Crown's Vengeance, The (29 page)

The television in one corner caught Parker’s eye. He needed a distraction before he lost it. “Mind if I turn that on? I haven’t heard anything about the oil shipments all day.”

Nick flipped him the remote, and Parker soon found one of CNN’s seemingly endless supply of experts postulating as to why OPEC had ramped up production. Several citizens were interviewed, their reactions overwhelmingly positive. Most people equated more available oil with cheaper gas, and they were right.

Despite this, Parker couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something about this was off. If Drake had really invested an immense amount of Aldrich’s capital in oil futures, he was in danger of becoming insolvent.

An organization with the resources of Aldrich going under would have been unthinkable a few years ago, but that was before Lehman Brothers and the 2008 mortgage crisis changed everyone’s perception of being too big to fail. And he hadn’t even begun to consider what could happen if, as Ben had told him, Drake convinced his peers in the investment community to invest depositors’ funds. If billions of dollars of investors’ money suddenly disappeared, America might be staring at the next Great Depression.

Across the room, Nick whipped out his cell phone. “Dean.” A heartbeat later, his voice sent pure adrenaline through Parker’s veins. “Erika?”

Parker shot up from the couch. “Is it her?”

Nick said nothing for a moment, and Parker almost grabbed the phone from his hands.

Almost. He thought better of it when he remembered Nick was a force of nature.

“Hold on, he’s right here.”

Nick put the call on speakerphone, and the most beautiful sound Parker had ever heard filtered through.

“Parker?” Timid and scared, but definitely Erika.

“Are you all right? Where are you?”

Silence, and then a robotic voice said, “She’s in a safe place, and she’s fine.”

It sounded like Stephen Hawking, but deeper.

“Who is this? I swear, if you so much as—”

“No need for theatrics, Mr. Chase. Dr. Carr is perfectly healthy, but if you wish for her to remain that way, I suggest you listen very carefully.”

Nick was waving at him, making a rolling motion with one hand.
Keep him talking.

“All right. Who is this?”

Nick raced from the room, faster than a man his size should be able to move.

“We are who you have been searching for, Mr. Chase. You’ve been on our trail for some time now, ever since Dr. Carr stumbled across a letter from Paul Revere.”

“Am I speaking with Spencer Drake?” Maybe catch them off guard, get a reaction.

The disembodied, mechanical laugh was an eerie sound. “You certainly have an active imagination. Do not concern yourself with the who, Mr. Chase. You should concern yourself with how. As in how are you going to keep your girlfriend alive for the next twenty-four hours.”

Where was Nick?

“What do you want?”

“Very simple, Mr. Chase. We don’t want anyone concerning themselves with our business, because until a few weeks ago, everything was fine.”

“What’s the big secret? We don’t have any idea who you are. You’re the ones who came after us.”

“That is irrelevant. Dr. Carr is with us, and if you want to keep her alive, you’ll do exactly as we say.”

Nick finally reappeared from the hallway, and a pair of thick fingers sprouted from his palm.
Two more minutes.

“What exactly do you want from me? I don’t have anything to give you.”

“Incorrect. Dr. Carr informed us that you possess a copy of three letters written by Paul Revere.”

“You have the originals.”

“We require the three copies in Joseph Chase’s apartment. We also require Dr. Carr’s office and personal computers.”

“How about I mail them to you?”

The robotic laugh again. “I’m afraid that would be unacceptable. You will deliver them in person, and after we are certain that no further record of the letters exists, we will part ways.”

They must take him for a fool. “What’s to stop you from killing both of us when I show up?”

“Nothing, Mr. Chase. You’ll simply have to trust us.”

“Why would I do that when you’ve tried to kill me three times already?”

“Fortunately for you, circumstances have changed, and you are no longer our primary concern. Besides, Mr. Chase, it is too late.”

“Too late for what?”

Nick held up a single finger.

“You will learn soon enough. An address will be e-mailed to you within twenty minutes. Be there tonight at ten o’clock. Bring the items we requested, and if you want Dr. Carr to live, come alone.”

“Where—” The line went dead.

Chapter 47

Parker stood frozen. A harried technician, glasses askew, rushed through Nick’s door moments later. “We couldn’t get a fix. They were using a satellite phone with some heavy duty encryption.”

“Did you get anything?”

Even from across the room, Nick towered over the man.

A stutter appeared in his hesitant voice. “Well, uh, we …”

“Yes or no?”

“No. We couldn’t even identify what country he was in.”

“Damn. For all we know she could be aboard an airplane right now.”

While the interrogation was going on, a light went off in Parker’s head. “Nick, it doesn’t matter where they are. That e-mail will give a location, which should at least give you a basic area for where she’s being held.”

One massive hand waved dismissively, and the tech disappeared like a magician’s assistant. “But will it give us enough time to set up proper surveillance measures? I doubt it. It’s two o’clock right now, which gives us less than eight hours.”

“They can’t be telling me to go very far. It’s not like I have a plane I can just hop in and jet around the world.”

“You’re probably right, but what has me worried is the attack they carried out. Those guys were professionals. The coordination, the organization, it was way too good for a bunch of thugs.”

That didn’t sound right.

“We killed half their team, Nick. How good can they be?”

His response was cold as ice. “We’re good too, Parker. We have to be.”

A Blackberry flipped through the air, landing softly in Parker’s hands.

“Use this to check your e-mail. The sooner we know where you’re meeting them, the better prepared we’ll be. And don’t forget, you still have to get those copies and Erika’s computers before you leave.”

Parker tapped out the password for his private e-mail account, mind still running through what the robotic voice had said. “Do you think that was Drake? He said it was already too late to stop whatever they were up to. What else could he have been talking about?”

Years of experience darkened Nick’s face.

“One problem at a time, Parker. First, we worry about getting Erika back. After that, we can deal with whatever that guy was talking about. And do I think it’s Drake? I’m not sure. All that circumstantial evidence you guys gathered could point to someone in his organization, but right now I can’t say.” The big man made no noise as he walked over and put a hand on Parker’s shoulder. “I know you’re angry. You need to channel that anger, focus on what we can control, and worry about the rest later. Erika’s our first priority right now. The rest can wait.”

Such words of wisdom from a battle-hardened operative like Nick buoyed his spirit. They would do this. Erika would live, and whoever had her would die.

On the screen, a new message popped up:

25 Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Boston.

Nick scribbled the address down. “It’s six hours by car. Which gives you two hours, max, to get everything they want.”

Parker stood to go, but Nick was ahead of him. “I’m coming with you. I doubt this is a trap, but you never know. Let’s move, Chase.”

Nick thundered down the hallway, people dodging left and right to avoid the speeding freight train. Parker followed in his wake, an iron resolve building as they moved to save Erika.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 48

“Well done, Dr. Carr. An excellent performance.”

Erika was aboard Spencer Drake’s jet, currently flying off the coast of New Jersey, It was the nicest plane she’d ever seen. Oversized leather captain’s chairs dotted the interior of the Gulfstream G550, interspersed with several long bench seats, various tables and workstations, and even a flight attendant. The girl was kind, if robotic, and hadn’t even blinked at the handcuffs that locked Erika’s left arm to her seat.

It had been a whirlwind few hours. When she’d been standing in front of Eastern State Penitentiary watching Parker struggle with one of their attackers, she hadn’t seen the second car until it was too late. A man zapped her with a stun gun and pulled her into the vehicle, and then a thick black cloth covered her head. A gun barrel shoved into her neck had silenced her screams.

She couldn’t tell how far they drove, but it wasn’t long before she’d been pulled from the car, hood still covering her eyes. An unbelievable roaring, which she later realized was the Gulfstream, filled the air, and she was forced up a staircase. Only once her arm was secured to the chair in which she now sat was the hood removed.

Through this entire ordeal, what scared her the most was that none of her captors bothered to conceal their faces. None of the three men were worried that she knew what they looked like. Which only meant one thing.

She wouldn’t be around to identify who’d kidnapped her.

“We should be landing in just under one hour. Jessica,” the man who’d spoken to Parker said, “will get you anything you require. Within reason, of course.”

The stewardess’s blank expression never changed. Apparently she didn’t find anything about the situation to be strange.

Erika remained silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Trim and muscular, with close-cropped black hair going slightly gray at the temples, she assumed the man who spoke was the group’s leader. He was all business, whether on the phone with Parker or directing his men after they’d grabbed her. He had military written all over him, and there wasn’t an ounce of compassion on his hard, weathered face.

Seated across the plane, the presumed leader spoke softly into a bulky phone. She’d never seen one, but Erika had read enough to guess he was using a satellite phone.

“The message was delivered, sir.”

Erika leaned toward him, straining to catch every word of the one-sided conversation.

“Chase understands what is required. He knows we have Dr. Carr, and will bring the items you requested. Where is the rendezvous point?”

A pen scratched across the paper in his lap.

“Understood. I’ll pass this along immediately.”

He severed the connection, fingers flying rapidly over the phone’s keyboard.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Carr.” He turned without warning, his rapid movement making her jump. “You will be seeing Mr. Chase this evening. Once we have the documents and your electronic equipment, you will be free to go. Until then, try to relax.”

Erika never responded, afraid that her voice would betray the primal fear coursing through her veins.

Unless Parker and Nick could save her, she knew this man was going to kill her.

Chapter 49

Two hours before the appointed deadline, Parker stepped off a Bell 407AH helicopter that had carried him, along with Nick and a five-man team of CIA operatives, from Philadelphia to downtown Boston. Slung across his shoulder was a worn leather bag containing the copies of Revere’s letters and Erika’s two laptops.

Prior to leaving Philadelphia, the bespectacled CIA tech in Nick’s office had installed several combination tracking and listening devices in Parker’s clothes. One in each shoe, one in his belt, and one in his wristwatch. Each device, no larger than a pebble, transmitted real-time GPS coordinates to an Agency satellite hovering miles overhead. Nick carried a portable receiver that displayed the location of all four tracking devices, overlaid on a digital map of the area. The devices also contained tiny microphones that would transmit anything Parker heard to Nick’s receiver. As long as the trackers worked, Nick could pinpoint Parker’s exact location anywhere on the planet while listening to what he was saying.

Strong winds buffeted Parker as he stood atop the Federal Reserve Bank building in Boston’s Financial District. From this vantage point, the men were presented with a breathtaking view of a beautiful New England landscape. Boston Harbor stretched to the horizon, sails of every color floating across the inky black water, onboard lights reflecting off the rainbow of canvas.

Parker had little time to appreciate the scenery. “Time to go,” Nick said, shouting to be heard. “My team needs to get in position before you arrive.”

Through a thick steel door held open by a wide-eyed security guard, their small group filed into a freight elevator that whisked them thirty-two floors down to street level. Outside of a rear entrance, they found two black Suburbans, engines running.

What was it with these guys and Suburbans?

Ensconced within the seemingly ubiquitous metallic beasts, the grim-faced operatives thundered to the Beacon Hill neighborhood of Boston. A full moon lit the way, no clouds barring the golden-white rays of light from splashing across the city.

On the brick-lined downtown sidewalks, Parker spotted groups of people sitting outside of restaurants, laughing and enjoying a beautiful summer evening. Surrounded by five killing machines armed to the teeth, Parker found the normal, carefree diners to be strangely out of place.

The ride passed in silence, and fifteen minutes later their small caravan came to a halt five blocks from Louisburg Square.

Lights off, the rumbling cars nearly disappeared among the gas lit streets, shielded by elegantly landscaped trees.

“Let’s hear the plan one more time, Parker.”

Nick had laid out the operation for him in excruciating detail before leaving his office, and several more times in the helicopter. Parker knew it inside and out, but the CIA man spoke from experience when he declared that practice made perfect, and the only guarantee you had about a battle plan was that something would go wrong.