Raskin zoomed in until he found the property. ‘I’ve got it.’
‘Good. We need to know what kind of activity has transpired on the beach below and off the coast over the last hour. I mean satellite coverage, marine traffic, Coast Guard reports, everything.’
‘Looking for anything in particular?’
‘Two men. Our man and the man who took him. Last seen on the beach.’
‘Got it.’
‘You’re going to see a plane and two helos leaving the site. You can disregard them. We used the choppers to track the plane, but the old man wasn’t on board. It was a decoy.’
‘Please tell me you didn’t steal the helos.’
‘Never,’ Jones said with a laugh. ‘Well, not this time. Pendleton loaned them to us. Trust me, it’s all semi-legit.’
‘I’ll call you when I have something.’
Jones hung up and updated Payne. ‘He’s on it.’
‘Good.’ Payne pointed at the seaplane pilot. ‘In the meantime, find out who hired him.’
Jones relayed the question and then the response. ‘He says he never got a name. The target is about six feet tall, dark complexion, medium build. His instructions were to deliver him to the shore, then wait for his return. When the man signaled, he was to fly back to Rosarito, just as he said before. He said it was easy money.’
Payne cursed. ‘It sounds like the same guy I saw outside the incline. He must have followed us out here.’
‘How?’ Jones wondered.
‘Who knows? Maybe he’s got a contact inside the group. Or maybe he tracked our jet.’ Payne balled his hand into a fist and pounded the side of the chopper. It was a flash of emotion that Jones rarely saw. ‘As of now, it doesn’t matter.’
Payne put his headset back on. ‘How long till we get back?’
‘Almost there, sir,’ the pilot answered.
‘Don’t take us to the house. Drop us on the beach below.’
‘Yes, sir.’ He jerked a thumb back at the Mexican. ‘What about him, sir?’
‘Take him to the stockade. I’m sure immigration would like to have a word with him.’
The pilot nodded his understanding and pointed to the ground up ahead, indicating that they were nearly there. A minute later, Payne and Jones were exiting the Yankee. They had borrowed a couple of flashlights to search the narrow strip of beach, but they found nothing useful.
As the fruitlessness of their efforts began to sink in, Payne’s phone started to ring. He glanced at his caller ID and saw a blocked number. He naturally assumed it was Raskin, calling with an update. ‘What do you have for me, Randy?’
‘This isn’t Randy,’ the voice explained. ‘But I do have something for you.’
‘Who is this?’ Payne demanded as he signaled Jones to trace the call.
Jones dialed Raskin’s number and cut him off before he could offer his customary greeting. ‘Randy, trace Jon’s phone right now. I don’t need a name, just give me the location.’
In his basement office on the other side of the country, Raskin pounded away on one of his keyboards in a frantic attempt to locate the caller.
‘My name is not important,’ Masseri said. ‘What is important is that I have your friend, and I’m willing to give him back to you in one piece.’
Payne cut to the chase. ‘Name your price.’
‘I’m afraid it’s not that simple.’
‘Everyone has a number,’ Payne insisted.
‘If I wanted money, I could simply deliver Dr Sahlberg to those who hired me. I assure you the sum they are willing to pay is more than enough for me to live comfortably for quite some time. No, money is not the issue.’
‘Then what do you want?’
‘I want your expertise,’ Masseri said cryptically. ‘I will return Dr Sahlberg in exchange for services rendered.’
‘What services? What do you want me to do?’
‘Not like this. Not over the phone. Let’s discuss your opportunity in person. Be at the center of the Charles Bridge in Prague. We can discuss the finer points then.’ Masseri laughed and gave him a specific time. ‘Obviously, any attempt to alter this arrangement will be met with certain unpleasant consequences. Na shledanou, Jonathon.’
With that, he disconnected the call.
‘Tell me you got that,’ Payne said to Jones.
Jones held up a finger, letting him know that Raskin was still working his magic. ‘Sorry, Jon. He couldn’t complete the trace. The call was way too short, and the caller bounced the signal around the globe before he routed it to your cell.’
Payne signaled for Jones to hand over the phone. ‘Did you get anything at all?’
‘Jon? Is that you? Sorry, man, I don’t have much. This guy is really good. About the only thing I know for sure is the manufacturer of the cell phone. It wasn’t made in America.’
‘Big shock there.’
‘Or Japan.’
‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’
‘It was actually made in the Czech Republic. The company is headquartered in the Mala Strana district of Prague. This particular brand of phone has a distinct signature.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Positive. Also, the caller signed off with Na shledanou. That translates to “goodbye” or “see you soon” in Czech.’
Payne grunted in surprise. Typically, the last thing he expected from men like the kidnapper was honesty. Then again, why call him out of the blue and risk getting caught? After all, he had made a clean getaway with Sahlberg.
‘Randy, what do you have for transportation?’
‘Is tomorrow too late?’
‘No, that will work.’
Raskin worked his magic, cross-referencing the data that appeared on his various monitors. ‘If you can get to Washington before noon, I can get you a ride with the 87th Airborne to Ramstein in Germany. We can work on the rest of the trip while you’re en route.’
‘That works. I’ll be in touch.’ Payne disconnected the call.
‘What works?’ Jones asked.
‘Pack your shit. We’re going to Prague.’
55
For more than a thousand years, the narrow streets of Prague had seen conflict and celebration, great wars and prosperity. The history of the region was rich with stories of everything from the Holy Roman Empire to the suppression of the communist movement. Today, its heritage was recognized throughout the world, and the city had become a heralded tourist destination.
Payne took a deep breath as he approached the Charles Bridge.
It was currently filled with tourists.
If everything went well, no one — apart from those directly involved — would ever know about their rendezvous. But if things went badly, he knew his adversary would not hesitate to add his personal touch to the violent history of the city.
Payne stepped on to the stone bridge and readied himself for anything. He knew Jones was somewhere nearby, poised in a makeshift sniper’s nest. Even though he trusted his friend’s ability to come to his aid from five hundred yards away with one expertly placed shot, he also understood the reality of the situation: the bridge was virtually indefensible. It was a wide-open space with nowhere to run or hide. If things went badly, Payne’s best option would be to jump from the bridge into the waters of the Vltava river.
After that, he’d be a sitting — make that swimming — duck.
He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Payne knew that if need be, Dial could bring the vast resources of local law enforcement with a single phone call. They could blanket the area with police officers, shutting off the mercenary’s escape routes as they methodically tightened their grip on the area. Unfortunately, he also knew that taking such action most likely meant they would never see Sahlberg again. The man who held him, whoever he was, was not new to the game. He would certainly see to it that Sahlberg paid for Payne’s betrayal.