Private Monaco

Chapter 20

Sci and I sat in stunned silence for the first part of the taxi ride back to Monaco. The package lay on the back seat between us, infusing the air with evil. My every breath was heavy and filled with sorrow for the choice that lay ahead of me.

“You can’t know that’s what they want,” Sci said beneath the racket from the cab’s radio, which played a lively pop tune completely out of keeping with our mood.

“Three-D printed, small caliber,” I replied, taking care to talk quietly. “Justine as leverage. They will tell me it’s a trade, but they will probably kill her after I’ve done whatever they ask.”

Sci nodded slowly, conceding the truth of my words. What else could it be?

“I’ll tell you something else,” I said. “That guy knew we were coming because someone phoned him, which has to mean they were watching. And if they were, they might have been taking pictures.”

“Setting you up?” Sci suggested.

“Yeah. The thought crossed my mind,” I said. “Why not deliver the package to the hotel like they did with the phone? Why make me come out here? Could it be to get surveillance photos of me collecting an untraceable weapon from a cutout? Frame me as an assassin?”

Sci pondered what I’d said, but my own thoughts were disturbed by my phone, which displayed an unfamiliar number.

“Hello?” I said.

“Jack Morgan,” Eli Carver responded. “You didn’t make good.”

My mind was so attuned to the kidnapping, I was momentarily confused and thought he was referring to the package and that he might somehow be involved.

“You didn’t keep me posted like I asked,” he went on.

My brain kicked into gear. “Mr. Secretary, it’s been non-stop.”

“So I hear,” he replied. “Philippe has given me the headlines.”

But Duval only knew part of the story.

“Jack, please cut the Mr. Secretary crap and remember what we’ve been through together. Let me know what’s going on. And if you need help, I want you to pick up the phone. I can’t speak for you, but I consider us friends.”

“Thank you, Mr. ...” I caught myself. “Sorry, force of habit. Thank you, Eli. I’ll check with my team and see if there’s anything we need.”

“Good,” he replied. “Now I’ve got to go to post-dinner drinks the Brits have organized. See if we can push this peace deal over the line with some champagne and cocktails.”

I knew from the news that the London summit was on the verge of a breakthrough, and presumed that, as Secretary of Defense, Carver’s job was to project the might of the US military at the negotiating table. The difference between him succeeding or failing to secure a deal was the difference between lasting peace or chaos in Europe.

“Good luck,” I said.

“You too,” he replied before hanging up.

“Carver?” Sci asked.

I nodded. “He’s putting himself at our disposal. If there’s anything we need from him, we just have to ask.”

“We should send the images and footage from the convenience-store camera. See if the NSA can identify them,” Sci suggested.

“Yeah. Let’s talk to Mo. See if there’s anything else she needs,” I replied.

I was careful not to exploit my connection to the US Defense Secretary, but if he wanted to get involved, I wouldn’t pass up the offer of support from the most capable intelligence apparatus in the world. I would do whatever it took to get Justine back because I suspected the people who’d taken her had violent endings planned for us both.