Gabrielle Farrah positioned herself on a rear bench inside the conference room in case she needed to exit quietly and quickly for a phone call. The morning dragged on and on, with more remarks from the Chinese delegation. They had just begun, and already she was bored. There was a reason she hadn’t pursued business or law as a career: not nearly enough action. Her idea of a good time was going to the range and firing an AR-15 until her shoulder was battered and bruised.
The opening presentations were public, so she’d figured she’d attend. Hakan agreed with her that the oil deal was likely related to the kidnapper’s plans. It didn’t hurt to scout the room, see who was there, both participants and spectators. And she hoped to catch Thea during the next break to see if the information she’d provided about a leak had sparked any insights.
She scanned the gallery for Max, but he’d left earlier to check in with his local Interpol counterpart. Maybe they’d grab dinner tonight, catch up on the case and their lives. He was one of the only people she’d confided in about her sister’s cancer. The last time they’d met up, it had really helped her to talk about her feelings, hear about Max’s childhood on Mykonos.
Her cell vibrated. She glanced down. The buzz of the presentations faded into the background. A photo of Christos Paris stared back at her. Thea had been copied on the text.
She enlarged the picture for a closer look. The billionaire held a copy of today’s New York Times, proof that he was alive, at least as of this morning. That is, if the photo was even real. She’d send it to the lab for analysis.
These days proof of life was often confirmed by an actual phone call with the hostage or by securing responses to personal questions only the hostage would know the answers to. Sending photos was old school.
Christos’s expression caught her attention. She’d seen countless pictures of captives. Most looked weary, drained, shattered. Not this tycoon. His dark gaze burned with indignation, and his chin tilted slightly upward. Blood matted the right side of his head, but he looked resilient, defiant.
Paris sat on a cement floor in front of a gray wall, the backdrop offering no obvious clues about his location. She forwarded the photo to her team, marking the transmission urgent. Their forensics experts would scrutinize it for any information.
Interesting how the photo had been sent to her private cell. Maybe the kidnapper was the same person who’d phoned her on Christmas Day with the news that Paris had been taken. Strange. Thea had been the main contact so far. Now the kidnapper wanted Gabrielle involved. Why?
She uncrossed her legs, suddenly quite uncomfortable on the wooden bench. She scanned the room. Was someone watching her? No one seemed overtly suspicious; everyone was too engrossed in the proceedings. The Chinese National Oil Company representatives were still painstakingly plodding through their proposal while the prime minister and his team smiled and nodded.
Thea perched on the edge of her seat, focused on every word. Gabrielle wanted to attract her attention. They had proof of life for her father—presumably. Thea might have a sense of its legitimacy.
As Gabrielle watched, the kidnap negotiator reached into her jacket pocket and slipped out her phone. She must have kept it on vibrate. For a second, her body froze, but she quickly regrouped. She turned her head, meeting Gabrielle’s expectant gaze. A slight nod. This was a breakthrough. Hopefully the big one they had all been looking for.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Nikos studied the Kanzi panel, reviewing in his mind the intimate details of the dossiers he’d compiled about each member. Everyone had a weakness, but some were more obvious than others. Prime Minister Kimweri had proven a challenge. A God-fearing man, he did his best to represent the people of his nation fairly. He worked hard, accepted no bribes, and led with dignity. It had required investigation, but eventually Nikos had found the man’s kryptonite. But he’d only use it if absolutely necessary. If there was one thing Nikos had learned, it was that research and preparation were key. He’d spent lots of time studying his father’s company, probing for insider knowledge and weak links—and had found both.
Chi was delivering his proposal to the panel, waxing on about how the Chinese could revolutionize Kanzi. The laborious speeches, freighted with references to the historic bonds between China and the region, would have been excruciating if they weren’t playing such an important role in his tightening web.