Deadly Echoes (7 page)

“I don't know,” Hudson replied. “But we're going to find out.”

Donovan made an instant decision and quickly calculated how soon they could be airborne. “Is there anything else? We're going to leave for Orange County as soon as we can.”

“Slow down. I'm on my way to your hotel. There are some pictures I need you to see. I'm about thirty minutes away. Have some coffee ready. It's been a long night.”

Donovan called Buck and quickly brought him up to speed on the events surrounding Beverly Stratton.

“We should all meet with Hudson when he arrives, Michael included,” Buck said. “Do you want to tell William about Mrs. Stratton or should we let Hudson?”

“I'll do it. Can you make sure Michael is up and that he knows we want to be wheels up for Orange County as soon as possible?”

“He's been up for hours. I ran into him down in the fitness center, but I'll make sure he knows.”

“Check in with Peggy. After we finish with Hudson, I'll want a full status report on Eco-Watch's security around the globe, but it's for our ears only. For the moment, I want to leave Hudson out of our internal affairs.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'm going to go talk to William. I'll see you shortly.” Donovan found Meredith's picture on the floor between the chair and the table, slid it in his briefcase, and headed for the bathroom for a fast shave and shower.

Twenty minutes later, William opened the door and let Donovan into his room.

“Did you get any sleep?” William asked.

“Yeah, I did, a little,” Donovan replied. “I got a call from Hudson. He's on the way over to bring us all up to speed on developments.”

“What's happened?” William asked, the expression on his face guarded.

“It's Beverly,” Donovan said quietly. “She was found murdered.”

“Oh, God.” William wavered and then sat down on the sofa. “I knew something was wrong and I didn't press. It was as if she wanted to say something, but I let it go, I figured she'd talk when she wanted to. Now that I think about it, everything was off. I spoke with her several times and tried to get her to wait for our arrival, but she said she couldn't. Again, I thought it odd, but she was upset. She'd just lost her husband.”

“It's not your fault. Hudson has evidence that points to her being forced to cooperate with the people responsible for John's death. They flew back to California with her and then killed her, as well as her crew. Hudson is bringing us some photos. Maybe we'll know who's behind this.”

Donovan heard a knock. William stood and straightened his tie. When Donovan opened the door, he found Buck, along with a steward pushing a meal cart. Behind them were Michael and Special Agent Hudson. The steward quickly set up coffee and Danish. Buck signed for the food and thanked the man.

“I think we should let Special Agent Hudson bring us all up to date,” William said as he poured the first cup of coffee and handed it to the FBI agent.

Hudson elected to stand while everyone else took a seat. “As I told Mr. Nash earlier, a few hours ago FBI agents in Honolulu located the
Triton's
helicopter. It was in a hangar at the Honolulu International Airport. Subsequent investigation led us to believe that Mrs. Beverly Stratton, under duress, was forced to allow the people responsible for her husband's death to board her private jet for the flight back to Orange County. We sent agents to investigate and found Mrs. Stratton and her driver. They were both dead. They never made it out of the parking lot of the airport. The flight crew was also found dead. We have some security camera photographs that were taken in Honolulu, as well as on the executive ramp at
Orange County where Stratton Partners based their jet. None of them are great quality, but I need you to take a look.”

Donovan glanced at William who was the first one out of his chair as Hudson retrieved a folder he'd set down earlier. “Oh, before you look at these, I need to show you a photo we found on the bridge of the
Triton.
We can't identify the person in the photo, and we have no idea if it's relevant. It might simply be someone connected to Mr. Stratton or his crew, but we need to ask.” Hudson slid a transparent evidence bag from his inside suit pocket and handed it to William.

William shook his head. “I don't recognize her.” He then passed it to Donovan.

Meredith. She was younger than in the photograph Donovan had found on the
Kaiyo Maru #7.
She was maybe fourteen or fifteen, standing on the deck of a boat, her hair was short, and she wasn't smiling. Donovan did everything he could to remain passive. “I don't know her either.”

Both Michael and Buck shook their heads as the picture of Meredith completed the circle. Hudson slipped it back into his pocket then opened the folder and began to arrange the black-and-white 8 x 10s on a table. “Okay, here are the surveillance photos. We've already got a vague ID on one of them through Interpol, but I want all of you to take a long, hard look.”

Donovan, still reeling from the newest image of Meredith, leaned over the grainy images and saw that the first picture was of four men. The tallest, who was the only one even remotely facing the lens, was wearing dark glasses. He had longish dark hair combed straight back until it touched his shoulders. Two of the men were turned away from the camera so Donovan skipped them and studied the fourth person. He was clean shaven and had longish curly dark hair. He too, wore dark glasses.

Donovan glanced at the next several shots finding nothing of significance. He skipped to the photographs taken in Orange County. Donovan counted an extra passenger, a woman with short, spiky hair, though her face was blocked. The man with long curly
hair was with Beverly, and it appeared he was helping her into the car, but Donovan could easily imagine he was strong-arming her just before he pulled the trigger.

“We sent these out to all of our allies, and Interpol immediately informed us the taller, long-haired man is a person of interest in several murders in Europe.”

“The woman?” Donovan asked. “When did she enter the mix?”

“We're not sure,” Hudson replied.

“Were you able to track any of them after they left the airport?” Buck asked.

“We went to the Stratton home and found no signs of illegal entry. I'm afraid we've lost them for now. But I can assure you all levels of law enforcement on the West Coast are on the lookout for these guys.”

“Did anyone think to pull up the flight plan information on the Stratton Partners Falcon 900?” Michael asked. “I mean, in terms of the number of people on board each leg of the flight? Was there a bad guy or girl with her on the leg from Kauai to Honolulu, or did they all board her airplane on Oahu?”

“That's a good point,” William added. “If Beverly was hijacked from Kauai, it would explain everything.”

“I'll get with the FAA, and you'll have that answer the moment I do.”

“I'm the executor of the Stratton Estate. There are arrangements to make,” William said. “I'll be heading to Los Angeles.”

“We're all going. I want to be wheels-up as soon as possible,” Donovan added.

“I understand.” Hudson nodded. “I'll call ahead and have someone from the bureau meet you. They'll act as your FBI liaison while you're in California. If there's more information to share, you'll have it when you land.”

“Thank you,” Donovan said, turning to Michael. “How soon can we be airborne?”

“One hour.”

“Thank you.” William set his cup down as if to signify that the meeting was over.

Moments later the room had emptied except for Donovan and William.

“Did you recognize anyone in those pictures?” William asked.

“No, did you?”

“No. What connection could these people have with you and Meredith's past? We're up against people who are making this personal, and we have no clue who they are. What happens when the FBI figures out who she is? What happens when they start leaving pictures of you and Meredith? We need to figure out if those pictures are part of the public domain or someone's collection.”

“He called again last night.”

“And you're just now telling me this?”

“It's the same guy, his voice isn't normal. It's altered somehow or damaged. So if it's someone I know, I'd never recognize him. He said that it's payback time. He referenced Meredith for the first time, so it's clear she's the common link.”

“What if we ask for some third-party help on this one?” William stroked his chin.

“What are you thinking?”

“We've got Buck, Michael, and the FBI watching our every move. Our hands are a little tied right now. We're slinking around behind our own people's backs. I say we enlist Lauren. She can dig for information. If these people have European backgrounds, maybe she could use her Mossad connections, or her contacts in Washington D.C. Besides, she's got a vested interest in all of this.”

“No. It's my baggage that drove her off in the first place. Let's not call her up and dump even more in her lap.”

“We have to find who did this,” William gripped Donovan by the wrist. “We have to find them and deal with them ourselves.”

Donovan looked into the familiar eyes. For nearly thirty-five years William had been Donovan's father figure and mentor. They'd ridden the trials and adversity of what at the time felt like the worst events that life could exact, and they'd both survived.
William represented the moral and intellectual epicenter of Donovan's life, the man had crafted the values that shaped his life, and in all of that time, he'd never seen William as quietly enraged as he was this very moment—nor so resolute about wanting these people to answer for what they'd done.

“We'll find them,” Donovan said. “And, I promise you, they'll pay.”

“Aaron! What are you doing in Paris?” Lauren was genuinely surprised when Henri, her chief of security, led her benefactor, and senior Mossad agent into the foyer. Her security detail stayed in the apartment across the hall when Lauren was in for the evening. They used cameras to monitor all entry and exit points of the building. This time of the evening all access to this floor of the building was sealed off so any visitor needed an escort.

“Can't I drop in and visit my favorite American in France?” Aaron kissed her on both cheeks.

“This is my friend Stephanie,” Lauren said, motioning Aaron into the kitchen. “Stephanie, this is Aaron Keller.”

Aaron nodded respectfully. “The niece of William VanGelder, it's an honor to meet you.”

“Can I offer you something to drink?” Lauren asked.

Aaron shook his head. “I'm here on business actually. May we sit?”

“I'll give you two some privacy,” Stephanie said.

“You can stay.” Aaron gestured toward a chair. “This pertains to you as well.”

“Aaron, what is it?” Lauren asked, worried.

“There's news from the investigation in Hawaii. We received a bulletin from the FBI about the death of Mrs. Beverly Stratton and her flight crew. They were all found murdered in Southern California.”

“Wait, I thought she was in Hawaii,” Lauren said.

“First John and now Beverly?” Stephanie's hand shot to her mouth.

“I'm so sorry to have to be the one to tell you.” Aaron turned to Lauren. “When did you last speak to your husband?”

Lauren didn't like the question and she felt herself shift into a different mind-set, the one she hated. One that involved lies, half-truths, not trusting anyone. “He called me yesterday morning, when he heard about John Stratton.”

Aaron pulled several 5 x 7 photographs from his jacket pocket. “These are some surveillance photos sent by the FBI. Please look at them and tell me if any of these people look familiar.”

Lauren studied the pictures. She didn't recognize the men. Stephanie shook her head as well.

“How about this one?” Aaron handed over another photo.

The image showed a woman, Lauren thought maybe in her early thirties with short, dark hair. The woman looked striking, almost beautiful, though something in her eyes seemed dangerous, maybe even reptilian, but Lauren didn't recognize her. Most troubling to Lauren was the fact that Aaron had personally delivered the photographs; he could have simply sent them to Henri to show her. If she had to guess, Aaron was on some kind of fishing expedition.

“Who is she?” Stephanie handed the photo back to Aaron.

“We think she's connected to one of the men photographed in Hawaii, the guy with the dark glasses and curly hair. It's generally thought they're Eastern European and over the last ten years or so, through vague descriptions and grainy images like this, we've linked them to at least a dozen deaths. We're sure they're professional killers, but we don't know if they're backed by some governmental organization or strictly freelance.”

“A professional assassin was hired to kill John and Beverly?” Stephanie asked. “Was this woman also involved in the incident aboard the fishing vessel?”

“We don't know how, but we believe the events are somehow related.”

“What's Mossad's interest?” Lauren asked.

“We believe the woman played a part in the deaths of staffers
who worked at a medical clinic in Dusseldorf, Germany. The doctor there was a friend of Tel Aviv, and at times we called upon him for discreet medical needs. From what we've learned from our friends at the FBI and Interpol, Eco-Watch is being targeted, and if this man and woman are part of that equation—both of you are at risk.”

“Is there anything we should be doing?” Lauren asked.

“No, just be vigilant. I've already spoken to Henri. Your protective detail understands the threat.” Aaron stood. “I have another pressing engagement and must leave. Again, I apologize for the hour. Good night.”