Skeleton Coast (Oregon Files 4)

“What exactly do they do?”

“Now that they’re privately held, it’s mostly pure research funded by Merrick. They still receive a few patents a year, nothing earth-shattering, just a better molecular glue for some esoteric application or a foam that can withstand a few tenths of a degree more than something else already on the market.”

“Anything someone would try to steal through industrial espionage?”

“Nothing we could find, but they could be working on something in secret.”

“Okay, we’ll keep that in mind. Tell me about the kidnapping itself.”

Mark straightened in his chair. “Merrick and a researcher named Susan Donleavy were seen by the security guard at the main building on their campus at seven last night chatting on their way out the door. Merrick had a dinner date with reservations for eight o’clock. Donleavy lives alone and apparently didn’t have plans.

“They left Merrick/Singer in separate vehicles, Merrick in his Mercedes and Donleavy in a Volkswagen. Their cars were found a half mile from the facility. By studying the tire marks the police were able to determine that a third vehicle—given the length of its wheel base most likely it was a van—forced both vehicles off the road at high speed. Airbags were deployed in the Mercedes but not in the Volkswagen. Presumably, Merrick was hit first and Susan Donleavy was slowing when the van hit her. The driver’s side window on Merrick’s car was smashed inward so the door could be unlocked. The Volkswagen didn’t have automatic locks so she was simply pulled from the car.”

“How did they know this was a kidnapping and not some Good Samaritan rescuing them and taking them to a local hospital?” Cabrillo asked.

“Because they aren’t at any local hospitals, leading the police to conclude they were locked in the Good Samaritan’s basement.”

“Right.”

“So far there have been no ransom demands and a search for the van’s turned up nothing. Eventually they will find it at the airport because we know Merrick, and most likely Susan Donleavy as well, were taken out of the country by plane.”

“Have you checked charter flights out of Geneva for last night?”

“Eric’s on that now. There are more than fifty because an economic summit meeting just concluded and all the bigwigs were headed home.”

Juan rolled his eyes. “Figures.”

“Might not be bad luck on our part, but thorough planning on theirs,” Linda said.

“Good point.”

“So far the police don’t know what to make of the situation. They’re playing the wait-and-see game until the kidnappers make their demands.”

“Could this have been about Susan Donleavy and not Geoffrey Merrick?” Juan suggested.

Mark shook his head. “Doubt it. I checked her on the company database. She’s been with them for two years, a researcher in organic chemistry still working toward her doctorate. Like I said before, she lives alone. No husband or kids. Most employee bios give a little info about interests and hobbies. Hers only gave her professional credentials. Nothing personal at all.

“No one a kidnapper would go through the expense of hiring a private jet to grab.”

“Doesn’t wash no matter how you look at it,” Linda said. “Merrick was the target, and I bet Donleavy was nabbed because she was a witness.”

“What about this Devil’s Oasis that was mentioned?” Juan asked to get them back on track.

“We couldn’t find any mention of it on the Internet,” Linda replied. “It has to be a code name, so it could be anyplace. Backtracking from where we intercepted the call when they said they would reach it by four in the morning, it could be in a circle big enough to encompass the eastern tip of South America. Or they could have turned northward again and gone back to Europe.”

?

?That doesn’t sound likely. Let’s assume that they continued on the same straight-line course south from Switzerland that took them over our position last night. What’s the most likely landing site?

“Someplace in Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, or South Africa.”

“And with our luck what do you bet it’s Zimbabwe?” Mark muttered.

Years of corruption and poor economic planning had turned the once prosperous country into one of the poorest nations on the continent. Simmering anger against the repressive government was threatening to boil over. Reports of attacks against remote villages that spoke out against the regime were growing while malnutrition and the diseases it spawned were on the rise. All indicators pointed to a full-scale civil war erupting in months or maybe even weeks.

“Again, maybe not our bad luck, but their good planning,” Linda said. “The middle of a war zone would be the last place I’d look for a kidnapped industrialist. They could easily bribe the government to look the other way when they brought him in.”

“Okay, concentrate your search efforts on the Devil’s Oasis being in Zimbabwe, but don’t rule out anything. We’ll keep steaming southward and hopefully you’ll have something by the time we reach the Tropic of Capricorn. Meanwhile, I’m going to talk with Langston to see if the CIA has anything on this and maybe have him send out some feelers to the Swiss government as well as the board of Merrick/Singer. Let them know they might have options.”