“Captain McAuley?” the man who’d guided him in came hurrying up to ask in heavily accented English. “Minister Monterro is on his way.”
“Thank you.” Jack freed himself from the traces and picked up his pack, shrugging it onto his back. “Lead the way.” Nausea churned in his stomach as he followed the guide, the moment drawing ever closer when his nightmare would become all too real. He’d seen terrible things in war, but this wasn’t war… and Ariana Monterro had never been a soldier. She deserved so much better than a shockingly sudden end on this isolated jungle hillside.
Steeling himself for what he was about to see, Jack reminded himself that the man he was about to meet had lost everything. Ariana wasn’t just Raul Monterro’s only child, she was the only family the man had left. Jack owed Raul every ounce of professionalism he could summon up. Falling apart wasn’t acceptable, even though grief was tearing him apart inside.
Chapter Four
Raul Monterro has aged, was Jack's inconsequential first thought, as he recognized the man hurrying toward him, flanked by a whole phalanx of bodyguards. There were streaks of white at his temples, stark in his black hair, lines around his eyes that spoke of strain. But then, it had been six years since their last meeting, and what Monterro had been through in just the last few hours would have aged anyone.
“Sir.” He saluted formally. “Have they found her?”
Raul shook his head. “Not yet. We have Elliot’s body, though. I can identify him, of course, but since Mara wanted you to come…”
“I promised I'd bring him home,” Jack said simply.
Raul nodded in complete understanding. “This way.”
The plane's fuselage is surprisingly intact, Jack realized as he followed Raul, the phalanx of bodyguards eyeing him suspiciously. The plane hadn't crashed straight-on into the mountain as he'd first thought, but sideways along its flank, tearing out a thick swathe of foliage. The wings had come off first, the engines with them, a small fire burning out in the wet rainforest quickly and never reaching the body of the plane, which had cracked into three sections: nose, middle and tail.
“Jack,” Raul said quietly, “officially they're still calling it an accident, but there's something you should see.” He led Jack toward the nose section and the shattered cockpit door hanging loose on its hinges.
Looking at Raul's face, Jack knew at once that something was very, very wrong with the picture he was seeing. Shoving aside the crumpled door, he leaned into the cockpit and saw the two pilots still strapped in their seats, slumped forward over their instruments.
The blood staining their white shirts was almost black.
Long inured to the smell of death, Jack ignored it. Reached out to carefully tip up one of the pilot's jaws. His lips tightened at what he saw. His eyes met Ariana’s father’s, and he nodded to show Raul that he understood. Raul put a hand on his arm and indicated they should walk away from all the listening ears around them.
“Their throats were cut,” Jack said quietly as Raul led him from the crash site, waving his bodyguards to give them a little space. “This was no accident.”
“The others, Elliot included, all had their necks broken. I am confident that they all died before the crash — and this was found in the galley area an hour ago.” Raul took a clear plastic evidence bag from his pocket and held it up to show Jack the contents: a broken glass vial with a label still clearly visible on it, holding some of the shattered pieces together.
KETAMINE.
Spots of rage swam in front of Jack's eyes. “Ari. This was done to take Ari. Who?” There had to have been someone else on board. A stowaway…
“In addition to Ari, the only body we haven't been able to find is Tomàs Fuentes. He was former FBI.” Raul's eyes glittered with the same rage Jack felt. “He took my daughter, Jack. They took her again.”
Jack breathed in. Out. Focused on the rhythm, trying to calm the instinctive, burning rage that bubbled up in his throat, strangling him. “Tell me about Fuentes. I don’t know him.”
“He'd been with us for two years.” Raul stuffed the evidence bag back into his pocket and clenched his fists. “He was completely trusted. I have my people going over his dossier with a fine-tooth comb again, but Elliot had already checked him out. There was nothing there to find. An exemplary record with the FBI, a Guàlizean grandfather who emigrated to the US way back in the sixties, he ticked all our boxes. Elliot wanted him for his profiling skills because of all the new people Ari was coming into contact with in her work.”
“Sir!” a shout from behind them made them turn. One of the searchers was holding something up in gloved hands... something bright orange. “We've got the other black box, sir!”
“I know you’ve promised to take Elliot home to Mara, Jack, and I will make that happen as soon as possible. But please, I beg of you.” Raul put his hand on Jack's arm. “Every single person I trusted with my daughter's life is now dead, except for one who has betrayed us… and you. Help me find her. Please.”
“You should know that you don't even have to ask, Raul. I'll find her, and I'll get her back,” Jack said through gritted teeth.
“Good. You will have everything you need, of course, every resource Guàlize has is at your disposal…”
“No,” Jack said immediately.
“What?” Raul blinked.
“This needs to be kept quiet, Raul. Whoever did this went to a great deal of trouble and expense. The plane crash is a splashy, attention-grabbing stunt; whoever organized this wants attention, wants to know he’s gotten under your skin. You mobilize the entire Guàlizean military, this is going to be all over the news. You’ll be giving the kidnapper exactly what he wants.”
Raul gazed up at Jack thoughtfully. “We need to give him what he wants in order to get Ariana back.”
“I am one hundred percent sure that you will not be able to live with giving him what he will ask for in exchange for Ariana’s life.” Jack stared the older man down steadily.
Raul dropped his gaze then swore under his breath. “You’re right. Dammit, you’re right. And the more we splash this over the news and make a production over it, the more he knows he can demand, whoever he is. And he has an FBI-trained agent on his payroll, a man who knows the standard hostage negotiation tactics, knows exactly what the normal moves should be.”
“We have to think outside the box to outwit Fuentes; we have to make the kidnappers come to us. So nothing on the news, Raul, no grieving father appealing for mercy. No acknowledgment that this plane crash even happened. Every single one of these people you have here needs to know that if they so much as breathe a word that this plane went down, they will have made an enemy for life of Raul Monterro.”
“We make the kidnappers come to us,” Raul repeated thoughtfully.
“Correct. That way, you’re negotiating from a position of strength, even though they’re the ones holding the aces. Or the queen, in this case.”
“And you?”
“I’m the one tracking the bastards down and breaking all their necks with my bare hands for even thinking about taking Ari,” Jack said, his eyes flint-hard with seething rage.