Free Aftershock: A Donovan Nash Novel (A Donovan Nash Thriller) by Philip Donlay Page A

me in the loop.”
    “I’m a
former
FBI agent. Even when I was an active agent, the FBI didn’t always like the way I played. What makes you think they’ll even talk to me?”
    “You brought down a terrorist cell bent on killing millions of Americans. You shot and killed the terrorist leader. The only person more famous than you in this town is the Navy SEALwho pulled the trigger on bin Laden. You need to embrace that celebrity.”
    “We both know I didn’t pull that trigger,” Montero said.
    “We can discuss that detail another time, but for now, the rest of the world believes differently. We both know you’re a master at getting what you want. Use whatever connections you have inside the FBI and learn what you can. I’ll dig up everything I can find through my channels, and we’ll sort it all out together.”
    “You think these people have kidnapped before?”
    “I believe so,” Lauren replied. “There are roughly three thousand kidnappings a year in Central America. Once we filter out the drug-related, the custody disputes, and the kidnappings of locals, the number drops precipitously. I think there’s a chance we can identify the group, maybe even the individual responsible. It’s what I do. I sift through mountains of data—it doesn’t matter if it’s meteorological or statistical, the methods are the same. We look for small anomalies, trends, repeating patterns, commonalities, and then make predictions on future behavior. Add to the equation your instincts as an investigator, and we can cover a great deal of ground. We just need better data.”
    “How’s Donovan doing?” Montero asked. “Emotionally I mean, being in Central America and dealing with another kidnapping?”
    “I don’t really know, but if I had to guess, not very well. Last night I found him on the computer, reliving his past. He was looking at pictures of Meredith and Robert Huntington, reading both of their obituaries. We’ve been apart, so I have no real fix on the depth of his guilt these days or his state of mind. I’m worried.”
    “Worried enough to call me, I get it. I’m on my way. Once I arrive in Virginia, I’ll need a hotel and a rental car.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Boca Raton, Florida.”
    “I’ll arrange a private jet, then text you the details. And, Veronica, I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
    “I made Donovan a promise, and that’s something I don’t do lightly. Though I do have one more request.”
    “Okay.”
    “Don’t ever call me Veronica. It’s Ronnie, or Montero.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    The State Department Boeing lifted off and Donovan watched as it climbed and banked to the north, the ransom note safely aboard. Behind him, two vehicles, a Mercedes and an SUV, pulled across the ramp and eased into the hangar. William and his security detail had arrived.
    William read the crude note Buck had photographed, and then closed his eyes as if saddened by some great weight.
    “Where did you get this?” William asked, after he’d collected his thoughts.
    “Janie found it outside the hangar,” Buck said. “The airplane we flew in on was still on the ramp. I took the liberty of packaging the envelope together and sending it with them back to Washington. I just got off the phone, and the FBI has agreed to meet the airplane to collect the package. I was promised a preliminary report as soon as possible. I also spoke with the embassy here and managed to expand the security to cover all the USGS employees.”
    “I see. The FBI makes sense. That was quick thinking on your part,” William said. “If we’re going to get any leads, it’ll most likely come from their laboratory, as opposed to here. Do we think the fingerprint is Stephanie’s? And, if so, was it really her blood?”
    “It could be anyone’s. The bigger question was how the note was delivered—what made the kidnappers think the USGS is connected to you?” Donovan said. “And how did they knowit was this hangar?