Royal Elite: Leander (6 page)

“All right, Wynn. Let's go, then. The sooner we get in the air, the faster we'll reach our destinations. We'll drop you at the airport in Kalev and you can fly out from there.”

“Thanks. The second you get in contact with them, make sure Leander turns on his phone, okay? I might need him by then.” Wynn didn't know what to expect, and might need access to Leander in case his father got angry at her nosing into his son's personal business.

Chey squeezed Wynn's arm, then turned to the open doors. “Don't worry, I'll make sure every single one of them turns their phones back on. I wonder if Mattias's girlfriend Alannah knows they do this.”

Wynn picked up her small suitcase and matched Chey's quick pace down the stairs to the waiting SUV. “I don't know. Maybe we should call a meeting for all the girlfriends and wives of the men involved in this.”

“Talk about pissing the guys off,” Chey said.

“Better pissed off than them being dead.” Wynn's stomach churned with worry.

“Amen, Wynn. Amen.”

Sunrise burned across the horizon and spilled onto the landscape of Ankara, turning the city into a tableau of molten gold. From the air, the sprawling metropolis could have been any other big city in the world, with its share of towering buildings thrusting up from an immense grid of commercial businesses and residential districts. Leander stared at the hazy scene with interest, wondering where in all that madness their target awaited. Maybe in the newer sections, where modern highrises added a contemporary appeal, or the older, ancient byways with buildings in the midst of decay.

The jet touched down less than fifteen minutes later on a private airstrip provided explicitly for use by the elite of the world. Leander couldn't fathom what the fees might be to take off and land. Every time he tried to offer Sander and Mattias money to help cover the costs, they turned him down. Ahsan and Chayton did the same. His brethren in the Royal Elite probably thought he couldn't afford it, although they knew he didn't get to be a part of the group without having some kind of backing or political affiliation. To date, he'd been vague about his family history.

And for good reason.

To throw people off, Leander had dropped hints among the lower ranks that his family was in banking, and at another party halfway around the world two weeks later, he'd suggested a royal connection. Of course society twisted the tale to their own liking, embellishing grandly until Leander was actually the son of a superstar soccer player, which was exactly the reason he'd dropped all his hints into the ears of very drunk people in the first place. It added to the general confusion and kept him out of the limelight. It kept tongues wagging and people guessing, never a bad outcome when he wanted to steer true knowledge as far away as he could.

Someday, he knew, he would have to tell Wynn. So far she hadn't pressed him too hard for information, but it wouldn't last. Especially when they had children.

“You going to sit in the seat and miss all the action?” Sander said.

Interrupted from his mental reverie, Leander snapped his attention from the window to Sander. The jet had come to a stop after taxiing into place and both Sander and Mattias stood near the door, waiting.

“I'm coming, I'm coming.” Lurching up out of the seat, he snagged his backpack and followed the men down the stairs to the tarmac. Even for early morning, a hot wind gusted across the terrain, whipping at their clothing and packs. Each man carried hidden weapons and extra ammunition along with other gear sometimes needed on missions. Rope, knives, gloves and many other articles that came in handy in a pinch. No one asked any questions, no one stopped to check their bags. Money greased the palms of the hands that mattered and anyone in authority looked the other way.

Entering the terminal, a squat, square building that blasted cold air from high vents, the men navigated the spacious layout of sofas and chairs and the single side bar manned by two bartenders. Through the other set of doors, a rugged, all terrain vehicle resembling a miniature tank waited. To better blend into the desert landscape known in this part of the world, the transport was the color of sand, with tread on the tires gutted so deep Leander could nearly fit his entire boot inside.

A driver sat in the front seat, decked out in military fatigues the same color as the vehicle, someone known and used by the elite on missions of this nature. For every five men on the ground, there were fifty doing work behind the scenes: intel hackers, computer wizards, photographers, spies. The Elite kept their network of outsiders as small as possible to avoid detection. Whenever possible, they chose to pull from the higher echelons of society, functioning as a group under the radar of everyone else.

Climbing into the passenger seat, Leander took point and tucked his backpack down into the space between his feet. Mattias and Sander got in the back and banged their doors closed.

“All right, let's go.” Leander wasted no time getting away from the airport. As the vehicle surged away from the building, he started the process of arming himself. Shoulder holsters, knife belts, extra magazines of ammunition and other weaponry found their home somewhere on his body. The growl of the engine drowned out the sound of ripping velcro as he filled the pockets of his vest and pants.

Mattias guided the driver from the back seat, directing him around the heart of the city to the perimeter. Here, where the modern creep of technology knocked on the door of old, dated structures, the past warred with the future for dominance. Leander saw decaying clay, stone and wood buildings stand between ultra contemporary, all glass centerpieces of stunning architecture. In his vast travels, Leander had seen what he referred to as The Takeover time and again. Eventually, the most ancient buildings would either be honored and saved as relics and remembered history, or flattened to the ground in favor of progress.

It never failed to make him nostalgic to see bits of history ground to dust. Even in countries that were not his homeland, he experienced flashes of sorrow for the lost ambiance that simply couldn't be replaced once it was gone.

Eventually, after a half hour of stop signs, stop lights and turns, the vehicle pulled up behind a moderately aged building with five floors. Leander couldn't tell if it had once housed apartments or commercial offices.

“This is where we're making our final preparations.” Mattias exited the vehicle at the same time as Sander.

Leander followed suit, dragging his much lighter pack over a shoulder. Already the temperature was rising outside, vaulting past an arid but cool morning straight into hot-as-an-oven territory. Beneath the layers of his dark clothing, heat pricked his skin. The interior of the structure wasn't much better; either it didn't have air conditioning or the unit was out.

Trained to deal with all kinds of weather and extreme conditions, Leander dismissed the discomfort and focused on the white washed walls, chipped stone floor and the utter lack of décor. It looked as if someone had simply thrown watered down white paint on the walls and called it a day. He saw no furniture in the halls or the rooms they passed on the way to the stairs.

Winding through a back corridor while Mattias plotted their progress from a schematic on his phone, Leander shrugged the pack up higher on his shoulder, taking note that the monstrous transport had not left yet. Ever aware, Leander filed away the knowledge that an extra man remained downstairs, covering their back.

On the fourth floor, the last room on the right was as nondescript as the rest of the building. White walls, plain floor, furniture and all remnants of old tenants stripped away. A quick glance told Leander that there were no other rooms, not even a kitchenette. No heater or vent ducts. It was the basest of base living conditions, abandoned for greener pastures.

Heavily framed windows overlooked the street below. Across the road stood other buildings, some as decrepit as this one, others of newer make.

Mattias put his pack down in the farthest corner and set the phone on the ledge of the windowsill. From his pack he withdrew a pair of binoculars and sighted in on a structure across the street, perhaps three buildings down.

Leander stood to the side of the window and examined the area, honing in on the same structure Mattias viewed. He didn't need to be told that was where Kristo was being held. The beige, six story building was of the same era as the one they currently stood in, with at least two entrances or exits that he could see. Pulling his own pair of binoculars from his pack, Leander took in the questionable detail of the fragile looking doors and the boarded windows on the lowest floor.

“They're on one of the higher floors, probably, which means we're going to have to ascend the stairs blind,” Sander said. He had binoculars in hand as well.

“Unless there's some kind of outer staircase in the back, I don't see any other way up,” Leander said.

“That door on the side looks promising. We can approach from the back, along the other block, so they don't see us coming from the street out front,” Mattias said.

“Darkness should give us decent cover.” Leander lowered the binoculars and set them on the concrete floor below the window. He slung his pack to the ground and went through a secondary weapon and ammunition check.

“We'll plan for a night raid unless intel comes back that the people responsible for the kidnapping are getting itchy trigger fingers should Augustin not come up with the money,” Mattias said.

Leander added, “And I have a feeling he won't. Things are about to get dicey.”

. . .

Thanks to a layover in Britain and another in New York, Wynn didn't arrive on the west coast of the United States until the wee hours of the following morning. By the time she collected her luggage and car from the rental company, the sky was just starting to lift from purple-black to pewter tinged with pink. Departing Arcata airport in a compact rental car, Wynn punched in the address on the navigator and followed guidance onto Highway 101, heading north.

With the Pacific to her left, Wynn drove up the coast toward the Redwoods. She stopped for coffee and something small to fill her stomach as the sun breached the horizon, eating on the road because she didn't want to waste precious minutes loitering around a fast food restaurant. Aware of the press of time, of the days creeping past closer toward the wedding, all Wynn could think about was finding Leander's father and putting an end to whatever danger her fiance might be in.

Towering redwood trees, the reddish trunks broad and tall, crowded closer to the road as she drew in closer to her destination. The forest of ancient trees threw dappled shadows over the winding road as the sun began its slow ascent into the sky.

Any other time, Wynn would have paused to enjoy the unique giants and the expansive forest floor. She loved the redwoods and had spent time in this part of the world on former vacations. Assuming this was where Leander grew up, that the address was a house his father owned, it amazed her to think Leander had been here the whole time, living his life unaware his future wife paid regular visits to the area. She'd had to go halfway around the world to meet him, and wasn't that the irony of ironies.

Leaving the main highway behind, Wynn navigated the directions from the GPS through several smaller side roads, where quaint businesses and most other residences disappeared. For nine miles, she saw nothing but trees.

Driving slower, Wynn rounded a gentle curve and hit a small straightaway. Signs, brightly yellow with bold black lettering, announced this was a Dead End. A voice penetrated the quiet music in the background.
“In a quarter of a mile, your destination is ahead on the right.”

Indeed.

Pulling to the shoulder, Wynn stared up past heavy tree trunks to the homestead sitting back a small distance from the road. Whatever she expected to find at the end of her journey wasn't the modest, log cabin style house nestled into uncountable acres smack in the middle of the forest. A broad front porch with rocking chairs overlooking the trees gave the residence a comfortable, lived in appearance. The house wasn't cut from a millionnaire's budget, but it also wasn't a shack by any means, with its well cared for exterior and fine craftsmanship.

Putting the car in park, Wynn cut the engine and exited the vehicle. In such a desolate area, she didn't think twice about leaving her purse on the passenger seat or the keys in the ignition. She
did
take the letter with her, however, as she walked up the flat driveway, assaulted by the scent of forest and greenery and the pungent musk of redwood bark.

Once, she thought she saw a flicker of movement in the rugged terrain, but by the time she looked, all was still and calm. A darting rabbit or other forest creature, no doubt.

Noting the driveway led back beyond the house to a separate garage and other strange looking outbuildings, Wynn cut across the sidewalk, ascended the wooden stairs, and knocked on the front door.

She couldn't tell if anyone was home or not.

After several minutes and no answer, she knocked again. If she had to park her backside in one of the rockers and wait, she would.

Whatever it took.

Deciding to explore, in case Leander's father was out in the back and unable to hear, Wynn left the porch via a side set of smaller stairs and followed the driveway toward the three car garage. Three more buildings of varying size flanked the property. One in particular, all white with small, high windows, reminded Wynn of an above ground bunker. A steel door that looked impossible to breach faced the garage, just visible from her position.

“Hello? Excuse me, is anyone here?” She paused beside the garage. Behind the house, between it and the bunker-building, was a neatly tended yard. A back porch, larger than the one in the front, spanned the entire back of the house. Steps led down onto a square area of nestled stones that created a sitting area beneath the enormous trees, with several, expensive looking outdoor sectionals surrounding a stone fire pit.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed, bouncing back off the landscape.