roiling in his features.
“My assistant said you were in charge.” Sir Walter began his clipped speech before any typical British formalities. “You’d very well better be the last person I have to deal with today. Your president has given his word, and I expect my daughter returned to safety with haste.”
Sticking out his hand, Steven steeled his shoulders and held his chin high. This terrified father needed to see confidence and didn’t give a flip about past cases—successes or failures. Ryan’s bruised features intruded into Steven’s thoughts anyway. He shoved them away.
“I’m Agent Steven Kessler, FBI. Our Rapid Start Team isalready tracking investigative leads.” He motioned toward the embassy residence. “Can we find a quieter place to talk?”
Sir Walter shook his hand with a firm grip. But his bloodshot green eyes told a different story. The story of a father whose daughter was God knows where. “In here. Follow me.” The ambassador turned with a snap and entered the residence, striding past local officers and FBI personnel with no acknowledgment.
Steven nodded in passing and followed Sir Walter. The high ceilings and ornate decorations as they swept beyond bedrooms and formal halls were cataloged in his memory Choosing to take the teenager at a dance club rather than her residence was strategic. Small-scope operation. Few people involved.
Leaving Olivia’s purse just over the outer fence of the residence hinted at a far more personal motive. One he intended to flesh out today.
On entering the ambassador’s library, Sir Walter slammed the outer door. Motioning for Steven to sit, the ambassador stood by a sculpted cherry desk and yelled into the phone. “I will not be disturbed, Charlotte. Is that understood?” He slammed down the receiver.
“Sir Walter, tell me about Olivia and her friend Jordan.” Steven hoped the pacing older gentleman would soon take a seat. While he waited for the ambassador to respond, Steven scribbled notes the old-fashioned way—with a pen and yellow legal pad.
“They were impetuous and foolish, but I never dreamed they’d manufacture false identification to go out pubbing.” He swore under his breath. “I should have never let them go out celebrating graduation without protection. Seventeen or not, they should have had a Secret Service agent with them.”
“You knew about their IDs?”
“Not until a swarm of cops descended and thrust all manner of facts to my attention.” Sir Walter slumped into a high-backed leather chair. “This is entirely my fault.”
“Sir Walter, I’m sure this is beyond difficult, but let’s focus on possible suspects. That will speed up this investigation and help us bring Olivia and Jordan home as fast as possible.” Emotional father-speak wasn’t his forte, so he switched to his strong suit: facts. “Any threatening calls, recent trouble, or past boyfriends that come to mind?”
“My daughter and her best friend were not, how do you say it? Loose.”
“I didn’t mean to imply …”
“They were both highly intelligent young ladies who graduated ahead of schedule and wanted to celebrate their achievement. I had no reason to believe they could be in danger. None.”
“Yes, sir, I understand that. But you are a man of political importance and anything, no matter how insignificant, could be a great help to our investigation.”
Sir Walter steepled his fingers and sat up straight as a rod. “My assistant will give you copies of documented threats and any security concerns. She’s been working on that information ever since your police force invaded my home.”
“Any significance to you concerning Olivia’s purse being returned?”
The ambassador’s neck muscles bulged, and his face turned crimson. “I have no idea. Agent Kessler. It’s my understanding that falls under your job description.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many people are privy to the facts in this case?”
“Besides my team, the Evidence
“My assistant said you were in charge.” Sir Walter began his clipped speech before any typical British formalities. “You’d very well better be the last person I have to deal with today. Your president has given his word, and I expect my daughter returned to safety with haste.”
Sticking out his hand, Steven steeled his shoulders and held his chin high. This terrified father needed to see confidence and didn’t give a flip about past cases—successes or failures. Ryan’s bruised features intruded into Steven’s thoughts anyway. He shoved them away.
“I’m Agent Steven Kessler, FBI. Our Rapid Start Team isalready tracking investigative leads.” He motioned toward the embassy residence. “Can we find a quieter place to talk?”
Sir Walter shook his hand with a firm grip. But his bloodshot green eyes told a different story. The story of a father whose daughter was God knows where. “In here. Follow me.” The ambassador turned with a snap and entered the residence, striding past local officers and FBI personnel with no acknowledgment.
Steven nodded in passing and followed Sir Walter. The high ceilings and ornate decorations as they swept beyond bedrooms and formal halls were cataloged in his memory Choosing to take the teenager at a dance club rather than her residence was strategic. Small-scope operation. Few people involved.
Leaving Olivia’s purse just over the outer fence of the residence hinted at a far more personal motive. One he intended to flesh out today.
On entering the ambassador’s library, Sir Walter slammed the outer door. Motioning for Steven to sit, the ambassador stood by a sculpted cherry desk and yelled into the phone. “I will not be disturbed, Charlotte. Is that understood?” He slammed down the receiver.
“Sir Walter, tell me about Olivia and her friend Jordan.” Steven hoped the pacing older gentleman would soon take a seat. While he waited for the ambassador to respond, Steven scribbled notes the old-fashioned way—with a pen and yellow legal pad.
“They were impetuous and foolish, but I never dreamed they’d manufacture false identification to go out pubbing.” He swore under his breath. “I should have never let them go out celebrating graduation without protection. Seventeen or not, they should have had a Secret Service agent with them.”
“You knew about their IDs?”
“Not until a swarm of cops descended and thrust all manner of facts to my attention.” Sir Walter slumped into a high-backed leather chair. “This is entirely my fault.”
“Sir Walter, I’m sure this is beyond difficult, but let’s focus on possible suspects. That will speed up this investigation and help us bring Olivia and Jordan home as fast as possible.” Emotional father-speak wasn’t his forte, so he switched to his strong suit: facts. “Any threatening calls, recent trouble, or past boyfriends that come to mind?”
“My daughter and her best friend were not, how do you say it? Loose.”
“I didn’t mean to imply …”
“They were both highly intelligent young ladies who graduated ahead of schedule and wanted to celebrate their achievement. I had no reason to believe they could be in danger. None.”
“Yes, sir, I understand that. But you are a man of political importance and anything, no matter how insignificant, could be a great help to our investigation.”
Sir Walter steepled his fingers and sat up straight as a rod. “My assistant will give you copies of documented threats and any security concerns. She’s been working on that information ever since your police force invaded my home.”
“Any significance to you concerning Olivia’s purse being returned?”
The ambassador’s neck muscles bulged, and his face turned crimson. “I have no idea. Agent Kessler. It’s my understanding that falls under your job description.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many people are privy to the facts in this case?”
“Besides my team, the Evidence
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