Baby Trouble: The Spy's Secret Family. Cindy Dees
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and the kids out of the deal. I learned things about myself in that box I’d have learned no other way. Things that have changed my life—changed me—dramatically for the better. Yes, the experience sucked. But, at some point, I have to get over it and get on with my life. I’m not kidding when I say that part of my past is over and gone. I don’t dwell on it.”
“I’m not so altruistic,” Laura muttered.
“You can sit around hating your life and bemoaning all your problems. Or you can accept that everyone has them and get on with dealing with yours in a positive frame of mind. I’m not saying life can’t be hard as hell. But it is possible to find joy in small things in the midst of all the bad stuff. I have my kidnapper to thank for making me understand this.”
“Will you be so philosophical if we find out he or she is behind Adam’s kidnapping?”
“I’ll kill him.” He added grimly, “And I’ll be entirely philosophical about it afterward.”
Laura smiled reluctantly and reached over to put a hand on his leg. He took a hand off the steering wheel and covered hers.
“We’ll find Adam,” Nick murmured. “Just keep the faith.” Why did it take something so awful to bring them together like this? How was he supposed to feel anything other than too guilty to breathe when he was finding Laura again in the midst of losing his son?
The house was in an uproar when they walked in. Marta had gone upstairs for Ellie’s 2 a.m. feeding and one of the FBI agents had discovered their disappearance.
The FBI agent-in-charge, a guy named Cal Blackledge, was not amused and chewed them up one side and down the other. Nick blandly explained that the two of them had needed to get away for a little while, to be alone and share their grief without an army of onlookers. Blackledge didn’t look convinced, but Nick and Laura stuck to their story, and there wasn’t much the FBI man could do about it.
As their chewing out was winding down, another FBI agent rushed into the kitchen. “You just got a message from who we believe to be the kidnapper.”
Laura’s coffee mug slipped out of her fingers and shattered into a hundred pieces all over the floor. Nick moved for the door nearly as quickly as she did, but Blackledge still got to Laura’s office first. When Nick stepped into the spacious room, a team of people was huddling in front of her computer. They moved aside, and Laura slipped into her desk chair. He watched eagerly as she clicked on the email message.
Your son and his nanny are safe. They will stay with me until you testify against AbaCo. When those bastards are put away for good, then you can have your son back. Do not fail, or else.
Laura looked up at him in shock, the thought plain on her face the same as the one he was having. The kidnapper was an enemy of AbaCo’s?
He asked, “What’s the kidnapper going to do when the government announces that it’s going to drop its charges?”
Laura paled and started to shake. He knew the feeling, dammit. They had two days until Adam’s life was forfeit. Two days to find and save their son.
Nick had faced some scary crises in his life, but nothing compared to this. His son’s life was in mortal danger. Seeing the threat on the computer screen before him made it real in a way it hadn’t been until now. Nausea ripped through him.
“There’s a video attachment,” one of the FBI agents announced.
Laura clicked on it. A picture of their son smiling up at the camera flashed onto the computer monitor. The video rolled and Adam placed a bright red leaf into what looked like some kind of scrapbook. “Look at my pretty leaf,” he announced in his clear, sweet voice.
Lisbet’s voice came from off camera. “Tell Mummy and Daddy we’re doing fine and that you’re safe and warm and well-fed. Tell them Joe has been très kind to us.”
Adam nodded. “I’m learning all kinds of neat things about nature. But I miss you. Joe says you’re fighting the bad man for him. Hurry up and win. I want to go home.”
A sob escaped Laura and she turned to Nick, burying her face against his side. He gripped her shoulder so tightly he was probably hurting her. But he couldn’t help himself.
The FBI agents went into high gear around them.
“Identify that leaf.”
“Nature. He’s being held in a rural area.”
“Joe. Get a list of disgruntled former AbaCo employees.”
“The child turned the page in that album. Can we digitally enhance the leaves on the second page?”
“Analyze the grain of the floorboards. They look old. Rough. Maybe in a cabin of some kind.”
The words flowed past Nick, but the only ones that stuck were the final ones in the note. Do not fail or else.
Or else.
Laura lifted her head. “Lisbet used the French word for very, très. She doesn’t speak much French. She was signaling us that the kidnapper is French or speaks French.”
Blackledge snapped, “Make that a list of French former AbaCo employees.”
A flurry of phone calls took place around them while Laura replayed the video over and over, presumably looking for more clues. Or maybe she just needed to see Adam’s face. It was both sweet relief and stabbing pain to see him. He might be safe for now, but that or else hung heavily over the little boy.
“AbaCo is refusing to release any employee lists to us without a subpoena.”
“Then get one,” Blackledge snapped.
“That’s going to be a problem,” someone replied. “They’ll have to release information about their American staff to us, but not their overseas employees.”
Blackledge frowned. “The French courts are notoriously slow, particularly when it comes to cooperating with Americans. We’re not exactly at the top of France’s list of allies these days. If AbaCo refuses to cooperate, it’s going to take too long to get what we need.”
Nick said sharply, “Spiros Shipping had a major office in Paris. AbaCo probably still uses it.”
“Do you think Kloffman—” Laura started.
Nick cut her off gently. “Why go to the top when you can go to the bottom?”
She frowned at him and he explained, “I ran Spiros Shipping for well over a decade. I’m betting Kloffman didn’t fire every one of my old employees when AbaCo took over. People who used to work for me must still be there.”
“What good does that do us?” she asked.
“My family believed strongly in knowing every employee and in building trust and loyalty among them. If I can find some of the old staff, they’ll help me.”
She pulled out her cell phone and slapped it into his hand.
“Let’s see if they bothered to change the phone numbers,” he muttered. He dialed the international number for Spiros Paris and was pleased when the call went through.
“AbaCo Shipping,” a female voice said in his ear.
“Marie? Marie Clothier? Is that you?”
She switched into English to match his. “Oui. Who may I ask, is this?”
“Nick—” Then he corrected, “Nikolas Spiros.”
The woman took off in a spate of excited French he only half caught. When she’d finally wound down, he said, “Look, Marie. I need your help. My son has been kidnapped and we’re trying to figure out who did it. I need a list of all the employees fired from the Paris office since AbaCo took over. Is there someone left from the old days who would do that for me? Quietly and quickly?”
“But of course. Let me connect you with