Eden came back on the line. “Vehicle is also registered to Atlantis Imports—a company car.”
“Put out a BOLO on a black Audi with that registration. The driver has just abducted a woman from Club Orange B. He’s a suspect in the killing of Sophia Tarasov and a Russian translator on the island. Armed and dangerous. Kidnap victim is Angie Pallorino—ex MVPD officer. Did we untangle those holding companies yet? Did we get any key names of the current owners or individuals behind Atlantis Imports?”
“All have ties back to one numbered company that also has investments in Club Orange B—”
“Who, dammit, who is behind that company?”
“I was getting there, Sergeant,” she said coolly. “It’s been in the process of being unraveled since you recently brought to the table the MVPD information regarding the possible trafficking route. Until then Atlantis wasn’t even on our radar.” A brief pause as Eden opened a file. “The company appears to be linked to five BC and Alberta businessmen. All billionaires in their own right. Two are in the oil industry based out of Calgary. Another in mineral exploration and mining in the north. One in commodities trading, and another invested primarily in import-exports. All have at one time or another come to the attention of white-collar crime divisions, but nothing has ever stuck.”
“Send me their files, names, photos. Stat.”
“Sergeant,” the tech cut in, “they’re offloading girls.”
Maddocks’s gaze shot to the monitor. He watched the first woman being taken from the back of a truck. His brain raced, tension ratcheting. His phone pinged—Eden’s emails were coming through.
Hurriedly, Maddocks opened the first attachment. It showed the names and photographs of five males, all in their late fifties or sixties. His heart quickened at the sight of the fifth one—a big, pale-complexioned redhead with light-gray eyes. Part of a tattoo was visible down the left side of his neck. His name was Olyeg Kaganov.
Maddocks clicked open the second attachment sent by Eden. He scrolled quickly to the intel brief on Kaganov. The man owned and operated the high-end Semko Fishing Lodge along with several fish farms in the Queen Charlotte Strait. He owned residences on the North Shore but spent most of his time at the lodge.
It was located on Semko Island, which lay north of Vancouver Island.
Fish farms.
When Angie had been taken back under hypnosis, she’d remembered docks. She’d mentioned fish farms. Maddocks replayed their conversation in his mind.
“There was water, ocean beyond the forest. A big building with a green roof where a red man lived. Docks. Several, making square shapes in the water. One with a building on it. I thought of them as fish pens.”
“Red man?”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“And the docks?”
“A fish farm maybe? They reminded me of the docks outside Jacob Anders’s lab buildings . . . The red man . . . I felt the red man was bad.”
He clicked open the images of Semko Fishing Lodge contained in the intel brief. Green-roofed log buildings filled his small cell screen. An aerial image showed docks in a grid pattern off the northeast of the island.
It fit—goddammit, it all fit! With Tarasov’s testimony, too. Tarasov and the five barcodes discovered aboard the Amanda Rose had been taken from the Port of Vancouver by a small boat to a remote holding facility along the coast somewhere. The flying time Tarasov had described from that holding location to Victoria was in the ballpark for the location of Semko Island.
Tarasov had also witnessed ink on the side of her hooded captor’s neck. Plus, Queen Charlotte Strait fed into the Strait of Georgia. Angie’s twin’s foot could have floated from Semko Island.
It all fucking fit, right down to the big “red man’s” pale-gray eyes. They were the exact color of Angie’s. Ice branched through his chest. Her father—Kaganov could be her father.
“Sir, the last five females are coming out of the second truck.”
Maddocks’s body snapped taut with adrenaline as his gaze ticked back to the screen. He watched as the last girls were being brought out of the vehicle—emaciated, heads bowed forward, their hair lank and dirty, obscuring their faces.
“Sir, the last two females are now being escorted into the club,” said the surveillance officer.
Maddocks’s thoughts shot to the hit man. He worked for someone. Olyeg Kaganov? He hadn’t inflicted a lethal wound while incapacitating Angie. That told Maddocks he wanted her alive. Why? To take her somewhere? To Kaganov?
“Sergeant,” said the officer, “the females are now all inside the building. I repeat, all inside. Awaiting order.”
When Maddocks didn’t answer, the officer turned in his chair to face him, his features tight with tension. “Sir?”
“Call it!” Maddocks barked as he spun around and made for the exit. “Give the go!” he yelled over his shoulder as he flung open the door. “Now!”
“Sir?”
He shoved through the door and left the room. He dialed Takumi as he hurried toward the building’s fire escape stairs. Takumi picked up instantly.
“I’ve given the ERT go,” Maddocks snapped. “Cargo is all inside. But a woman—an ex-cop—has been abducted from the club. Her name’s Angie Pallorino. She’s been independently investigating a case that appears linked to the barcodes. I believe Olyeg Kaganov, one of the men tied to ownership of Atlantis Imports, is directly involved in her kidnapping. Eden’s put out a BOLO on the kidnap vehicle. A black Audi. I’m flying up to Semko Fishing Lodge on Semko Island. Kaganov owns and operates the lodge. I think they’re taking her there. I’ll need backup.”
He had no proof, but he had to do something apart from waiting for the BOLO to result in a sighting. That alone was a crapshoot now. He had to trust his gut. He’d gotten her into this shit. Now he had to get her out. He believed that if the hit man wanted Angie alive, there was a helluva good chance she’d be transported to Semko.
Takumi started to object, but Maddocks killed the call before Takumi could order him to stand down.
Maddocks knew what Takumi would say—that Operation Aegis needed to move slowly on Kaganov—get proof that Kaganov and the other men were actually behind the barcode imports, secure the requisite warrants so that charges would stick in court. Yeah, this was a gamble. It could cost his job. It could cost prosecution of those men down the line.
But if he didn’t act, it could cost Angie’s life.
If he was wrong, if a patrol car picked up the Audi while he was en route to Semko, that was okay—local law enforcement could handle it from there. That base would be covered. In the meanwhile, time was running out. If Kaganov really was Angie’s father, and if he was aware from the news that she was now remembering her past and coming after him, she didn’t have long to live.
If she was even still alive.
Maddocks burst out of the stairwell door at the rear of the building. Cold rain kissed his face as he ran toward his unmarked car parked in a back alley a few blocks down. As he got into his vehicle, he made another call. To a pilot friend.