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“Passport and boarding pass, please,” the woman said.
Meghan took the lead, handing over her information. Her papers were real, and there was no worry as she confidently waited while the deckhand scanned the document. The woman smiled a moment later and handed the passport back to Meghan.
“Ms. Cobb, welcome aboard The Emerald Lady.”
“Thank you,” Meghan said.
With a subtle tremor to his grip, the man handed over his documents. If things were going to fall apart, the scanning of his doctored passport would be the start of it. But all that happened after the woman placed the document facedown on the scanning machine was that a pleasant ring sounded and a green light brightened on the podium.
“Mr. Holland, welcome aboard The Emerald Lady.”
“Thank you,” Aaron Holland responded with a barely audible stutter in his throat.
“You’re in cabin thirty-three-eighteen. How many bags will each of you be carrying?”
“Just one for each of us,” Meghan said.
“Very good,” the woman said, looping an Emerald Lady tag around the handle of each suitcase.
“You can leave your bags here.” She pointed to the growing collection of luggage that was organized off to the side. “It will be delivered to your cabin shortly.”
Aaron Holland and Meghan Cobb smiled and deposited their bags with the others.
“Carlos will escort you to your quarters. Enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Holland said in a considerably more relaxed tone than just a few minutes earlier.
They followed Carlos to cabin 3318. The first obstacle had been cleared. Many more waited. So far, Claire was batting a thousand.
CHAPTER 67
Lake Placid, NY Sunday, July 11, 2021
THE NO-KNOCK WARRANT AUTHORIZED FEDERAL AGENTS TO STORM THE cabin without warning. The motorcade consisted of two Humvees and three black Suburbans with tinted windows. The caravan looked so out of place in the quiet mountains that even without sirens blaring or lights flashing, other cars pulled to the shoulder to allow them to pass. Eight agents clad in riot gear occupied the Humvees. Ten more agents, including Jim Oliver, road in the Suburbans and were dressed in SWAT gear with FBI windbreakers over their Kevlar vests. Firearms were strapped under their arms. And each of them, per the terms Claire Montgomery had negotiated that made this raid possible, had been fitted with body cameras and microphones that would capture every move and every word.
The small brigade pulled down the shaded street until the two surveillance officers who had been watching the cabin came into view. They pointed at the canopied drive and the caravan screeched forward. Before the Humvees came to a full stop, the doors opened and agents poured out. They were armed with submachine guns across their chests and Glocks strapped to their sides. They hid beneath Kevlar helmets and shatterproof face shields. The two lead agents hurled themselves up the front steps and used a battering ram to splinter the front door. They slid to the side to allow the stream of heavily clad federal agents to storm the cabin.
CHAPTER 68
New Orleans, LA Sunday, July 11, 2021
A ARON HOLLAND PLANNED TO STAY IN THE ROOM FOR MOST OF THE cruise. It was small and cramped and there wouldn’t be much to do besides watch television and worry. He’d much prefer to lounge out by the pool, or maybe grab a drink from the bar. But that would expose him to other passengers, and every venture out of the cabin presented an opportunity for some memorable incident to occur. Whether it be a casual conversation that someone later recalled, or a minor mishap like spilling his drink, there was no way to know what another passenger might remember. The fewer people he saw, the better the chance that Aaron Holland could exist for only a short few days before disappearing from the world.
Of course, without Meghan Cobb, the vanishing of Aaron Holland would be impossible. The staff and crew, as well as the housekeeping team assigned to every cabin onboard the ship, were well trained. If Mr. Holland simply disappeared and his cabin went empty, it would raise red flags. The housekeeping crew would know to follow strict protocols if a cabin went dormant. A vacant room was to be reported. Fear of passengers, especially overserved vacationers, falling overboard was always a concern. There had been enough negative publicity over the years about cruise lines and passengers disappearing for strict, industry-wide procedures to have been put in place to identify such peculiarities.
But Meghan Cobb solved that problem. Her presence would prevent any red flags from rising. She would be visible on every day of the ten-day cruise. That her recluse travel companion rarely left the cabin would go unnoticed. That she would eventually depart the ship without him at the conclusion of the cruise would be immaterial, because by that time she would be listed as a solo passenger. If Claire was able to pull off what she promised, sometime during the cruise’s ten days at sea, Mr. Aaron Holland’s name would disappear from the formal register of passengers.
CHAPTER 69
Lake Placid, NY Sunday, July 11, 2021
WITH THEIR GLOCK .40-CALIBER SIDEARMS TRAINED IN FRONT OF them, the SWAT team cleared each room of the A-frame cabin. Front room, clear. Kitchen, clear. Bedroom, clear. With each empty room, the possibility dawned on Jim Oliver that perhaps, somehow, his intel was bad. Either they had the wrong cabin or his agents had missed their subject escaping the property. On the run for so long, it was not unbelievable that Garth Montgomery would have in place precautions for this exact moment. And as much as Oliver believed he’d run a flawless operation, he knew it was rushed. If more time were available, he’d have put surveillance in place for longer than just three days. He’d have insisted on more definitive confirmation of the subject’s presence instead of relying on the half-assed and blurry photos they had managed to obtain through dirty and curtain-clad windows.
All at once Jim Oliver felt his career slipping away. He’d hung everything on his promise of pulling Walt Jenkins out of retirement and delivering Garth Montgomery. The operation had gone better than predicted, and was a greater triumph than what he’d sold to his superiors. Claire Montgomery had, in the end, provided the critical information needed on her father’s whereabouts, and was the reason a warrant had been secured so quickly. But now, here he stood in an empty cabin in the mountains—either completely incorrect about what he thought was inside, or just a moment too late. He tried not to allow the other possibility into his thoughts—that he’d been played. He didn’t dwell on it, because whichever situation was unfolding, it spelled the end to his career.
“Bathroom!” one of the agents yelled.
Jim Oliver blinked his eyes and came back to the present. He raised his Glock and moved through the front room, past his agents who were poised and ready for action, muzzles pointed at the closed bathroom door. Audible now in the hushed interior of the cabin was the sound of pressurized water whining through the pipes. Jim Oliver took his position outside the bathroom, his back flat against the wall. He nodded and the battering ram agents appeared. In the silence just prior to the sound of splintering wood, a showerhead could be heard spitting water.
