London, U.K.
August 23
It was nearly midnight, but despite the tasing and bruises from the beating, Peter was wired. He knew exhaustion would set in once the adrenalin rush wore off.
After hours of questioning, and long phone conversations with the Brunei Foreign Ministry and the U.S. State Department, the London police released Robert and Peter. They politely declined to return the Walther, citing the strict laws in the U.K. concerning ownership of handguns. “That’s not your property,” Robert objected.
“And I suggest your government take it up through diplomatic channels,” a stern officer replied.
“Come on, Robert,” Peter said. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”
He nodded. “How about having one of your patrol cars drop us off at the Ritz?” The Rolls had been impounded as evidence.
“I beg your pardon,” the officer replied. “We are public servants to ensure safety and enforce the law. We are not a taxi service.”
Robert’s face flushed. Peter placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine. Riding in a London taxi will be another first for me.”
Back in the Prince of Wales Suite, Diesel greeted Peter and Robert with wagging tail as they walked through the door. “Good heavens,” Roger said as he laid eyes on the two men.
“Yeah, you should see the other guys,” Robert quipped.
Roger raised an eyebrow, not sure if Robert was serious or his comment was just an example of odd American humor. “May I prepare something to eat and drink? Perhaps tea and cookies?” he asked.
“Thank you, Roger, but I’ll require something stronger than tea,” Peter replied.
“Champagne? I always keep two bottles chilled for Miss Jade.”
“Yeah, well, Miss Jade is not here,” Robert answered morosely. “She’s been taken.”
“Taken? You mean Miss Jade has been kidnapped?”
“Yeah.” Robert walked away from Roger and leaned over the fireplace, his meaty arms anchored against the marble mantle.
Peter gently stretched. His entire body ached, no doubt from the muscle spasms caused by the 50,000 volts from the Taser. He gently lowered himself into one of the leather armchairs, the padding softly cushioning his back. Diesel curled on the Persian rug at his feet.
“Know much about whiskey, Roger?” Peter asked as he stretched his neck.
“Hmpf. Scotch, Irish, Canadian, or American?” Roger straightened his back and puffed out his chest as he replied, causing Peter to grin.
“Scotch. Oban, 18-year-old. Do you think they have a bottle at the bar?”
“Of course. I have no doubt.”
Sensing Peter and Robert wanted privacy, Roger closed the door as he exited the living room for the kitchen.
Robert had his phone to his ear, waiting as the call went through. Peter could tell that he was being transferred from one person to the next, finally connecting. “Yes ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but I have bad news.”
The conversation was short, not more than a minute. Robert spared Mrs. Lim the details, informing her only that Jade had been kidnapped.
After the call ended, Peter asked, “What now?”
“We have to get her back.”
“Yeah, okay. And just—”
A knock at the door interrupted Peter. Roger entered carrying a silver tray holding two tumblers, a bottle of Oban single malt Scotch, and a small ice bucket. “Would you care for anything else?”
Peter shook his head. “Thank you.”
When Roger reached the door, he hesitated and turned to face Peter. “Sir, I hope Miss Jade will be all right.”
“Me too, Roger, me too.”
s
It was the first time Peter had witnessed Robert have a drink. After two more phone calls and a generous glass of Scotch, he looked Peter squarely in the eyes. “We’ve been summoned to Brunei.”
“We? There’s nothing I can do there.”
“Lim Eu-meh, Jade’s mother, has requested your help.”
“This is a police matter. I’ve given them my statement, as have you. What more can I do? Let the police do their job and catch the gang of thugs that kidnapped her.”
“You can’t be serious. That was not a gang of hoodlums.” Robert paused to let the thought sink in. “Why didn’t they shoot us? It would have been easier, faster.”
“How should I know? Maybe they thought the police would put more resources on the case if they committed murder.”
“You’re joking. Right? Come on. They kidnapped the niece of the Sultan of Brunei. It doesn’t get more high-profile than that.”
“I can’t help you.”
“That job was professional,” Robert said, his face grim. “With military precision, they herded us into a trap using multiple elements and coordinated in real time.”
Peter stared back.
“You saw it; you were there,” Robert pressed.
“So were you. And what good did it do?”
“Like I told you, I’m familiar with your file. Mrs. Lim is, too.”
“I’m not Sherlock Holmes, nor am I James Bond or Jason Bourne.”
“What you are is resourceful.” Robert leaned forward. “You know as well as I do that the police will not find her. What do they have to go on? Tell me.”
Peter’s silence was answer enough.
“Neither of us can ID any of them. If the vehicles are ever recovered, they’ll be clean.”
“Someone will call with a ransom demand,” Peter said. “Isn’t that the way this works? The police can trace the call or follow the cash. A bank transfer would be better—easy to follow the account numbers.”
“You don’t understand. It’s not about money.”
“It’s always about money.”
Robert shook his head. “Not this time.”
“Really? Enlighten me.”
“I can’t.”
“Then why should I go with you to Brunei?”
“Because you care about Jade.”
“Well, caring isn’t good enough.” Peter sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. Fatigue, combined with the whiskey, was beginning to have an effect. “It didn’t help today.”
“The Sultan’s A340 will be fueled within the hour and the flight plan is being filed. We’ll leave in the morning.”
“You’re not listening. I’m not going to Brunei.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Are you planning to drag me onto that flight?”
“Mrs. Lim wants to talk to you.”
“No disrespect intended, but she knows how to use a phone.”
“She’ll only speak with you in person.”
“Look, Robert, you seem like a nice person. And I’m sure Eu-Meh is as well. She’s upset. It’s understandable. But she has the assets of her government plus the London police—probably Scotland Yard as well—at her disposal to solve this kidnapping and rescue Jade. There’s nothing more I can do.”
“She knows.”
Peter furrowed his brow. “Knows what?”
“She knows why Jade was taken, and it’s not for money.”