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She looks like an angel when she’s sleeping. Curled up on her side, as peace claims her, quieting her noisy brain. My Angel. She’ll always be my Angel.
“I don’t understand why they—”
Angel. Angel wings. Maybe she left the anklet, but took the wings. Just another straw to grasp. Don’t care.
“Tamar, can you activate a tracking device from here?”
“Sure. What am I looking for?”
“Lexie’s on a flight destined for—somewhere. It’s a long shot, but she might have a tracking device on her. One of the new prototypes that can be retrofitted into a piece of jewelry.”
“A tracking device on land is one thing.” She glances at me warily. “But we’ll need a satellite to track something on a moving plane.”
A satellite? “Where the hell are we going to get a satellite?”
“I know where to find one, but if we’re caught, it’s going to cost you. Not money, but a big favor to a foreign agency. Maybe even to a foreign country.”
“Whatever it takes.”
I don’t ask a single damn question about the satellite while Tamar sends a message. I assume it’s to someone affiliated with her old agency. I don’t care—to ensure Lexie’s safety, I’d make a deal with the devil himself.
While we wait to hear back, I take out my phone and pull up the information about the tracker on the angel wings. I’m the only one who has it. The wings were between me and her. Our special thing. I didn’t even share it with Zé.
“We’re set,” she says, “but it’s going to take a little time for the stars to align.”
“How much time?”
“Five or ten minutes. In the meantime, give me the tracking information.”
“Here.” I hold my phone while she inputs the data, my eyes glued to the clock on the computer screen. Five minutes come and go.
“It’s activated,” she announces exactly six minutes later. “It’ll need another minute or two before it can get us the codes we need to proceed.”
“Put it up on the monitor,” I instruct, pointing to the large screen on the wall.
You don’t even know if she has the wings with her. Maybe she dumped them in the trash on her way out.
While I wait, I pray the signal won’t come from somewhere in my damn apartment. It’s been so long since I prayed, that I’ve almost forgotten how. I’m not a believer, but I’d get on my goddamn knees and kiss a ring if I thought it would help me find her.
“Look,” Tamar says, relief resounding in her voice. “The plane’s over the Atlantic, skirting the European coast. It’s definitely not on its way to London,” she adds. “Or if it is, it’s taking a strange route. Right now, it looks like it’s headed toward northern France. But that could change.”
“Northern France? What the hell?” I stare at the blip on the screen. It’s so much more than a blinking point on a map. It’s everything.
They have her. The monsters have her.
I can’t think. My mind is racing in circles. Chasing all sorts of nightmare scenarios. I’m never going to see her again. I kick over a chair, and Tamar startles.
Pull yourself together, Rafael. You’re not going to be able to help her like this.
I clasp my fingers behind my neck and dig my thumbs into the muscle until it groans. “Okay.” I draw a breath. “Let’s go through what we know.
“Lexie boarded a plane in Porto with a flight plan filed for London. Somewhere en route, the flight plan was modified.” I’ve done this myself many times. “And a code indicates that the destination was changed.”
“Maybe to northern France,” Tamar adds, “but we don’t know for sure. Why do you need her location?” she asks.
Fuck. I haven’t briefed her. I was in the cabin when I spoke with Zé, and she was here.
“Do you remember Francesca Russo?”
