Church bells rang from a bell tower in the distance, signaling the change of the hour. He felt his stomach grumble, and the beer he'd consumed at the apartment had done little for his parched throat.
Dak sighed. "Fine. What's the plan? The colonel will have people stationed at the airport in Lisbon. If I had to guess, he'll have security cameras tapped at the smaller ones, too."
"I have a friend in Madrid," Will said. "Well, technically, he's been in Ecuador for a while, but recently he returned to his family estate."
"Estate?" Dak's response was only half-cynical. "I didn't know you kept such lofty company."
"Believe it or not, I don't just hang out with the dregs like you."
Dak snorted. "I don't hang out with dregs."
"I meant you… you know what? Never mind."
"I see what you did. You meant I'm one of the dregs. It came out wrong, though."
Will shook his head and laughed. "You're an idiot." He started walking down the sidewalk toward a restaurant with wooden chairs and tables beneath blue and white umbrellas, all clustered next to the street like so many other places they'd seen throughout Europe.
"Where are we going?" Dak asked hungrily.
"I don't know about you, but I'm starving. And I need another drink. Probably some water, too."
Dak laughed at the joke. "Yeah, same here." He caught up and walked alongside his friend, perhaps one of the few people he trusted in the world at that moment.
"Your connection in Spain," he said, "what's his deal?"
A red five-door hatchback sped by, the tailpipe grumbling loudly. When the noisy car had disappeared around the bend in the street, Will answered. "His name is Diego Villa. He was hiding out in Ecuador for a few years. Still has a place there, I think. Real low key. I guess you could say he's a private intel guy. Sells information to the United States and its allies. Heck, you probably ran at least one mission based on—in part—something he discovered."
"A guy who does that kind of stuff has an estate? And how have I never heard of him?"
Will stopped at the host stand and greeted a young woman with dark brown hair and a bright smile with a pleasant Portuguese hello, then requested a table for two in the back corner of the patio.
She scooped up a couple of menus from the sleeve attached to her podium and led the two to a secluded table in the back, far from the street. She set down the menus and informed them the server would be there shortly.
"You never heard of him," Will finally answered, "because like I said, he keeps a low profile. Lots of people want him dead. Wouldn't be smart to pop up from his hole too often. Lately, though, I hear he's been at the old homestead more frequently. China and Russia have their own issues to deal with right now. Same with some of the other less stable nations in Europe and Asia. As to his estate, it's a family-owned operation. Been there for generations. They have vineyards for wine, and I heard they've dabbled in growing coffee, though I'm not sure if that region is suited for it."
"Doesn't sound like an intel guy."
"He's eccentric."
"Indeed."
"Not as eccentric as his daughter, though. I hear she was trained by some ultra-elite fighter or martial arts expert or something, and that she hunts art stolen by the Nazis in World War Two for a hobby."
Dak's right eyebrow climbed up his forehead. "Sounds like a strange hobby. Or a tall tale."
"I know, right? I've never met her. And I've only met Diego once, several years ago when I was just getting started… you know, after I left the service. Good guy. He'll help us. We just have to get to Madrid. Once we're there, he can get us a flight to Istanbul. Guaranteed."
Dak considered the information. It all sounded fantastical and outlandish, but if Will thought it was the safest play and the one with the best chance of working, he'd go with it. There was no chance they could risk going into Lisbon. Maybe if they went farther north, they could outrun the colonel's reach. Then what?
"We get a bite to eat and then we head to the train station here in Leiria. We'll have to dump our weapons, but Diego can get us more."
"If he's in Madrid, like you say."
"True. I guess you're just going to have to have a little faith."
Dak sighed. He'd been putting faith into a lot of endeavors lately. He picked up the menu and scanned the offerings of food and drink. As he pored over the list, he thought; Might as well put my faith in one more.
Thirteen
"Wake up," Bo snapped.
Nicole slowly rolled over until she felt something cold jerk on her wrist. For a minute, she didn't understand what was going on or why she couldn't move her arm. As she blinked away the remains of slumber, her bedroom came into view, as did the handcuff on her wrist.
The abduction. The hostage situation. Whatever it's called. The thought could have caused panic in most people, especially a woman in this situation. The blond man standing over her had not been abusive, other than to drug her at least once, then cuff her to the bed. She still wore the same clothes as the day before, but there were no signs of the aftereffects of being drugged the previous night.
She remembered him making threats, a conversation with someone, then the name he'd said with disdain—Dak.
He'd mentioned a colonel and some men or a team or something along those lines. They were going after Dak and his friend, the man she'd helped him find in Portugal more than a year ago.
She knew struggling against her bonds
