Chasing the Night - Iris Johansen [12]
The sun was shining, surrounding her with light. Her straight dark hair, enormous eyes, and smooth golden complexion seemed to glow.
But it was her vibrant intensity that held and fascinated. Eve had never seen anyone more alive.
“I just talked to Venable,” Eve said curtly. “He’s being a complete ass. He won’t come and get you, and he says you won’t do anything he asks.”
She nodded. “He’s right. He doesn’t really want you to help me. He’s glad that he found an excuse to put a roadblock in my way.”
“I can’t help you. Not as well as some of your CIA computer gurus.”
She shook her head. “It has to be you.”
“Dammit, why?”
She was silent. “Because of your Bonnie. Do you think I haven’t studied and researched you? I know all about you. I know that you have a lover, Joe Quinn. I know you have an adopted daughter, Jane MacGuire, who is an artist and is in London right now.” She paused. “And, most important of all, I know you lost your little girl, Bonnie, when she was seven to a serial killer, and it’s given you a passion and dedication that none of those tech guys will ever have. I need that passion. I have to have that dedication.”
“Then you’ll have to do without. I have another job I have to do.”
“Put it off.”
“No, that little girl’s parents have waited too long already. And why should I? To find out how age has changed some low-life criminal on whom you have some kind of twisted vendetta?”
“No.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a photo carefully protected in clear plastic. “So I can find him.” Her hand was trembling as she held out the photo to Eve. “Help me. I’ll give you anything, do anything for you. I have to find him.”
Eve slowly took the photo.
It was a picture of a little boy of not more than two years of age wearing a red sweater. Dark hair, enormous dark eyes that were alight with joy and mischief. He was smiling, and Eve had never seen a sweeter expression. It was a smile to melt the heart. “Who is he?”
“Luke. My son.”
Chapter
3
Eve’s gaze flew back to Catherine’s face. “What?”
“Luke. That picture was taken on his second birthday. He was taken from me a week later.”
“Taken? By whom?”
“Sergei Rakovac. Major criminal who was involved with the Russian mafia and manipulating various politicians in Moscow. My husband, Terry, and I were sent in to break up his organization. He was interfering with the current American administration’s attempt at peacekeeping over the Republic of Georgia’s conflict with Russia.”
“What conflict? If there was a conflict, it sure didn’t get much press.”
“Enough. There was a particularly nasty conflict in 2008 between the Republic of Georgia and Russia that killed over a thousand people, but the ethnic infighting has been going on for decades. It involved South Ossetia, a territory belonging to the Republic of Georgia. South Ossetia declared its independence from Georgia, and Russia supported them.” She made a face. “While trying to gently pull them under Russian domination. It would probably have been the first move toward annexing Georgia itself. At any rate, the tempers have been flaring on both sides ever since, and it’s still a hot spot. When Russia weighed in on the side of the Ossetians and sent in a ‘peacekeeping’ force is when it became a bloodbath. Guerilla fighting, massacres. Even after the supposed truce, there was spotty guerilla warfare on both sides. The attacks are still going on today. The hatred never stops.”
“And Rakovac was involved?”
“Very much involved. But his involvement started much earlier than the outbursts that occurred later with Russia. As I said, there was hatred and fighting for decades. Rakovac actually was born in the Republic of Georgia and fought with them as a teenager in a guerilla group against the Ossetians. But after he went to Moscow he was supplying arms to both sides and when Russia joined in the conflict he was causing the situation to escalate even more. Our orders were to take him down.” Her lips tightened. “We did it. It took over a year of bribery and undermining of his contacts,