Jeff Abbott: Panic

‘You need to slip into being Mr. Petersen very carefully. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. I’m giving you an escape hatch.’

‘I still don’t understand how my mother could have gotten any dangerous computer files.’ And then he saw it. Not his mother. His father. The computer consultant. His father must have found files, in working for a client, that were dangerous.

‘All you have to do is give me your password.’ Gabriel opened the bedroom door, wheeled in a cart, one that might be used as extra serving space for food during a brunch or a party. Evan’s laptop lay on the table. Gabriel parked it close to Evan, keeping the cart between the two of them. A crack straddled the screen but the laptop was cabled to a small monitor. The system appeared to be operating normally. The password screen displayed, awaiting the magic word.

That was why Gabriel had taken the enormous risk of returning for Evan, ambushing the police car, kidnapping him. He couldn’t get past the laptop’s gates.

‘It’s on here,’ Gabriel said. ‘Your mother placed a copy on your system before she died. E-mailed it to you. She told me. She did it to ensure if she were killed, another copy of the files would be accessible to me. It was part of the deal I made with her. I couldn’t risk her being caught and me not getting the files. It guaranteed I would still take care of you if she were killed.’

Gabriel was so matter-of-fact that Evan wanted to hit him.

Gabriel leaned closer to him. ‘What’s your system password?’

‘You’re supposed to get me out of the country. So your job, technically, isn’t done until you deliver. I’ll tell you the password when you get me to my father.’

‘I’ve told you what the deal is, son. That’s it. No room for negotiation.’ Gabriel retreated to the bed’s edge and aimed his pistol at Evan’s head. ‘I don’t want to hurt you. Open the system.’

Evan pushed the laptop away. ‘Contact my dad. If he tells me to give you my password, I will.’

‘Wax out of ears, son. I can’t get in touch with him.’

‘If you were supposed to get me and my mom to safety, that means getting us to where my dad could find us. You must have a way to reach him.’

‘Your mother knew. I didn’t.’

‘I don’t believe you, Mr. Gabriel. No password.’

‘You don’t give this to me, you spend the rest of your brief life handcuffed to that bed. Dying of thirst. Of starvation.’

Evan waited, let the silence grow heavy. ‘You know who killed her. This Jargo guy. Who he is.’

‘Yes.’

‘Tell me about him and I’ll help you. But look at it from my side. You’re asking me to run away from my life. Do nothing about my mother’s murder. Simply hope I can ever find my father again. I can’t just walk away not knowing the truth.’ He didn’t believe Gabriel, anyway. His father had been impossible to find yesterday, but the police would have found him by now, wherever he was in Sydney.

‘You’re safer not knowing.’

‘I don’t care about safer at the moment.’

‘Jesus and Mary, you’re stubborn.’ Gabriel lowered the gun, averted his eyes from Evan’s.

‘I know you risked a lot to save me from Jargo. I know. Thank you. I can hardly run, though, and be successful at it if I don’t know who’s after me. So I’ll trade you the password for information on Jargo. Deal?’

After a long ten seconds, Gabriel nodded. ‘All right.’

‘Tell me about Jargo.’

‘He’s… an information broker. A freelance spy.’

‘A spy. You’re telling me my mother was killed by a spy.’

‘A freelance spy,’ Gabriel corrected.

‘Spies work for governments.’

‘Not Jargo. He buys and sells data to whoever pays. Companies. Governments. Other spies. Highly dangerous.’ Gabriel licked his lips. ‘I suspect it’s CIA data that Jargo wants.’

Evan frowned. ‘You’re suggesting, with a straight face, that my mom stole files from the CIA. That’s impossible.’

‘Or your father stole the files, and he gave them to your mother. And I didn’t say the files belonged to the CIA. The CIA simply might want the information, the same as Jargo does.’ Gabriel looked as if admitting this possibility was causing him a heart attack. His face reddened with anger.

‘The CIA.’ It was insane. ‘How would my mother be involved with this Jargo?’

‘I believe she worked for Jargo.’

‘My mother worked for a freelance spy,’ Evan repeated. ‘It can’t be. You’re mistaken.’

‘A travel photographer. She can go anywhere, with her camera, and not raise suspicion. You live in a nice house, Evan. Your parents had money. You think freelance shutterbugs make that much money?’

‘This can’t be true.’

‘She’s dead and you’re shackled to a bed. How wrong am l?’

Evan decided to play along with the man’s fantasy. ‘So did my mother steal these files from Jargo, or from someone else?’

‘Listen. You wanted to know about Jargo, I told you. He’s a freelancer. People need information stolen or a pain in their ass dead, and the job needs to be off-the-books, he’s the man. The files are about Jargo’s business. So he wants them back. So does the CIA, I imagine, because they’d like to know what he knows. There. You know more about Jargo than any person currently alive. Open the system.’

‘Can’t unless you unlock me.’ He rattled the handcuff.

‘No. Type.’

‘Where am I gonna go, Gabriel? You’ve got a gun on me. You have to unlock me sooner or later, if you’re taking me out of the country. Handcuffs set off metal detectors.’

‘Not yet. Type it one-handed.’ He jabbed the gun into Evan’s cheek. ‘I’ve waited years for this, Evan, I’m not waiting one more goddamned second.’

Evan typed the password.

‘I t’s empty,’ Evan said.

After digesting the password, the hard drive’s icon appeared on the screen. He searched through the system. Other than basic files, the drive was cleaned out. His video footage, his installed software programs, all were gone. The system appeared to have reverted to a factory default level. He opened the electronic trash can – empty. ‘Everything’s gone.’

All gone, the voice in the kitchen had said while the gun had dug into the back of his head.

‘No.’ Gabriel put the gun down, grabbed Evan’s throat, pushed him up against the headboard of the bed. ‘No, no, no. He wouldn’t have had time.’

‘I don’t know how long I was unconscious.’

‘This can’t be. I have to have those files.’ Gabriel’s voice rose. ‘Those bastards erased them.’ He bent back over the computer.

Evan squirmed away from him. Toward the lamp. He may not get this close to you again. Make him think you want to help him. ‘A recovery program might restore the data.’

Gabriel didn’t answer, tapped at the keyboard, searching for files. He looked at the empty screen as if it were the rest of his life. He kept the gun at his side, loosely aimed toward the bed. Evan crouched against the headboard, his left hand still handcuffed. The lamp was close to his right, the unplugged cord still in a neat loop on the floor.

Evan snatched the wrought-iron lamp with his free hand. It was a heavy monster, but he lifted and swung it in one awkward sweep.

The lamp’s base smashed into Gabriel’s arm. He fell forward and Evan pinned Gabriel with a leg over his waist. Evan brought the lamp down into Gabriel’s face. Blood welled, the base’s edge cutting Gabriel in the mouth, in the chin. He howled in fury.

Evan aimed the lamp downward again, but Gabriel deflected it with his arm, threw a fist, connected with Evan’s jaw. Evan dropped the lamp, snaked his arm around Gabriel’s neck, wrapped both legs around Gabriel’s waist. His left arm, shackled to the bed, twisted as if it would break as Gabriel struggled.