was packed, ready to go. She was lingering, not wanting to take off. Wanting a few minutes more here, in this magical city where she’d met some magical people.
She was going to hurt them by disappearing. For a second, crazily, she thought of going back in to leave a goodbye note.
No. That was dangerous thinking. No more stalling. It was time.
She reached into her purse for the keys and didn’t find them. She scrabbled a bit around the bottom, frowning. She kept a neat purse. Car keys in one internal pocket, house keys in another. The house keys weren’t there because she’d left them on the kitchen table. And...the car keys weren’t there, either.
She searched again, more thoroughly. Clearly, she’d missed the car keys because she was hurting, worried. So she looked again. But they weren’t there.
Sighing, Lauren opened her purse wider, angling it so it would catch the meager light of the overhead bulb.
No keys.
How could she leave if she didn’t have car keys?
Search one more time.
This time she carefully placed the contents of her purse on the car fender. Wallet, fake driver’s license, fake ID, makeup case, her ereader with a thousand books on it. No keys.
This was a disaster. The snow was falling more heavily now. If the keys weren’t in her purse—which they
should be
—then she had no idea where to look. It could take her hours to scour the house, hours she didn’t have.
Now that she wasn’t in the Jacko Force Field of Safety, danger was drumming in her head. She’d made a huge mistake last night and she was going to pay. She could feel it; she could almost smell it. Her neck prickled with the sense of impending danger. Jorge’s goons could be coming for her
right now.
She had to leave
right now.
She huffed out an angry, scared breath, turning to walk back into the house, when a huge hand appeared in front of her, car keys dangling from thick fingers.
“Looking for these?” Jacko’s deep voice asked.
Chapter Five
Palm Beach, Florida
The next day Frederick found it on the front passenger seat of his car. He was on his way to the airport where he’d fly under another identity to George Town. His Caymans’ banker had contacted him for an “interesting proposal,” which would have to be discussed in private and in person. He suspected the banker had somehow discovered Frederick’s gifts and was proposing a money laundering scheme. This was perfect. The profit potential would be huge and above all, Frederick wouldn’t get his hands dirty. He knew how to cover his traces. And it probably meant several trips to the Caymans a year, which was a pleasant thought. What was wealth in the United States was unimaginable riches in the Caymans. He could live like a king, outside the jurisdiction of the United States.
Finding something in his car was interesting in and of itself. Frederick’s security everywhere was superb, and that included his car, a Lexus LS whose already-strong security system had been tweaked. The car door opened to his electronic key but it also required his thumbprint.
So if someone left something for him in the front seat of his car, that someone was serious.
A sat phone. Bigger, bulkier than most smartphones. He recognized it immediately. The latest Thuraya. Guaranteed non-hackable because it operated off a Saudi-owned satellite and the Saudis were not in the habit of sharing intel with the NSA, or anyone else for that matter. The Thuraya was an expensive, difficult-to-obtain piece of tech.
A small slip of paper with laser-printed words was on top of it.
Password: money.
Okay. Good password.
He fired it up, put in the password and saw that it was preprogrammed with one long number. He didn’t recognize the prefix and was sure that it didn’t correspond to any specific geographic location. It was a connection to a forwarding service. The number itself would be of no help in understanding where the person on the other end was located.
Someone had gone through
She was going to hurt them by disappearing. For a second, crazily, she thought of going back in to leave a goodbye note.
No. That was dangerous thinking. No more stalling. It was time.
She reached into her purse for the keys and didn’t find them. She scrabbled a bit around the bottom, frowning. She kept a neat purse. Car keys in one internal pocket, house keys in another. The house keys weren’t there because she’d left them on the kitchen table. And...the car keys weren’t there, either.
She searched again, more thoroughly. Clearly, she’d missed the car keys because she was hurting, worried. So she looked again. But they weren’t there.
Sighing, Lauren opened her purse wider, angling it so it would catch the meager light of the overhead bulb.
No keys.
How could she leave if she didn’t have car keys?
Search one more time.
This time she carefully placed the contents of her purse on the car fender. Wallet, fake driver’s license, fake ID, makeup case, her ereader with a thousand books on it. No keys.
This was a disaster. The snow was falling more heavily now. If the keys weren’t in her purse—which they
should be
—then she had no idea where to look. It could take her hours to scour the house, hours she didn’t have.
Now that she wasn’t in the Jacko Force Field of Safety, danger was drumming in her head. She’d made a huge mistake last night and she was going to pay. She could feel it; she could almost smell it. Her neck prickled with the sense of impending danger. Jorge’s goons could be coming for her
right now.
She had to leave
right now.
She huffed out an angry, scared breath, turning to walk back into the house, when a huge hand appeared in front of her, car keys dangling from thick fingers.
“Looking for these?” Jacko’s deep voice asked.
Chapter Five
Palm Beach, Florida
The next day Frederick found it on the front passenger seat of his car. He was on his way to the airport where he’d fly under another identity to George Town. His Caymans’ banker had contacted him for an “interesting proposal,” which would have to be discussed in private and in person. He suspected the banker had somehow discovered Frederick’s gifts and was proposing a money laundering scheme. This was perfect. The profit potential would be huge and above all, Frederick wouldn’t get his hands dirty. He knew how to cover his traces. And it probably meant several trips to the Caymans a year, which was a pleasant thought. What was wealth in the United States was unimaginable riches in the Caymans. He could live like a king, outside the jurisdiction of the United States.
Finding something in his car was interesting in and of itself. Frederick’s security everywhere was superb, and that included his car, a Lexus LS whose already-strong security system had been tweaked. The car door opened to his electronic key but it also required his thumbprint.
So if someone left something for him in the front seat of his car, that someone was serious.
A sat phone. Bigger, bulkier than most smartphones. He recognized it immediately. The latest Thuraya. Guaranteed non-hackable because it operated off a Saudi-owned satellite and the Saudis were not in the habit of sharing intel with the NSA, or anyone else for that matter. The Thuraya was an expensive, difficult-to-obtain piece of tech.
A small slip of paper with laser-printed words was on top of it.
Password: money.
Okay. Good password.
He fired it up, put in the password and saw that it was preprogrammed with one long number. He didn’t recognize the prefix and was sure that it didn’t correspond to any specific geographic location. It was a connection to a forwarding service. The number itself would be of no help in understanding where the person on the other end was located.
Someone had gone through
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