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  “Trust me, Kev, the last thing I want is to waste time on unproductive activities,” Sean acknowledged. “He doesn’t like me, I don’t like him; there we just killed the first thirty minutes of arguing.”

  They entered the house, moving through the silent corridors to the library. Sean felt the oppressive weight of the Devlyn empire inside the gilded halls of the dim mansion. Ghosts seemed to flit from every darkened room, memories of children long since grown and gone. Over everything lay the pall and specter of decay and power, two organisms grown together through cause and effect. Once Katheryn’s touch around there began to fade, Martin let the house go. While the housekeeper kept everything neat and tidy, there was no life in the mansion.

  Kevin opened the heavy mahogany library doors. “Here’s Sean, now we can get down to business.”

  Sean’s skin tingled, exposed as three pairs of eyes turn in his direction. “Good day, gentlemen, have we heard anything new from our kidnappers?” The niceties were sour in his mouth. It was all he could do to keep from balling his fists inside his coat pocket. To give his anger an outlet he slowly removed the garment and placed it on the back of one of the leather couches

  Matthew spoke first, “Hey Sean, good to see you. No, nothing new since the email. Is that good or bad?” There was no guile in the middle boy, his Autism made it impossible to hold a grudge. If only Greg didn’t use Matt’s simple, honest nature to disguise his personal agenda. But separating the two wasn’t easy. Matthew was Greg’s mouthpiece, unaware of the chaos his words caused others around him.

  Shaking his head, Sean answered to the room at large. “I’m not sure, it might go either way. We need to find out what they want. Has anyone gone to our apartment to check for clues? If they were following her, they might have left something.”

  Greg nodded. “The Atlanta police went there after watching the security video of the transit station. Cassie was at the Arts Center Station waiting for a train to Midtown when three men grabbed her, held a cloth over her nose and carried her out. Apparently she was at a fundraiser in one of the hotels in the area and was headed home. They left a note in spray paint on the station wall. If they went to her office, no one let us know.”

  “That means they were probably following her. Any of the neighbors see or hear anything unusual? What did the note say?” Sean’s professional mode kicked in as he signaled Joe to start keeping notes. The headache knocked again on the back of his forehead.

  “We don’t know. The police turned everything over to the F.B.I. but Dad thinks that might have been the wrong move. Now we’re completely out of the loop and feeling pretty damn helpless,” Greg conceded. “The police seem to feel they need to run everything by their frakkin’ playbook, not understanding we have resources they don’t, and could have solved the problem by now.”

  “It all depends on who and what they’re after. As to being in the loop, I’ll see what we can arrange. I’m hoping they will extend me a little professional courtesy, but I can’t promise anything.” Sean pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

  “Any ideas as to what they might be after, Mr. Ferguson?” The raspy, deep, baritone of Martin Devlyn challenged from his seat beside the large stone fireplace. “I know you run into people in your line of work. Anyone holding a grudge against you who would take it out on Cassandra? Who is this gentleman? Who is ‘the guy from Istanbul’?”

  Sean took a deep breath before answering. “It’s a long, classified story Mr. Devlyn. Basically we were sent into Turkey to pull out an associate who was coming in from northern Iraq. Things went wrong and our mission was compromised. It took some work but we finally managed to get out of Turkey and into Greece where we met up with a ride back to London. This guy is the person who double-crossed us and sold us out to the Islamic radicals.”

  “So we can assume he has no morals?” Martin snorted in his contempt for the situation. “Wonderful, my daughter is in the hands of madmen.”

  “Let me call and leave another voice mail.” Sean closed his eyes against the growing migraine. “Maybe I can keep them on the line long enough for a trace?”

  Sean pressed the speed dial button for Cassie’s phone. One ring, two rings, then to his immense surprise a voice came on the line. “Well, well, well, obviously patience is not one of your strong points Mr. Ferguson.”

  “Never mind that Tsichevna, you son of a bitch, where is my wife?” Sean’s fingers itched to wrap themselves around the throat of Cassie’s kidnapper.

  Tsichevna chuckled. “Now Ferguson, you know that’s not how it’s going to happen. I’m going to give you my demands, then you’re going to argue you need more time, which I won’t give. Then you’ll ask for proof which I might give you but in the end you’re going to bring me the money. However, the money only settles my score with the Devlyns. You and I have our own score to settle. Are all the brothers there with old man Martin?”

  “Yeah, you’re on speaker. That a problem?”

  “I don’t mind if you don’t.” Tsichevna sounded full of self-assurance. “Greetings Devlyn family, my name is Pieter Tsichevna and while we haven’t met personally, I’ve used your services many times through my various employers. I have your beloved Cassandra and the price to you is twenty million euros, deposited into a Swiss account number I supply. I also want three million U.S. dollars brought to me by our dear friend Mr. Ferguson. Once he leaves your compound, I will text an address to his phone. Your loved one will be there.”

  Martin spoke up. “I want to speak to my daughter. I won’t pay a dime until I know she is safe.”

  “Smart man, despite your other failings I knew you wouldn’t spend your own money unless she was safe,” the kidnapper shot back. “Your lovely daughter is right here. I’m surprised she wants to speak to any of you, given how easy it was to snatch her from the train station. Poor planning on someone’s part, if you were to ask my professional opinion.”

  There was a momentary pause. Then Sean’s heart skipped a beat as Cassie’s lyric alto came on the phone. “Hey everyone. Is Sean there?”

  “I’m here love,” he responded gently, his arms aching to hold her. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m not physically harmed if that’s what you mean. My new friend here seems to delight in telling me all sorts of wild stories.” She sounded tired, stressed, but there was no edge to her tone, which might indicate injuries.

  He took a deep breath. “I’m here with your father and brothers. We’re all ready for you to be home.”

  She laughed. “That’s a lively gathering I’m sure.”

  Martin piped up. “I’m willing to put things aside for you, my dear. I think we all feel that way. You are more important than our petty disagreements.”

  There came the sounds of a scuffle and suddenly she was gone, replaced by Tsichevna. “That proves she’s all right. I want my money. The EFT needs to be in my Swiss account by eight tonight. That’s eight hours to get the funds together. But the three million I want in two hours. Wait for further instructions.”

  The phone went silent. The room echoed with the lack of her voice. The brothers were all quiet, obviously wondering what to do next. Martin Devlyn stared into the fire, his face cold as stone.

  Sean turned and faced the room. “All right, now we call the F.B.I.”

  ****

  Soon the Bureau in Atlanta dispatched a team to work with the family on the kidnapping. Joe worked with Kevin and the agent assigned to the case, Tim Brown. Sean began setting himself up for Tsichevna’s next move. As he sat in the little-used family room to gather his equipment, he grew aware of Greg waiting in the doorway to catch his attention. For a moment he debated on ignoring his useless brother-in-law, but for Cassie’s sake he’d try.

  Greg Devlyn was a first class psycho, who always managed to ride Martin’s wallet to safety. Memories of the stories Cassie told him about Greg and his interesting forms of torture slammed into his headache and it was an effort to not put his fist through the younger man�
�s banal smile.

  “What’s up Greg?” Sean kept his face neutral against the rage building in his guts. He hated Greg more than any other human, and for good reason. Greg was a monster, and it was only because Cassie was missing he allowed this sorry excuse of a human to approach without flattening the man’s nose.

  “I wanted you to know I’m sorry Cassie is…” Greg faltered as he ran out of nerve. The youngest of the three brothers, he’d always claimed his torment of Cassie came solely as an attempt to impress the older boys. Whatever. That malice now stood between him and his brother-in-law, as Sean recalled some of Greg’s torture of Cassie. He was the one who caused Cassie the most harm. This was the brother Sean wanted to kill. “I’ve never wanted anything ill for my sister, regardless of how others think I might feel. I’ve often wondered if she’s ever thought about the two of us reconciling.”

  “She doesn’t think about you at all, but I appreciate what you’re trying to say.” Sean tried to keep the snarl off his face. After all, Greg was ‘family’ and presumably upset as well as the others. Sean doubted it. Monsters have no compassion. “I just hope when she gets back you let her know that.”

  “Maybe,” Greg agreed, “but somehow I think we’ll never be as close as her and Kevin.”

  “What can I say? Kevin made the overture and paid the penance for his crimes. I’m sure Cassie would do the same for you.”

  Greg laughed once in derision. “Yeah, somehow I don’t think so. After what I did to Cassie, I’ll be glad if she doesn’t blow up my car one night. By the way, sorry about the whole divorce papers thing last year. Dad insisted on trying again, you know? He still thinks you only want Cassie for her money.”

  Sean smiled stiffly and slapped Greg on the back, though not as hard as he would have liked. “No problems. She’s not that mad anymore. But if you find a stuffed horse’s ass in your bed, don’t wonder who it’s from.”

  “Thanks. For a damned Irishman you’re not a bad human being.”

  “Same to you,” Sean hoped Greg was done. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend to care about him.

  When Greg left the room, Sean’s smile disappeared quickly. “Bastard,” Sean muttered. He remembered who led the charge against Cassie both as a child and after with Sean. It was great the guy missed her now, but he doubted that enthusiasm would continue when she returned. He didn’t trust Greg or his motives for seeking him out but at least now his suspicions were confirmed as to whose hand was behind the try. Once Cassie was safe, he would dig into Greg’s connections.

  At last he was ready. Joe brought him a briefcase with the three million dollars Tsichevna demanded he deliver. Agent Brown slapped him on the shoulder. “Are you sure you’re up for this Ferguson? Most husbands getting ready to deliver their wife’s ransom sweat like a hooker during Mass, but you act like this is a daily occurrence.”

  Martin Devlyn spoke up from his chair. “Sean was Special Forces for the British, among other things. That’s probably where this shit all came from.”

  Kevin quickly jumped in to defend his brother-in-law from Martin’s acerbic tone. “Dad, we said no barbs. There’s enough drama in this room without purposely digging at one another.”

  “That’s all right Kevin,” Agent Brown jumped in. “We already know about Mr. Ferguson’s interesting choice of professions. However, since he’s worked for our country as well as others, we are extending professional courtesy to him for this emergency. Even so, it’s hard when family is involved. The lines tend to get blurred.”

  Blood pounded through Sean’s veins until it felt he would explode. “I’m fine. Listen up Martin. I’ve had enough of those snide innuendoes. Pieter obviously has a bone to pick with both of us. That tells me your hands aren’t as lily white as you would like everyone to believe. One of these days the reckoning will arrive, and I’ll see you pay for every one of your crimes. Now, excuse me, I’m going to rescue my wife.”

  Sean stalked from the library and out to the front porch, Agent Brown on his heels. Brown looked around. “Listen don’t let anyone know this, but you’re right about the family not being as clean as they would like the world to believe. MM Air is under investigation, highly classified and known only to a select few. We don’t know who’s on which payroll, so public acknowledgment is avoided.”

  “What are they looking for?” Sean tried to probe further, wondering if he and Joe needed to worry.

  “That’s above my pay grade, but I know they’ve been on the hit list of a task force which is investigating companies who work with known terrorist organizations for more than three years. And before you go nuts, let me say, yes—your name has come up more than once in discussions. But, your record stands in testament to your personal character and that’s why I have no problems with letting you make this exchange.”

  Sean looked down at his shoes, then back at the agent. “I don’t know why I let them get to me this way.”

  “I do. The real question is why let them bother you? These people are the ones we’re out there trying to put away.”

  “I must be insane for even speaking to them. But this is about Cassie, not them. Once she’s safe, I have no reason for further interaction with Martin or Greg Devlyn.”

  Agent Brown glanced at his watch. “It’s time to go. Do you have the briefcase?”

  “Right here.” Sean patted the case in his left hand. “I guess I’ll see you in a little while.”

  “We’ll be here waiting.” Brown smiled and clapped Sean on the back, then he headed back into the house to rejoin his squad.

  Sean seated himself behind the wheel in the Mercedes sedan and started the engine. No sooner was the car out of the driveway than the Bluetooth in the car sync’d with his cell phone. “Call from Pieter Tsichevna. Call from Pieter Tsichevna.” Sean pushed the talk button on the steering wheel.

  “Ferguson.”

  Tsichevna’s obsequious voice filled the car. “All right Ferguson, here’s the deal. I’m sending an address to your email. Meet us there in thirty minutes.” Then the line went dead.

  Sean pulled into a dead end road and checked his phone. The address was in South Fulton County, miles from populated areas. Once he fed the address into the onboard navigation system, he forwarded the email to Joe Callahan. Rule number one in his book when it came to meeting suspects in the field: never go somewhere without letting people know where you are. As he drove, he said a silent prayer to the saints Cassie was still all right. He didn’t want to slay Tsichevna in front of her. Murder always made for a bad reunion.

  Chapter Four

  Thanksgiving, 3:00 p.m.—Red Oak, GA

  Tsichevna dragged another chair into the holding room. Seating himself across from Cassie he smiled and lit a cigarette. For a long moment he said nothing, staring at her with a look of vague amusement on his face.

  “Well, Mrs. Ferguson let’s have a chat shall we?”

  “Am I going to die?”

  He laughed. “Not now Cassie, now that I have found another means to my end. Your ignorance is going to save your life.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  The man nodded. “I know, and it’s bloody marvelous. Your father has done a remarkable job sheltering you from all of his dirty laundry for, well, for your entire life. I thought you had to be faking, pretending to not know what your family really does at MM Air but now, I see it is true. Martin actually has kept two lives, and the one which contains you is almost unassailable. It took me two years to learn your habits, when you were out of town, when you might be alone, who I could trust to not be on Devlyn’s side, all things which were addressed before we snatched you today. And after I tell you the real truth about MM Air and some of their less honest ventures you might want to kill your father with your own hands. I can’t tell you how satisfying that would be.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not following you.” Cassie wondered if this was an after effect from the ether. Her father might be cold and callous, but a traitor? How did that fit
with his All American image? It all had to be a mistake.

  “So I can tell. Let me start back a few years. My name is Pieter Tsichevna, as you already know and I am from Lithuania. I was hired for this assignment by a man named Kwan Tsi. Kwan is a, let’s just call him a gentleman of fortune. He deals in projects that make him money, lots of money. We met through your mother’s father, the Japanese industrialist Tano Nishamora. Four years ago I contacted Martin Devlyn on behalf of my then employer about transporting a large shipment of small caliber handguns through Lithuania to Somalia. Negotiations went back and forth for several months prior to the actual exchange. When everything was arranged, we met in a neutral country for the deal. My wife Lana and my daughter Nadia came with us, for our cover.

  “The deal was going well, until the very end. Government agents swarmed the airport, guns blazing. Devlyn sold us out to the feds to save his own skin. I managed to get my wife and daughter on the outgoing plane, while I ran with the others to divert attention. As I watched the plane carrying my family, my weapons, my future taking off, the streak of a rocket propelled grenade struck the plane, exploding as they climbed over the water. No bodies were ever recovered.”

  Still nodding, Cassie felt lost in his story. How did this apply to kidnapping? “I’m so sorry for your loss Mr. Tsichevna, but how do you know the crash relates to my family? Seems to me anyone could have fired that grenade.”

  “I later learned Martin Devlyn was working with the CIA and the IRS to avoid some debts, so he sold us out to save himself. He worked with us to sell the guns and then stood back and watched the government agents kill us off. It didn’t matter there were men and women from the world over on that plane, nothing else was. I also learned that the crates were empty. The guns were still in the hangar. Their dirty hands then sold them again to another bidder, with the government still assuming the guns exploded with the plane.”

  “Martin? Setup a double deal?” A sickening feeling settled deep into Cassie’s stomach. Little sparks were flaring all over her thoughts as so many pieces fell into place; increased security, furtive whispers and scurrying in the halls. The entire oddity of her childhood suddenly felt totally explainable, and nausea threatened to overwhelm and consume her.