Tracker (Sigma Force 7.5)

She joined him and stared at the live feed on the screen. “Who is filming this?” She leaned closer. “Aren’t those the men who were following me?”

“Yes.”

She squinted up at him. “How—?”

“I had my dog track them. He’s outfitted with a full surveillance package.”

His explanation only deepened that pinched look. Rather than elaborating in more detail, he simply turned up the speakerphone so the audio from the video feed could be heard. Traffic noises and a whisper of wind ate most of the big man’s words, but a few coarse phrases came through clearly.

Aliza cocked her head to the side, listening.

Tucker appreciated the long curve of her neck, the way her lips pursed ever so slightly as she concentrated.

“What are they saying?” he asked.

She spoke haltingly, listening and speaking at the same time. “Something about a cemetery. A lost Jewish cemetery.” She shook her head as the man ended his call and vanished into the sedan. “He mentioned something at the end. A street. Salgótarjáni.”

As the car pulled away, Tucker lifted the phone and pressed the button, radioing to Kane. “Return home. Good boy, Kane.”

Lowering the phone, he watched Kane swing around and begin backtracking his way to the hotel. Satisfied, he turned to Aliza.

“I’m guessing that trio went rogue. Some faction heard about your father’s inquiry, about his possible breakthrough in discovering that lost treasure trove. And they’re trying to loot what was already looted.”

“So what do we do? Go to the police?”

“I’m not sure that’s the wisest plan, especially if you want your father back alive.”

She paled at his words, but he didn’t regret saying them. She had to know the stakes.

“Now that they’ve lost your trail, they’ll run scared.” He saw it even on that grainy footage. “The police are already investigating the disappearance of your father. Since they came after you, to use as leverage, that suggests he’s still alive at the moment. But now with the police closing in and you nowhere to be found, they’ll act rashly. I fear that if they can’t get what they want by tonight, they’ll kill your father to cover their tracks. Likewise, if he gives them what they want, the end result may be the same.”

“So there’s no hope.”

“There’s always hope. They’re scared and will be more apt to make a mistake.”

And be more dangerous, he added silently.

“Then what do we do?”

“We find out where they took your father. That street you mentioned. Do you know where that’s located?”

“No. I don’t know the city that well.”

“I’ve got a map.”

He retrieved it and spread it on the bed.

She leaned next to him, shoulder to shoulder, her jasmine perfume distracting. “Here it is,” she said. “Salgótarjáni Street.”

He ran a finger along the dead-end street. “It lies near the center of Pest, and it looks like it runs adjacent to . . .” He read the name and looked at her. “Kerepesi Cemetery. Could that be the lost Jewish burial site you heard them talking about?”

“No. I don’t see how. Kerepesi is the oldest cemetery in all of Hungary.” She shifted her finger closer to the Danube. “This is the Jewish Quarter, where you’ll find most of our burial plots. It’s a good three miles away from Kerepesi Cemetery.”

“Then I’ll have to take Kane and check out that street myself.”

“It’s too dangerous.” She touched his arm. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to ask. If I don’t end this, they’ll come after me, too. That guy I knocked down in the alley will know you weren’t alone. I’d rather not spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for a rogue agent from the Hungarian NSZ.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“Sorry. Kane and I work alone. You’ll be safer here.”

She blocked him when he made a move toward the door. “You don’t speak the language. You don’t know what my father looks like. And you don’t know anything about the city. It’s my father’s life that’s in danger. I’m not going to sit idly by, hoping for the best. That didn’t work so well for my people in the past.”

She was ready to argue, but he shrugged. “You had me at You don’t speak the language. Let’s go.”

Tucker shared the backseat with Aliza as the taxi swept along the arched magnificence of the Chain Bridge as it spanned the Danube. She sat in the middle, between him and Kane. The shepherd spent most of the ride with his nose pushed out the crack in the window, his tail thumping happily.

Beside him, Aliza stroked Kane’s shoulder, which probably contributed to much of the tail-thumping. At least the presence of the dog had helped calm her. The tension in her body, while still there, had softened a bit. Still, she clutched an old sweater of her father’s in her lap, her knuckles pale.

Upon exiting the hotel, they had stopped long enough to collect Kane, who had been dutifully waiting for them outside the entrance to the Hilton. They had also stopped along the way out of Buda to meet with a friend of Aliza’s father, one who was willing to sneak into the taped-off apartment and steal an article of clothing from the hamper in the closet. They needed her father’s scent. It was a risky move, but apparently no one was watching the place.

Still, Tucker kept an eye out for any tail as they left the bridge and headed into Pest, leaving Buda behind.

In another fifteen minutes, they reached the heart of this half of Budapest and skirted past the rolling park-like setting of Kerepesi Cemetery, with its massive mausoleums, acres of statuary, and hillsides of gravestones.

The taxi rolled to a stop at Salgótarjáni Street, on the border of the cemetery. Aliza spoke a few words of Hungarian with the driver, who’d spent most of the cab ride eyeing Kane with suspicion. Aliza paid him, handing over a couple extra bills for his trouble.

They all piled out and waited for the taxi to leave.

As it pulled away, Aliza turned to him. “What do we do now?”

“We will let Kane take point from here, but first I need to prep him.”

He pointed to a dark park bench, well hidden and shadowed by an ancient oak. The entire street ahead looked overgrown and forgotten, densely forested with beech and birch, thick with broad-leaf bushes and tangles of wild roses. A few homes dotted the way, evident from a scatter of lights glowing through the trees. The road itself was crumbled and pitted, long forgotten.