The Exchange: After The Firm

“I like that. The problem is you can’t leave. The phone might track you and you have to keep it in your pocket at all times. You’re the link, Abby. They chose you.”

“I’m honored.” Her eyes suddenly watered. “Can you believe this, Mitch? They followed us to school this morning. They know where we live and work. How did we get here?”

“We’re here and we’ll get out, I promise.”

“No promises, Mitch. You don’t know any more than I do. I want to help Giovanna, okay, but right now my only concern is my two little boys. Let’s go snatch ’em and run.”

“Maybe later, but right now let’s go upstairs and meet with the team.”

The two conference rooms in the business center were taken, so Cory booked a suite on the third floor. He was waiting with Jack and Darian. Quick introductions were made. Abby knew Jack from the annual partners’ Christmas dinner, a fussy black-tie party that almost everyone loathed. She had met Cory years earlier during one of the firm’s security audits.

For obvious reasons, Abby was feeling vulnerable at the moment. In addition, she was suddenly in a meeting with a complete stranger and expected to discuss private matters. Always eager to take charge, Darian bulled right ahead and said, “It is important to walk through your confrontation with Noura.”

Abby shot him a look and said, “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

For a second all the air left the room. Mitch felt compelled to soothe tensions and said, “Look Darian, it’s been a rough morning and we’re a bit on edge. What, exactly, do you want to know?”

“Who said it was a confrontation?” Abby demanded.

Darian offered a quick phony smile and said, “You’re right, Ms. McDeere. Bad choice of words.”

“Okay.”

“Mind if we see the phone?” he asked pleasantly.

“No problem.” It was buried in the bottom of her large bag and it took a moment to fish it out. She placed it in the center of a small round table. Darian pressed his index finger to his lips to ask for quiet. He held it, examined its casing, and with a small screwdriver took the back off. With his phone he took photos and sent them to someone who worked for Crueggal. He opened his laptop, pecked away like a manic hacker, and stopped to admire whatever he had found. He half turned the screen around for the others to see. The trade name was “Jakl” and it was made in Vietnam for a company in Hungary. The list of specifications was in small print and ran on for pages. The message was clear: it was a specialized, complicated phone not intended for the average consumer. Darian returned to his rapid key-tapping and kept searching. His cell phone rang and he spoke in some coded dialect, then smiled and ended the call.

“It’s not listening to us,” he said with relief. “However, it does emit a tracking signal regardless of the ON/OFF switch.”

Mitch asked, “So right now they know the phone is in the Carlyle Hotel?”

“They know the phone is within fifty yards of where it really is. They probably don’t know it’s up here and not in the restaurant.”

Abby half snorted in disgust and shook her head.

Darian gave the phone to Cory, who held it so he and Mitch could see the screen. He touched the Photos key, and there were the boys with their mother bounding off to another day of school. Mitch shook his head in disbelief at all five photos. When he’d seen enough, he said, “Okay, Abby, why don’t you walk us through what happened with Noura?”

She looked at Darian and said, “Sorry I snapped. Things are a bit tense.”

“No apology necessary, Abby. We’re here to help.”

Abby recalled every possible detail as Darian recorded her and everyone else took notes. He prodded with questions about Noura’s appearance: Height — about the same as Abby’s, five feet seven. Weight — who could tell with all the layers of robes. Age — young, under thirty, but again impossible to be sure with the heavy veil and all. Accent — perfect English with maybe a slight Middle Eastern accent. Anything memorable about her hands, arms, shoes? Nothing, everything was covered. Did Noura order food or drink? No.

As the interrogation went on, Jack stepped into the other room and began making calls.

When Abby had told them everything, she said, “That’s it. Nothing else. I feel like I’m on the witness stand here. I’d like to spend some time alone with my husband.”

Cory said, “Good idea. You two go downstairs and have lunch while we figure out the next steps.”

Mitch said, “That’s great, Cory, but the next step is our kids. Giovanna is important, but right now nothing matters but the safety of Clark and Carter.”

“We’re with you, Mitch.”

“Right. And nothing is done without my approval, okay?”

“Got it.”

Thoughts of eating were impossible but it seemed imperative to at least order something. They chose salads and tea and could not help but glance around the lovely restaurant, Dowling’s, to see if anyone was staring at them. No one was.