Chapter 109 - The Unlikely Bargain
Emma stood over the wounded operative on the floorboards. Blood was pooling beneath his tactical pants, but his eyes were clear, cold, and assessing.
Claire kicked his dropped sidearm across the room, kneeling beside him with the barrel of her automatic pressed firmly against the center of his forehead. "Unit designation. Now."
The man grunted through clenched teeth, his breath rattling. "Omega... Group Six. We were only sent... to track. Containment team."
"Where is Victor staging?" Emma demanded, stepping forward, her boots crunching on broken glass.
The operative laughed, a wet, bloody sound. "He’s not staging at Mirabel. That was... the decoy flight plan. Victor is already at the private hangar... Saint-Hubert. He has the transport jet ready for the transatlantic return."
Emma knelt beside him, her gaze so fierce the hardened mercenary actually shifted his eyes away. "How many men are with him?"
"Six. Personal protection. And... a visitor."
Claire frowned. "What visitor?"
"The old woman," the mercenary gasped, his face draining of color. "Victor’s legal team... pulled an interstate habeas bypass. They had her transferred out of Plattsburgh three hours ago. She’s at the hangar."
Emma’s breath caught in her throat. "Eleanor."
Suddenly, the encrypted satellite transceiver on the table began to chime again. The same low, electronic frequency.
Claire crawled over and hit the speaker button, keeping her gun trained on the captive.
"Emma?"
The voice that came through the small speaker wasn't Victor’s smooth baritone. It was high, trembling, cracked with terror, and utterly broken.
"Emma, please!" Eleanor Vance was sobbing, the sound raw and pathetic. "Emma, you have to help me! He took my passport! He took everything! He says if you don't bring the girl to Saint-Hubert by nine o’clock, he’s going to put me on the cargo plane to Zurich as an undocumented liability! Emma, I’m your mother! You can't let him do this to me!"
May you like
Emma stood above the transceiver, listening to the woman who had spent twenty-five years tearing down her spirit, who had smiled while telling a six-year-old child she was an unwanted burden at the family Christmas table.
"Emma?" Eleanor pleaded, her voice dissolving into an undignified wail. "Please! I’m begging you! I'm sorry! I’m sorry for what I said! Just give him what he wants!"
