Page 70 of Shadowed Agenda
Pavlo hated to ask, but he couldn’t help himself. “Is this number three?”
“Yup. Did you see what hit the car?” Finlay pointed to the curvature in the roof’s smooth fabric lining.
Drake cleared his throat and said nothing. He was leaving it to Pavlo to break the news.
“It looked like part of a car door,” Pavlo said.
“I’ll have to read the fine print and see if a car exploding nearby is considered acollision. I think it’s probably under fire, so I should be fine.”
Pavlo would talk to Javier later and get him to take care of Finlay’s rental bill.
“They’re still on the highway. See if you can catch up with them,” Pavlo said, watching the icon for the kidnapper’s car continue along its route on his cell phone. He glanced at Drake. “Any idea how they got into your rental to plant the bomb?”
“Yeah,” Drake said, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. “Skateboarders set off car alarms on the garage level where I left the SUV. The manager contacted me and assured me it was nothing. He said it’d happened last night and twice the previous week. They didn’t catch the kids. They have it on video.”
“Effective distraction.” Pavlo shook his head. “It was the third time in a row. I bet no one looked carefully at the tapes, assuming it was the same kids fooling around. I bet Regan parked her rental on the same level. They placed a bug on Regan’s car because they were worried she’d take off. The bomb on your car was last minute.”
“I was an unexpected complication they decided to get rid of permanently,” Drake said.”
Pavlo had no doubt Drake was right. He pulled up the text message warning them of the bomb. The cell phone number looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
“Do either of you recognize this number?” Pavlo asked and read it out.
“It’s Regan’s old cell number,” Drake replied immediately.
“The text message that warned us about the bomb came from that number.”
“Did you return the cell phone to her like we discussed?” Drake asked.
“Yes, she put it on the night table last night.”
“I saw her pick it up and stuff it in her jeans’ pocket before she left to meet the kidnappers,” Finlay said, her fingers flying across her cell phone screen. “I just texted Vala and asked her to see if she can get a signal and track it. Give her a minute.” She held a finger up and then let out a sigh. “Vala can’t get a signal. She turned it off.”
“So, when did you and Vala become pals?” Drake asked, his hands tightening around the steering wheel and his knuckles turning white. Pavlo stifled his laugh.
“It’s recent.”
Finlay broke the following silence. “I have a friend checking the security cameras along the street. Two motorcycles pulled out of the entrance of an underground garage. A woman was seated behind a man on one of them. The picture was blurry, but she thinks it may be Regan.”
“Did she get the plates on the bikes?” Drake asked.
“Too blurry. There are a couple of places she hopes has a better shot. She did catch the motorcycle club patch on the other guy’s vest. It’s a local club.”
“Thank her for us,” Pavlo said. Finlay’s friend had to be a cop or someone with an excellent fake ID and acting skills. Either way, he was impressed.
Pavlo had quickly done the math.
It was a no-win situation. Whatever happened at the Senator’s cottage could be over before they arrived. He’d promised Regan he’d find Emmeline and bring her back safely. Pavlo would do that, but he wasn’t sure he could save Regan.
“I checked who was flying in,” Drake said as if reading Pavlo’s mind. “Talia. She’s got her equipment. You want her at Senator Aster’s place.”
“Whose Talia?” Finlay asked, looking up from her cell phone.
“Sharpshooter,” Drake said.
“Our best,” Pavlo added.
He hoped their best would be good enough.