“Knowing Christos, he’s probably busy negotiating his own release,” Hakan said.
“Yes, maybe it’s the kidnappers we should feel sorry for,” she said.
They all laughed, but the joviality was hollow.
“Seriously, if the kidnappers’ goal was purely financial, the easiest move would’ve been grabbing Helena—or me or Nikos—and demanding a large ransom. Papa would have been free to move money around and pay them off. This isn’t a cash grab.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” Hakan scribbled some notes. “Thea, you were the last person to see your father before he was taken. Did he mention anyone or anything unusual—maybe something small that was bothering him?”
The espresso they’d shared that morning seemed like a lifetime ago. “He wanted a tail on Peter Kennedy, the CFO of Paris Industries, but I’m not sure he was serious. I’m meeting Peter for a drink in half an hour at Club 33. I’ll fish around, but he’s a numbers guy. No way does he have the connections and resources to pull off an operation like this.”
“Unless he has powerful partners.” Rif paced beside the fireplace. “I had lunch with Christos two weeks ago, and he expressed concern over a recent negotiation in Venezuela. The Minister of the Environment had a connection with another oil magnate, and Christos lost the contract. Peter could be sharing insider information. . . .”
Her neck muscles twitched hearing about the lunch. Rif and Christos were close—the soldier’s über-masculinity appealed to Papa, and being Rif’s godfather meant something to him. Maybe Rif’s reckless abandon reminded Christos of his younger self. “Then why kidnap Papa? If he already had the information, there’d be no need. And the COO, Ahmed Khali, would also have access to that information. Should we look at him as well?”
Hakan circled a name on the list. “Everything is conjecture, because we have so little information. But it gives me another lead to check out. Thea, there’s something we need to—”
“If you think you’re taking me off this case because it’s too personal, forget it. I won’t sit on the sidelines while Papa’s missing.” If their roles were reversed, her father would be relentless in his search for her.
Hakan sighed. “I know better than to suggest that. What concerns me is that you might’ve been on the Aphrodite when it was attacked. We don’t know if they waited for you and Aegis to leave, or if they just missed you. Until we learn more, I want you under protection.”
“I’m more than capable of looking after myself.”
“I know, but your father would never forgive me if something happened to you. Rif is by your side twenty-four/seven until further notice.”
She refused to give Rif the satisfaction of reacting. Still, her back muscles tensed. To keep Hakan happy, she’d go along with having a babysitter. It’d be easy enough to ditch him when she needed to. “What about Henri? He disappeared with Papa, so he’s either another hostage or an accomplice. Any evidence linking him to the kidnapping?”
“I’ve brought in Freddy Winston from the London office. He’s researching Henri’s background. Also bank and phone records. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Freddy was one of the most senior London-based response consultants, and she was relieved he was on board. He’d just successfully wrapped up the case in Sudan for Beltrain, so he was free to help. “Freddy’s a good choice. Can you keep me posted on any other additions to the team?”
Sweat dotted Hakan’s tuxedo shirt. “When I can, I will. Look, we need to make decisions quickly. Christos’s life could depend on it. Lines are being blurred, and this is different from our typical case. We’ll need to have Freddy do a family-member interview with you. You may be one of my best negotiators, but you were also the first point of contact for the kidnappers. Anyone would have difficulty remaining objective in your situation.”
“It’s not like you’re impartial either.”
“And that’s why I’ll do everything I can to bring—”
A loud knock sounded on the door to the suite.
Rif moved soundlessly to the entryway, a Glock materializing in his hands. “Who is it?” he challenged. After a quick look through the peephole, he opened the door.
Christos’s wife, Helena, stood on the threshold, her strawberry-blond hair disheveled, mascara smudged under her eyes. Hakan had broken the news about her husband’s kidnapping earlier, interviewing her to see if she could provide any helpful information. “You wanted to know when Nikos’s plane landed. It arrived two minutes ago.”
“Thanks for the update. You doing okay?” Hakan asked.
“I will be when you bring my husband home. I’ll be in the chapel if you need me. I trust you’ll brief Nikos.” Helena glided back out the door.