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"It wouldn't be a failure of character!"
He gave her a look so full of stubborn resolve that she wanted to kiss him, nosebleed and all. "I can stroke out when this is over."
Some people, Katie reflected, were just too hardheaded to suffer things like that. He probably had Teflon veins in his brain, anyway. She surrendered. "What's happening?"
"Still in the van. They're cutting through an industrial area, and traffic's pretty heavy. No help to us in identifying a white cargo van there. Could be a thousand of them on the roads. And rush hour is going to start soon."
Rush hour in L.A. was more like rush half day; it began stacking up around 6:30 a.m. and didn't finish until after 9:00 a.m. Traveling west, they'd gained some time, but not enough, and traffic was going to slow them down. Of course, it would slow down the van, too. Hopefully.
"I need two things," Katie said. "A cross street, real time, and your cell phone. Mine's on its last legs."
He handed over his phone. She turned on her own long enough to retrieve Allison Gracelyn's number from it, then shut it down again-she'd missed three incoming calls, all from Craig Evangelista-and programmed the number in Stefan's phone.
"Cross street?" she asked.
"I'll have to go back in," he said. "Teal can't see very well right now. They moved her to the back."
He wasn't saying something important, she could sense it. She put her hand on the back of his neck again, gently. "What happened?"
He just shook his head. "Let's stay focused," he said. "She's okay. She's going to be okay." He sounded as if he more wanted to believe it than actually did, and she felt a chill race through her body at the implications.
"And Lena?" she asked. "Is Lena okay, too?"
"Fine." That, at least, he said without hesitation. "Teal's running interference for her." And it was, without a doubt, costing Teal. And therefore costing Stefan, too. "I have more signs for you."
Marine was watching them curiously, bright-eyed, but she wasn't saying anything. Apparently, she took her role as hired driver seriously. Katie focused on Stefan's right hand as he carefully formed the signs, one after another. The first few were the same as Teal's previous message-she must not have been sure that he was receiving it-and then it branched off. "North Soto, and pa.s.sing Valley...I don't think you need to go back in. She must have been looking out the windows before you dialed in. That's probably why they pulled her to the back." She had her cross streets, and a hot flicker of excitement started burning in her stomach. She dialed Stefan's cell phone.
"Who's this?" asked a strong contralto voice on the other end. Of course-Allison wouldn't recognize the number, and she'd instantly know that. Being a math whiz allowed her to keep a permanent, instantly accessible database of such things in her head; being an NSA agent imbued her with serious paranoia about unknown phone calls to a very private number.
"It's Katie Rush," Katie said. "I'm on a borrowed phone, sorry, I know that's not a good thing for you. It's an emergency."
Some of the tension left Allison's voice. "Is this about the girls? Lena and Teal?"
"You heard."
"Of course I heard. Everybody's heard. How can I help?"
"A friend of mine had a good idea about using satellite tracking on the van the girls are in," she said. "But you're the only one I can think of with the resources to make that happen. Maybe."
"Can you pinpoint a location and description?"
"North Soto and Valley, LosAngeles. White cargo van."
"Do you have the plate number?"
Katie blinked. "You can match a plate number? From a satellite?"
"Not officially, no."
"Well, unofficially, no, I don't have a plate number. Do you think-"
"Hold on," Allison said, and there was an instant silence that stretched on for a while. They were definitely getting close to Los Angeles-the suburbs were rolling by on either side, stretching off to infinity in rows of strip malls, houses, streams of cars moving either with or against them. The sun wasn't up, but the horizon was growing lighter. Los Angeles was waking up.
"Right," Allison said. "Do you know exactly when the van pa.s.sed those cross streets?"
"Not exactly, no. We're working with secondhand information."
"Hmm. That's a little more of a puzzle. What kind of time frame are we talking about?"
"Anywhere from five to fifteen minutes ago," Katie said. "That's a guess, but I think it's pretty accurate."
"Narrows things down," Allison said. "I've got several possibilities. One's still traveling in a straight line on the same road, so that's probably our guy, but I've painted the others just in case he got tricky."
"But you can track him?"
"Unless he goes underground-tunnel, parking structure, something like that-or unless he gets outside of the satellite's range, yes. I'd have to retask the satellite to get him back, and that would require some paperwork I don't think you have time for. And I don't have adequate justification for, either." Allison's voice softened. "You doing okay?"
"I'm fine," Katie said. She was, remarkably. Her ribs ached-more after the crash than before, and now she was about ninety percent sure there were hairline fractures-and she was so tired she could feel her whole body trembling with it. She was so tired, in fact, that she no longer craved sleep. "I want to finish this, but I'm pretty low on resources right now."
"Name it and you'll get it."
"Backup when I call for it. There's an FBI task force that just landed, they're at the local field office. I'd call myself, but I'm pretty sure that we might have to waste some time on questions I can't answer now. If you make the call for me, you can cite need-to-know and scary black-box operations."
She expected to hear amus.e.m.e.nt in Allison's reply, but it surprised her by being completely sober. "I'm not so sure it isn't," she said. "This is no ordinary abduction, Katie. I'm sure you already ruled out s.e.xual predators...."
"Not completely," Katie said grimly. "Let's just say that one of the men holding the girls isn't someone I'd want babysitting."
"But that isn't the real intent behind it. This is a ma.s.sive operation, Katie. I've been tracking it from this end, and the data flows are strange, to say the least. Favors are being called in at a rate that I can't quite believe, and it's stretching out to a lot of criminal organizations that normally don't interact."
"What do you mean?"
"Let's take Timmons Kent," Allison said. "He's a drug trafficker and dealer. High level. Who does he interact with? To stay where he is, he has to be very careful. It's a closed loop, very small interactive circles. Yet all of a sudden, Timmons is calling people outside of his own organization for favors. This includes the Salomon brothers, who promptly start calling their people on the west coast. This van's been defying the odds, Katie. Between you and the state police, not to mention the resources of the FBI, these guys should have been found a half dozen times. Instead, they've been evading the search, and when they're caught, they shoot their way out. Not normal."
Katie remembered her previous conviction, that someone in law enforcement had been providing information. "Insiders," she said.
"Big time. And not small ones, either. I can count at least three data ripples that are significant-"
"Allison, I have no idea what that means."
"It means three people out there in positions to influence and direct the investigation have been compromised," she said. "Bad guys are coming out of the woodwork on this one, and they're blowing the covers of resources they probably worked very hard to get. That means this isn't an ordinary abduction, or even an ordinary ransom kidnapping. This is something else. Something much bigger."
In the front seat, Marine and Stefan were starting to have a hushed conversation of directions to follow, exits to take. Apparently, they were nearing Stefan's family home.
"I don't think that can matter to me right now," Katie said. "My one priority has to be getting these girls back safely. Anything else needs to be another conversation."
"Understood, Katie, and no argument here. But I wanted you to get the big picture-this thing is attracting attention, and it's going to attract even more unless it's resolved quickly. It's in the best interests of the Athena Academy to make sure that happens. So do whatever you can." Allison's tense voice thawed a little. "And take care of yourself."
"Look who's talking," Katie replied.
When she hung up the phone, she erased both number and call record. She didn't have to worry about the provider network; Allison would take care of that as a matter of course. She handed the phone back to Stefan, who was pointing out a sprawling hacienda-style house sitting on a sinful expanse of California real estate behind a wrought-iron fence.
Marine drove them to the gate, and Stefan hopped out to key a number into the data pad attached to a post. The entrance swung open, and Stefan walked up the drive, motioning for Marine to follow with the car.
"Wow," Marine said, marveling as they rolled past a lovely landscaped yard and up to the front walk of the house itself. "I sure hope he does have a cute brother."
Katie rolled her eyes and got out of the car as soon as it came to a stop. Stefan was unlocking the front door with a set of keys from his pocket. Marine stayed in the car to await her payment.
"Shouldn't you knock or something?" she asked.
"What? It's my house!"
"It's your parents' house."
"Trust me, if I knocked, they'd never believe it was one of their kids." He flashed her a smile, and she was struck by the thought that his family wasn't exactly going to be thrilled with the condition in which she was delivering their son...bruised, pale, bloodstained and a whole lot the worse for wear. She wasn't in any better shape, of course, but she wasn't their kid.
And obscurely, she wanted Stefan's parents to like her.
Stefan swung the door open, barged in and yelled, "Mom! Dad! Anybody home?"
The inside of the house was a pleasant sort of chaos...thick mismatched overlapping rugs, a battered, comfortable sofa next to an antique desk. A chocolate Labrador, sprawled on the red tile hearth, looked up but couldn't be bothered to do more than a vague wag of his tail at the sight of intruders. Photographs everywhere, a dizzying clutter of them-black-and-white, sepia-toned, color. Casual and formal portraits, as well as instant snapshots. One caught her eye-a recent one, by the look of it-of a crowd of people gathered in front of the very house she was standing inside. At least twenty people were in the photograph, and Stefan was in the center of it, laughing, his arm around a slightly taller, thinner, more intense man with shorter hair. Angelo, the doctor brother now in Darfur, most probably. Presumably that was Stefan's father next to them, with a short, stout woman next to him who just had to be their mother, because although Katie had thought Stefan probably had his father's smile, she corrected that immediately. There was a certain impudence to the woman's grin that invited you to share a secret joke...exactly like her son's.
She was still taking it all in, the riot of color and fabric and texture, when a voice called from the top of the stairs, "Stefan?" A man's voice, low and smooth. A shadow appeared up there, and then a tall, lanky man with a wild shock of black-and-silver hair was coming down the steps. He didn't bother with the railing, but that was mostly because he had something in his hands...
...and she had no idea what it was, except that it looked like a cross between a rat and a porcupine.
"Hey, Dad," Stefan said. "I'd hug you, but-"
His father looked blank for a second, then looked down at the creature in his hands. "Oh, right." The two men had similar features, though Stefan's weren't as hawklike as his father's. The same eyes, though. "Sorry, Pasha's under the weather. I'm trying to keep her warm."
Pasha, the rat/porcupine, sneezed on cue. Katie blinked. "What is that?"
"Hedgehog," both Blackmans said together. Stefan and his father exchanged amused glances, and then the elder seemed to actually see his son for the first time.
"My G.o.d," he said and put the hedgehog down on the floor, where it proceeded to amble away to explore the corner between a bookcase and a floor lamp. "Kid, you look terrible. What's happening?"
Before Stefan could answer, his father had him in a bear hug. Stefan looked briefly embarra.s.sed, then surrendered to it, patting his dad on the back. "I'm fine, Dad," he said.
His father held him at arm's length. "Yeah?" he asked. "You have a funny way of showing it. Is that blood on your face? Were you in an accident?"
"Yes!" Stefan seized on it immediately. "Yes, an accident on I-10. This is Katie, by the way. She's-" He seemed to struggle briefly for a definition. "She's an FBI agent."
"Oh my G.o.d. FBI? Are you in trouble? Are you under arrest?" The elder Blackman turned on her, frowning and fierce. "Did you arrest my son? On what charge?"
"Dad! Dad, I'm not under arrest, okay? Katie's-my-friend." He seemed to want to say more, but he stopped, clearly uncomfortable.
His father backed up a step, glanced at Stefan, then at her, then at Stefan again. "Oh," he said, and then, weighted with meaning, "Oh. Well, I'm sure your mother would say she's a big improvement over the beach bunnies you usually-"
"Dad!" Stefan interrupted, pleading. Katie pressed her lips together to conceal her grin. "Could we not do this right now? Could you embarra.s.s the h.e.l.l out of me later, maybe?"
"I guess I could." His father turned again toward Katie, and this time, he held out his hand. "Ben Blackman," he said. "Katie-?"
"Rush," she supplied, and shook. Stefan's dad had strong hands, but a gentle, controlled grip. "Katie Rush. And I am an FBI agent. Stefan's-helping me on a case."
"Helping you?" Ben's eyebrows rose in thick black-and-silver arches. "So the two of you, you're not..." He left the implication to hover in the air.
"I didn't say that," she said, perfectly calmly, although there was a deep current of hysterical laughter inside, under a seething river of impatience. "We can discuss all this later, as Stefan said. For now, though, we're in a hurry."
"A hurry."
"Dad, you're repeating things," Stefan said, in the tone of a son who's said it too many times. "Yes. A hurry. I need to borrow Angelo's car."
"Which one?"
"What's the fastest one?"
Ben looked simultaneously amused and horrified. "You're not taking his baby!"
Stefan was already headed for a key rack hanging on the wall near a large open arched doorway leading into a wood-floored kitchen. More keys than a dealers.h.i.+p, Katie thought, and Stefan sorted through them and held up a set. "Yep," he said. "I'm taking the Jag."
"Angelo's going to kill you if you scratch the paint."
"I know, Dad. He's told me a dozen times already." Stefan juggled the keys, hand to hand, looking at Katie. "I'd like to change my s.h.i.+rt. Five minutes?"
She nodded. Stefan climbed the stairs, leaving her alone with his father, the Labrador and the hedgehog, Pasha, who was busily rooting around in the corner.
Ben retrieved the strange little animal, holding it gently in both hands and stroking its head. It seemed to relax in his large square hands, clearly content, closing its beady little black eyes and snuggling in. Ben gave it a distracted smile, but he was watching Katie with shrewd, kind eyes. "You're sure my son's not in trouble."
"Not from me, sir," she said. "He's been-great." She wasn't one to open up to strangers, but there was something about Ben Blackman that made her want to continue talking. "He's got a lot of courage, your son. You should know that. He could have just put in a phone call and gone about his business, but he put himself out to help some kids in trouble. That's special."
"Yes," Ben said softly. "It is. He is. Katie-can I call you Katie?-my son's got a great heart, but he's always been a little-" He shrugged. "Blown by the wind. Couldn't keep him home, he was always out wandering. If ever a kid had gypsy blood, it's Stefan."
He was trying to warn her. She recognized that, and was both flattered and offended-for Stefan more than herself.
"I think he knows what he's doing, sir," she said. "I've seen him do things today that I wouldn't have had the courage to try."
Ben gazed at her, thinking something that shadowed those big dark eyes. "He's never lacked for courage," he said. "Just conviction."
"I think he's found that," she said.
"Looks like he found more than just that."
She shrugged and smiled. "I can't speak for Stefan's feelings."
"What about yours?"
She never talked about her feelings. "Are you asking about my intentions toward your son?"
He laughed. "I'm old-fas.h.i.+oned, kiddo, but I'm not that old-fas.h.i.+oned. I just wonder what's pulling the two of you together. You don't look like you have that much in common."