Operation: Midnight Escape

Sighing in annoyance, Rasmussen crossed to the bar and poured himself two fingers of cognac. “Where are they?”

 

 

“We don’t exactly know.” LeValley cleared his throat. “Somewhere in southern Michigan.”

 

LeValley’s anxiety pleased him. “How do you plan to find them?”

 

“I’ve got people working on deep background checks. Family members. Friends. Property they own. Something will pop.”

 

“I don’t need to remind you that our Canadian friends will only be able to conceal me for so long, do I?”

 

“Sir, I know you don’t want to leave the country without her, but for your own safety—”

 

“Safety?” Rasmussen threw his head back and laughed.

 

LeValley watched him warily.

 

“Don’t tell me about goddamn safety. I want her. I want her now. And I want Vanderpol. I’m going to kill him myself, and I can tell you it’s going to take some time.”

 

“Yes, sir.” LeValley swallowed hard. “I’ve got a container ship that is in the process of being renovated. It has a hidden compartment with first-class living quarters. It will get you down the St. Lawrence River, through the locks. From there you’ll be shipped to Cuba where the Lear will be waiting to take you to Morocco.”

 

That would give him days to mete out his revenge on Vanderpol. Days to hear the other man’s screams. Days for Kelsey to hear them. And all the while she would be in his bed where she belonged….

 

Rasmussen looked at the gold Rolex strapped to his wrist. “You have two hours to find them.”

 

“Two hours?” LeValley choked out a sound. “But that’s not enough time.”

 

“I suggest you get started. If you do not locate them, the consequences will be severe. Are we clear?”

 

“Yes, sir,” he said and started for the door at a brisk clip.

 

Sipping the cognac, Rasmussen watched him leave. When the glass was empty, he hurled it into the brick hearth. “I’m coming for you, Kelsey,” he whispered.

 

And hatred burned from the depths of his heart.

 

JAKE DIDN’T LIKE the plan one iota. To even consider using Leigh as bait filled him with deep, dark dread. But of all the strategies he’d considered in the last days, the one he was about to lay out for her seemed the safest route to take…if there was a safe route when it came to a madman like Rasmussen.

 

He folded the table where they’d eaten, then slid onto the settee. He watched Leigh pour two glasses of wine and tried hard not to notice that her hands were shaking. So much for the bravado, he thought. The woman was terrified. Truth be told, so was he.

 

Handing him the glass of wine, she slid onto the settee, a safe distance away. “Tell me about this plan of yours.”

 

Jake accepted the wine and set it on the table in front of him without drinking. “The last time we needed Rasmussen to bite, you were the bait.”

 

Her gaze didn’t waiver. “I didn’t like the way it went down, Jake, but it was an effective plan.”

 

“Before I get into this, I want you to understand that I won’t do that to you again, Leigh. I won’t use you. I won’t risk your getting hurt.”

 

“Jake—”

 

“Hear me out.” He raised a hand to silence her. “A good friend of mine, Ronald Waite, is a reporter for a tabloid based in Chicago, the Investigator. Four years ago, while he was in Mexico, his little boy was kidnapped and held for ransom. The MIDNIGHT Agency was called in. I was assigned the case. To make a long story short, I got his kid back. Ronald has kept in touch, and he ends every e-mail, every phone call with ‘if there’s ever anything I can do for you.’”

 

“How can a reporter help us?” Leigh asked.

 

“Sometimes law enforcement agencies use the media as a tool to bring about an arrest. The media can plant information. Withhold information. In this case, Ronald has been reporting on Rasmussen’s escape since it happened. I could ask him to reveal a bogus location where you’re allegedly hiding out. A location that in reality you won’t be anywhere near. When Rasmussen shows, he’ll get the surprise of his life because I’ll be the one waiting for him.”

 

LEIGH DIDN’T LIKE the plan. There were too many variables. Too many things that could go wrong. But for the life of her she couldn’t come up with anything better.

 

She gazed at Jake, and all she could think was that if Rasmussen got the chance, he would kill him.

 

“I’m not the only one he wants dead,” she said.

 

“I’m a trained agent.”

 

“Who just happens to have walked off the job—”

 

“If Rasmussen comes after me he will have bitten off more than he can chew.”

 

“You no longer have the resources of the agency to come in and back you up if something goes wrong.” She knew that when it came to Rasmussen, something always went wrong.

 

“You have a better idea?”

 

She wished she did. “With some time maybe we could come up with something—”

 

“We’re out of time, Leigh. In just two days, both of us have had close encounters with bullets. You’ve seen the lengths to which he will go. You’ve seen the technology he has. You know what he’s capable of.”