“They left Merrick/Singer in separate vehicles, Merrick in his Mercedes and Donleavy in a Volkswagen.

Their cars were found a half mile from the facility. By studying the tire marks the police were able to determine that a third vehicle—given the length of its wheel base most likely it was a van—forced both vehicles off the road at high speed. Airbags were deployed in the Mercedes but not in the Volkswagen.

Presumably, Merrick was hit first and Susan Donleavy was slowing when the van hit her. The driver’s side window on Merrick’s car was smashed inward so the door could be unlocked. The Volkswagen didn’t have automatic locks so she was simply pulled from the car.”

“How did they know this was a kidnapping and not some Good Samaritan rescuing them and taking them to a local hospital?” Cabrillo asked.

“Because they aren’t at any local hospitals, leading the police to conclude they were locked in the Good Samaritan’s basement.”

“Right.”

“So far there have been no ransom demands and a search for the van’s turned up nothing. Eventually they will find it at the airport because we know Merrick, and most likely Susan Donleavy as well, were taken out of the country by plane.”

“Have you checked charter flights out of Geneva for last night?”

“Eric’s on that now. There are more than fifty because an economic summit meeting just concluded and all the bigwigs were headed home.”

Juan rolled his eyes. “Figures.”

“Might not be bad luck on our part, but thorough planning on theirs,” Linda said.

“Good point.”

“So far the police don’t know what to make of the situation. They’re playing the wait-and-see game until the kidnappers make their demands.”

“Could this have been about Susan Donleavy and not Geoffrey Merrick?” Juan suggested.

Mark shook his head. “Doubt it. I checked her on the company database. She’s been with them for two years, a researcher in organic chemistry still working toward her doctorate. Like I said before, she lives alone. No husband or kids. Most employee bios give a little info about interests and hobbies. Hers only gave her professional credentials. Nothing personal at all.

“No one a kidnapper would go through the expense of hiring a private jet to grab.”

“Doesn’t wash no matter how you look at it,” Linda said. “Merrick was the target, and I bet Donleavy was nabbed because she was a witness.”

“What about this Devil’s Oasis that was mentioned?” Juan asked to get them back on track.

“We couldn’t find any mention of it on the Internet,” Linda replied. “It has to be a code name, so it could be anyplace. Backtracking from where we intercepted the call when they said they would reach it by four in the morning, it could be in a circle big enough to encompass the eastern tip of South America. Or they could have turned northward again and gone back to Europe.”

“That doesn’t sound likely. Let’s assume that they continued on the same straight-line course south from Switzerland that took them over our position last night. What’s the most likely landing site?

“Someplace in Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, or South Africa.”

“And with our luck what do you bet it’s Zimbabwe?” Mark muttered.

Years of corruption and poor economic planning had turned the once prosperous country into one of the poorest nations on the continent. Simmering anger against the repressive government was threatening to boil over. Reports of attacks against remote villages that spoke out against the regime were growing while malnutrition and the diseases it spawned were on the rise. All indicators pointed to a full-scale civil war erupting in months or maybe even weeks.

“Again, maybe not our bad luck, but their good planning,” Linda said. “The middle of a war zone would be the last place I’d look for a kidnapped industrialist. They could easily bribe the government to look the other way when they brought him in.”

“Okay, concentrate your search efforts on the Devil’s Oasis being in Zimbabwe, but don’t rule out anything. We’ll keep steaming southward and hopefully you’ll have something by the time we reach the Tropic of Capricorn. Meanwhile, I’m going to talk with Langston to see if the CIA has anything on this and maybe have him send out some feelers to the Swiss government as well as the board of Merrick/Singer. Let them know they might have options.”

“This isn’t our usual way of doing things, Chairman.”

“I know, Linda, but we might be in the right place at the right time to make this all work out.”

“Or the kidnappers are going to issue their demands today, Merrick/ Singer will pay the ransom, and good old Geoffrey boy will be home in time for dinner.”

“You’re forgetting one critical piece.” Juan didn’t match her light tone. “Flying him out of the country is a risk they didn’t need if this was about a cash ransom. If that’s all they wanted they would have stashed him someplace within Switzerland, issued their demands, and been done with it. If their planning is as meticulous as you suspect, there has to be another level to their plot we haven’t seen.”

Linda Ross nodded, sensing the gravity of the situation. “Like what?”

“Find the Devil’s Oasis and maybe we’ll know.”

7

THEheadphones clamped around Sloane’s ears made her so sweaty that her hair felt glued to her skin, but to take them off to cool herself meant she had to endure the pounding throb of the helicopter’s engine and rotor. It was a balance of discomforts that she’d endured for two fruitless days.

The back of her shirt was also sticky. Every time she shifted position it stuck to the vinyl seat. She’d learned early on to hold the shirt when she moved or it would tighten across her chest, gaining her a leering grin from Luka, who sat next to her on the rear bench seat. She would have preferred to sit in the front next to the pilot, but he said he needed Tony’s weight in the cockpit to keep the small chopper in proper trim.

They were returning to Swakopmund for the last time, for which Sloane was both grateful and frustrated.

Seven times they’d flown out over the ocean and searched the spots circled on her map and seven times they’d returned to refuel, having found nothing but natural rock formations. The portable metal detector they could dip into the water on a long tether failed to find any metal source large enough to be an anchor, let alone an entire ship.

Her body ached from so many hot hours in the cramped chopper and she thought she’d never get Luka’s body odor out of her nostrils. She had been so sure of her plan to use local fishermen’s knowledge of the waters off the coast that she hadn’t even considered failing. But now that they were returning to the little heliport in the dunes outside of Swakopmund, defeat scalded the back of her throat while the glare off the ocean below penetrated her sunglasses and made her head pound.

Tony turned in his seat to look at her and motioned for her to jack her headphones back into the helicopter’s internal communications net. She had unplugged it to give her pity party some privacy.

“The pilot says that the chopper doesn’t have the range to check that last spot on the map. The one we got from Papa Heinrick.”

“What’s this about Papa Heinrick?” Luka asked, blasting Sloane with a dose of halitosis.

Something had prevented Sloane from discussing their late-night raft trip down in Sandwich Bay to visit the crazy old fisherman, mostly because she grudgingly suspected that Luka had been right all along and just didn’t want to admit it to the guide.

Wishing Tony had kept his mouth shut, Sloane shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. He was nuttier than a fruitcake. We’ve wasted more than two thousand dollars on fuel checking possibilities from reliable sources. I can’t see us wasting any more on Papa Heinrick and his giant snakes.”