Chapter Four
The man sometimes known Rip stood in his office, looking out at interstate traffic passing not a hundred yards from his building. It was late, and the roadway was a blur of headlights cutting into the night. Ants, he thought, moving in armies, rushing from place to place with no other purpose in life than to survive. Well, wasn’t that what he was doing? Something to survive?
“Yes, I’m here,” he said into his cell phone. “Remember. Make sure they aren’t harmed in any way.”
“We will handle them with kid gloves,” the man on the other end of the conversation told him. “Royalty wouldn’t be treated any better.”
“Cut it out, Nando.” The man’s arrogance irritated him beyond belief. “I know how the great cartel lord Victor Herrera treats his guests. And you take tremendous pleasure in carrying out his unpleasant orders. I want these people returned in one piece. Hurting them isn’t part of the bargain.”
Nando Aguilar’s low chuckle sent chills skittering along Rip’s spine. “But it is ultimately my bargain, is it not? I’m solving a problem for you, si?”
“You know how I got into this,” Rip spat at him.
“Nevertheless, a successful conclusion to the problem will benefit us both.”
“And get you off my back once and for all.”
The chuckle resonated again through the connection. “Only if you are able to control your hungry habits, mi amigo.”
“I’m not your friend.” Rip began pacing back and forth, jingling the change in his pocket. “Once this is finished, so are we.”
“We shall see. Yes, indeed, we shall see.” His tone changed abruptly. “As soon as we have them in place, I’ll make the video and send it as we agreed. Be sure to contact the others when you receive it. Then move forward with the next step. Are you ready for your part?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m all set.”
“See that you are.”
The connection was broken abruptly. Rip snapped the cell phone shut and shoved it into his pocket, swearing under his breath. If he could just get out of this with everyone’s skin intact, he’d never, ever, make the same mistakes again.
Kat awoke before dawn, gray light filtering in through the slits in the blinds. The first thing she noticed was an unusual soreness in many places in her body. The second was the warm man lying curled up next to her, one leg thrown over hers, one muscular arm draped around her waist. And pleasure suffused her as she remembered every detail of the night before. No way could she deny how good it was to have Mike D’Antoni back in her bed. Or how wonderful the whole night had been. He’d woken her twice to make love again, and each time was better than the time before.
But through the haze of erotic pleasure one thought pierced her brain.
No word from Mari.
Something wasn’t right. They should have been in Hawaii by now—long before now. Mari should have called. Kat’s internal sensors told her something was wrong.
Slipping out of Mike’s grasp and out of bed as silently as she could, she found her sleep shirt and tugged it on, picked up her cell phone, and made her way into the kitchen. But when she checked her voice mail, there were no messages. Not one.
Why, oh why didn’t I get a number from her for where they’d be staying? She said it was a client’s house. Someone named Rand Prescott, I think. Yes, I’m sure that’s what she said. I should have made her give me the damn number.
Booting up her laptop at the kitchen table, she went to the online phone directory, searching for the number of the airfield in San Diego where Mari had said the Wright plane would be landing when they stopped for lunch and refueling. But when she called them, nobody there could tell her anything. Just that the plane was still hangared there and one of the pilots had called to say there was a change of plans. They wouldn’t be leaving for a couple of days.
Kat could hardly believe that. If they were going to lay over in San Diego, Mari would have called to tell her. And she couldn’t call the Wright International office there for three more hours.
Next she searched for the number in Waikiki for Rand Prescott, the man who so graciously had lent them his house for this trip. The housekeeper who answered was doing her best to conceal her anxiety, but she knew nothing except the Wrights and Mari had been no-shows. She’d tried calling the cell phone number she’d been given, but there was no answer. The same thing when she tried to call Mr. Prescott.
When Kat called the police department in San Diego to see whether some kind of accident had been reported, they told her they had nothing. She should wait twenty-four hours, then call back. Same thing in Waikiki.
Damn!
Finally she went online and searched for any new reports of a small plane crash in the past twenty-four hours. She had no clout with the FAA or the NTSA, so this was the best she could do. But the two accidents she found were on the other side of the country.
After brewing herself a cup of tea in the kitchen, she carried it into the living room and stood by the big picture window, sipping at the hot liquid and trying to wipe the anxiety from her mind. When that didn’t work, she returned to her laptop and searched for the longitude and latitude of San Diego. Without specific pictures, she’d often used geographic coordinates for cueing and prompting. Finally she found a map of San Diego and brought it up full screen, carried the laptop to the window and sat down cross-legged, the computer beside her.
Inhaling and exhaling five times, and taking cleansing breaths the way Vivi had told her, she forcibly emptied her mind of all thoughts and took herself into a meditative state. Five minutes later she was ready to try to view remotely, hoping the meditation helped and that her powers wouldn’t fade in and out.
She fixed the geographic numbers in her brain, stared at the map, and sent her mind hundreds of miles away to California. In moments her “signal line” began to emerge, frequencies radiating and impacting on her perceptive faculties, the first hint of the emergence of the image she was seeking. Soon she began to perceive bits and pieces of a picture.
A corner of a white stone building. A piece of sidewalk. Was that water? A motel with a pool? A sliver of sidewalk emerged, the image wavered and sharpened. As quickly it changed to a dusty road cut through towering trees and bushes. Then, everything wavered.
Damn!
It was gone. She was out of it. No, she could not lose it.
Kat went through the routine again. Hot tea. Meditation. Focus on the map on the computer.
This time the picture emerged a little more sharply, and she could see the picture was a restaurant. On the water. People stood under the canopy, but unlike the surroundings, they were too blurred to distinguish. A flash of black swept across her vision. A truck. No, a van.
The image stabilized, frozen across the plane of her vision. The Wright family, Mari, some strange men.
Then they were gone. Erased as if by a swipe of a cloth.
The first thing she felt was exhaustion from the effort. The second was the sense of a terrible evil. Something was very, very wrong.
Trying to control her panic, she grabbed her cell phone, checked once more to see whether Mari had called, then dialed the number of her sister’s cell.
Still no answer.
She threw the phone onto the couch and flopped down next to it. What should she do? This was well past the time it should have taken them to arrive, get to the house where they were staying, and settle in. What had happened in San Diego? Had they never arrived in Hawaii at all?
“Kat?”
She hadn’t even heard Mike come into the room. He’d pulled on his boxers and run his fingers through his hair, but otherwise he looked pleasantly morning-after sleep-rumpled.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“No problem. I knew when you got up, but I figured you’d be back in a minute.” His eyes took in the expression on her face, tracked over to the cell phone, and then into the kitchen and the laptop. “Problem? Must be to get you up so early.” His mouth curved in a crooked smile. “I must not have worn you out as much as I thought.”
“I still haven’t heard from my sister. I’m trying not to worry or make a huge deal out of it. Except she knows to call me regularly so I won’t worry. I’ve checked missed calls and called her cell at least two dozen times. Mike, they never arrived in Hawaii.” She told him about her calls to the airfield, the house in Waikiki, and to the police in both San Diego and Hawaii. “The airfield said they got a call about plans being changed, and the police give me the same old line about waiting twenty-four hours. I can’t do that.”
“What else?” he asked. “I can tell by your voice there’s something.”
“I-I did a remote viewing session, and I think something happened in San Diego.”
“Okay. Let’s not panic yet.” His voice was calming, reassuring. Even. “Is there coffee here?” She nodded. “Let’s put a pot on and get dressed. Then I’ll get to work.”
She leaped off the couch and threw her arms around him, trying her best to beat back the fear. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Hey.” He looked down at her and winked. “It’s what I do, remember?”
She gave Mike the guest bathroom and used her sister’s. By the time she’d showered, pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, and scraped her hair back into a ponytail, the coffee was done and Mike was at the kitchen table, cell phone glued to his ear. He pointed at the coffee pot and the mug waiting for her.
“Okay,” he was saying. “Uh-huh. Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
Kat took the chair next to Mike. “Who was that?”
“One of my partners, Mark Halloran. I told you about him yesterday.”
“I remember. His wife’s the author.”
Mike nodded. “He’s on his way over here.”
Kat looked at the kitchen clock. “Now? At this hour?”
“Mark and Faith will be here in thirty.”
“Here?” Kat squeaked. “Ohmigod, Mike. I look like hell, and I have nothing in the place to serve them.”
“Not to worry.” He laughed. “They’ll bring breakfast.” His face sobered. “I told him it was important. From what you said, I can tell it is.”
She nodded, trying to make her voice as calm as possible. “This is so unlike Mari. I really don’t think they ever left San Diego.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
She took a swallow of the hot liquid, cradling the mug in her hands, then set it back down in front of her. “I wouldn’t tell this to just anyone, but since you already know about my so-called gift and said your partners’ wives have gifts also . . .”
“It’s all right.” He reached across the kitchen table and picked up one of her hands with his, lacing his fingers through hers. “I’m with you. So tell me again what you did.”
“I decided to start with San Diego because they were scheduled to stop there for fuel and lunch.” She brushed a stray stand of hair away from her forehead. “If I didn’t ‘see’ anything there, then I’d try Hawaii, but I don’t have enough information for that yet. I’d need to know where they were supposed to land and the approximate location of the house where they are supposed to be staying.”
“Okay. So were you able to see anything?”
“Not as much as I wanted.” She took another sip of her coffee and set the mug down carefully. “Remote viewing isn’t exactly what people think it is. A viewer can focus and send her or his thought waves hundreds or even thousands of miles away. They find a signal line, like with radio waves, using photos or GPS locations, or a variety of techniques. But it isn’t like turning on the television.”
“So what is it like? What do you see?”
“I see the scenes like pictures,” she explained. “Like images taken with an imperfect camera, where part of the images are missing. Then I focus . . . focus . . . focus, and a shutter in my brain goes click! Freeze frame, and there it is. Whatever there turns out to be.”
“So what did you see?” he prodded again.
She told him what little she’d been able to gather. “Enough to make me believe something bad happened in San Diego,” she said. “I know it. I feel it. And Mike? Don’t think I’m crazy, but I get a sense of tremendous evil involved here.”
“I’ve learned not to disregard those kinds of feelings,” he told her. “Especially in the last couple of years.”
“I just don’t know who else to get hold of or how to go any further tracking them down. They never made it to Rand Prescott’s house and I have no idea how tog et hold of him.”
He eased his fingers away from hers and reached out to cup her chin. “I can handle that.” His eyes were blazing with unspoken emotion. “I want you to trust me with this, Kat. Phoenix can help.”
“Oh God, I hope so. If anything’s happened to her . . .”
“Let’s not borrow more trouble until we have to.”
He picked up his cell phone again. Kat refilled their coffee cups and listened while he called someone named Andy and asked for a list and all contact information for Wright International’s executive staff. Also the same information for any other members of the family—sisters, brothers, whatever.
When the doorbell rang, Mike got up to answer it. Kat heard the sound of voices as they came through the living room into the kitchen. The small room was crowded with two very big men and a brunette Kat thought was too gorgeous to be legal. Faith Wilding, the famous author. Here. In Mari’s kitchen.
Then she took a look at the man standing next to Mike. As tall as Mike, he had broader shoulders with the same lean but muscular frame. A thick shock of midnight-black hair topped a rugged face with inky-black eyes. He looked as serious as Mike.
Mike made the introductions. “Kat Culhane, Faith and Mark Halloran.”
She held out her hand, and Mark shook it. “Pleasure meeting you, Miss Culhane.”
“Kat. Please. Too bad it’s not the social occasion planned for later this morning.”
“I’m just glad to meet you at all. My aunt raved and raved about you.” Faith stepped forward and pulled Kat into a hug. “You look like you need more than a handshake.”
Kat felt an instant connection with the woman, as if they’d known each other forever. “I don’t . . . I can’t . . .”
“We’re fine. Everything will be okay.” She stepped back and gestured at a large open box on the counter. “We brought offerings from Krispy Kreme, the doughnut of the angels. Why don’t we all sit down, and you can fill us in on the situation.”
So Kat told her story once more, this time in greater detail as she explained about the trip, where the Wrights and Mari were going, everything she actually knew.
“She’d call me unless something was wrong,” Kat insisted. “We’re very close. Since our parents died, we only have each other.”
“Okay, let’s see what the Dragonslayer’s got so far,” Mark said, turning on his BlackBerry and scrolling through it.
Kat raised her eyebrows. “The Dragonslayer?”
“Andy. Our resident geek. He runs the super-duper computer back in Baltimore that Dan Romeo, our senior partner, dubbed the Dragon. Hence the name.”
“Okay, here we go.” Mark was punching buttons on his BlackBerry. “Names and phone numbers at Wright International. Ron Pelley, the executive veep. Andy sent his private numbers for home and office. Let’s start with him.” He tapped in the number.
Kat curled her hands around her coffee mug once again, willing herself to a calmness she didn’t feel as Mark spoke into his phone. Mike sat down next to her and almost casually draped his arm across the back of her chair, his hand lightly squeezing her shoulder. Just from that tiny contact his warmth and assurance seeped into her. When she turned her head to look at him, he said in a low voice, “Things will be fine. We’ll take care of it.”
And somehow she knew he would.
“Okay.” Mark looked at everyone. “Pelley says he didn’t expect to hear from his boss until sometime today. He’s got Rand Prescott’s number at his office and all the rest of the information he might need. Apparently Prescott and Eli Wright have partnered on some projects. Pelley also said he’d check on the security detail who were supposed to be watching the Wright party while they were in San Diego. He expects to be there in about thirty minutes.”
“Is there anyone else who might know what’s going on?” Kat was sure the only reason her voice was so steady was because of Mike’s presence and his reassuring touch.
Mark nodded and began punching in more numbers. “I’m calling Ryan Post, Sydney Wright’s brother. Pelley didn’t mention him, but Andy got all his numbers, including the office he has for the string of spas he owns.”
Faith raised an eyebrow. “Spas?”
Mark shrugged. “To each his own. Yeah, Mr. Post? This is Mark Halloran of the Phoenix Agency. Sorry if I woke you. I’m a little worried about your sister and her family, and I’m hoping you can put my mind at rest.”
Again they all listened to the one-sided conversation, Kat strung as taut as a bow, waiting for whatever answer Mark might be able to get. But when he disconnected, he just shook his head.
“He has no idea, either. He’s leaving for his office right now, and he said he’ll do what he can to try tracking them down. I gave him my cell, but I think we should check on him after we see Pelley.”
“Don’t these people keep phone numbers with them?” Faith asked. “You guys never go anywhere without a list a mile long.”
Mark shrugged. “Everyone operates differently. And Ryan Post may not be on the best terms with his sister. Andy says a couple of stories he found hinted there was some kind of bad blood there.”
“Wonderful,” Mike grunted.
“What kind of bad blood?” Faith wanted to know.
“The articles he found mostly had to do with their parents’ estate,” Mike told her. “He found one article written about the time they were killed in a plane crash. Apparently they left a sizable estate. The other one was a year later, something about final disposition of the assets.
Faith made a sound of disgust. “Nothing like a few bucks to bring out the worst in people.”
“I can’t believe a man like Eli Wright would go off with his family and not tell people how to contact him,” Kat cried. “He runs a multibillion dollar business, for God’s sake.”
“He’d leave that information at the office,” Mike reminded her. “And we’re calling Pelley there in a few minutes.”
“What about trying someone at San Diego?’ Faith suggested. “If they stopped there for lunch and refueling, someone might know what’s going on.” She looked at Kat. “And if you saw something you didn’t like in your session, we really need to find out what’s going on there.”
“Agreed.” Mike pulled out his cell and stood up. “I’m going to call the airport in San Diego where they landed to refuel and for lunch. Most private planes use a small one that’s better equipped to handle them. The people on San Diego may have knowledge of any change of plans. “
He walked into the living room, murmuring softly into the phone, Kat following him with her eyes.
Faith touched her arm. “If anyone can find out what’s happening, it’s Mike. He’s like a bulldog.”
“She’s right,” Mark agreed. “The only one I know more determined about anything is my wife. If it hadn’t been for her, I might be rotting away in a Peruvian jungle, or worse yet, dead.”
They exchanged a look so intimate Kat felt as if she were peeking through someone’s curtains, and she had to turn her eyes away. She wanted that so badly with someone. Once she thought she might have had it with Mike. Was it possible for them to go back and pick up the pieces? She badly wanted to believe what he’d said last night. And this morning, stepping up without a second’s hesitation . . .
“Tell me a little bit about remote viewing.” Faith’s words broke into her mental wanderings. “I know very little about it.”
Glad for the momentary distraction, Kat gave her the simplest explanation she could. And only because Faith had a psychic gift herself did she feel comfortable revealing so much about herself and what she could do.
“When I met with your aunt yesterday,” she added, “it was to find some help. Or answers. My psychic power has been wavering, and I’m always afraid it will fail me at exactly the wrong moment.”
“And did she tell you that, everything else aside, stress can be the single most complicating factor?”
“Yes, she did.”
Mark studied her expression. “And is there something that’s been going on with you to stress you out?”
Kat definitely wasn’t ready to discuss Brent, with him or anyone else.
And thank you, Brent Fontaine, for so thoroughly screwing up not just my life but also my mind.
Maybe if he’d quit calling her, she could stick him in a mental corner for as long as she needed to.
Faith reached for Mark’s hand. “I had to completely focus when we were hunting for Mark. Our psychic link was the only thing we had to go on, so I couldn’t afford to let it weaken.”
Mark nodded in agreement. “Same here. I know you’re very worried about your sister, but you know yourself this is the time you need to be the strongest.”
“I know. I just—”
“Okay. Got something.”
Mike walked back into the kitchen, interrupting whatever she’d been about to say.
Her heart did a little stutter, and her stomach knotted. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, almost afraid to ask the question. “Good news or bad?”
He sat down next to her. “Neither. I got the same message from the day manager at the terminal that you did, Kat. So the plane is still in San Diego, but we have no clue as to where the Wrights and Mari are.”
“But that’s absurd.” Kat jerked so hard her coffee sloshed over her hand. She blotted it absently. “Eli Wright has a business meeting in Waikiki today that Mari said is very important. He wouldn’t just blow it off.” She tossed the wet napkin onto the table. “Besides, if that were the case, Mari would have called to tell me about it.”
Mike was nodding his head. “Exactly what I thought. And the manager wouldn’t be able to tell if the call came from the real pilot or not.”
“Oh my God.” Mike had covered her hand with his, and while she liked the feeling of comfort, she wasn’t ready yet to send signals to other people that might be misread. Still, she couldn’t deny the feeling of comfort it gave her. Damn it all, anyway. Why didn’t things ever happen at a convenient time? Carefully she retrieved her hand. “Now I know something terrible has happened.”
“Let’s see what we can find out from Hawaii, too,” Mark put in. “Maybe the housekeeper has heard from someone by now. If the Wrights really postponed this, they’d make the call and change their arrival time.”
Mike looked at his watch. “Pelley should have reached his office by now. I’d rather talk to him face-to-face. People can hide a lot over the phone. After that, we’ll track down the brother.” His gaze traveled to Mark. “Then I think we need to take a trip to San Diego.”
“What do you think happened?” Kat asked, realizing how stupid the question was even as she asked it.
“I don’t know yet, kitten. But whatever it is, we’ll take care of it.
And despite the others in the kitchen watching them, he tipped up her face and kissed her, hard and deep.