Conduit - M J Marlow (best short books to read txt) 📗

of State and tell him I am delayed. He will have to reschedule our meeting.” His aide moved off. “So, Judge?” They spent the next hour in pleasant conversation as Gramps shared everything he knew of the children and me with my grandfather. When they parted, they were both quite certain they had made a lifelong friend in each other. * The next morning, I put on one of the new outfits Karen had bought for me and smiled. I had never had clothes that were all my own. She assured me that I would not have to give them up to anyone when we left. And she promised that next time she went shopping I could go with her. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I had feared being with these people. They had done nothing to cause me harm, and they were going out of their way to be kind to me. I helped her pack my new things in a suitcase that she told me was also all my own. “We’ll be leaving for the airport soon,” she said as she started to pack for me. “Airport?” I repeated numbly. “Are we going on a trip?” “We’re going to Switzerland, remember?” Justin said as he came to the doorway. “Aren’t you two packed yet?” “Switzerland?” I looked at the pair of them and bit my lip. A sudden feeling of unease swept through me. “I don’t want to.” “You should be excited, princess,” Karen smiled as she took my hand in hers. She made me look at her. “This is the first time in four centuries that someone in your family has been back there.” She saw the tears and put her arms around me. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re going to like Switzerland.” “And if I don’t?” I asked her bluntly. “Will you let me come home? Will you let me find my friends?” I had a sudden idea. “I don’t want to leave until I know they are all right.” I was on my feet and looking at them. “I can’t just abandon them.” “Give us their names and we’ll have our people check on them for you,” Justin told me. “We have a plane to catch.” He saw the stubborn set of my chin. “We can’t miss our flight, little one. You’re going to have to trust us.” “I don’t trust you!” I shook my head and backed away from them. “I want to leave now. I’m through playing this game.” “Karen,” Justin said as he caught me when I tried to run, “I think our little princess needs her medicine.” He met my eyes as I shook my head. “We had a deal, remember? You behave or we drug you to make you behave.” He looked at me sternly. “No more arguments?” I shook my head and he released me. “That’s a good girl.” He took my hand and led me out of the room, making me sit on the couch. He turned on the television and sank back to take in the news. His eyes widened as he saw my picture on the screen. He turned up the volume. “Oh God! We’re in trouble.” “Dulcinea Santos,” the announcer was saying, “is the granddaughter of the Spanish Counsel, Prince Antonio Rivero Santos. It is believed that she has been abducted but no ransom demands have been made as yet. If anyone has any information that may lead to the safe return of this child, they are asked to call…” Justin was on his feet, cursing. As he started into the bedroom to deal with me, there was knock on the door. He saw two large men in dark suits and assumed they were more of Boussard’s goons. He let them in and found himself in handcuffs. I watched as my three abductors were taken into custody. A tall, dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes watched them and I sank down on the couch, stunned. Someone had called in some heavy favors for them to find me so fast. He smiled at me, and the relief that had started to flood into mine died. “You’re not taking me home,” I frowned as he clamped his hand on my elbow and pulled me to my feet, “are you?” “No, Miss Santos,” Agent Davis smiled at me briefly. “I’m not. There are some questions we need answered…” “But I don’t know anything,” I broke in and tried to pull my arm free of his grasp. He was no letting go. Four more men in dark suits fell in behind us as he led me to the elevator. “Those other people are the ones with your answers.” “Not to the questions we have, child,” Davis replied. They herded me out of the hotel quickly and into a dark van. “Please make yourself comfortable, Miss Santos,” he said as he sat down facing me; “you’re going to be with us a while.” * Six hours later, Gramps was just getting home when Jonas rushed out of his office and waved a note at him. He took it and read what it said, running to return the call. He was frowning as he listened to what the Commissioner had to say. I had been taken to a hotel near the Baltimore Washington Airport. The people with me had already left by the time the call came in from the desk clerk after the television report. Their names were listed as passengers on a private flight that had left for Switzerland only a half hour ago. The Commissioner had already made a call to Interpol to request assistance and they had assured him they would find me and get me home. “I have my son-in-law looking into this,” he told Jonas, “and what he has found is just making this even more puzzling. The young man I photographed in the park is one Justin Forman, an archaelogical grad student. He is supposed to be on a dig in Switzerland with Professor Henri Boussard.” “Why would he be here abducting Dulcie?” Jonas asked the question they both wanted answered. “We could ask him that,” Gramps frowned, “if he and his friends were not on their way to Switzerland.” He sank down in his chair. He picked up a phone. “Jeanne? Bring in what you have on the man behind Dulcie’s troubles.” “Professor Henri Boussard,” Jeanne said as came into the office with a file, “is a world-renowned archaeologist who is currently on a dig in Switzerland.” “There’s something more,” Gramps frowned. “I know that look.” “One very interesting little tidbit about his female students,” Jeanne nodded. “They are all orphans without any living relatives like aunts, uncles, grandparents.” She was frowning. “So there is no one to come looking if they disappear; which some of them have.” “Not like Dulcie,” Jason spoke up from where he was seated near the window. “Because you can bet Jon and I would be looking if she disappeared.” “She does have a way of drawing people into her circle,” Gramps nodded. “Is there any reason to think the man has done something to these missing girls? Does his family have a history of mental illness? Membership in questionable organizations?” “Not a one. He’s the picture of respectability,” Jeanne replied. “From what my friends told me; he can be a bit abrasive and impatient. They could see him getting a little heavy-handed if he was told the only way he could get access to a site was to bring a certain person with him.” “I see,” Gramps nodded. “And he felt that poor little orphaned Dulcie, having no one to look out for her, would be easy to lay his hands on.” He looked at me. “If he had bothered to ask, I would have let her go; with the proper back up.” “We’ll have to get the boys’ birth certificates,” Jeanne said, guessing what her father would be asking next. “Child Welfare should have copies. Why don’t you two come with me and we’ll get this done.” The boys left with his daughter, and Gramps was struck again by how I drew such fierce protectors into my circle of influence. Those boys couldn’t be more protective if they actually were my brothers. He took the Interpol file to the couch and read over the investigator’s notes carefully. The more he knew, the angrier he became. This man was a predator. He had picked these young women on purpose; knowing no one would question their disappearances from his dig site. The only reason Interpol had gotten involved was that one of the girls from a dig two years earlier had made friends with the local constable. Boussard’s answers to his query had not satisfied him. But the case was apparently closed now. The girl had been found married to a framer in the Netherlands. He transmitted what he knew to the link Antonio had given to him and put his mind to the case in front of him. * With my ‘family’ back home planning a rescue, I woke up to find myself in a room with gray metal walls. There was a cot in it, and there was a bathroom off to one side. There was also a table with two chairs beside it. I looked at the wall of glass and knew I was being watched. I could feel them in the observation room. So I sank down on the cot tucked my legs up under my body, turning my back on whoever was in there eyeing me like I was some kind of oddity. The door opened and a woman in a nurse’s uniform brought me something to eat and drink. I shook my head and lowered my head down on my knees to give myself a moment of pity. I would not wallow long; I never did. When I was through feeling sorry for myself, I would come out fighting. And these people would hurt for what they had done to me. I had just finished my meal when the door opened again and Agent Davis came in. “Did you enjoy your nap, Miss Santos?” he asked as he leaned back against the table. He ducked as I threw the cup at him and shook his head. “You certainly have a temper, young lady. Aren’t you the least bit curious as to what this is all about?” “Why should I be?” I asked her bluntly. “All I know,” I continued coldly, “is that you kidnapped me to bring me here.” “You don’t realize how important you are, little girl,” Davis replied. “There are at least three factions who want to get their hands on you. We need to know why.” “I don’t care!” I snapped at him. “I just want to go home!” A sudden wave of nausea struck me and I ran to the bathroom. I had to lean on the wall to make my way to the bathroom as a wave of weakness flowed through me. I got inside and leaned on the sink, my lungs feeling like they were on fire. I had to wash my face; I was shaking and sweating so hard. . I sank back against the door, sobbing; the sound coming out as a mere whisper. I jumped as someone thumped on the door. “Miss Santos,” Davis’ voice called from the other side of the door. “Are you all right?” “Go away,” I shot back weakly. I felt so sick now the room itself was spinning. I barely made it to the toilet. I heard the door opening as I was ill. Someone pulled me back and I struggled to get free as another spell hit. The nurse pulled my hair back and rubbed my back until I was done. “You poisoned me.” “You’re ill,” the woman said as she got a washcloth and washed my face. She helped me to my feet so I could rinse out my mouth. “You’ll feel better after you’ve slept.”