CHAPTER NINE

  Katelyn was terrified when a voice from the other side of the door suddenly called her name. She shuffled her way forward, afraid to disobey.

  “Stand in front of the door, Katelyn Bigelow.” The voice was, Katelyn knew, that of the man who had punished the Japanese girl for speaking. “Stand with your arms at your side.”

  Katelyn did as she was ordered, knowing that disobedience would bring punishment—and Katelyn did not want to be punished.

  The door opened revealing the same two men who had entered earlier. “Come with us,” the leader said, nodding toward the poorly lit hallway outside. “Don’t make a sound.”

  Katelyn tried to hold her terror under control. She took a step forward, her whole body shaking—and almost fell when one of the men grabbed her arm and yanked hard. “Just keep silent.”

  The second man’s voice was different. He had an accent of some sort. Katelyn couldn’t quite place it—she wasn’t thinking all that clearly at the moment.

  “This way.” The leader—the man who had held the Japanese girl—led the way, Katelyn stumbling after him, her arm held tightly by the second man.

  The hallway wasn’t long; there were three doors on her left and a single, larger, door at the very end. The leader opened the big door and Katelyn was led into a room completely different from the one she’d started from.

  This room was brightly lit with sparkling white-draped walls and a bank of TV monitors in front of a computer. A digital camera on a tripod stood in the center of the room, pointed at one of the white walls.

  “Over here,” the leader nodded toward the camera and Katelyn followed him until she could see a small ‘X’ made from two pieces of duct tape on the floor. “Stand there.”

  Katelyn put her feet on the ‘X.’

  “Turn toward the camera.”

  She shuffled in a half-circle until she could see the lens of the digital device.

  “Good,” the man smiled. “Now wave to your daddy.”

  Katelyn’s eyes widened.

  “Wave, I said.” The man glared at her. “Unless you want me to punish you.” The smile returned. “He might like to see that…”

  Katelyn waved.

  Moments later she was shuffling back down the hall to the dormitory even more afraid than she had been before.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dana came into the office extra-early the next morning—and found Eric already there.

  “Eric,” she scolded him as she hung up her coat. “What did I tell you about getting enough sleep?”

  “Its okay, Dana.” He grinned over his shoulder. “I got a full six hours.” He held up three fingers. “Promise.”

  “All right.” She slid into her own chair and pushed the button to boot up her computer. “Found anything of interest?”

  “Well.” He toyed with his console as she punched in her password and brought her screen to life. “I can tell you that Flame has arrived in Scarsdale and started his assignment there.”

  “Did he call in?”

  “Nope.” Another pass at the console and Dana’s screen image changed from her rather drab screensaver to an overhead image of a large building in the middle of a green lawn. “That’s his car, right?” An arrow pointed to a dark-green Mustang parked on one side of the large building. “Parked at Eric Forrest’s home in Scarsdale.”

  “How did you get this?”

  “NSA has a satellite stationed over the metro New York area.” Eric grinned. “With the codes we have, it’s child’s play to pull whatever images we want.”

  “Might come in handy.” Dana grinned. “If they happen to have a bird where we need it for future ops.” She leaned back. “Anything on the bankers?”

  “Not yet,” Eric switched to a different screen, mirroring its image on Dana’s machine. “I’m still pulling in raw data. Should have enough to begin analyzing sometime this afternoon.”

  “Okay—good.” Dana nodded. “Now if you’ll return control of my computer to me…”

  He tapped in a code. “Done.”

  “Excellent.” Dana settled in to begin her own work for the day. “Let me know when we have something to work on.” She glanced at his panel of monitors, noticed that the image from Scarsdale was still on one of them.

  “And please stop looking over Flame’ shoulder.”

  ***

  Flame was in good spirits when he returned from his morning run. Eric Forrest had given the two new bodyguards the use of a nicely appointed guest apartment (built over the garage) to use while they were on assignment. It was quite comfortable and its proximity to their subject made it possible for Flame to do his morning exercise without worrying too much about what might be happening to his charge.

  He found a note from Gino in the little living room between the apartment’s two bedrooms informing him that breakfast was available in the big house’s kitchen whenever he was ready. Flame hurried through his shower, dressed comfortably, checked the load in his sidearm, and headed for the kitchen.

  “Gino said to tell you he was going for his run and that he’d text you when he got back.” Kimberly, barely dressed in baby-doll pajamas and a half-open robe, was toying with eggs and bacon when Flame entered the comfortable, open plan kitchen. “Do the two of you always do a lot of running?”

  “I do.” He hesitated; Flame had grown accustomed to the secrecy surrounding his team. But I don’t have to deal with that anymore, he told himself. Hell, I could even use my real name!

  Something he knew he was not quite ready to do as yet.

  He was, however, ready to tell this girl a little bit about his background—it might help in the days ahead.

  “Kimberly, I used to be a Navy SEAL.” He saw her eyes widen slightly. “We run between ten and twenty miles a day—sometimes more.” His grin widened. “Helps keep us in shape, particularly…” He smiled at the cook/housekeeper as she put a large plate of eggs, bacon, and potatoes in front of him. “When we have a chance to eat food like this.”

  He took a forkful of eggs. “I found a great running path around the golf course that had a few nice hills and…”

  “The golf course?” The teenager’s eyes widened a bit more. “That’s, like, a mile or so from here!”

  “Mile and a half.”

  “You ran three miles this morning?” Her eyes widened. “What time did you start?”

  “I ran a bit more than ten miles this morning,” he nodded. “And I started right around five.”

  “Five o’clock?!” She looked at him, and asked, “a.m.?”

  “Kimberly, I’m…”

  “Gino runs that much too?”

  “Gino was in the army.” Flame’s grin turned sardonic. “They walk more than they run.”

  “Oh.” The girl watched as Flame shoveled the food in. “Do you think…” She looked down at herself, touching her belly. “Do you think running would help me?”

  “Help you what?”

  “Help stop me from getting fat!”

  “You’re not fat.” Flame buttered a piece of toast. “Neither are your mother and father. Running would help you keep trim but I think that if you just watch what you eat and do at least some exercise, you won’t get fat.”

  “Promise?”

  “I can’t guarantee anything.” He grinned again. “But I think you look just fine.”

  Her face lit up. “Really?”

  “Really.” He ate the last of the food. “Now, just what time do you leave for school?”

  “I need to be there at eight o’clock.” She glanced at her watch. “I usually leave around seven thirty.”

  “Would you mind leaving a little early today?” Flame asked. “I’d like to get a good look at where the school is relative to the house so I can figure out alternate routes.”

  “Sure,” she stood up. “”I’ll change and get my stuff right now.”

  “That’s fine.” Flame picked up his dishes and carried them to the sink. “I’ll meet you out front.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Masayo Kano watched as the blonde American girl was pushed, stumbling, back into the dormitory room.

  She noticed that none of the others moved to help her. They learned from what those men did to me. Masayo had been shocked by the brutality of their attack—an attack that had left her breathless and sore for a very long time. Men like that do not deserve to live! she told herself. And when my father pays the ransom and gets me out of here…

  Masayo was sure that she—and the others—had been taken for money. These men are cruel, she knew. But they haven’t attempted to do anything to us,she grimaced. Aside from hitting me—and that was as much a demonstration as anything.

  She wished they had demonstrated on another girl.

  It was my own fault. Masayo shrugged inwardly. I tried to help the new girl, tried to reassure her. Her face went hard. I won’t make that mistake again.

  No, Masayo shook her head as she studied the other women. I will keep myself alive until the ransom is paid. A hard smile touched her lips. My father is wealthy—very wealthy; the ransom will not be a problem for him.

  It was, she was sure, only a matter of time until she was freed.

  Then I will find these men, the smile was ice. And kill them.

  Slowly…

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  True to her word, Kimberly met Flame by the front door less than ten minutes later. Under a lightweight jacket, she was dressed as he had more or less expected. Since her school was one of those that demanded she wear a uniform, Kimberly had chosen to make her skirt rather short and paired it with a white blouse which had the top three buttons undone, and sheer white socks that came up to her knee.

  The outfit was guaranteed to get male attention.

  “Your folks don’t have breakfast with you?” Flame said, ignoring her rather overt display.

  “Mom sleeps late,” Kimberly shrugged. “And Daddy usually leaves for work by six thirty or so.” She glanced at him. “I’m used to eating by myself.”

  “Kind of hard.” Flame remembered his own mornings alone when his father was on sea duty and his mom was working. “Nobody to talk to…”

  “It’s okay.” She grinned at him and pointed. “We go this way. The prep school is only three or four blocks from here.”

  “Convenient.”

  “Dad sent me to a boarding school for a while.” She made a face. “I didn’t like it there—and they didn’t like me.” She shrugged, saying, “this school is all right and I start college next year.”

  “That boarding school—all girls,” Flame glanced at her. “Right?”

  “Yes…” Her face became a study in innocence.

  “No fun for you.” He shook his head. “Now, however, I would bet that you have real fun—I’ll bet you really make the boys in your school squirm.”

  “Maybe…” More innocence.

  “And then they crawl to you and do anything they can to make you like them.” Flame shook his head. “It’s classic.”

  “I’m not doing anything wrong!” A slight reddening on her neck belied the statement. “Really!”

  “You think?” Flame looked her over. “It doesn’t really matter to me— my job is to keep you safe.”

  “Right!”

  They walked along in silence for a few moments, then: “Flame?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Am I doing anything that bad? I mean, I’m not hurting anybody, am I?”

  “That depends.” Flame stopped and turned so he could look into her eyes. “You want boys to look at you, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Boys’ll do that anyway—hell, I can’t help but look at you and I’m a grown man!”

  “Really?” She leaned a little closer.

  “But you shouldn’t be doing that, it’s not a good thing, it’s a cheat—and you don’t really want to be a cheat, do you?”

  “I…”

  “Think about it. You’ll be in college soon. What if you meet an upperclassman that has great hair and dresses in jeans that fit just so and shirts that show off his six-pack—what are you going to do?”

  “I…” She stopped, thinking. “I guess I’d try to talk to him.”

  “And if he ignored you?”

  “I…” She thought again. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s what you’re doing to the boys in your class.”

  “But…”

  “No buts.” Flame shook his head. “That’s what you’re doing.”

  “Maybe.” She motioned him to turn a corner with her. “I’ll have to think about that.”

  “Do that.” Flame smiled. “You’re a smart girl—I think you’ll realize that I’m right.”

  “Flame,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him, “do you really respond to the way I look?”

  “Kimberly, if I wasn’t working for your father, and if you were in college and I met you in Virginia Beach…”

  “Why there?”

  “It’s where my old base was—and where a lot of college kids go for spring break.”

  “Okay.” She took it in, then: “And if I met you there?”

  “Then this would be a very different conversation.” Flame grinned. “In a very different context.” He glanced up. “This the school?”

  “Yes,” Kimberly led him along a long curving road that led to the front door of an aging brick building where a number of other kids were milling around. “My homeroom is just inside.”

  “Do you have the panic button?”

  “Yes.” She touched a pocket in her skirt.

  “Press it if you need me—I’ll come as quickly as I can.”

  “What are you going to do during the day?”

  “Explore alternate routes from here to your house.” He glanced ahead where a number of the older boys and girls were starting to notice him. “Then have a look around the town, ask a few questions, get a feel for things.”

  “And you’ll be here when I get out?”

  “Three o’clock, right?”

  She nodded.

  “I will be here.” He noted that a few of the girls had come within a few feet now. Two or three were dressed just like Kimberly. Her friends. Flame looked over the boys who were hanging back. And those’ll be her followers. He glanced at his charge who was starting to turn toward them. I wonder if anything I said got through to her. He shrugged. It doesn’t really matter—getting through to her is not my job.

  Still, he saw her smile and wave at one of her friends. There’s something about her—something special… He shook his head. She’s a client, Flame. Remember that she’s a client!

  He turned away and headed toward the town. Don’t forget that!

  He didn’t see her turn to study his ass as he walked away—along with the other girls around that surrounded her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Katelyn watched as another of the women in the dormitory—one she had privately labeled as “the redhead,” was called into the corridor. I bet they’re going to put her in front of the camera like they did with me. Katelyn had decided that all the girls here were being held for ransom.

  The film they’re shooting is “proof of life,” she told herself. Letting our families know that we’re still in one piece and that it’s safe for them to give these bastards the money they’re demanding.

  Her own family was pretty well off, she knew—the money wouldn’t be a problem in itself, but…

  Mom would want to pay… She didn’t know about Dad. I can’t worry about that now. She bit into her lip. They’ll either pay or those men…

  She stared at the locked door.

  Those men will kill me.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Eric Bivens had spent most of the past day and a half setting up a series of searches through the banking accounts of Eric Forrest’s seven direct reports. The information Forrest had given to Dana allowed him unfettered access—and his own skills guaranteed (he hoped) that the men and women in question would never know they were being spied upon.

  The amount of money being handled by these people had, at first, staggered Eric, but he quickly learned to regard the figures as just that—numbers, not dollars, yen or pounds.

  Although the figures—and the money they represented—did move and change hands with astonishing speed, Eric had yet to find anything that might indicate wrongdoing.

  “How long we gonna spend on this?” he asked Dana after they had consumed a quick lunch. “I mean, I’m not seeing any sign…” He stopped, eyes pulled to a series of figures on his right. “What the hell…”

  “Find something?”

  “Nothing that Forrest’s people are doing wrong—but look at this monetary transfer." He pulled it up on his central screen, and then enlarged the ledger sheets to highlight the event that had caught his eye. “See that?”

  “I don’t see…”

  “Look!” He pointed at a string of numbers. “This money was just transferred from this account,” he pointed to another string. “To an account in Belize,” his finger moved again. “And then from Belize to France,” another movement. “And from France to Turkey, then to Greece and, finally, to this account,” he turned to face her, “which I recognize as being blocked by Homeland Security due to a history of bankrolling terrorist activities.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Pretty sure.” Eric pulled up a list of sanctioned banks on one of the side screens. “Yep, here it is.” He turned to Dana. “They have accounts that are used to pay off the families of suicide bombers in a number of countries.”

  “How much money just moved into the account?”

  “Two hundred thousand US dollars.”

  “From?”

  “A businessman in…” He tapped a few keys. “Dearborn, Michigan.”

  “Run a check on the businessman; see if he has any terror connections we should know about.”