“The joint chiefs will want to consider all options, but I’ll recommend that General Freeman activate the cleaners. We need to keep everyone but the president, the secretary of defense, and the Fort Knox base commander in the dark,” Henry replied. “Because of the weapons potential and the national security implications, I’m confident he’ll see it my way in the end.”
“That’s all I wanted to know, my man. I’m en route to Kentucky. See you later today,” Palmer said.
“Wow! That sounded important, Emerson,” Angelina said when he hung up. “Who’s the old man? ”
“Sorry, Angel, I can’t share that information with anyone. If I told you…I’d have to kill you,” he said grinning, using the over-worked phrase.
“Oh…you wouldn’t do that to me, would you, honey? You haven’t seen my best feature yet,” she said, touching his forearm playfully.
“Believe me, ma’am…Angel,” he corrected, “my imagination’s in overdrive. Now you behave yourself,” he said with a wink. “We’ve got work to do.”
Palmer’s next call was to Ben Dare. He could see from the highway signs that the airport lay just ahead. He figured he’d need just a few moments to bring Ben up to date on the news about Sela Coscarelli.
“Ben, it’s Emerson Palmer.”
“Good morning, Mr. Palmer. Have you found anything?” Ben asked impatiently.
“Good news of sorts. I’ve located a woman who was with Sela last night. I don’t want to get the senator’s hopes up…but tell him I’ve picked up the trail. Keep Metro out of this. This is for the senator’s information only. Is that clear?” Palmer asked.
“Awesome; I should say that’s great news, Mr. Palmer. Can you give me a reason not to involve the police?”
“Unless I’m mistaken, it was my distinct impression that the senator wanted the cleaners to handle this matter. I’ve made inquiries as I promised. The potential exists but only if the local authorities are excluded…best I can do,” he explained.
“Say no more, Mr. Palmer. I’ll inform the senator that you’ve picked up the trail but nothing is to be leaked to the media or D.C. Police. You have my word, sir.”
“Okay, Ben…please tell the senator I’ll be in touch the minute anything new develops…I’m fairly encouraged here.”
“Mr. Palmer, we still haven’t received any ransom demands. Isn’t that unusual by this time?”
“For reasons I can’t explain, I don’t expect you’ll receive any contact from the kidnappers. Sela’s abduction is much more menacing than we first thought. It’s linked to the case in California with Mrs. Marshall. But don’t worry…we’re close to a breakthrough on all fronts.”
“Oh, thank God,” Ben said, amazed the man had apparently pieced together so many of the facts involving Sarah and Jer.
“Remember…no police. That will slow us down. I’ll be in touch.”
Palmer completed the call just as he saw the exit leading to the rental car return lot. He looked over at Angelina, who had a perplexed look on her face.
“You’re a bona-fide secret agent, aren’t you?” she said, a hint of admiration in her voice.
“Something like that,” Palmer replied with a wry smile.
“Well, my goodness, isn’t this just my lucky day?” she said, looking pleased.
“No, Angel…this is distinctly my lucky day. You could turn out to be the reason we stop one of the biggest crimes in history. You’re going to be famous, my dear,” he said affectionately, tapping his index finger on the back of her hand.
“Famous. Me? Hah! I like the sound of that. I knew we were going to be good friends,” Angelina said proudly. “Let’s go find Miss Sela.”
“Yes…let’s do,” Palmer said. “Let’s do.”
FIFTY-SIX
West Point, Kentucky
10:00 hours
Travis Marlon couldn’t shake his feeling of impending doom. He regretted to his core giving in to Kilmer’s latest demand-agreeing to carry out the abduction of Dr. Coscarelli. It was one thing to be associated with Kilmer’s ne’er-do-wells, piloting them around, breaking one law after another; after all, their history together was long and storied. But to actively engage in kidnapping was way over the line. The trouble was he saw no way to disengage from further involvement. Hearing about Kilmer’s brutal revenge on McCauley following Weaver’s death, convinced him that backing out now did not bode well for his survival. Kilmer would surely make an example out of his disloyalty.
The flight from Hilton Head to Louisville was routine, considering he was transporting a hostage. Marlon was dumbfounded but also thankful for Sela Coscarelli’s accommodating nature. She offered almost no opposition, seemingly cognizant that any resistance would only engender more trouble. Instead, she talked incessantly, berating them for their foolhardy actions that included kidnapping a senator’s daughter. She brashly promised to relish facing them in court when at some future point the full weight of the judicial system settled the score.
Marlon soon wearied of her ceaseless commentary. He and Sully both understood perfectly the seriousness of their situation: kidnapping a senator’s daughter would launch a nationwide search with uncertain but grave consequences. If they were caught, the retribution would be swift and merciless. In the end he put on blinders, relying on Holloway’s master plan to keep them free of blame.
Marlon was relieved when the King Air was finally secured and Sully had safely escorted the woman to Colt’s vehicle-a black SUV waiting dutifully on the tarmac next to the private aircraft hangars. Only when they were on their way to the safe house did Marlon finally relax. He resolved that when this last job was over, he would dissociate himself from Kilmer. Regardless of their past history, the stress of increasingly dangerous endeavors was more than he could take. Colt had met them promptly and they made the fifty-minute drive from the airport to Wildcat Farm. As soon as they arrived, Sully ushered Dr. Coscarelli through the expansive portico of the main residence where the other hostages were being held.
The entrance of the stone house opened immediately into a great room with a fifteen-foot-high ceiling that resembled a sportsman’s lodge. Trophies of elk, antelope, and other animals of all types were prominently displayed throughout the room. Mounted above the lavish soapstone hearth was the head of an enormous bull moose that filled the huge space above the mantle. Pictures of the owners with select people decorated every wall, most depicting hunting and fishing trips at exotic locations. A behemoth white-oak dining room table connected the living area to an open kitchen that even the most accomplished chef would envy. The great room overlooked a spacious wrap-around deck with a waterfall as the centerpiece of a backyard swimming pool. The house and its surrounding amenities were well designed for entertaining. It was truly a gorgeous setting.
Kilmer rose from the table and eagerly greeted his new arrival. “G-day, luv, I’m Richard Kilmer. Welcome to Wildcat Farm,” he said in his alluring Australian accent, offering his hand, which Sela refused to take. “I regret the dodgy nature of our business, but it’s out o’ my hands…yer here due to Jarrod Conrad. I believe ya know ‘im?” he asked, not meaning for it to be a question.
“Don’t be absurd, you fool…of course I know Jarrod,” Sela indignantly replied. “Don’t waste my time with inanity, Kilmer. What do you want from me?”
“Don’t git all burred up,” he said with a slight bow. “I need ya to assure Conrad’s cooperation. He won’t do bugger we tell ‘im. He’s a hardcase,” Kilmer said, as if he were describing something alien. “I’m left with no choice but to put the pinch on someone he fancies. Sources tell me yer the one person who can talk some sense into ‘im. I’m sorry the piker’s got ya involved, ma’am.”
“Your explanation is absurd, sir,” Sela haughtily replied. “Whatever your rationale, you’ve broken the law and will be held accountable.”