Page 28 of Illusive
Leaning forward, the tech spun the printed instructions around again and pulled them closer. Gideon reread the underlined sentence she tapped with an impatient fingertip, “Do not challenge their control.”
He unclenched his jaw. “This doesn’t have to get complicated. I’m willing to pay for Ireland’s safety. Tell me where I can find her, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“And here I’d heard you were a tough negotiator. So nice of you to make this so easy. I can confirm your sister was wearinga bracelet that very cleverly disguised lip gloss. She also had a phone strapped to her thigh underneath her dress.”
Gideon glanced at his wife and saw the details confirmed in the horror on her face. “You’re speaking in the past tense,” he said tightly. “That tells me nothing about Ireland’s condition now.”
“Well, shewaswearing them, but she’s not anymore. As for her condition… Let’s try this. You dump the contents of your safe into a bag, then leave it on the top step of the east Bethesda Terrace staircase. If you make it by six-thirty, you’ll find your sister inside the Terrace. Good luck.”
The abrupt silence told him the call had ended. He glanced at the clock.Fifteen minutes. Then he turned to Eva.
Her face pale, she whispered, “I love you.”
“Angel.” Gideon caught her by the shoulders, kissing her quick and hard.
Then he ran into the living room, snatching a random backpack off the floor and an NYPD windbreaker from the back of a chair. Behind him, the chorus of shouts was like a gunshot at the races—he was spurred to pick up speed. Skidding on bare feet across the marble floor of the elevator vestibule, he snatched up the Yankees ballcap he kept on the console table there.
The private elevator car was waiting for him at the push of the button, and he was inside in a second. The doors were beginning to close when two detectives managed to shoulder their way inside.
“You can’t just run out like this,” one of them scolded, scowling as the car descended quickly. He was a tall, thin man with an oversized mustache in a blend of brown and red. “We need time to get people in place.”
“You’ve got about fourteen minutes,” Gideon shot back, shoving his arm into one sleeve. With the jacket half on, he rakedhis hair back with one hand and tugged on the ballcap, then he finished dressing.
For the first time in hours, it felt like momentum.
“You’re not getting far barefoot,” the other detective said testily. She was tall, standing nearly the same height as her partner. “You do realize this could be a ploy to get you out in the open so they can take a shot at you.”
Gideon looked down and placed his foot next to the male detective’s.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” the man countered.
“I’ll buy you a new pair.” Gideon gestured impatiently for the man to remove his shoes.
“No.”
He shrugged. “Then I’ll run in my bare feet.”
“They didn’t give you enough information to be sure this isn’t a hoax,” she pointed out. “They could’ve gotten the information they gave you from studying all the pictures of Ireland at the event last night.”
“It’s enough for me.”
“There are media vans and paparazzi camped out on the street,” she continued, crossing her arms as she watched her partner relent and toe off his Merrells. “They follow you, and you’ll be putting them at risk, too.”
“They’re not going to follow me because you’re going to talk to them.”
She shot him a look as the elevator slowed to a halt. “You’re not leaving my sight. Wade can talk to them.”
“In my socks?”
Gideon stepped out of the elevator and crouched to lace up the shoes. They were slightly too small. “Keep ‘em looking at your face, Wade, and they won’t look at your feet.”
“And what am I supposed to say?” the detective asked.
“Whatever it is you say at times like these.” Gideon stood and pulled up the collar of the jacket to hide the ends of his hair.
“I’m not the one who speaks to the press.”
Pushing through the door to the main lobby, Gideon gestured Wade ahead. “We’ll duck out behind you once you’ve got their attention.”
