Private Monaco

Chapter 18

The door to Mo-bot and Sci’s suite was ajar when I passed it on the way back to my and Justine’s room, so I knocked and went inside to find my colleagues sitting at their workstations, reviewing video footage.

“Hey,” I said.

Mo-bot started. “Jeez, Jack, don’t sneak up on people like that.”

Sci looked round coolly. “I knew he was there. Hey, Jack.”

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“We scored footage from a camera outside a convenience store. It’s pointed at the sidewalk and street, but it catches the hotel, too,” Mo-bot revealed. “We’ve already got photos of two of the biker’s accomplices.”

She minimized the video footage and clicked open a photo library showing one of the white vans used in the kidnapping. It was parked outside the hotel and there were two men in the front cab. Both had unkempt stubble, one had a shaved head and the other long, dark curly hair. Mo-bot cycled through a series of images, blowing up the originals to pick out the two men more clearly, capturing their faces in the closest possible detail.

“Clear images of both the driver and passenger,” she said. “This is from the morning of the attack. We’re just checking the rest of the week to see if they show up any other time.”

“Got nothing else so far,” Sci added, before resuming his review of the footage.

“We need to get these photos to Chevalier,” I said.

Mo-bot nodded. “I’ll also run them against the databases I can access and see if I can call in a favor at Quantico,” she said, referring to the FBI’s computer lab.

Just then the cell phone the bellhop had delivered from the kidnappers rang. Mo-bot had wired it to one of her laptops. As I picked up the device, she moved to the connected computer and checked a tracing program. She nodded at me.

“Hello,” I said, answering the call.

“You have your proof of life,” the distorted voice responded, and the phone vibrated to indicate an incoming message.

I looked at Mo-bot, who was programming commands into a prompt window. She glanced at me and signaled for me to play for more time.

“Let me check,” I said, and didn’t wait for a reply as I switched from the call to the messages folder, where I found a video sent from a withheld number.

I opened it and pressed play to see Justine in what looked like a barn. She was standing in front of a stone wall and held a copy of today’s newspaper.

“I’m alive and in good health, Jack,” she said before the clip ended abruptly.

My eyes filled and I fought the desire to vent my fury at the caller. Expressing my anger would get us nowhere. I tried to calm my thundering heart, which thumped scalding fire through my veins.

Sci was on his feet and had caught sight of the video over my shoulder. He gave me a sympathetic look and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

I saw Mo-bot working furiously to trace the call through various private networks, but she was running into complex systems that tested even her.

“I’ve got it,” I said.

“So now you know Ms. Smith is unharmed and that we are professionals who mean business,” the machine voice said, “you will do as you are told. You will be sent an address at the end of this call. You have two hours to reach the address and collect a package that is waiting for you.”

“What’s in the package?” I asked, playing for more time.

My question was met with silence.

“Can I talk to Justine?” I tried.

“You will find out what is in the package when you collect it, Mr. Morgan,” the anonymous voice replied. “You will speak to Ms. Smith when you have completed the tasks we set for you.”

The phone vibrated to indicate the arrival of another message.

“You have two hours. Do you understand, Mr. Morgan?” the voice asked.

“I understand,” I replied, before the line went dead. “Tell me you got something,” I said, turning to Mo-bot.

She shook her head forlornly.

“Work your magic, Mo,” I implored her. “Do whatever you have to.”

I checked the message.

“I need to go to Nice,” I said.

“I’m coming with you,” Sci announced. “Make sure you don’t walk into a trap.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“Let me get my gear,” he said.

He ducked into his room and emerged moments later with a large holdall slung over his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Stay in touch,” Mo-bot advised.

“Will do,” Sci replied.

He followed me out of the suite, and we started out to find whatever awaited us in Nice.