“Well?” Singer asked.
“We’ll be happy to take your case, Mr. Singer,” I said. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle the investigation myself, but we have a fantastic team in our New York office who I’ll assign this to.”
Singer nodded slowly and reached into his jacket pocket. He produced a photograph, which he showed us. It was a picture of himself with a young woman and two children.
“Mr. Morgan, I don’t want a team. I don’t want the second best. I want the best.” He handed Justine the photograph. “That’s my daughter, Ms. Smith. Her name is Elizabeth. Those are my grandkids, Danny and Maria. I think they’re in trouble and I believe Mr. Morgan can find them and bring them back to me.”
I glanced at Justine and saw her resolve wavering. It was one thing to have abstract conversations about which cases to take, but when a father pleaded desperation in the face of loss, it was hard to refuse.
“I’m prepared to pay any price.” Singer thought for a moment. “Two hundred and fifty thousand, with a half-million-dollar bonus when you find them. How’s that sound?”
“That’s a very generous offer, Mr. Singer,” I replied. “But I can’t do it. I have obligations here. And, as I said, we have a highly skilled and experienced team in New York who I trust implicitly. They have the time and the resources to give your case the attention it deserves.”
“I understand,” Singer replied sadly.
Justine handed him back the photograph. He looked at it fondly before returning it to his breast pocket. There was moment of awkward silence.
“Well, thank you for your time,” Singer said, getting to his feet. He looked like a broken man.
Justine shot me a look that communicated exasperation and defeat. I smiled.
“Mr. Singer,” she said, “I think I might be able to cover Jack’s duties here.”
He turned to face me, his expression hopeful.
“You mean...”
I nodded. “I’ll take the investigation and do my best to find your daughter and grandchildren.”
“Thank you, Mr. Morgan,” Singer responded gratefully, and for a moment I thought he might cry with relief. “You’re a good man. Thank you.”
Chapter 6
Joshua Floyd had spent the night and most of the following day hunkered down in a small cave about two miles from the crash site. He was higher up, on the side of a mountain, at the start of an expansive cedar forest. It was cold, but his flight suit and jacket kept him insulated from the worst of the chill. He’d heard voices around midday and had peered out of the cave mouth to see men creeping through the trees, searching for him. He’d spent the afternoon cleaning the AK-47 until he was certain every component was in the best possible shape. He tried to do the same with his personal locator, but the beacon had been damaged beyond repair, either during the crash or the ensuing escape
As he looked at the wrecked locator in the dim light of the cave, he thought of Nat and Elmore, and the last time he’d seen them. He couldn’t help but picture their families back home, broken by the news of their deaths. Floyd was determined that his own family would never receive such a heart-breaking message.
Exhausted, he had finally fallen asleep in the late afternoon and woke when the light inside the cave was deep purple. He got to his feet, grabbed the machine gun and crept outside. He paused to scan the area. The air was infused with the scent of cedarwood, and the spicy aroma reminded him of Sunday mornings spent in church at his grandmother’s side. Floyd invoked her protection with a brief, silent prayer. Satisfied the men hunting him were not close, he set off, tracking south, retracing the path he’d taken the night of the attack.
He believed his pursuers had gone west, and the border with Pakistan was to the north, but he wasn’t about to leave Afghanistan without something to show for all the lives that had been lost. And if any of his comrades had survived, his plan might facilitate a rescue. Floyd hurried through the trees, descending the steep slope to the bottom of the mountain, which would take him back to the crash site and the compound that had been their original target.
Floyd fought gravity for half a mile, and by the time he reached the rocky foot of the mountain, he was breathless and sweaty. The smell of cedar was much fainter here, and there was a smoky hint of distant fire, but when he scanned the rocky horizon, he saw no tell-tale lights. He continued onward.
In the distance, he heard a dog bark; it was swiftly answered by the cry of a fox. Twenty minutes after he’d left the cave, Floyd slowed and climbed the steep rise near where he’d killed two men the previous night. Their bodies were gone, but Floyd’s memory of their anguished expressions haunted him as he dropped to his belly and crawled across the granite slab.
He saw the burned-out wreckage of his Osprey, and to its right the compound that had been their target. There was no sign of any bodies, and the buildings looked to be completely deserted. There were no lights, no vehicles, and the only sound to break the still night was the distant barking of the dog.
Floyd got to his feet and ran toward the nearest structure, which stood to the east of the compound. He skirted the blackened wreckage of the Osprey, trying to avoid looking at pieces of body armor and charred fragments of clothing as he closed the gap to the building.
He pressed himself against the cold concrete wall and crept around the structure. He craned his neck to peer round the corner, but saw no sign of life. He hurried on, staying close to the building. The noise of his boots on frozen rocks sounded like crunching thunder, and he scanned the horizon nervously in case there was anyone around to hear.
The building had a few small windows. When he came to the first, he peered inside and saw nothing but darkness. The same was true of the second window, and when he reached the steel double doors that formed the main entrance, he found them open.
Floyd pushed one wide and immediately recognized the smell that met him: the sweet, acrid stench of death. He stepped into a large hallway to see the bodies of his comrades laid out in rows. They’d been stripped of their uniforms and gear, and were positioned on their backs in their underwear. Floyd gagged and couldn’t hold back his tears as he registered so many faces he recognized. Elmore, Nat, and at the back of the hallway, caught by the moonlight coming through a small window, in a more advanced state of decomposition, Said Masry, the CIA spy they had been sent to rescue.
An Al-Qaeda cell had said they were holding him for ransom, but it looked as though he’d been killed long before they’d arrived. Floyd couldn’t understand why they would execute such a high-value asset, but inquisitiveness took second place to anger and he hurried from the building. There was nothing for him here.
He ran outside and turned north, heading back up the mountain, the way he’d just come. Shock and grief were quickly giving way to fury. He had to avenge the fallen, and the best way of doing that was to get home and tell people the truth about what had happened here. America would make the perpetrators answer for their crimes.
Chapter 7
“I’m so tired, Mom,” Danny said as they trudged along the single-lane road.
The sun was falling and night’s chill nipped at Beth’s cheeks.
“We’re nearly there,” she replied. “You OK?” she asked Maria, who was a few yards behind them.
The girl had withdrawn into her own world. It took a moment for her to register her mom had spoken, but finally she nodded.
After they’d fled the cabin, they’d made their way through the forest toward the edge of Oscawana Lake. It had been night by the time they were within sight of the placid water. By then the temperature had dropped rapidly, so they’d needed to find shelter quickly. Beth had surveyed the properties that edged the lake, and found a huge mansion being built on the east shore. She’d helped the children over the wire fence, and found some shards of metal, which she’d used to pick the padlock on the foreman’s office. It had been years since she’d been taught how to roll a tumbler, but it came back to her soon enough. Inside, they’d found a couple of couches, some snacks, water and a coffee machine. More importantly there was a heater, which had kept them warm as they’d slept.