Free Run Girl: Ingrid Skyberg FBI Thrillers Prequel Novella by Eva Hudson Page A

us?”
    “She’s smart—we’ve established that. Why not throw anyone who might be looking for her off the scent?”
    “Devious bloody cow.”
    “We can’t risk going to Cambridge. We don’t have time to squander on wild goose chases.”
    “I am very well aware of that fact—but thank you so much for reminding me.” He grabbed the back of the driver’s seat and leaned forward “What are you waiting for?”
    The taxi driver shrugged. “You’re seriously considering flying in that?” He wagged a finger at the windshield and the gathering dark clouds beyond. “Rather you than me.” He started the engine and quickly pulled out into the empty road.
    Angelis got out his phone and tapped the screen two or three times. Then he drummed his fingers on his knee as he waited for someone to pick up. “Hi, yes, it’s me. Found anything interesting? Nothing at all? Well, dig a little deeper. See if you can find any connection to Cambridge. Call me back if you find anything. No matter how seemingly insignificant.” He made another call. “Anything?” he said without introduction as soon as his call connected. “Keep me posted.” He shoved the phone in his pocket. “Seems our girl is rather a whizz at covering her tracks electronically. Unfortunately. Plus there’s no news on the five star hotel front.” He pushed a hand through the thick mop of hair piled on top of his head. “So… if not Cambridge, where?”
    “I can’t believe she’d cross the Channel from France and want to be any place except London.”
    “And you’re basing that theory on what exactly?”
    Ingrid dropped her voice to a whisper, aware the taxi driver might be listening in. “Trying to think like the eighteen-year-old granddaughter of the Secretary of State.”
    “Well that’s where you have the advantage over me. My feeble imagination can’t quite make that leap. So, what conclusions have you reached?”
    Before Ingrid could answer, Angelis’ cell phone started to trill. She couldn’t deny she was relieved at the interruption. She’d come up with no concrete theories at all. Being outsmarted by a teenage math genius wasn’t a feeling she wanted to get used to.
    “Sol, tell me you have some good news.” As he listened to Sol Franklin’s reply, Angelis’ expression grew more serious.
    “What’s happened?” Ingrid asked him when he finally hung up.
    “The end of today’s session of peace negotiations has been brought forward by two hours. We now only have until ten p.m. to find her.”
    The taxi quickly reached the dirt track next to the field where the helicopter was waiting for them. As soon as the pilot saw them arrive, the rotor blades started up. Angelis shoved a handful of bank notes at the driver and jumped out of the cab. This time he made no attempt to open Ingrid’s door.
    At least he was learning.
    The downdraft from the helicopter chilled Ingrid to the bone. She was used to sub zero temperatures back home—you don’t get raised on a Minnesota hog farm without enduring a little discomfort come wintertime—but somehow this cold seemed to penetrate deeper. Maybe she was getting soft. Too many years in an air conditioned environment with a steady ambient temperature of seventy-two degrees could do that to an agent.
    The pilot handed them each a pair of large green headphones and, once Ingrid and Angelis had clamped them onto their ears, he ordered them to buckle up. “This weather is filthy. It’s coming in from the North Sea, so I’m hoping we can outrun it. But be prepared for a bumpier ride than on the way out.”
    When they’d reached their cruising altitude, Ingrid noticed Angelis finally release his grip from the sides of his seat. His knuckles were not so much white as translucent. “You OK?” she asked him.
    “Me? Never better.”
    “Good—let’s get back to…” She glanced toward the pilot. Whatever they said to one another, he’d be able to hear too. She made sure not to use any names.