Riptide

Savich said matter-of-factly, “He took Becca. Thank God you’re not dead. I wonder why he didn’t just slit your throat, Chuck? Why waste time tying you up?”

Sherlock said, as she hunkered down next to Chuck and untied both his wrists and ankles, “He doesn’t want the police here yet. He realized that if he killed one of us, that’s what would happen. It would force his hand. He would lose control. We’re really glad you’re okay, Chuck.”

Adam said, “He must have knocked you out before he shot tear gas into the house. We came roaring out, everyone trying to find him, and we didn’t miss you. There was too much confusion. Damnation.”

Sherlock gave Chuck a drink of cold water and a couple of aspirin once they got him into the kitchen. “If you don’t have a headache, you should,” she told him, then hugged him. “Thank God you’re all right. Since you weren’t at the back of the house watching for him, he must have just slipped out with Becca over his shoulder.”

“We didn’t miss you,” Adam said slowly. “I can’t believe we didn’t have the brains to get everyone together and count heads before we settled back into the house for the night. Hell, we didn’t even think to search the damned house.”

Everyone was rattled as what happened sank in. There was nothing to say, no excuses to make. He’d made fools of them all.

An hour later, Sherlock and Savich found Adam in the kitchen, his head in his hands. Savich lightly laid his hand on his shoulder. “It happened. We’ve all flagellated ourselves. No thanks to us, Chuck is all right. Now we’ve got to fix it. Adam, we’ll find her.”

“I was supposed to keep her safe,” Adam said, staring at his clasped hands. “I’ve got to be the biggest fuckup in this damned world. He’s got her, Savich. He’s got her and we have no idea where.”

“Yes, he’s got her,” Savich said, “and he’s probably going to take her to Washington. That’s it, isn’t it? He wants her with him when he confronts Thomas? She’s his leverage. Thomas would do anything to save her, including giving himself up to this maniac.”

“We’re talking like Krimakov is alive, like we don’t have any doubts about it at all,” Sherlock said.

Adam said slowly, “Forget the reports, forget what the operatives said. The body was cremated. That’s all I need to know. It’s Krimakov. Now, he must not have found out where Thomas is. Thomas owns a house in Chevy Chase, but it’s a well-kept secret. The location of his condo in Georgetown is also a secret, but anyone could discover its location if they really wanted to. MAX could probably ferret it out in ten minutes flat. But not the Chevy Chase house. He’s very careful. I kid you not, I don’t even think the president knows where his house is. So then Krimakov wouldn’t know, either. That’s why he got Becca. She’s his leverage. He’ll take her to Washington, to the condo.” Adam stopped cold. “We’ve got to leave now.”

Savich said, “I think you should call Thomas first, tell him what’s happened. We’ve put it off long enough, don’t you think? He’s got to know.”

Adam cursed under his breath at the sound of Tyler McBride’s angry voice. Tyler came into the kitchen, three agents right behind him, one holding his arm, and yelled, “What the hell is going on here? Every light in the place is on? Who are these guys? Let me go, dammit. Where’s Becca?”

“Let him go, Tommy,” Savich said, nodding to one of Thomas’s men who was guarding the front of the house. “He’s a neighbor and a friend of Becca’s.”

“What the hell is going on here, Adam?”

“He took her,” Adam said. “We think he’s heading to Washington, D.C., with her. We’re going to have to clear out soon.”

Tyler paled, then yelled, “You were supposed to protect her, you bastard! You really screwed up big-time, didn’t you? I wanted to help but you just kissed me off, I was a civilian, of no use at all. What about you? All these big Fed cops, none of you could protect her. None of you were of any help at all!”

Savich said as he closed his fingers around Tyler’s arm, “I understand your anger. But all these accusations aren’t going to help anyone, particularly Becca. Believe me, we all know what’s at stake here.”

“You’re damned incompetent bastards,” Tyler yelled even louder, “all of you.” He jerked away from Savich.

“Tyler,” Adam said quietly, “don’t go to Sheriff Gaffney. That would be the worst thing you could do.”

“Why? How much more could things be fucked up?”

“He might kill her,” Adam said. “Don’t tell anyone anything.”

After Tyler McBride was escorted from the house by three agents, Sherlock said, “Why not tell everyone now?”

Adam shoved his hand through his hair. “Dammit, because if some cop happens to see them, then you know our guy would kill her and take off. We can’t take the chance. No, we’ve got to get to Washington, fast.”

“First you’ve got to call Thomas, Adam.”

Adam didn’t want to, he really didn’t.

Savich and Sherlock listened to Adam flail himself on the speakerphone.

There was silence on the other end. Finally, Thomas said, “Get over it, Adam. We’ve been dealt new cards now, we’ll play them. I’m very relieved that Chuck is all right. His wife would roast me alive if he’d been killed. Now, if this is Krimakov, then he at least knows I’m in Washington, probably knows about the condo. I’ll stay here. I’ll be ready for him. Get back here as quickly as you can, Adam. Savich? Can you and Sherlock stick with us?”

“Yes, Thomas.”

“Now, I’ve got to get myself ready for Krimakov. It’s been so many years. Many times I thought he’d finally given it up, but it appears that he’s just been biding his time.”

“He could really be dead,” Sherlock said.

“No,” Thomas said. “Adam, you, Savich, and Sherlock hang around there for a while. Try to get a line on this guy. He’s got to be somewhere. He’s got to be traceable. Find him. Oh, and Adam?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Stop beating yourself up. Guilt just slows down your brain. I want that brain of yours sharp. Get it together and find my daughter.”

They finally rang off. Thomas Matlock looked at the phone for a very long time before he slowly eased it back down. Then he leaned his head back against the soft leather of his chair. He closed his eyes to blot out the feeling of helplessness, for just a moment, an instant, but instead, he felt a deep, soul-corroding fear that a man should never have to feel in his damned life. It was fear for his child, and the knowledge that he was helpless to save her.

It was Krimakov, he knew it, deep in his gut, he knew, and they had cremated the body. No, Krimakov wasn’t dead-maybe he’d staged his death, murdered another man who resembled him. He’d somehow found out about Becca and he had begun his reign of terror. There was no doubt at all in Thomas’s mind now. Krimakov, a man who had sworn to cut Thomas’s heart out even if he had to chase Thomas to hell to do it, had his Becca.

He lowered his face in his hands.