Andrew Peterson - Forced to Kill

“What’s your next move?” she asked.

“We’re heading down to San Diego. With a little luck this will be over in the next few hours.”

“Be careful. Call me again?”

“Will do.”

Grangeland returned with the bags. Harv walked over and locked the front door behind her.

“Make Ms. Dalton as comfortable as possible,” Nathan said. “Don’t ask any questions until I’m present. If she offers anything, write it down. We’ll give you a few minutes. We’re in a time sensitive situation.”

She picked up the trauma bag.

“Hang on.” He unzipped the bag and grabbed a handful of sterile pads and a roll of two-inch micro-pore tape. “Okay, you’re good to go.”

She hesitated. “She’s pretty freaked and wants to get outta here.”

“It could be an act. She could be a spook, a trained operations officer.”

“With two young daughters?”

“I’ll admit it’s unlikely, but we can’t rule it out yet.”

“Nate,” Harv said, “if she’s a spook, she won’t tell us anything.”

“Let me try,” Grangeland offered.

“She’ll be a lot more comfortable with Grangeland present,” Harv said. “But if she is a spook, it won’t make any difference.”

Nathan looked at Grangeland. “Okay, but don’t ask her any questions until we’re present. Bandage her torso, get her on O-two, and take her blood pressure. You know the routine. Let her know you’re going to take care of her and that we’re going to find her daughters.” He nodded toward the office. “We’ll be right there.”

She looked like she wanted to object, but didn’t.

Nathan dug through Harv’s overnight bag, found a T-shirt, and pulled it on. “We need to control our guests’ bleeding with pressure bandages.”

“Wouldn’t break my heart to watch them bleed out.”

“Me either, but we need pee-pee boy alive. He’s been to the safe house.”

“Pee-pee boy?”

He shrugged.

Harv squinted in thought.

“What?”

“Why San Diego?”

“I don’t follow.”

“The safe house. Why San Diego and not Chicago or Baltimore, or any other city?”

“That’s a good question.”

“There’s got to be a reason.”

“No doubt there is.” He pointed toward the mercenaries. “They might know.”

“Think the safe house confession was bogus?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. You?”

“Unless he’s the best actor I’ve ever seen, I’d say no, but he may not know why it’s in San Diego. Ms. Dalton might.”

“We really need to talk to her.” He looked toward the offices.

“Nate, I feel I need to voice something. Are we being fair to Ms. Dalton? Keeping her here like this?”

He looked down. Maybe Harv was right. Had he lost sight of the big picture? Was catching Montez worth prolonging this woman’s suffering, even for a brief period? Her wounds were superficial compared to what Montez could’ve done. Minor, really, but if she wasn’t a hardened operations officer, this had to be a horrifying experience. Perhaps his desire to see Montez eliminated had become horse blinders. No. He knew his core motivation, and it wasn’t revenge. He wanted to get Montez, but also wanted to save Nichole Dalton’s daughters. Given their current situation, questioning Nichole was the best way-maybe the only way.

“Thanks, Harv. I needed to hear that. I’m okay. Are you?”

“Yeah, but Grangeland’s right. She needs medical attention, preferably a plastic surgeon. Since we can’t involve regular EMS channels, I have an idea. Do you remember that security system we installed for Doug Reavie a few years back?”

“The plastic surgeon in Rancho Bernardo?”

“We’re pretty good friends. I think he’ll fix her up if we offer to cover his out-of-pocket costs. For something like this, he’ll want to use his surgical suite, so we might have to shell out a few thousand bucks.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“I don’t have his phone number in my cell, but I can use information and get the number. He’ll have an answering service for emergencies. Most doctors do.”

“Good thinking, Harv. We’ll make the call from the road. Let’s get our guests’ bleeding under control and talk to Nichole Dalton.”

Nathan and Harv made sure to use latex gloves, as there was no telling what these mutts might have. It took several minutes and an entire roll of tape to apply pressure bandages to sofa man’s shoulder and Julio’s hip. The mercs weren’t happy about being manhandled during the procedure, but part of the game involved taking a carefree attitude toward them. Satisfied their prisoners wouldn’t immediately bleed to death, Nathan and Harv rejoined Grangeland in the office who had Nichole on O 2. Red splotches seeped through the gauze in places and Nathan felt another pang of guilt. Grangeland gave him a concerned look, her thoughts obvious. He nodded for her to begin.

“I’m sorry,” Grangeland said, “I know you’re in a lot of pain, but we need to ask you some questions.”

Nichole Dalton removed her oxygen mask. “Please, I just want to find my girls.”

“We’re hoping you might know something to help us. Do you know why you were kidnapped?”

“ No! ” She began crying again.

This wasn’t going to work. Nathan turned off the oxygen and the hissing stopped. He stepped forward and took a knee in front of her.

“Ms. Dalton, my name is Nathan McBride. The man behind me is Harvey Fontana.”

“Are you police?”

“No, ma’am.” She started to ask another question, but he held up a hand. “We aren’t going to hold you against your will, but please hear us out first, okay?”

“How did you find me?”

“I promise to answer all your questions, but right now, we need to know everything you can tell us about the man who kidnapped you.”

She hesitated, her uncertainty plainly evident. “He didn’t want anything from me.”

“Whatever you tell us doesn’t go any further, you have my word. We already know you work for the NSA as an Eastern Bloc linguist.”

“How do you know that?”

“We’ll get to that, I promise.”

“I don’t know anything. All I do is translate phone calls.”

“What makes you think he didn’t want anything from you?”

“He never asked about my job or the NSA. I thought that’s what this was all about, that I’d translated something he wanted to know.”

“He never brought your work up? At all? Nothing about Hungary?”

She shook her head. “No, he’s after my ex-husband.”

“Ms. Dalton, don’t take this the wrong way, but there’s no evidence, physical or otherwise, that you were ever married.”

“I know. Duane said it was necessary to protect his work.”

“Duane? Is his name Duane Dalton, then?”

“Yes.”

“He’s your ex-husband?”

“Yes, my girls’ father.”

“Your kidnapper wanted you to make contact with your ex-husband? That’s why he used the video camera?”

Her face screwed up as she fought tears. “He made me call him. He could see me on his computer. He showed him our girls too. They were so scared.”

“Duane could see you and your daughters?”

She nodded.

“Did the man hurt your girls?”

Nichole shook her head.

Nathan gave an inward sigh of relief. “Who is your ex-husband?”

“You mean what does he do? He didn’t talk about it much. He was always secretive about everything.”

“Where does he live?’

“Glen Echo.”

He exchanged another glance with Harv. Glen Echo was right across the Potomac River from Langley. “Do you have an address for him?”