Page 42 of Critical Doubt

"What happened? I know some of it is classified, but can you give me a general explanation?"

"We were supposed to rescue a humanitarian aid worker who had been kidnapped by the Taliban. He was allegedly being held in an abandoned hotel in a town near the Afghan-Pakistan border. But we were set up. The hostage wasn't there. The Taliban were."

"How were you set up?"

"I have no idea. But they were waiting for us."

"Have you tried to find out?"

"Yes, but I got nowhere. And to be honest, I had a lot of other issues to deal with."

"The bells."

"And a couple of surgeries." He paused, thinking about how easily he had dropped his questions. "I don't usually give up on getting to the truth, but I guess I did."

"Maybe it was just bad luck."

"Maybe so." But he couldn't help thinking there was more to it than that.

Carmack Securities was housed in a three-story shiny glass building in midtown Atlanta. They arrived just after four. Ryker parked in the underground garage and then ushered Savannah into the elevator. At the lobby level, they were met by a security guard standing behind a sleek white desk.

"Name?" the guard asked.

"Ryker Stone and Savannah Kane," he replied. "You can tell Mr. Carmack that I have some disturbing news about one of his employees, Todd Davis."

"And you can also tell him that I'm with the FBI," Savannah interjected, showing her badge.

"Hold on." The guard stepped away from the counter and picked up a phone, relating the information they'd just given him. A moment later, he hung up, and said, "You can go on up. Third floor."

"Thanks."

"Have you ever considered joining this kind of firm?" Savannah asked, as they got into another elevator.

"To babysit rich people or celebrities and their kids? No."

"So, you don't like celebrities or rich people."

"I don't dislike them; I just don't want to work for them."

"Fair enough."

The elevator doors opened on the third-floor landing, and they stepped onto a polished white marble floor. In front of them were two glass doors, labeled Executive Offices. As they moved through the doors, their feet sank into thick, shag white carpet.

A young woman greeted them, wearing a slim-fitting black skirt and a silk multi-colored blouse, her dark hair cut in sleek angles, emphasizing her thin, sophisticated features.

"Mr. Carmack is on the phone, but he'll be with you in a moment. You can take a seat." She waved her hand toward the white couches.

"I'm glad we changed out of our smoky clothes before we came here," Savannah said, as she sat down. "It's all very clean. Almost makes you wonder what they're trying to hide."

"Do you think they have something to hide?" he asked, as he took a seat.

"Maybe not relevant to our case, but in my experience, most people are hiding something." Savannah paused as a blonde woman entered the office, wearing black slacks with a matching blazer. She gave them a somewhat worried look and then spoke to the receptionist. "Is there news?"

"I told you I would tell you when there is. You need to go back to your office, Jackie."

"Don’t forget to call me."

"I don't forget anything," the receptionist replied.

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