Page 13 of The Hijack

“They wouldn’t take the body back to England either,” I ground out through my teeth. “You said yourself that your men checked my safehouse and didn’t find any evidence of her, living or dead.”

“That’s true,” Lukas agreed, seeming to understand that he’d crossed an unspoken barrier. “I’m sorry.”

It was the best I was going to get, so I took it.

“You’re right,” Clark’s foster brother continued. “London’s too obvious, and it has too many laws.”

“They’ll want to keep her somewhere remote,” I suggested. “Somewhere they can influence the key decision-makers and cover their tracks.”

“That just leaves most of the world,” Z responded.

“Weren’t there any other flights out of Sweeden?” I asked, unwilling to accept defeat.

“Thousands,” Z answered. “Where do you want to start?”

“Can I log into air traffic control?” I asked.

“Of course,” she responded. “I’ll get you set up. But there’s something you should know. Both the British and the American governments are on the lookout for you.”

“I know,” I said.

“They’re charging you with the killing of three MI6 agents and a CIA agent,” Z continued.

I glanced at Lukas. It wasn’t new intel, but it was nice to have confirmation of what Lukas had said earlier. I was used to ducking foreign authorities, but throughout my career, I’d only ever been loyal to the crown. I viewed the manhunt as a temporary setback. I would find Clark and discover some way to swing the blame back to Regg and his team where it belonged. The chance of going down for a crime we hadn’t committed never crossed my mind.

Regg might have dozens of men and women under his belt, but he didn’t run the entire country. There were still governmental bodies that remained untouched by his corruption, I was sure of it. All I had to do was gather enough evidence to clear my name and the name of my lover. Happily ever after seemed like a long way away, but I wasn’t willing to write it off just yet.

I wiped my hands clean on my trousers and followed Z upstairs to the war room. It was time to use all the tools at my disposal to discover the whereabouts of my one true love. And in the process, strike a blow to the man responsible.

Chapter 7

Clark

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THE STORM RAGED AROUND us, dumping gallons of water on our heads. I pressed through the jungle, my hands up to protect my face, thinking of nothing but putting distance between myself and the enemy camp.

I had been trained for situations like this and knew that situational awareness was key. Yet the moment I opened my eyes and tried to take in my surroundings, I was stung by the driving rain. It was all I could do to stay alert for sudden shifts in the landscape. Though we were theoretically headed for the beach, I couldn’t rule out any sudden cliffs or waterfalls. The last thing I needed was to pitch head over heels and subject myself to a fifty-foot drop into oblivion.

Linc was right behind me. I could feel his body using my own as a compass. He didn’t have to worry about finding the right way. All he had to do was ride my wake and he was assured of success.

I knew he was at least ten years my junior and probably on one of his first assignments ever. But he shouldn’t have been in the field if he didn’t have the skills to back up his bravado. I wasn’t going to let him set the pace or determine which direction we fled, but neither did I want him to use me as a human shield.

After about a half hour, the wind began to die down. The rain straightened itself from its horizontal downpour to a more comforting drizzle. I could finally take stock of where we were and what objects lay in my path.

There was nothing but jungle and palm fronds, dripping with the remnants of the passing storm. I pulled up suddenly, feeling like we’d made enough progress to slow down. Based on my own sense of direction and the instinctive understanding of time and distance, I guessed we were about two miles from where we’d started. That would give us enough of a head start to take a break. And the gunmen weren’t likely to find us in the middle of the jungle, considering there were no roads and not even a path that we were following.

“Who are you?” I demanded, snapping a branch off a nearby tree.

By design, the wood splintered, forming a menacing tip. It wasn’t a knife or a gun, but we both knew I could kill him with it. I pointed it in his direction to let him know I meant business. He raised his hands, aware of the danger he was facing. I had to appreciate his assessment of the situation and take that into account when he hurried to explain.

“Just like I told you,” he exclaimed. “I’m Dark Sparrow.”

“Why were you taken captive when so many other people were killed?” I demanded.

“Why were you?” he snapped.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I was working with an MI6 agent. We were ambushed in the Swedish Alps.”