O’Reilly took a deep breath and then smiled at the screen. “Ok, I’ll see what I can do,” said O’Reilly, knowing that he needed to find a way to get the administration to listen. “But I’ve got to be forthright here. Washington isn’t really interested in my badgering them again but you have my word that I’ll try. Until then, just relax where you are, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can.”
Mrs. March bit her lip and nodded.
A cellphone went off, breaking the tension in the room. Yuri rose from his seat and dug through the collection of jackets and bags piled on the other bed. Finally finding the buzzing phone, Yuri saw that it belonged to Mitchell. “Ryan, you have call coming in,” said Yuri, looking over at Mitchell.
“You take it,” said Mitchell, too focused on the discussion with General O’Reilly to care who could possibly be calling him.
“Dah, Ryan Mitchell’s phone, Yuri speaking,” said Yuri, trying to sound professional but failing miserably.
A voice answered in Russian; the color instantly drained from Yuri’s face.
“Ryan, it’s for you,” stammered Yuri, looking down at the phone in his hand.
“Take a message,” replied Mitchell without looking over at Yuri.
“No, Ryan, I think you really need to answer the call,” said Yuri, holding out the phone.
Mitchell turned and saw the pale look on Yuri’s face. The room went silent. Standing, Mitchell walked over and took the phone from Yuri.
“Hello, who is this?” asked Mitchell.
“Good morning, Mister Mitchell. My name is Nika Romanov. You should remember me. The last time we met you gave me a large bump on the side of my head and broke my nose,” said Nika. “I hope you and your friends slept well.”
Mitchell’s blood ran cold.
“I’d hoped the knock to your noggin had killed you,” replied Mitchell.
“That’s not very civil of you, Mister Mitchell,” scolded Nika. “Now, just to put your mind at ease, your girlfriend is all right. In fact, I got your number from her.”
“Thanks for the update,” said Mitchell bluntly. “Now, why did you call me?”
“Ah, I knew you would be the direct type. Mister Mitchell, I want to make you a proposal.”
The hair on the back of his neck shot straight up telling him to tread lightly. “What kind of proposal?” asked Mitchell.
“Don’t play games with me, Mister Mitchell, we both know what you have, and my father is willing to trade Miss March for the crown that you stole from me.”
“What if I don’t have your precious crown anymore?” said Mitchell, trying to see what she did or didn’t know.
Nika laughed aloud. “Please, Mister Mitchell, don’t be foolish. We have Miss March, and you have the crown,” said Nika.
“Ok, so we have the crown. What do expect me to do? I’m not just going to mail it to you and hope that by the grace of God you’ll release Jen.”
“No, of course not, Mister Mitchell. I expect you to board the next available flight from Algiers and make your way to Keflavik, Iceland, where some of my father’s employees will meet you and escort you to a location where the exchange can take place. Once we have the crown, we will return you and Miss March to wherever you want to go unharmed.”
“What if I were to call BS on that one?” asked Mitchell sarcastically.
“I figured you would say that,” said Nika, her voice growing cold. “So listen closely: this offer is good for twenty-four hours only. If you are not here by then, I will personally put a bullet in Miss March’s head and drop her corpse into the Atlantic Ocean.”
Mitchell fought to control his boiling anger and hatred for this woman and her evil family. “Now you listen closely. If you harm just one hair on her head, I will personally gut you and leave you to bleed out,” said Mitchell, leaving no doubt in Nika’s mind that he meant what he said.
“Then I look forward to seeing you again,” said Nika maliciously, before hanging up.
Mitchell stood there staring at his phone, his eyes burning with anger.
“What is it, Ryan?” asked Jackson, seeing the look on Mitchell’s face. “What’s going on?”
Mitchell stood there silently lost in thought. Tossing his phone on the empty bed, Mitchell strode over and looked down at the image of General O’Reilly on the laptop.
“Ryan, I’ve seen that look before,” said O’Reilly, seeing the rage in Mitchell’s eyes. “What the hell just happened?”
“General, I am going to do something that the blessed suits in the State Department aren’t going to like,” said Mitchell. “If you like, we can terminate this discussion now, and you will have total deniability should things go badly.”
“Ryan, I have never let my people do something I wasn’t willing to take responsibility for, and I don’t intend to do so now,” said O’Reilly firmly. “What’s going on?”
Mitchell quickly relayed the phone call conversation to O’Reilly and told him that he intended to go and get Jen back before they followed through on their threat and killed her.
“Ryan, these people are starting to piss me off too. You do what you have to,” said O’Reilly resolutely.
“Thanks, sir,” replied Mitchell.
“Now, is there anything you need us to do other than keep State off your back?”
Mitchell sat there for a moment, rubbing his bristly chin thoughtfully. “Mike, I need you to identify any and all of Romanov Corporation holdings in and around Iceland,” said Mitchell to Donaldson.
“I’m already on it,” said Donaldson as he looked away and instantly started surfing the extensive Polaris database for information.
O’Reilly leaned forward and spoke. “Ryan, I’d like a back brief within the hour on what you’re planning.”
“Will do sir, and thanks for the support,” said Mitchell, waving to O’Reilly through the laptop.
“Ryan, I’ve got the info you’re looking for,” said Donaldson. “The Romanov Corporation has very limited holdings in Iceland, but they recently negotiated the right to drill for oil offshore and currently have an oil exploration vessel located off the island of Dragon er eldur, Dragon’s fire,” explained Donaldson. “I’ve emailed Fahimah all the relevant info.”
“Ok, at least that’s something to go with for now,” said Mitchell. “Take a close look at their activities around that island and feed that info to Fahimah as well. Thanks again, Mike.”
“Ryan, I know you’ll do what you think is right and that’s good enough for me,” said O’Reilly with a quick nod as the feed was terminated.
“Ok, Ryan, now that you and the boss seem to be making nice,” said Jackson. “If you think you’re just going to run out on us and leave us here, you’re sadly mistaken.”
Mitchell smiled at his friend. For the next half hour, Mitchell and his team discussed the call from Nika and their options to help Jen. No matter how limited they were, no one suggested abandoning her to the Romanovs. By the time they called General O’Reilly back, Mitchell had the genesis of a plan and briefed it to O’Reilly, who, seeing no realistic alternatives to the foolhardy plan, gave it his blessing.
Minutes later, Mitchell was on his way to the airport, knowing that this was probably nothing more than a ruse to get him to Iceland where the crown would be taken from him. After that, they could kill him at their leisure. Not for the first time in his life, Mitchell was counting on his friends to help when all else looked grim. It was a trust that Mitchell knew he could count on.
32
Blowing snow whipped across the landing strip as the blue and white Icelandair 757 came in to land. Passengers heading out for the Christmas holidays excitedly departed the plane. Mitchell took his time waiting until the plane was empty before heading into the terminal to retrieve his luggage. He’d barely had time between flights in Barcelona to purchase some warm clothes to wear in Iceland. Mitchell stood there wearing blue jeans with a dark-blue sweat top, with a pair of worn hiking boots. He looked around; he had anticipated a reception committee of some sort, but so far, he had not been bothered inside the terminal. Grabbing his old army knapsack along with a black hardened plastic carrying case, Mitchell stood there looking around, wondering what to do next. He did not have to wait long as three severe-looking individuals entered the terminal and walked straight towards him. One man carried under his arm a down-filled jacket, toque, and gloves. Mitchell noted that there were two men and one woman in the group. They all looked like ex-police or military to him, tough and gritty professionals. Quickly handing the clothing to Mitchell, one of the thugs smiled and then took possession of his meagre luggage.