of your hand, you can target the whole world, a jet, or a city block.” His admission ignites all my synapses. He could hack satellites, blind pilots, or confuse Seal Teams. Hundreds or thousands could die. Governments could topple.
My face pales. Holy shit. Thank God for the circumstances which brought me here. Should Ledbetter sell this weapon, it would be devastating, especially in the hands of the Russians.
The arms dealer smirks at my stunned silence. “Make no mistake. I expect results, Dr. Wulf. A project planner with your intelligence will appreciate my methods. I have assembled two groups of scientists. Those who reach the finish line first will be rewarded. The others, I have no use for. Do we understand each other?”
Swallowing hard, I bob my head. While his news creates an unexpected risk, it is not urgent, and for now, I choose to ignore it.
“I hear you thinking.” The lizard slithers closer to my face. “Don’t you positively love reality TV? I especially enjoy how participants are allowed to vote someone off their team. I have no patience for losers. Are we clear?”
“Yup.” Translation? If I try to stall or mislead my researchers, I die.
Girrll, this guy is a nutcase. You are way out of your depth.
Thanking my Captain Obvious, I try not to picture my dead bodyand focus on Ledbetter.
He appears to be enjoying my discomfort. “Even if you are an excellent bed partner, it will not save you from your coworkers. Any attempt to sabotage the project will result in your team voting for your departure. Their lives and yours depend on doing your absolute best.”
Lips tight, I close my eyes and nod. Holy shit, if this asshole can disrupt GPS, how in God’s name will Wulf and his people track me? I suppose they could use radar, but this jet is merely a blip in the sky amongst hundreds if not thousands of others. A willing government, a well-paid man in the airport tower, and we could land with a brand new identity.
Full of nervous energy, I recite the periodic table backward. The FBI and Patten Securities believed in my almost flawless plan, and now I must trust them to adhere to it.
I wake to the clunk of the landing gear. After the plane descends through the clouds, it skims a lush forest and barely misses hitting a medieval castle.
Its wall, high enough to repel the Mongols, disappears as the tires hit the tarmac. Gravity forces our backs to the seats as the pilot brakes on the short runway.
According to my scenario, Patten’s airplane should’ve landed first. Since Ledbetter was able to disrupt their GPS, I can only guess what’s happening.
The wily terrorist pulls me from my seat and points toward the exit sign by the cockpit. “Ladies first.”
Back on solid ground, surrounded by trees, a giant bumblebee buzzes overhead. Not an insect at all, my chest tightens when the drone flies over our space.
Clearly, I underestimated my enemy and am in urgent need of a revised strategy.