Chapter 19
Saskia navigated the road heading north away from the city. Visibility had drastically decreased since they’d left the airport. A heavy fog due to rising temperatures made it difficult to see more than a quarter mile ahead of her, so she slowed her speed.
“Keep driving,” Clive insisted from the passenger seat.
“I am driving.”
“Not fast enough.”
“Can’t you see the conditions are dangerous?”
“Fuck the conditions. Just fucking drive.”
“Clive, are you—” She flashed a look at him and while it was dark, his loopy smile beamed. “Are you high?”
She hadn’t known the man to drink or do drugs but he was acting irrational and the knife was swaying from her head to her heart and all over the place. Her thigh pulsed, but she’d survive. Now she was really wishing for that aspirin.
“I might have taken a sniff from the box.”
“The box? What the—tell me what’s going on.”
“Don’t you already know? You and your spy Jack Angelo colluding to try and catch me out?” He chuckled, and it was a drawn out, goofy laugh. “It was easy enough to slip the poison in with the heroin.”
“The heroin? I thought you said that poison was for an unrelated job?”
“And you believed me? You’re more stupid than I thought, Sass. Stupid little girl who likes to play dress up. Do you put on costumes for your lovers? Are you the man or the woman when you have sex?”
She seriously hated stoned Clive. “You stole heroin?” She needed him to give her details. Arrestable details.
“The next time Maksim Tamm comes for his fix, he’s gone.” The man giggled again. “Serves him right for fucking with the bratva.”
Saskia knew that name. It was Russian for brotherhood and had been used to refer to their mafia. The diplomat Tamm was making drug deals with the Russian mafia? And obviously he’d done something to piss someone off. Thus, Clive had been hired to take him out. Clever. And who would suspect a bank heist was the reason behind a murder? Twice over.
Though this second heist hadn’t claimed a victim. And it would not. The powder she’d given Clive in the glass vial was inert, and wouldn’t hurt a fly.
But wouldn’t it have been easier just to spike the heroin before putting it in the box? Why hire a second party to go in and make a switch? She didn’t have the leisure to ponder the options. She’d gotten a confession from Clive. The ECU could work with that.
“You’re driving too slow!”
Clive suddenly grabbed the steering wheel. The BMW veered and hit a slick of black ice. The rear tires lost traction, swishing the tail end of the vehicle wildly.
Saskia swore as the vehicle careened off the road and into the thick snow in the ditch. She hit her head on the steering wheel and blacked out.
* * * *
Jack navigated the twenty-year-old sedan he’d hotwired in the airport parking lot onto the main freeway. He’d lost sight of Clive’s car about five miles out of the city, and slowed his speed. He’d noticed Saskia was slowing down, and with the visibility nearing zero and the frequent patches of black ice, he didn’t want to crash into the back of them.
He’d tossed the burner phone so he had no contact with the ECU. But as soon as he got to Saskia, the ECU would send out people to collect her. And him.
He wasn’t concerned with his own plans right now. He’d seen Clive stab Saskia. And while she had been able to limp away, and hadn’t left a trail of blood, she couldn’t be doing well. There was no telling what Clive was up to.
Seeing the sudden flash of red to the right of the road, Jack pulsed the brakes to a sliding stop. And suddenly Clive’s figure rushed into view. The man flagged him down with waving arms. Jack put the vehicle in park, and leaned over to check inside the glove compartment. He grabbed an emergency light stick and snapped it. A frantic shake mixed the chemicals inside the plastic tube. He got out of the car, holding the glowing light high. The winds whipped at his face and he clung to his open coat but the chill seared at his skin as if razor blades.
“What happened?” Jack called. The wind blew snow across the tarmac, transforming it into a white desert storm.
“She purposely drove us into the ditch!” Clive’s gesture toward the side of the road was highlighted by the car’s head beams. “She’s hurt!”
Jack ran past the man, slipping, but he caught himself as his boots crunched onto the snow edging the ditch. He saw that the car had landed on the driver’s side, sticking up in the ditch, and was half buried.
Grabbing the passenger door handle, which was level with his knees, he opened it. It was difficult to lift the heavy door with the wind buffeting him like a hurricane. And when had he last tried to open a door up instead of out? Struggling, he managed to slip his foot in between a space. He shoved in the light and could see Saskia was out; blood trickled from her temple and down her cheek. The keys were missing from the ignition.
Jack looked toward his car. It backed away, the headlights flashing as it turned. No way he’d catch the bastard on foot. And it didn’t matter. He had to get to Saskia.
Easing himself into the car, Jack’s struggles with the door and the wind made it difficult. He didn’t want to step on her, so he found his footing on the passenger seat and against the steering wheel column. The door slammed shut behind him, reducing the winds to a muffled thrum against the car’s exterior.
Jack crouched and managed to lean over the stick shift and inspect her.
“Saskia?” He nudged her shoulder gently. She felt warm and he could see her breath coming out in tiny wifts of fog. If they stayed inside this car for too long, they’d get buried by the drifting snow. There was no way to turn on the engine and thus, the heater. That bastard couldn’t have known it was Jack behind him on the road. But it was obvious Clive had intended to leave Saskia here, no matter who had stopped to help him.
“Come on, Saskia, we’ve got to get out of here.” He bowed his forehead to hers and ran his fingers along her jaw and down her neck. She was so precious. He’d punch Clive’s smug face into next year for hurting her.
She jerked suddenly as he moved his touch toward her ear. Good ole icy fingers.
“What?”
“It’s me. Jack.”
“How did you—what the hell? Where’s Clive?”
“He took off with my car. I followed you from the airport. I’ve got the ECU tracking you.”
“But…you’re supposed to…”
“Doesn’t matter right now.” It did, and it didn’t. He was here and that was all that mattered. “What’s going on with your leg? Talk to me, Saskia.”
“Just a surface wound. A warning to get me to comply. It hurt like fuck, but I’ll survive. But my head.” She touched her bleeding temple.
“You must have hit it on the windshield when you spun into the ditch. Help is on the way.”
“It is?”
“Yeah.” He clasped her hand. The moment felt so wrong, and yet he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but here right now. He wished he didn’t have to rescue her. She hadn’t deserved to get hurt. But he was thankful he’d been close. If Clive had left her here after getting picked up by a stranger, it was likely he wouldn’t have mentioned her and left her to freeze and possibly die.
“An ambulance?” she asked. “I don’t do the hospital, Jack, you know—”
“Someone from the ECU will come collect us. You know how they work. Always keeping tabs on their assets. Won’t even let one go unless he digs out the fucking tracker.”
“But. You can’t! You were on your way out. You wanted to go off the grid. Which I don’t understand. Who does that by returning home?”
So she’d figured out his next move? That had been apparent from her appearance in the airport. There was no way she’d been there and had not known about his presence. She’d been following him.
“Go, Jack. Just leave. They’ll find me. This is what you’ve wanted. An opportunity to get away. I don’t know why, and I wish you’d tell me, but you don’t have to. It’ll only make it easier for me to deny what I know about you.”
“Doesn’t matter right now. I’ll figure something out. I’m not leaving you here alone. But I do need to go out and set off a flare.” He reached back and opened the glove compartment. A few items spilled out along with an emergency flare. Standard in this country. “You sure you’re okay? Try wiggling a bit. Make sure nothing is broken.”
“I’m good. But you let Clive get away.”
“Hadn’t much choice. We’ll find him.”
“Maybe. He was high on the heroin from the safe deposit box.”
“Huh. I wondered if he looked a little strange when talking to him in the bank.”
“Some dignitary was wanted dead by the Russian bratva. Clive was their hit man.”
“Odd way of taking someone out. Much easier with a bullet. But apparently the man doesn’t do guns. How the hell did he get the knife through airport security?”
“No clue. Oh, it’s freezing in here.”
“You sit tight. I’m going out. You good?”
“Kiss me first.”
Jack leaned down and kissed her. Their mouths were cold and yet warmed quickly so he forgot about the weather outside. She clung to him, pulling him closer and deeper and he fell willingly.
He’d abandoned his escape plans in favor of rescuing the girl. And nothing had ever felt more right.
* * * *
A tow truck with a big blade mounted in front, designed for clearing snow and ice, picked up Jack and Saskia. Jack didn’t ask who had sent the driver. If it had been the ECU, the driver would have identified himself. Maybe. Yet, when he offered to bring them directly to the hospital emergency room, Jack decided maybe he had just been cruising by and was a civilian.
Of course, the ECU was watching their every move via Saskia’s chip. And if he were smart, he’d leave her at the emergency room and take off. But he didn’t.
Much against her protests, he now sat there watching as the ER doctor inspected Saskia’s forehead. She’d told him a story that the stick shift had torn through her leggings and created the gash. The doc nodded. Must have thought it sounded legit. Good thing the man was probably on the tail-end of a thirty-six hour shift. His lids were heavy and he couldn’t stop yawning.
“Will she survive?” Jack asked lightly.
“A hard-headed woman,” the doc offered. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but I’ll send a nurse to clean and bandage both the cuts.” He left them sitting in a narrow space partitioned off by beige curtains. The ER bustled. Lots of car accidents, apparently, even for the early morning hour.
“Let’s leave,” Saskia said, heaving herself off the bed.
“Nope.” Jack stood and lifted her up, setting her back on the bed. “If you don’t let them take care of you, the wounds will become infected.”
“I’ve taken care of wounds before. There’s a pharmacy attached to this building, I’m sure. Buy a jar of rubbing alcohol and I’ll be peachy.”
“We’re staying.”
She shook her head. “They’re going to find you.”
They both knew who the they were she was talking about, and Jack chose to ignore her worry. It wasn’t going to get him on a plane any faster if he did. And really. Getting on a plane. Could he really do it?
“Tell me more about what Clive said to you,” he asked. “The heroin and the dignitary. Did he give you a name?”
“Maksim Tamm.”
“That’s the name Kierce Quinn thought would be the target. I’ll call it in to the ECU. But I need to use your phone.”
“Yes, I didn’t have a chance because Clive had a knife to my head and I was just trying to stay on the road. Lot of good that did, eh? Jack, what’s up with you? You’ve saved me. I appreciate it. But you need to get out of here.”
“Yeah? What’s up with you? You were hell-bent on bringing my arse in and collecting your two hundred dollars without passing Go. Don’t you want me hanging around you anymore? Is it my kiss? Was it that bad?”
“Jack, your kiss…” She sighed and her shoulders dropped; then she lay back on the bed. “Fine. Do what you want.” She tugged out her cell phone and handed it to him. “I think… I need a nap.” Her eyelids fluttered and she was out.
* * * *
Twenty minutes later Saskia woke because someone had bumped the wheeled ER bed she was lying on. She looked around, trying to acclimate. Beside her leg, lay her cell phone. She checked the time. Six in the morning. The flight she’d purchased a ticket for had been scheduled to leave at 7:30 a.m. Jack was…nowhere to be seen.
And she did not like hospitals. They asked too many questions.
Taking in her surroundings, she determined there were four beds with people in them; one was groaning and muttering about needing more drugs. No nurses or doctors were in sight. She was still wearing her leggings, shirt, and shoes. Her coat was hung on a hook near the bed next to the curtain on the runner track. She slipped on her coat, and stepped carefully on her leg. It hurt, but she wasn’t incapacitated.
Zipping up the coat and tucking her hair down the back, she walked out into a dimly lit aisle and noted the main desk not far down to the right, so she turned left and aimed for the elevator doors. Most emergency rooms were on the main level, so she cursed when she got on and realized her best escape was where she had been. She hit the door open button and slipped out just as an orderly in blue scrubs and boasting tattoos along both forearms approached. He smiled at her but didn’t say anything.
She swiftly passed the main nurse’s station, and noticed a small café opposite it. If Jack had gone to get coffee— He wouldn’t be so foolish. He had a chance. And he’d taken it.
And much as she was all for him pursuing a new life, something was not right. He was heading to London. That’s not how a man went off the grid. Something must have sidetracked him. Had to be the reason. He’d been about to tell her, and then he’d clammed up. So she had no choice but to follow him, knowing the ECU would also follow.
This new information about Clive and the bratva disturbed her though. Would the ECU request she stay on his ass? She had no idea where he’d gone. And the less she saw of him the better. On the other hand, she’d really like to shove a blade into him and see if he squealed.
Outside in the ambulance bay, she sighted a cab and hopped in the back seat. The airport was a ten-minute drive away. Once in the airport, with ticket in hand, she breezed through security. She had nothing on her but her cell phone. A winter wear clothing shop was just opening in the gallery. With but half an hour to make her gate, she purchased a brown fleece jacket and a rabbit-fur-lined hat with the pull-down flaps that hunters liked for long treks in the cold forest. She had no makeup to change her face, but the hat covered most. It would serve.
Saskia was the last to board the plane. Head down and eyes sweeping the seats side to side, she didn’t notice Jack’s shaved pate. And his broad shoulders would have stood out.
Settling into the narrow seat ten rows up from the back of the plane, Saskia scanned each and every head before her. There were only about two dozen on the flight, and she couldn’t see up into business class because the blue curtains were pulled and Velcroed shut. Was Jack sitting up in business? For a man who was afraid of flying that was a good place to be. He’d be coddled and could drink, even for the short flight. And she could maintain her secrecy.
But she had to be sure. She couldn’t risk flying to London if the man had changed his mind. Getting up and making like she was headed toward the bathrooms, Saskia managed to slip the blue curtain aside and scan the business section—there was the top of his head—
“Ma’am, you’ll have to take your seat. The captain has put on the seatbelt signs.”
“Of course.” She nodded apologetically and headed back to her seat.
Intending to grab a few winks as the plane took off, the exhaustion from concentrating fiercely before the vault, and then the stress from the accident knocked her out quickly. She didn’t wake until the stewardess shook her by the shoulder. Saskia peered out from the froth of rabbit fur surrounding her face at the smiling woman.
The stewardess repeated, “Everyone has disembarked. You’ll have to leave now, ma’am.”
“Right. Sorry. Fell asleep. Thanks for the wakeup.”
Ten minutes later, Saskia stood at the taxi pickup. She hadn’t seen Jack. He would have made a beeline for a cab, unless someone was picking him up. Either way, this was the place where he’d get in a vehicle. Had she missed him?
“Damn it.”
Pulling out her phone, she hailed a cab, and got in the back seat. Chester answered after three rings. “You’re in London,” he said. “Where’s Angelo?”
“He’s here, but I lost him at the airport. Can you give me a list of Angelo family members, Chaz? And addresses if they live in or near London.”
“You think he’s visiting family? Doesn’t make sense.”
“Probably not to you, but just do it for me, will you? I’m heading into the city center to find something to eat and… I’m tired. I need more sleep.”
“I’ll get you a room and order room service.”
“Thanks, Chaz. Text me the details so I can give the driver the address. Is there anything else?”
“What else could there be?”
“What’s being said about me and my failure to bring in Angelo?”
“Nothing. Not that I’ve heard. I’ve been tasked to keep tabs on you. We’d hoped you’d lead us directly to Angelo.”
“Can you tell me why the ECU is so eager to catch the man? You wanted me to convince him to stay in the unit. What’s so valuable about him? If he wants to leave, then why not just drop the hammer and take him out, as promised, if he ever fucks up?”
“I don’t have that information, Saskia. You know that. You want to talk to Hunter Dixon?”
The leader of the Elite Crimes Unit. She’d met him once. Liked him. He was American, and talked with what she thought of as a lazy cowboy accent. He wouldn’t give her any more information than she’d already received. Need to know, and all that bullshit.
“No. I’m fine. But it’s important I get that info on Jack’s family. Whatever you can find for me.”
“I’m on it. I’ll text you the results. I just sent the location of your hotel. And… I’m communicating with Kierce Quinn in the Paris office. Jack checked in a few hours ago on a burner phone. He’s already tossed it, so I couldn’t get a trace.”
“Did he give them the info I relayed about the bratva?”
“Bratva…” Chester muttered as if he were thinking, or perhaps typing while he thought. “Yes, Quinn made that connection. Where’s Clive now?”
“Hell if I know. After we went in the ditch, he abandoned me. Didn’t see him at the airport either. Can you track him on CCTV?”
“I’ll have to do something. We need to keep that man in our sights.”
Saskia yawned. “Just let me know what you need next from me. I’ll be online.”
“Will do.” The connection clicked off.
Saskia relayed the texted address to the cabbie, then let her head drop onto the seat. Jack had said something about Clive taking off in his car. Where to? Was he hell-bent to make sure she didn’t survive? He could have left her out in that freezing car to die. And he probably would have had she not been so fortunate that Jack had tailed them from the airport.
But the fact remained, Clive Hendrix was at large.