Page 33 of Rekindled (The MacTavish Heirs #5)

In which Hugo Dubois is, unfortunately, just as cunning as we thought he would be.

Catriona…

“I am very disappointed in you, ma chere.”

Hugo is wearing lederhosen, the full formal attire. There’s the short suede pants and brightly embroidered suspenders, the white shirt, and a suede jacket over it all. In any other case, this would be fecking ridiculous and I would be laughing my arse off.

Instead, all I can think to say is, “Would this be the lederhosen evening wear from Bavaria, or is it the Austrian version?”

For once, he will not be distracted by his wardrobe selection. He’s sitting behind a desk made of black ironwood, the carved, shimmering slab runs from one end of the room to the other. There is nothing on it except a glass of wine and his laptop.

“Ye can see why I might have been unwilling to stay in captivity.” There are no chairs, so I settle my arse on the end of his desk. He looks horrified, but allows it. A good sign, that I still have some special privileges left with him.

“If this is true, why did you return?”

“Because…” I’d had a smoother line planned, but I decide to go with a half-truth. “Because you were the first man to admire my mind first, rather than my face or my family. I’ve never seen the likes of something as complex as C-1161 before. I want to conquer it.”

His placid face splits into a huge grin. “Magnifique! That is the only answer I could accept.”

“We will need to have a stern conversation at some point about ye raining down hellfire on my flat. I had family in that building, Hugo. That was very rude.”

Looking mildly chastened, he says, “I could not get your attention in any other way, mon chere.”

“I saw the results of your first…” I shove down the nausea churning in my gut, “your first live test. Did it follow all the parameters as expected?”

“Oui, I am very pleased.”

This cheerful bastard is pleased that his Frankenstein poison murdered over twenty people. I’m going to be the one to kill him .

“How far did you get with the data you stole from my lab?” Hugo’s lounging, indolently swinging his office chair back and forth but I can almost smell his desperation.

“So close.” The words and my frustration escape my composed exterior and he chuckles.

“Very few understand this moment, oui? Knowing that you are on the verge of a breakthrough.”

“Ye can see it on the horizon…” I say, more wistfully than I’m willing to examine.

“I knew the joining of the minds with you would be more powerful than the joining of the loins,” he says, and I’m just barely holding back a gag.

“Now that I’m here…” I look pointedly out the window. They blindfolded me, but I’m guessing based on the length of time of the flight we’re in France somewhere. “Do you have a lab set up for me?”

“Non, not here.”

Which is how I end up blindfolded and put back on a jet, this time accompanied by the madman I fully intend to murder.

Three hours later…

Hugo allows me to take off my blindfold once the jet takes off and courteously offers me a drink. Well, édouard does after gazing at me with an expression that screams, “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.”

“We do have to address one tiny detail,” Hugo says. He’s changed from his lederhosen to a flowing white shirt, khakis, and a Panama style fedora.

Are we going somewhere more tropical?

“What would that be?” I ask, pushing the drink away from me.

“This jet is encased in a material that blocks GPS transmissions,” he steeples his fingers. “You were scanned thoroughly, of course, before you entered my office. It seems you’ve picked up a bit of a… what shall we call it? A bit of a hitchhiker since last we met.”

Shite.

“Curse my romantic nature!” He pounds the arm of his enormous leather seat. “The head of my security wished to shoot you then and send your head back to your family, but I believe, perhaps, that this precaution was not of your choosing.”

“A hitchhiker? You’re going to have to be more specific.”

He knows. Of course, he knows. Our tech wasn’t advanced enough.

“There is a lovely, very well-made tracker inserted under the muscle in your thigh.” His expression stays the same, but some kind of darkness falls over him, the darkness that created that poison. Holding up a scalpel, “I will need to remove it. No fear, I do have a medical degree as well.”

My last link to Lucas… Pulling up my skirt, I lift my knee. “Do what ye must.”

Lucas…

“What the feck do ye mean, ye lost her!”

Ryan looks up from his multiple monitors, eyes wide. “I dinnae know how, but that jet is shielded. Any external transmissions are blocked.”

We’ve set up his workstation across from Xenia’s. I dinnae like my people mixing with the MacTavish lot, but our building isn’t set up yet. I need every scrap of technology that will help us track my wife.

“Okay, okay, okay…” Xenia’s fingers are flying. “I can still pull a visual trajectory from the satellites orbiting over that airstrip, hang on.”

“Do it.”

Within thirty minutes, Xenia blurts out, “I think he’s taking her back to Morocco. Doesn’t he know that’s the first place we’d look? But the flight path seems pretty clear. ”

It’s two more long hours of waiting, of going through every scenario in my mind. Michael and Cormac cross each other, pacing back and forth like the Royal Guard.

Finally, Ryan says, “The jet’s flown past Marrakech, that’s the last private airfield big enough to accommodate Dubois’ jet. Does he have another stronghold, maybe in Algeria?”

“He may well be heading back to the castle,” Cormac says, “he knows with Catriona as a captive, we’re not going to try another rescue.”

Xenia and Ryan spend the next hour desperately hacking into satellite images trying to locate the jet. “They had to have landed, Lucas. He must have a landing strip built into the mountain near the castle, that's the only answer.”

“There’s no sign of one on our topographical maps,” Ryan says. “I scraped every meter of the region to set up for the rescue.”

I’m watching Cat’s tracker screen. If they’ve landed and they’re out of the jet, it should be sending out a signal by now. The screen remains black.

Ryan runs his hands through his hair. “Lucas, that tracking device was state of the art. Presidents and kings dinnae have this equipment yet.”

“He found it.” I stare at the darkened monitor. “ It’s the only answer. Send in all our intelligence crews, look for activity at the castle, movement in the smaller towns around it.”

“ Marabout Badis has already offered his services,” Cormac says, eyeing me with concern. “He dinnae have our tech, but his men are skilled with fighting in that region.”

“Please send my gratitude.” I canna take my eyes away from the monitor. Just one blip. Anything.

Taking in a deep breath, I say, “We’re going to Setti Fatma. It’s the largest town in the area to conceal us. We’ll move in teams through the closer villages; there must be signs. Transport, men, equipment.”

Ryan’s already pulling cords and sending our tech assistant running for his carrying cases. “Xenia stays here, I’m with ye, brother.”

Cormac grips my shoulder. “Ye ready to bring down a billionaire French pharmaceutical titan?”

“No, I’m cutting a kidnapping, soulless cock into multiple pieces. Slowly. Setting him on fire and scattering the ashes.” Everyone looks a bit uneasy, even for Mafia folks.

“I can help ye with that last part,” Wallace says. He’s intense, unsmiling, but his eyes are alight like the flames of Hades. “I want to be on Lucas’ team.”