Chapter 5

Almost two thousand miles away, Conrad was on the phone again. “Yo, Pete, call me back.” He ended his third call still in his car. Where was Pete? He was never without his cell phone. The guy never knew when some luscious babe would call, offering a deal he couldn’t refuse. He was probably still pissed at Conrad for opting out of their very lucrative business.

Pete had a string of gals he kept sniffing around, but at arm’s length emotionally. He and Conrad were working on the multi in multi-millionaire and money was a hot ticket with women. It wasn’t that Peter Newcastle didn’t care…he just didn’t care enough about any one of them, yet. His focus was on the challenge. The contract. The design. But mostly he’d play the field until he could figure out trust again. He’d had that once, with a young woman in a red hijab. His unit paid the price for his overactive libido, and the flaming affair he had with the Taliban spy that occupied his bed for a month. The reward was an ambush and months in a dark, dank cell Pete shared with the only other survivor. Conrad. It was a stupid affair that cost the lives of eight good men. If Captain Evielynne Gastineau hadn’t ended up in the same prison with her indomitable desire to escape, there may never have been a Pete and Conrad, no Global Systems Technology, and definitely no Iron Shield project.

Conrad punched the redial button on his phone. “Come on, Pete! Pick up.”

His pleading must have been heard. Pete’s slurred voice answered. “What do you want, traitor?”

“Pete, where are you, buddy?” Conrad could tell Pete was soused…again.

“I’m not your buddy and why would you care where I am?” The hurt in the man’s voice was clear, and as apparent as an incoming missile. The target was Conrad’s heart, and it found its mark.

“You alone?” Conrad needed his battle buddy sober and alone for what he had to say.

“What da you wan, Con-Rad?” Pete’s voice was drifting.

“Are. You. Alone?” Conrad practically shouted the steely words.

“Nah. Havin’ my own liddle party, man.” Pete giggled like a little boy on the other end of the cell. Conrad could also hear a soft moan in the background and the squeaking of a bed frame.

“Listen, we have a problem. Get your head out of your ass.”

“No problem at all on my en…” Pete’s voice trailed off and more squeaking could be heard…along with louder moaning.

“Sorry to interrupt your…whatever. We got a serious problem with IS.” They never talked about their highly classified project around others, but when the need arose, initials were the identifiers.

Conrad heard a loud thump and more squeaking. Obviously, someone hit the floor and Pete was now sitting up. “I’ll call you back in three.”

The line went dead. Nothing like pouring a bucket of cold water on the scene to deflate the situation. Conrad sat in his mustang. He had to do something, anything. He needed action. But there was nothing to be done but wait. Conrad was not a patient man. He hit the seat with his fist.

The leather rebounded without a scratch. “Damn it to hell.” His cell phone chirped. “Pete?”

“Yeah. Where’s the fire, Conrad?” Pete sounded clear-headed…and angry.

“You alone?” Conrad didn’t really need to ask the question, but he wanted confirmation in his own mind. The situation was too dangerous and important.

“Yes. Now, what is it? You got some other bombshell to drop, Buddy?” Pete’s emphasis on the word buddy spoke volumes. He was hurt. He was angry. He was really pissed…and Conrad’s coitus interruptus was the icing on Pete’s pity party cake. “I was having some—”

“Pete, Andrea’s gone.”

“Yeah…so?” Pete huffed. So was his hard-on and Sandra. “She finally got tired of playing eye candy for Rad the Impaler?”

“No, Pete. She’s been taken. They want the backdoor codes to IS.” Conrad stopped. Their cell phones weren’t secure. Anyone could be listening in.

“No shit! Where are you? At home? I’ll be there in ten.” All anger fled from his voice. Conrad could feel Pete’s reaction as his friend came to the realization that Conrad’s wife was in trouble, and so was the business they’d established and worked for years to develop.

“Okay. But are you sober enough to…” The line went dead. Pete was on his way and Conrad just hoped there were no cops between Pete and him. Emergencies had a way of sobering a guy real fast, but alcohol still impaired judgment and reaction time. He didn’t need two emergencies on his hands.

His phone chirped once. Text message.

He grabbed the phone and read:—KCRP @3.75 hrs. N696EP—

It was from Evie’s cell phone number. They’d be landing at Corpus Christi in about four hours. In an Embraer Phenom? Where the hell did she get that jet? And who was flying it?

More questions.

No answers.

He texted back:—Roger—

Conrad was five minutes from the house and would be there long before Pete. He turned the Mustang for home and gunned it. The traffic gods had him in their sights and he pulled into the driveway in short order. It took him a minute to gather the strength to enter the empty house though. His thoughts were all on Andrea. Where was she? Was she hurt? Did she know he would search heaven and hell to find her? Or had she given up on them? On him?

Conrad shook himself. Andrea was tough. She’d proven that time and again. Even under fire she kept her cool and constantly evaluated the situation, responding appropriately. If there was a way to help herself, she’d find it. He just needed to remind himself how strong and independent his wife truly was.

Guilt overcame his ability to move. She was so smart and brave and beautiful…he’d lost that picture when he founded GST and their IS project. Four years of focused concentration, incredible contracts worth millions and he’d lost sight of the one thing that mattered most in his life. His wife.

Conrad passed through the kitchen and headed straight for the one thing that would deaden the pain in his chest. He poured himself a straight shot from the antique Waterford crystal decanter that sat on their bar. It had been a wedding gift from his brother Keith and Keith’s wife, Marianne. The note attached to the gift, said the couple had picked up the beautiful decanter in Scotland on vacation. It was a Longford Ships design and priceless, according to Keith. But then everything Keith possessed was priceless, according to Keith. Including Marianne. Next to the decanter was a framed picture of the four of them, at Conrad’s wedding. Everyone was smiling and dressed to the nines. Andrea looked like an angel in white satin and a sparkly tulle veil. She glowed with love and happiness. Conrad finally understood Keith. Andrea was priceless to him as well, and she needed to know that.

He hoped it wasn’t too late now.

He didn’t realize how long he held their picture, mesmerized by his wife’s beauty, as the bourbon slid its way down his esophagus. Screeching tires alerted him to the arrival of his partner and friend.

The kitchen door slammed the wall as Conrad heard Pete’s voice hollering, “Conrad, where are you?”

“Living room.” Conrad turned to see his buddy slide across the polished dining room floor and vault the two steps into the living room, then freeze. He was aware of the picture he presented. There he stood Pete’s lifelong friend, a drink in one hand, a picture of his wedding day in the other. Tears streamed down Conrad’s face. The rock-hard soldier who survived his horrific wounds and made it through the desert, was crying? Pete probably loved that! The steady, focused man who had painstakingly scratched a tick mark on the side of their cell for every one of the hundred and thirty-five days of incarceration, now stood helpless and shaken to the core.

Peter crossed the room in a flash, took the picture and drink from Conrad’s hands, and grabbed the man in an intense bear hug. “It’ll be okay, Rad. We’ll figure this out.”

Conrad was lost.

No.

He wasn’t lost.

Andrea was lost.

But Pete was there, and Evie was on her way. They could figure this thing out. Hope cleared the tears and Conrad came back to life.

“I was just thinking…” Pete released Conrad. They were both a little embarrassed at the length of the mutual man-hug.

“What were you thinking, Rad? Sit. Bring me up to speed.” Conrad let Pete steer him to the sofa as his friend took a seat across the coffee table. This was bad. Conrad knew Pete had never seen him so desolate. Not even in their cage in the sand box.

“I was just thinking about our wedding. She was so…” Conrad stopped and wiped the tears away. “We gotta get her back, Pete. She’s my life.”

Pete was silent for a moment. Conrad saw the wheels begin to turn in his buddy’s mind. Finally, Pete was becoming aware of how much this woman, this intruder in their bromance, actually meant to Conrad. “Start at the beginning, buddy. One step at a time.”

“I left the office after we had that fight…”

“Yeah, I know that part. Move on.”

Conrad brushed the memory away with a wave. “I was late getting home. I called from the car about a million times. But she didn’t answer. I kept calling. No answer. When I got home, there was no one here.” Conrad wiped his face with his sleeve. “But this was.” He pointed to the instruction note that still lay on the coffee table, right where the kidnappers had left it.

Pete reached for the note. “No!” Conrad stayed his friend’s hand. “Prints.”

“Right.” Pete settled back into his chair. “Then what?” He craned his neck to read the note.

“A couple years ago, when we had that fire scare, I put a CDF tile in all of her purses. I never told her.” Conrad smiled sheepishly. “Man, would she be mad if she knew. Anyway, they’re all registered on my location app. So I activated the one she was currently carrying.” Conrad went back to the bar to retrieve his drink. “Want some?”

“Nah. Had enough tonight. I need a clear head, and so do you.”

Conrad nodded, left his drink on the bar, and returned to his seat. The nervous energy was building, and he had to do something. “The tile popped up at her gym. I couldn’t figure out why she’d be at the gym on the evening of our anniversary, unless she was really mad at me or something.” His voice softened. “She usually goes to the gym early in the morning.”

“Okay. At the gym.” Pete spun his fingers in a circular motion. “And…”

“I went to the gym. Long story short, her stuff was there. She wasn’t. Her car was outside. She’d checked in a little after I’d left for work this morning. Never checked out.”

“So, what did the gym staff say?”

“Guess I wasn’t too nice about asking. They called the cops. The screaming queen who runs the place, gave me her things and that was it. He couldn’t explain where she was or how she’d left without checking out. But she wasn’t there. They looked everywhere.” Conrad threw up his hands. “That’s it. Then I got the call.”

“On your cell? How’d they get the number?” Pete was well into the mystery now, and Conrad was dragging him along the timeline.

“Probably from Andrea’s phone. I don’t know. A digital voice said they had her and wanted the backdoor codes to Iron Shield. If I called the police, they’d kill her.”

“So no one knows, but us?” Pete motioned to his friend and business partner, then back to himself.

It took a second, but Conrad finally responded. “I called Evie. She knows and…” Tears welled up in his eyes again. What was wrong with him? All of a sudden, he was a two-year-old cry baby.

“And…?” He could tell Pete was a little taken aback that Conrad had called the major first.

“Believe it or not, she’s already on her way.” Conrad grinned. “In a private jet.” He shook his head in amazement. “With her boyfriend. That computer guy in California. Guess they are a little tighter than we figured back at her separation party. You remember him. The guy with the little appendectomy blemish?”

“Our Evie has a boyfriend? The geeky guy who makes games? How did we miss that?” Conrad watched Pete’s eyebrows raise in surprise. His partner was so easy to read.

Pete, Conrad, and Evie had spent several months at Walter Reed hospital together, rehabbing their physical and psychological wounds. Conrad had stayed connected and close after they were released and separated from the US Army. Or at least he’d thought they’d stayed close over the intervening years, but he was still a little surprised by the boyfriend thing. He and Pete knew there was something holding Evie in California after her separation from the army, but not the particulars of what. They knew she’d walked into some kind of job at this Simon’s place of business, and figured it was a pretty flush situation. A grand opportunity for a retiring military soldier. But a boyfriend? A Geek? His Evie had enough wounds for a lifetime. She sure didn’t need one in her heart.

“Good for our Evie. Hope the guy is a stand-up fellow. She deserves the best this world can give her. He’s the one that offered her a security job, right?”

“Yep. And her paycheck is pretty stand up, too. Anyway, apparently he has access to a jet, and they are on their way.” Conrad stood and paced over to the bar and back, leaving his drink where it was.

“All right, Rad, let’s get down to business.” Pete motioned to the French doors on the other side of the living room. The doors led to Conrad’s home office.

Inside sat a computer wired to the entire world’s resources and a plethora of stacked magazines and papers. Files were scattered over most of the tabletops and the trashcan was overflowing with paper and old McDonald’s soft drink cups. The housemaid was not allowed to touch anything in Conrad’s office, hence the mess and garbage, as well as the hideous lack of organization. In the middle of the room was a round table used for impromptu meetings, and less often these days, a fast-paced card game or two.

Conrad chuckled. Peter was such a neat-freak, and just passing through the portal to Conrad’s man cave probably made his friend’s skin itch. No wonder Andrea had painstakingly covered each glass pane with fake stain glass sheets. That way she didn’t have to look at Conrad’s crazy-smart mind layered on every surface in the room.

“Jeez, Rad…ever think of emptying the garbage?” Pete pulled a huge tablet from behind the piled trash. They often used the large sheets to create basic code designs in flow-chart form, over late night beers. Half of the Iron Shield project could be attributed to Corona Gold and jalapeño roasted pecans. Pete called it the beer and burn brainstorm. Conrad considered it furk, short for fun work. Conrad’s wife was convinced it was bromance at its best, and gave them the room to create the world’s most intricate and strategic missile targeting system yet.

Pete flopped the chart paper onto the top of the round table. “Let’s start from the beginning.” He grabbed a large marker from off a pile of file folders on a side table. Writing Andrea’s name at the top, he drew a line down, splitting it into horizontal boxes. Then he wrote club in one, car in another, phone in another and purse in the last one, leaving room to add more on each side.

“Shit, Pete, this isn’t some project. It’s Andrea’s life!” Conrad was back to pacing.

“Yeah, but we think better on paper like this.” Pete pointed to Conrad with the purple marker. “You know that and so do I, so get your head out of your ass and start using that remarkable brain of yours.” Conrad had been part of Pete’s thinking process many a time. It really was the way they thought and worked best. Two heads were definitely better than one.

Conrad nodded and grinned. “Roger that.” He sat down at the table. “Andrea checked into the gym right after I left for work.”

In the box labeled club, Pete wrote an approximate time. “Who does she usually work out with at the club? Do you know her trainer? Maybe a girlfriend or instructor?”

The blank look on Conrad’s face told the entire story before he opened his mouth. “I don’t know. She trains with some German guy and his girlfriend, I think. She’s mentioned them before, but I have no idea who they are.” Conrad found himself stunned as realization dawned. He really didn’t know much about what his wife did at the gym, or anywhere else for that matter. “She meets her friend, Margaret for lunch sometimes.”

“Good. Keep thinking. Margaret who?” Pete added another box to the line up and added the name, Margaret.

“What do you mean, Margaret who?”

“What’s Margaret’s last name? Come on Rad, get it together.” Pete spun the marker in his fingers.

The blank look was back. “Ah? No idea.”

“Okay, move on.” It was Pete’s favorite saying. “What about Andrea’s car? Where is it now?”

“Ah…”

After fifteen minutes of grilling, Conrad realized he knew very little about what his wife did during the day, where she went, and who she met.

“Do you and Andrea talk about anything together?” Pete had always told Conrad, he envied Conrad’s perfect marriage. Truth be told, Conrad realized Pete had nothing to envy. Their marriage was turning out to be a surprisingly blank page for him.

“Of course, Pete. I tell her about everything. The project, everybody’s stuff at work, all the drama, you know. Our plans for the next year. Everything.”

“Everything but her.” Pete remarked quietly. Conrad, too, was beginning to see the real perfect marriage he always boasted about. It was perfectly all about him. If it hadn’t been for the note and the call, it might have seemed that Andrea was the one leaving the scene, not being dragged away by kidnappers.

“This is all my fault, Pete.” Conrad wiped his hands across his darkening five o’clock shadow. “It’s been kind of bad for a while now. We used to be so…” He paused, looking for the word to describe the white-hot romance that had fizzled to lukewarm acceptance. “Today is five years. Nothing is the same. Andrea used to be so—” He couldn’t continue.

“Got that. So let’s find Andi and you can have the chance to make things right.” Pete pointed with his marker again. “Or you can sit there blaming yourself and playing that mini-poor-me violin until the strings break, and your wife is gone for good.”

“I’m not…”

“Yes, you are. Move on.”

Conrad threw his partner a middle finger salute, grabbed his own marker, and set to work.

After a grueling hour of questions and few answers, Conrad had contacted the bank across the street from Andrea’s Club to procure any video imagery they might have from the entry and front of the bank. He’d called his old friend at the security firm that handled GST security and enlisted his aid in checking and towing Andrea’s car. Pete was combing through Andrea’s address book and calendar for names and dates, as well as anything that might jump out at him as evidence they could use. Pizza was on its way from D’Pizza joint on Padre Boulevard and the small fridge in Conrad’s office was stocked with beer.

“So, what do we know?” Pete cracked a can and handed it to Conrad, then opened one for himself. It was good to be back in the saddle with Pete, even if the circumstances were dire and the need was personal for Conrad, not GST business and government contracts.

“Andrea works out with some guy named Wilmer and his friend Callista. They are trainers at the South Padre Island Athletic Club. She clocked in a little after 6 a.m. and never clocked out. They have no record of her leaving. Her car was left across the street from the club. Her things were in her locker. Cell phone is missing, which is probably how her kidnappers got my number. It’s encrypted and password protected, but not un-hackable if you know what you’re doing. They obviously got into our house to leave this note.” He motioned to the note that now resided in a plastic bag awaiting forensic analysis. “Morehead said her garage door opener was missing. Damn!” Conrad smacked his forehead. “I was going to program the opener in her car, and I never got around to it.”

“Move on. Keep going.” Pete was the one pacing now, with his beer and marker in hand. “Did Carl find anything?” Carl Morehead had served his hitch in the army as an MP and now headed up Tactical Security and Surveillance. “You trust him to keep this confidential and not make a big show of helping out?”

“Of course. I would stake my life on it. He’s ex-army and a straight shooter.” Conrad gazed out of the tall living room windows to the sculpted lawn beyond. “I’m staking Andrea’s life on it.” As Vice President of their company, it had been up to Conrad to set up their security protocols and hire whomever he needed. He kept critical personnel in the family, so to speak. The military family. “He should be here with the car and a sit-rep in about half an hour. Evie’s ride is due to touch down at the Corpus Christi Airport in about three hours. I’m not sure what she can do, but another set of really keen eyes is more than welcome. And she’s got skills.”

“Why Corpus Christi? Why not Harlingen? Closer. Private stuff always coming and going. Good cover.” Pete paused, then resumed his pacing. “Can you contact them and have them change their destination?”

“Yep. On it.” Conrad pulled out his cell and texted Evie. He was sure this tech guru she was dating would have a satellite uplink and Internet onboard. She’d get the message.

He was correct! Almost immediately his cell chimed.

—Roger that, amending flight plan. ETA 2104. E.—

That was his Major Evielynne Gastineau. Ready at a moment’s notice, and flexible. Thank God. “Semper, Mint Julep!” Conrad smacked the table and sent his marker flying.

“Excuse me?” Pete wasn’t following and looked a bit bewildered at Conrad’s comment.

“Harlingen used to be the home of the Confederate Air Force. That’s their rally cry, like Semper Fi.” He grinned. Pete wasn’t into aircraft and aviation. He didn’t even like getting in the company helicopter with Conrad.

“They’ll be landing a little after ten tonight. You want to go get her and this guy and bring them back here? I’ve got plenty of room at my place if the house is under surveillance, the less coming and going the better. We can work out of here or there. Your call.” Pete had purchased an empty warehouse a couple years back and made the top floor into his home. Conrad also knew Pete had Carl Morehead install a security system that made Fort Knox look like Disneyland. He didn’t care for walls after months in a tiny cell. Conrad didn’t blame him. The only walls in Pete’s place surrounded the luxurious bathroom, and even that had a glass door. Pete had never gotten around to doing anything with the other nine floors which remained empty or filled with left over building supplies and old discarded furniture or items abandoned from the last owner. The main floor was a high-security parking garage with forty spaces. Pete only needed one, but when he drove in and parked, he could see the entire place. Conrad had often asked his friend about development, but the answer was always the same; I’m thinking on it. No one would surprise Pete, or take him prisoner, ever again. It was a feeling they shared, and Conrad didn’t blame his friend at all.

Conrad’s phone rang. The display flashed unknown number. “Better get that. It could be the kidnappers.” Pete moved close as Conrad punched the green button and put the call on speakerphone.

A metallic voice began talking without any social platitudes. “Who took your wife’s car? I told you not to notify the authorities or she would be killed. You had better take me seriously. She’s real pretty. Shame to mess that up. Maybe send you some proof of life, eh?”

Conrad had already thought of his options to respond to a ransom call. “I ordered her car towed back to the house. I couldn’t find the extra keys. I didn’t tell anyone except my partner. He’d have found out sooner or later. Please don’t hurt Andrea. She doesn’t know anything about the project. She can’t help you. Only me. If you hurt her, I won’t give you anything.” Conrad had the sense to record the call on the auto memo function of his cell phone.

Pete motioned to keep the caller talking. He was timing the call. If they had the time and duration of the phone call, maybe the cell company could give them a number. Then they could ping the phone and determine a location. It was a long shot, but more than they had a moment ago.

“Get me the codes and her nice face shall remain so.” The line went dead. Right under thirty seconds. Too short.

“Well, that answers the question of whether or not we’re being watched.” Pete moved to the tall windows and closed the blinds, then made the rounds of the room, checking out nick-knacks, pictures, and bookshelves. He stood with his back to the wall and placed a finger across his lips, motioning to Conrad.

When they first had moved into their house on South Padre Island, Conrad purchased one of Coolidge’s famous paintings of Dogs Playing Cards for his man cave. It wasn’t a real Coolidge. Conrad was sure the real artist did not work on velvet. Andrea hated the picture, but Conrad hung it as a joke for the Saturday night poker guys. They all liked it. At some point, one of his notorious friends had cut out a Corona label and taped it over one of the bottles in the painting. Now Pete pointed to the loose label, mouthing bug. Obviously, the kidnappers left something behind when they took Andrea. He should have thought about that right off. But now, the kidnappers had tipped their own hand with that call!

Conrad rolled his eyes. If there was a listening device in his office, there were probably more. And possibly cameras as well. That would make sense, since Conrad often held meetings at his home and worked late at night in his office/man cave. Now everything in the house was suspect and he had no idea how much of their conversation had been overheard or seen. Surveillance devices were common, cheap, and easy in this day and age. You could purchase them at Best Buy all over the country!

Well, being bugged could be a bad thing…or it could be a tool. Conrad wrinkled his forehead and added a desperate sound to his voice. “Pete, what are we going to do? Evie’s on her way for a two-week visit. They have my wife.” He took a long drink of his beer. “Maybe I should give them the codes and this thing will be over. We haven’t completed the project and the government would never know.”

He spoke clearly toward the painting. The little story he made up on the fly was a ploy but could explain the addition of his friend and her man. He wanted the kidnappers to think he would cooperate and was desperate enough to compromise national security. He’d also immediately figured out the kidnappers weren’t too bright, at least not techno-savvy. Anything he provided to get his wife back, could be changed after the fact. It dawned on him with the crushing weight of a ten-ton truck; they never intended to release Andrea alive!

Pete got it right away and winked at Conrad. They were playing a dangerous game.

With an anguished cry, Conrad cleared their worktable with one arm and threw his beer across the room. He picked up a potted plant from the coffee table and flung it at the opposite wall. He then tossed a bowl of nuts at the third wall with an angry yell. A desperate man would do something like that.

“Rad, calm down, man. Destroying your office won’t help.” Pete took a towel from the bar. “Look, you go out to the porch and wait for Morehead. I’ll clean up this mess. And look, man, we can’t give up our backdoor to anyone. It’s only a tool for the company in case of some malfunction, or disaster with the system, no matter how farfetched that may be, accidents happen.” Pete proceeded to the wall and furniture now splashed with beer. “Outside, buddy. No more thinking about the codes. Absolutely not. I know your wife is important to you, but so is the security of the country. The country we almost died for. Remember that.” Pete continued to wipe the wall and furniture searching for more listening devices. It was good-cop, bad-cop now and Pete was doing his part just as Conrad had hoped when he began the overcome husband show.

Conrad left the room with a parting shot. “You never liked her anyway. You’ve been trying to break us up for years, admit it.”

Pete couldn’t admit anything. Conrad was already out the door and on his way to the front gate of the property. He could hear Morehead honking for access.

“Damn bleeding heart.” Pete said, just loud enough to be picked up by the tiny bug on the painting.