Chapter Thirty-One
A rough jolt shivered through her body and Meg slowly opened her eyes. For a moment she couldn’t figure out where she was. Her mind felt sluggish and her head was pounding. There was a kink in her neck. She had to concentrate to force her limbs to move. Was she sick? Maybe she was in the hospital.
Then her gaze lit on the man on the wide leather seat across from her. Well dressed in navy slacks and a yellow button-down shirt, an expensive pair of shoes. Dolce & Gabbana, she thought vaguely, somewhere in the depths of her mind. Black hair, dark eyes, early forties. She didn’t recognize the man and yet she felt a spike of fear just looking at his face.
She bit back a cry as it all came rushing back. Being drugged and abducted, seeing Jonathan when she’d been tossed in the back of a van. She dimly remembered being half-carried up the metal stairs into a sleek private jet, remembered the two rough-looking men who had guided her into a seat.
They’d said something to the pilot or copilot, something about her being afraid to fly. Drugs were mentioned, and alcohol. She’d been buckled into the seat, a blanket tucked around her.
She faintly recalled the jet roaring down the runway, surging into the air, but she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes open for long.
She opened them now, realized the plane had hit a patch of rough air. She took a deep breath and tried to summon enough energy to sit up, but the black-haired man reached over and pressed a white rag over her nose and mouth. She tried to struggle, fought not to breathe in the sickly sweet smell, then the drug kicked in and she slipped once more into the dark depths of unconsciousness.
* * *
The office was buzzing with activity by the time Dirk walked in. Sadie had promised to talk to Ian, to phone Nick and Ethan and bring them up to speed. Montoya was working with M-Jazz, but a couple of other BOSS, Inc. contractors had agreed to cover if more help was needed.
Ian and Nick were sitting at the long mahogany table in the conference room as Dirk strode through the open door. Luke had beaten him there—no surprise because he always drove too fast and, in his battered old Bronco, rarely got stopped. Sitting at the table across from Nick, Luke glanced up as Dirk walked in, then went back to work on his laptop.
Ethan walked in a few seconds later, spread open a rolled-up map of South America, then opened one of Argentina on top.
“I’ve got topos on the way,” Ethan said. “Guy from the print shop is bringing them over as soon as they’re ready.” They could open a digital map on the computer and project it on the wall, but Ethan was old school. He liked to be able to mark things up and refer back to them.
“We’re waiting for Sadie,” Ian said. Brodie rose from his chair to study the maps spread out in front of him. “She should be down any minute.”
Dirk glanced at the men in the conference room, the best men he knew. A tightness crawled into his chest. He should have known his friends would be on board, already hard at work to set a plan in motion.
He was bringing Meg back, hell or high water. None of them seemed to doubt that. Be a lot easier now, with his friends there to back him up.
He shoved down the unwanted emotion. No time for that now. He moved to the head of the table to gain the men’s attention.
“I spoke to Agent Nolan at the FBI,” he started. “I’m hoping the feds’ll be able to call in some international help on this, get Meg off the plane as soon as it touches the ground.”
“Been my experience,” Luke drawled, “in a situation like this, the feds are about as worthless as a roll of wet toilet paper.”
A chuckle went around the room.
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Dirk said. “Nolan’s on his way to the office.”
Luke ran a hand over his sun-streaked, brown hair. “Meantime, why don’t we go over what we know so far?”
Dirk sat down at the head of the table. Whatever happened, this was his operation and everyone knew it, accepted it. “According to the barista at Starbucks, the van was in the parking lot around eleven a.m. We’ll use that as the baseline for when Meg disappeared.”
“Any way to get a line on the vehicle?” Nick asked.
Dirk shook his head. “Not even a partial plate number. Got to be about a thousand white vans in Seattle.”
“They would have had to drug her or knock her out,” Luke said. “From what I know of the lady, it’s the only way they could have gotten her inside.”
The tightness returned to Dirk’s chest. Meg would have fought them with every ounce of her strength. She had a little boy to think of. She wanted to be there to watch him grow up.
“They used chloroform on her kid,” he said. “Probably immobilized her the same way. Hollander says they had a private jet waiting at Boeing Field to fly her out of the country. He didn’t know if it was Gertsman’s or a charter.”
“A private jet’s no problem for Otto Gertsman,” Sadie said as she walked into the room, the wrinkles in her face more pronounced, curly platinum hair a little mussed. “Guy’s got a small fleet of them. Gertsman’s one of the richest men in South America and half the rest of the world.”
She carried her laptop over to the conference table, the worry in her pale blue eyes kicking Dirk’s nerves up another notch. Sadie sat down in one of the black leather chairs, opened her computer, and went to work.
A forty-eight-inch flat panel monitor hung on the wall at the opposite end of the table. In seconds a photo of Otto Gertsman appeared on the screen.
“Fifty years old,” Sadie started. “Six foot three, gray-blond hair, and blue eyes. Born to German parents in an Argentine town called Villa La Angostura. It’s in the Neuquén Province in the alpine region on the slopes of the Andes. It’s an area heavily settled by Germans.”
“Neuquén Province,” Ethan repeated. Grabbing a yellow Sharpie, he located and circled the area on the map.
“A lot of Nazis fled to the region after the Second World War,” Sadie continued, “including Herman Gertsman, Otto’s grandfather. Grandpa Gertsman left Germany right before the war ended. He made no bones about being a Nazi; in fact he was proud of it.”
“How did Gertsman get his money?” Nick asked.
“Inherited a lot of it. Good ol’ gramps looted a fortune from the Poles, the Russians, the Jews, and anybody else who crossed his path. ’Course there’s no proof of that. When Grandpa died, his son, Wilhelm, became a very rich man. He began to build a business empire. Wilhelm died and left his money to Otto, who continued the tradition. Today OGAR International has interests in energy, steel metallurgy, airlines, shipping, petrochemicals, and automotive parts.”
“My guess,” Dirk said, “Otto also continued his family’s association with the Nazi movement. That’s his connection to Mad Max Bremmer, one of the men involved in the original kidnapping, a neo-Nazi born in the same region.”
“Good guess,” Sadie said. “Bariloche’s less than sixty miles from Villa La Angostura.”
“Hollander told us Gertsman’s planning to take Meg to his compound,” Dirk said, adding information he and Luke had pumped out of Jonathan before the feds had arrived to haul his ass away. “Any idea where it is?”
Sadie made a low sound of disgust. “Unfortunately the guy owns five palatial homes in Argentina alone. Got one near Nice in the south of France, got one in Macao. He’s got property all over the world. He could be taking her anywhere.”
Dirk’s stomach knotted. “Christ.” When were they going to catch a break? He raked back his too-long hair, reminding himself of the haircut he had intended to get that day. He had wanted to look good for Meg.
The knot in his stomach went tighter.
“Take it easy, bro,” Luke said, reading the tension vibrating between his shoulders. “We’re just getting started.” Luke grinned. “If it was too easy, it wouldn’t be any fun.”
Dirk whipped a look at his friend. Luke was trying to lighten the moment, give him the boost he needed. A faint smile flickered across his lips. “Yeah, what was I thinking?”
Ethan shoved back his chair, hoisting his heavily muscled frame up from the seat. “I’ve got a friend at Sea-Tac who owes me a favor. Odds are he’ll know someone in the office at Boeing Field. The pilot had to file a flight plan. Maybe we can get the tail numbers off the plane, see where it’s scheduled to land.” Ethan pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and headed out the door to make the call.
As he disappeared from sight, a sandy-haired man appeared in the doorway: FBI Special Agent Ron Nolan. “Looks like a war room in here.”
With Gertsman’s photo still up on the screen, maps spread open on the table, iPads, and smartphones, it kind of did.
“Close enough,” Dirk said. He shook Nolan’s hand and Ian did the same. The men farther away gave him a nod. “I hope you’re here to tell me you have a line on the plane and know where it’s going, and men at your disposal to meet the jet when it lands.”
Nolan pushed out a soft breath of air. “Unfortunately meeting the plane isn’t going to happen.”
“Told you,” Luke grumbled.
“Do you at least know where it’s headed?” Dirk asked.
“We’re working on it. We should have the information very soon.”
Ethan walked back in just then. “The plane was a chartered G4, tail number N108EC. The flight plan calls for a refueling stop at Juan Santamaria International Airport in Costa Rica. From there it’s going to El Tepual International Airport in Chile. Looks like that’s the final destination. The pilot is planning to fly the plane back to Seattle from there.”
“Chile?” Dirk walked over to where Sadie was working her laptop. “What the hell’s in Chile?”
Her fingers ran over the keyboard. Her head came up as she pointed to the info on the big screen on the wall. “You see that?” A Google map of the area pinpointed with a red balloon.
“Yeah, I see it. So what?”
“That’s El Tepual Airport in Chile.” She zoomed the map a little to the east. “And right there on the other side of the Andes—that’s Bariloche.”
A grim smile touched Dirk’s lips. “Alpine region. He’s taking her home. He’s meeting the charter and picking her up in one of his own planes, flying her back to Bariloche or somewhere close by. He must have a place in the area. Good work—both of you.”
“Let’s see if we can find out exactly where he’s headed.” Sadie started pounding on the keyboard again.
Ron Nolan moved closer to the table, slid a glance past each of the men. “Whatever you’re planning, it isn’t going to happen.” Sadie stopped typing. “At least not today or anytime for at least the next week.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Dirk shot Nolan a glare. “You need to put boots on the ground, get men to that airport before the plane arrives.”
“Not gonna happen. Here’s the deal. Interpol is all over Gertsman. According to them, the guy’s involved in all kinds of criminal activities from drug smuggling to gun running. They want him bad. They’ve got a man deep undercover and they’re within days—a week to ten at most—before they have everything in place to take him down.”
Anger vibrated through every muscle in Dirk’s body. “And in the meantime what’s going to happen to Meg? Gertsman didn’t take her all the way to Argentina so they could have a nice little chat over afternoon tea. She’s an internationally famous model. He wants her—just like any other red-blooded male. You don’t think he’s ruthless enough to take what he wants without her permission?”
“I know you’re worried,” Nolan tried to soothe. “But Meg’s a big girl. She was a lingerie model, for God’s sake. She knows how to handle men. All she has to do is placate the guy for a few days, give Interpol a little time.”
Luke made a disgusted sound in his throat and Dirk moved into Nolan’s space. “She’s a mother, you bastard—not some fucking whore!”
Nolan backed a little away. “You need to take it easy, Dirk. You’re not thinking clearly. You’re too emotionally involved because you think she’s yours. Isn’t that right?”
Did Meg belong to him? Did she? Who was he kidding? She’d been his since the moment she’d invited him into her bed.
“She’s mine, Nolan, and I protect what belongs to me.”
“Not this time, Reynolds. You’re going to wait. If you try to interfere with the investigation, you’re going to jail.” He turned. “Same goes for the rest of you. You need to step back, let the authorities do their jobs.” His voice softened. “Interpol knows what’s going on. They’re doing everything in their power to bring Megan home. And so are we.”
A heavy silence hung over the room.
Dirk’s jaw was clenched too tight to speak.
Agent Nolan turned and walked out of the conference room. No one said a word till they heard the back door leading to the parking lot close firmly behind him.