Aidan started to laugh. “And how did you pull that one off? I’m the only person authorized to commission the jet.”
“What’s that American expression—so sue me?” Simone sounded very pleased with herself. “I may have implied to our pilot that you’d instructed me to contact him and ask him to file the flight plan. Are you angry?”
“Furious.” Aidan’s headache was vanishing as he spoke. “After the videoconference, you’d better order up some late-night room service to fortify yourself. You’re going to need all your energy for what I have in mind.”
San Mateo, California
26 February
Monday, 9:55 p.m. local time
He lit his cigarette and took a deep drag, exhaling and watching the wisps of smoke vanish into the air. It was a disgusting habit. He’d promised himself, yet again, that he’d find a way to quit. Maybe he’d cave and try hypnosis. Nothing else seemed to work. They couldn’t counterbalance his stress. He needed an outlet. And not one that piled pounds on his body. Maybe he’d double the amount of that tasteless, allegedly therapeutic gum he’d been chewing.
He’d concluded his work for the day and reported in. There’d been no red flags. Pennington had spent the morning at NanoUSA. No shocker there. He’d been told to stick to the script of his life, and so far, he had. Family time or not, there was no way he’d be in fulltime vacation mode when his company was about to revolutionize the electronics world. He’d held a full department meeting, run by a high-level overseas McKinsey partner who had checked out. As had the purpose of the meeting. A divisional fine-tuning—boring but necessary. But a possible division overhaul? That had interesting connotations. It could be a coincidence. Or it could be Pennington’s way of finding inroads in order to provide them with whatever they demanded in their next set of instructions. That would be a smart move on his part.
Lauren Pennington wouldn’t have to be disposed of—yet.
Ritz-Carlton
26 February
Monday, 10:53 p.m. local time
Aidan had spent enough time in the hotel lobby to scope out the place for potential surveillance. He’d browsed his email, made a few staged phone calls, and acted like a typical businessman. Then he’d unknotted his tie, slung his jacket over his shoulder, and sucked in his breath—transformed into a businessman who was free to relax and unwind in a resort hotel. His instincts told him there were no eyes on him. Still, he played his part to the last—slinging his carry-on bag over his shoulder, going up to the front desk, and checking in to the room he’d reserved for himself in advance. That done, he’d taken the elevator up to the third floor, entered his room only long enough to chuck his jacket and tie on the bed and use the bathroom before exiting the room and purposely taking the stairs rather than the elevator up to the Penningtons’ fourth-floor suite.
The team videoconference had gone well. He’d kept it short, partly because of his time constraints and partly because he was sitting in the back seat of a town car and, sound-deadening window or not, he wasn’t thrilled by the lack of total privacy. Mostly, he’d listened. He’d put on his noise-canceling headphones for all the debriefings. Everything on track. He’d also had the opportunity to “meet” Derica and Ellie—the Croatian interpreters. Again, Simone had done an A-plus recruiting job. Two attractive women in their mid-thirties. Both from nearby towns in Germany, so they’d gotten to Marc and Philip ASAP. Both well-versed in the Croatian language, one from having lived there for a dozen years and the other from having been employed by a Croatian company for equally long. The former, Derica, had worked undercover cases such as these before, and the latter, Ellie, was fluent in Albanian as well as Croatian. Both women understood the meaning of the word classified. They’d been brought up to speed with all the information they needed to know and were fully prepared for the assignments ahead.
As for Aidan, he’d merely touched on the fact that he might have a specific agenda for the European team to follow, but that it was dependent upon the conversation he was about to have. No one asked questions. They knew why Aidan wasn’t being more forthcoming. He’d give them the information once it was solidified and when his location was secure.
“Expect tomorrow to be busy,” he’d said in closing. “I’ll contact you as soon as developments occur.”
Now, he made his way down the hall and knocked on the door of the Penningtons’ hotel room.
“It’s Aidan,” he said.
Vance opened the door. He looked lousy and like he was about to jump out of his skin. The ashen-faced middle-aged woman standing behind him—obviously his wife, Susan—was peering around to see Aidan, imploring him with her eyes to give them something to cling to. Some good news. Anything.
He’d finesse this as best as he could. No bullshit. No lies. But progress. Things they could do. Collaboration. Hope.
“Come in.” Vance looked nervously up and down the hallway. “Were you followed?”
“Nope.” Aidan closed the door behind him. “Besides, I booked a room here, one flight down. I’m just a vacationer like any other—one who has nothing to do with you.”
Vance’s brows rose. “I didn’t realize you’d done that. But I probably should have. Simone said you had a way of staying invisible.”
“I’ve had years of practice.” Aidan leaned forward and extended his hand to Susan. “I’m Aidan Devereaux.”
She met his handshake, her fingers cold and trembling. “I’m glad you’re here. Lauren is my baby. I need to know everything that’s going
on, please.”
“I understand.”
“I doubt you do.” She inhaled sharply. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just coming apart at the seams. I feel helpless and terrified. But since Vance is convinced that you’re our best hope of bringing Lauren home alive, I’ve stuck to your rules. I’ve spoken to no one, and I’ve gone about my daily vacation routine. It’s killing me inside, but I’m doing it.”
“That’s essential,” Aidan said, gesturing toward the hotel suite’s sitting room sofa. “You need to keep doing exactly that. But you also need reassurance that there’s been forward motion in the investigation. Well, there is. So let’s all sit down and I’ll fill you in on where things stand.”
Susan led the way, perching at the edge of the couch. “I didn’t order up food. But I can.”