Baby Trouble: The Spy's Secret Family. Cindy Dees

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      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 François Guerrard.”

      Nick laughed. “He’s still working? Why didn’t he retire years ago?”

      “He would have if AbaCo hadn’t cut our pensions so badly.”

      “Ahh, I’m sorry. I suppose it goes without saying that it would be best for you if you didn’t mention this little call to anyone at AbaCo?”

      She laughed wryly. “That would be correct, sir. Ahh, it is so good to hear your voice again. I never believed what they said about you—”

      He gently cut off what was likely to become a lengthy monologue from the talkative woman. “Thank you, Marie. I’m afraid I’m in a great hurry. We need to find my son.”

      “Of course, Monsieur Nikolas. I shall pray for him.”

      In a few minutes, a list of fired employees was sitting in his email inbox. Blackledge printed it out and his people went to work tracking down every single person on the list. Nick and Laura stayed out of the way and let the FBI invoke its formidable connections with Interpol to do the job.

      The leaves were identified as belonging to plants indigenous to the mid-Atlantic states. Nick supposed knowing Adam was in one of a half-dozen states was better than nothing, but not much.

      Laura spoke to Nick thoughtfully. “Why did Lisbet make a point of saying they were warm? It has been unseasonably warm all over the East Coast this past week. Is there somewhere substantially colder within this region that would prompt her comment?”

      “Mountains or a coast,” Nick replied.

      Laura turned to one of the FBI agents. “Would those leaves we saw be more likely to grow at high elevations or near the ocean?”

      “The second leaf is a bush that tolerates salt spray well, ma’am.”

      “The shore it is,” Laura announced.

      Blackledge nodded his agreement. “You sure you don’t want back into this business, ma’am?”

      She laughed without much humor. “Just get my son back so I can be a mommy.”

      Nick put an arm around her shoulders and was gratified when she leaned against him. Within the hour, hundreds of law enforcement officials were combing the woods of coastal Virginia, searching for an isolated cabin. It was a needle-in-a-haystack hunt, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

      A command center was set up in their living room to coordinate the various search teams, and he and Laura were only in the way. They eventually retreated to their suite to let Blackledge’s team do its job.

      It was late afternoon when Nick’s phone dinged to indicate an incoming text message. He checked it quickly. “Kloffman. He wants to meet us in Washington tonight. Says he’ll have what we need then. Do you think Agent Blackledge will lynch us if we sneak out again?”

      She answered gravely, “I do. I’d suggest we tell him what we’re up to this time.” Their gazes met in mutual understanding. This was one of those times when no words were necessary for them to communicate perfectly.

      Nick nodded. His thoughts drifted to his wife, Meredith, and the roadblock she represented to his future with Laura. “You do know that the minute I’m clear of her, I’m going to ask you to marry me, right?”

      “And you’re so sure I’ll say yes?” Laura replied tightly.

      He stared, thunderstruck. “You wouldn’t marry me?”

      “Nick, my son is gone. Everything I thought I knew about you turns out to be a lie. You have a wife. You cheated on her with me in Paris.”

      “Everything I know of her says I barely knew her and she no doubt married me purely for my money. There’s no way it was a love match.”

      “I don’t care how good or bad she was. You broke your marriage vows. I have a problem with that.”

      “I don’t remember any of it,” he replied with barely restrained frustration. СКАЧАТЬ