Page 49 of Savage Obsession

“I see.”

“I need your help, Gabe.”

“You, or your boss?”

“Me. I… It was me who found you, in that basement.”

Ah, now the penny drops. I vaguely remember Baz telling me this story as we drove through the UK countryside. Baz stumbled across an injured man, more dead than alive, he’d been tortured by what Baz referred to as ‘a mutual enemy’. He didn’t give much for his chances at the time and would have put him out of his misery, but Kaminski wanted to rescue him, so that’s what they did. Beyond any help they could offer, they packed him onto a medevac helicopter and sent him to Caraksay for medical treatment. It seems their efforts weren’t wasted.

There’s another brief pause, then. “Go on.”

Baz outlines our dilemma, keeping it succinct. “I need someone to be at Lyon to meet her. How soon could you get there?”

Gabriel Sawyer never turns a hair. Nor does he argue. “In theory, within about an hour. Depends if I can get my hands on a helicopter…”

“He’s going to do it?” I let out a breath.

“You’re at an international summit. The place is dripping with world leaders. There must be a fucking helicopter parked up somewhere,” Baz growls.

“Leave it with me. I’ll need coordinates for the bus station and a picture of the girl.”

“On their way.” Baz glances over atFrankie who is already tapping away on his keyboard. “Let me know when you’re in the air.”

CHAPTER 12

Gabriel

A quick call to Ethan is all it takes to verify the story. Baz Bartosz is indeed who he says he is, and he’s currently at Caraksay working with Casey O’Neill to track his missing daughter. Satisfied, I set about securing the use of a chopper.

The U, S Secretary of Defence flew in just an hour ago, so the chances are his transport is still on the ground. Another quick call, this time to his principal aide, an old colleague of mine from our Afghanistan days. He agrees to make their Sikorsky available to me for twenty-four hours. Should be enough.

I head down to the heliport to find my transport. The chopper is waiting for me, the pilot already suited up. The text arrives from Caraksay as I jog across the tarmac.

“Here are the coordinates,” I yell, hopping into the cabin. “Quick as you can.”

He glances at my phone, nods, and vaults up into the cockpit. Moments later, we soar into the air.

The distance to Lyon, as the crow flies, is around sixty kilometres. We should be able to cover that distance in around twenty minutes, well within the parameters required. Much depends on how close to the bus station it’s possible to touch down.

My pilot is already on it. “Closest heliport is about three miles away,” he calls over his shoulder.

I’ll need a car. I can hotwire one if need be, as long as it’s an older model, but a cab would be preferable. Less fuss. I check out the heliport facilities online. Shouldn’t be a problem, there’s a taxi rank right outside.

“What’s our ETA?” I ask.

“Seventeen minutes.”

I double-check the bus schedule sent over by Frankie. Allowing for traffic, I should be at Lyon bus terminus four minutes before Lily Bartosz. It’s a fine margin, but we should be okay. I call Baz back to update him on progress.

“What do you want me to do with her, once I have her secured?” He said something about coming out to collect his wayward daughter, but I don’t think that’s such a great idea.

“I can get there by tomorrow,” he replies.

“No good. The helicopter has to be back in Geneva by then. Get Magda geared up to meet me halfway and I’ll bring her to you.”

“Even better. I owe you one, Sawyer.”

“I won’t forget.” I end the call. Time to concentrate on the job in hand.

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