Yield (17 page)

My worries slammed in. Where was she? What was happening to her? Was she hurt? Or worse, was someone hurting her? Wherever she was, if she wasn’t dead, she’d be afraid. For the hundredth time, I clamped down on the associated emotions. I couldn’t function, couldn’t help her, if I was a wreck.

Now all I had to do was convince Hugh I was innocent. This was going to be one bastard of a conversation.

Just being here was a big plus though. If I’d done it, and I was sane and intelligent, I’d be gone. I’d be texting ransom notes not
please come
messages.

Four men disembarked with him and all were his; they marched in tandem and I remembered a couple of them from PNG. I had Jurgen behind me, ten yards back, sitting in the passenger lounge seats. He knew the facts. I couldn’t, in all fairness, expect him to risk himself on something like this without knowing why. Our friendship was strong though and he’d only shrugged and asked where I wanted him.

We weren’t armed, of course, neither would Hugh be. This was the safest place to begin discussing her disappearance. From what Wren had said, I had a fair idea the man regarded her as his little sister as much as a client. He couldn’t blow my head off until he found himself a gun.

They came in through the sliding doors, off the tarmac, and paused while all of them searched the milling crowd. That no one spotted me until I was close gave me some faith in my simple disguise.

“Morning.” I held out my hand to Hugh and we shook, both of us wary.

His dark trousers and classy business shirt weren’t matched by his men. All, bar one, were in jeans and T-shirt, like I was. Though I probably looked like something the cat dragged in, ate, then threw up. No sleep since she’d gone missing, so I was dead tired. All my training in sleep deprivation was long ago. Besides, this was different. Like chalk and cheese. Like cutting your hair versus cutting off your leg and watching yourself bleed.

“Where is she?”

“I need to talk with you somewhere private, alone. Please.”

After a moment of appraisal, he nodded. Straight to the point, I liked that. Pity he was going to want to kill me in a few minutes.

I’d found a small, sheltered picnic-type area outside that was still vacant. Too early for breakfast, but I had picked up two coffees on the way past the airport café. His men stayed back, pretending to wander the small garden area while Jurgen leaned against a fig tree and watched us with that lazy yet alert air of his. The shadows were heavy and long, and the rising sun colored the sky like some classic postcard holiday snap. I slid into the steel bench seat and passed the other coffee to Hugh, raised mine, took a sip.

Good barista coffee. A noisy miner fluttered in and landed on a springy twig to peck upside down at a red bottlebrush flower.

Coffee, birds, sunrise...life. Signs that things were turning for the better? I needed more than that. I needed Wren in my arms and whoever did this dead with a bullet through their head.

“What’s gone wrong, Mr. Glass?”

He knew my name? Or at least my nickname. Both probably. Expected. The man was in the security game. I wondered what had led him to me.

“Wren has vanished. I think she’s been kidnapped.”

He shut his eyes for a second then opened them to fix me with a hard stare. “Give me the details.”

I leaned on my elbows and placed the cup on the table. “You don’t want to kill me?”

“Not yet.” The man edged forward. “If you’d done it, you’d have to have the intelligence of a snail to be sitting there. Plus I’ve never seen such a hangdog look on a man’s face. Tell me details. After I hear them, I may kill you for putting her at risk. Was he the only other protection you gave her?” He inclined his head toward Jurgen.

“No. Just me. I fucked up.” Admitting that was strangely good. Have my guilt trip then do what I had to do – find her. I sucked in a breath.

“You don’t say.”

“We were staying at a house at Horseshoe Beach on the island. She went for a walk on the beach and never came back. Dressed in shorts, T-shirt, sandals. After thirty minutes, I went looking for her. By torchlight, I found some scuffed-up sand, some footprints leading back through the dunes to the road, no vehicles, nothing dropped. I took photos that night and this morning. Did a thorough search. Nothing. There’s been zero messages, or contact from anyone. Though she was a bit out of sorts that night, I don’t see this as normal behavior for her. She has no money, no phone, no clothes.”

He nodded. “Any ideas who it might be?”

“Not from the evidence, no. Because there is none. It’s all sand there and nothing stays put. Windy that night too, so there were no good footprints even when I saw them. However...I think it’s him.” I locked gazes, took a sip of coffee, swallowed. “I think it’s this Vetrov. Nothing else adds up.”

“So you brought her here, to this town where you suspected he might live, gave her no real security...” He heaved in a breath. “Fuck. I don’t swear, Mister Glass, but fuck.”

I pulled a face of disgust, screwing up my mouth. “I didn’t believe he lived here. There are two hundred K people and no reason to think he’d know we were here. If it helps, I’d hand you the gun to shoot me, if I thought it would get her back.”

My eyes stung for a second. Damn I was serious about that.

“And I’d do it in a heartbeat. If it would help. I know what you’ve done in the past. You’re a criminal eking out an existence, well, making good money perhaps, in Papua New Guinea the most god-forsaken place I’ve seen recently. Why did you bring her here? Did you want her kidnapped? I don’t buy the
I need to track the IP address
excuse, she told me about. I don’t know why she did. Wren is smart.”

“I could just tell you she likes me, but it’s worse than that.” I tapped the cup with my fingers. “That part’s none of your business except to know that she means a helluva lot to me. I don’t volunteer to be shot for all my customers.”

“Let me guess. You’re in love with Wren, a millionaire who can buy you a life you’ve only dreamed of?”

I reined in my impulse to punch him. I understood the whys of his sarcasm. “Let me give you another fact. That last day she and you were loose in PNG, you were going to a rendezvous up in the mountains.”

“Yes.”

“You were going to be killed. Getting her out of there was my way of saving her life.”

He angled his head. The coffee hadn’t been touched. “I don’t buy that either. You’d only just met.”

“It was love at first sight, you skeptical bastard.”

“Hmmm.”

I regarded him steadily. If he didn’t believe me, he could go kick his own bollocks. It was close to the truth. Even if I hadn’t known it at the time.

After a while, his mouth twitched. “You’ve sold me, for now. I know you don’t really need her money, and you don’t strike me as a typical money grabber. What have you got in the way of a plan? Give me something. Because in one minute, I’m contacting the local police, unless you have a very viable alternative. They can do a lot of things, I...we, cannot do. I also am not sure this isn’t an abduction just for rape by some random strangers. In which case, the cops are our best chance. They can do a massive search. She could be lying somewhere in the bush on the island, or in a house, injured.” He sighed. “If it turns out to be that and you’ve made mistakes...”

He left the sentence uncompleted.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He had to say that. I’d run through this scenario already, a million times, and my heart might never recover from the pain of having to think through it over and over, but I’d ruled it out. There was always that unusual crime that surprised you but it didn’t fit the facts.

“She knew martial arts. Self-defense.” I shook my head. “She’s a capable woman. I just don’t see this working so...efficiently without it being a pro job. There would be blood spilled, clothes shredded, maybe some teeth kicked in, and it wouldn’t all be hers. There was almost no sign of a struggle, at all.” I’d rapped my knuckles on the table for emphasis, and looked up at him, nodding.

“I see.” He stared upward. “Okay. I agree with you. I know how good she is. I had the bruises, once, to show it.”

“The police would limit my options severely. I’d be forced to go hide somewhere. Here’s my one avenue. It is why I’m here in this town, except I hit a wall. I can track this Vetrov to a pinpoint source, if I can get into the database of the ISP provider but my one possible way in evaporated.”

I wasn’t telling him I’d never really had a viable way in. The ISP databases were meant to be sealed tight. Trying to get in was more likely to get the cops sniffing about, suspicious, than to gain me info. It’s what I’d told Pieter and it was true. But Hugh might have better resources.

“Difficult. Once again, a warrant would get the police that.” At last, he picked up the coffee and drank. After he put it down, he squeezed the cup with his fingers and his jaw muscles tensed then relaxed, then tensed. Little body signs.

Inside, I guessed, he was seething. Hugh was as protective of Wren as a mother bear with her cub. Maybe we could be chums after all. I smiled, though I was sure it didn’t reach my eyes.

We were both ready to rip the world apart to find her, even if from a distance our actions might seem as low key as a couple of men discussing the latest model car.

The sun was up fully now; the sky was so clear I could tell the day was going to fry.

“However,” he continued, “I do have a contact. One day to try this. After that, the police have to be involved. This is going to be huge news and delaying will be impossible soon anyway.”

He was right. The headlines would be everywhere. Big money attracted journalists. I’d either have to return to PNG or find a place to hunker down.

“I’m not leaving.” I could feel a frown building. “If there’s a chance I can help her, I need to be here. Understand?” I looked out from under my brows.

“Of course. Of course.” I fell victim to that intense study of his again. The man dissected with his gaze so well he could do brain surgery with it. “That raises you in my estimation.”

Huh.
Good words, from him.

“Then let’s get back to the place I’m staying. I can transfer the pictures of the beach, the IP address, and whatever else you need from me to get this rolling.”

As I began to rise, he held up his hand, then seemed to take his time appraising me yet again.

“One last thing. There may be another reason for this.”

I waited.

“Wren has a history of mental issues.”

Now that was one surprise. “Wait...you mean the sleeping pills?”

“Partly.” He tapped his cup and I listened to the rapid drum of his fingers. Hugh was not one to have nervous gestures. I went on high alert. “The man she was going to marry died one night while they were travelling in Europe. Stabbed to death. She still believes she may have killed him even though the police investigation proved otherwise. It’s caused problems. She has a knife fixation.”

“Okay.” I blinked.
Wow.
“Meaning?”

“I’m worried she might have suicided or had some sort of breakdown.”

Now that sent a chill through me to my stomach. My poor Wren. The urge to make her safe intensified to the point of an ache in my temples.

I thought back. “If anything, she was happier these last few days. A little worried that night, about something, but not badly so.” We’d laughed a lot. As well as having sex a lot. I couldn’t see her as doing either of what Hugh said. Thank god. “No. I really doubt that.”

He swallowed. “Good to hear. Thank you.”

“No worries.” The Aussie saying came easily to me after all these years. “Let’s get this rolling.” I stood and leaned over to shake hands again, holding his for an extra second. I figured he was hurting as much as I was.

We had a chance here. Once in the database, it wouldn’t take more than an hour, surely. We had a damn chance.

I scrubbed my hand through my hair and gave Jurgen a thumbs up. That had taken us fifteen to twenty minutes to sort out. Every minute that passed was another minute she was with him, whoever he was. I could feel this deep in my bones. Somebody had her. Or maybe it was just my wishes coming to the fore, because I’d rather someone have her than her be in a grave.

Either though
, either
, threatened to demolish me.

I hadn’t been sure how much she meant to me. Now I knew.

Whoever is up there organizing my life, the rush wasn’t necessary. I could’ve waited.

*****

I was out of the car and staring as soon as we braked to a stop. This was a poor neighborhood and video surveillance cameras were unlikely. As dismayed as I was, I still thought of that.

The house was a corpse.

Stumps of black timber poked the sky. Corrugated roofing iron lay twisted and neglected. A surviving door, half dusky-gray peeling paint, half flame eaten, stood askew but attached by one hinge to a lonely remnant of brickwork that had once been the entrance.

Ashes crushed underfoot releasing a stinging scent of smoke that scoured my nostrils. I walked closer, stalking the remains via the vacant allotment next door. This had burned recently.

I squatted and stared some more. This was our answer. Destroyed.

Even as we’d driven up, from way down the street, I’d prayed we had the wrong address. Our plans for distant surveillance were a joke.

Number forty-five Gullway Street. The letterbox, a battered green metal box, stood intact to my right. Correct house and it was gone.

Hugh crunched across the blackened dirt and scabrous grass to stand beside me.

“I’ve done a check and this happened a week ago. A man died. No suspicious circumstances. The police have so far decided he set the house on fire with his cigarette while he slept. Seventy-two year old man. We’ll check this out deeper but this was where the email was sent from and this to me...” He nodded slowly. “This says whoever kidnapped Wren was getting nervous and covering his tracks. It says he thinks this will create an impasse. He may be right.”

“Yeah.” I slid both hands to the top of my head and bowed my head, staring at the ground before my boots. “Fuck. I had hopes.”