Off Kilter Read online

  Collin tapped his phone’s screen. His call went straight to voicemail.

  Waiting for a return phone call, Collin paced in circles around the palatial suite, rolling the iPhone over and over in his hand. He needed sleep, but he couldn’t hold still. Physically, it felt like his chest was filled with concrete, the weight of it pulling him toward the soft mattress. Mentally, the wheels were churning at a blistering pace and the brakes were inoperable.

  Thoughts of his friend Lukas streamed through his mind like a dozen video clips. Short snippets from his time with Lukas on Rob Howell’s boat replayed in brief segments. He recalled Lukas’s familiarity with Pho Nam Penh; Penh’s connection to the insurance company involved in Collin’s lawsuit; the mounting stack of evidence against Penh and Tranquil Pacific Casualty Insurance Group, which he headed; and the reasons Lukas was sure Penh was coming after Collin’s money. Scenes that flashed by included the crash course in all things technical that Collin would need to know, as well as the outline of the plan to run and avoid Penh and his group of thugs, the Komodos. Despite his thorough indoctrination, Lukas had never predicted this many close calls coming this close together. It wasn’t supposed to get dangerous. Collin’s mind was spinning and he needed more than ever the reassurance that only Lukas could provide.

  Collin waited as long as he could, then tapped his thumb on his phone to dial Lukas’s number again. It always took several rings for Lukas’s security protocol script to run and verify Collin’s ID and credentials.

  Lukas answered this time in his customarily calm and assuring voice. “Hallo, meine freunde. How goes it?”

  “I guess I’m OK. I just can’t sleep. Can’t relax. And can’t stop thinking about those guys. That was too close a call. I mean, I’ve never decked someone like that before. I’m not used to it. What if they show up here?”

  “I’ll check footage from the surveillance cameras in the Munich train station first. Then I’ll check the airport.” Even as Lukas said these words, Collin could hear his fingers clicking away at the keys of his computer. “It’ll take a few minutes, but I’ll let you know if there were any hits. But for now, just stay where you are and try to rest. You sound exhausted.”

  “I am, and I’ll give it a try. But I can’t stop thinking about it. After all this time, I can’t believe they’re still after me. Why won’t they just leave it alone?”

  “That’s not how they operate. Pho Nam Penh is a very patient, meticulous man. He won’t forget a $30 million payout—ever. If he believes there’s a way to get it back, he’ll work tirelessly to that end. He’s a real son of a—”

  “But how did they find me? I mean, it’s been months since I’ve picked up a tail. Why now? Did I get too complacent or something?”

  “Well, Collin, this is where the news goes from bad to worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It appears that there is a renewed interest in you and your story. Some pictures of you surfaced on the Internet this week. I didn’t want to worry you until I knew the implications.”

  “What pictures?”

  “Pictures of you shaking hands with one of Pho Nam Penh’s top lieutenants. I’m sending them to you now.”

  Collin paused to open the text message and view the pictures. “What? I’ve never met . . .”

  “Apparently you did. Last time you were in the Bahamas—what, two weeks ago? And that’s not the worst of it.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No. Check out the next picture of you seated at a table with none other than Pho Nam Penh himself.”

  “Really? When was that?”

  “London, three days ago. The day before the massive hack attack on the Royal Bank of Scotland. The day after you visited that same bank and transferred money out. Remember that?”

  “Wait. What are you saying? Are they somehow trying to link me with this guy? Do they think I had something to do with his crimes?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Do you remember sharing a table with a Vietnamese guy in London?”

  Collin studied the picture. “I remember this. I was in a crowded pub in Kings Cross, sitting by myself, as usual, just watching TV and eating my dinner when this Asian guy asked if he could share my table. I said sure, since I was just about to leave anyway. I didn’t even say anything else.”

  “Well, my friend, you thought nothing of it, I’m sure, but that picture shows you with your hand out, offering him a seat. The next shows the two of you sitting across from each other at a small table, both leaning inward. Looks like a cozy little conversation.”

  “I was working on my computer. I didn’t say more than two words to him,” Collin protested.

  “That was enough, though,” said Lukas. “They orchestrated this very cleverly. Apparently one of his guys snapped those pictures and posted them for the FBI to find.”

  “The FBI? So the guys with the shades are FBI?”

  “Probably not. They could have been Interpol, but I doubt that, too. My hunch is that they’re contractors for Pho Nam Penh. I can’t be sure since the facial recognition software didn’t pick up a match on the photos you sent me. The question is: what’s next? That’s what I can’t sort out at the moment.”

  “Penh must have a network in Europe looking for me.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me. He’s got long tentacles. What alarms me most is that he has now essentially enlisted law enforcement in his search.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to hear,” said Collin with a heavy sigh.

  “If the FBI believes you are in league with Pho Nam Penh and had something to do with shutting down RBS, they’ll get Interpol involved. You’ll be a high priority international fugitive. When you add the list of attacks Penh is suspected of launching over the past few months, you’ll become one of the World’s Most Wanted. Congratulations, my friend.” Left unsaid were Lukas’s concerns for Collin’s ability to hold things together.

  “Oh, great. This is just lovely. I’m going to have this Asian mob and every cop in the world after me?”

  “I’m afraid so. We’re going to have to take measures, my friend.”

  “What measures?”

  “Drastic and immediate measures. Let me work on this and get back to you, OK?”

  * * * *

  Huntington Beach, CA

  May 1

  At age sixty-three, Sarah Cook had become a Facebooking fool. Her first foray into social media came just a few weeks after Collin’s disappearance. After yesterday’s difficult meeting with Agents Crabtree and McCoy, she doubled her efforts to use this modern medium to reach out and find Collin’s and Amy’s friends. She now had 381 friends, but she was not satisfied, nor would she be, until she got these friends to help bring her lost son home. Most had expressed condolences over the family’s loss and Collin’s subsequent disappearance, but provided no useful information.

  Tonight, some ten months after the accident and six months since anyone had seen her youngest child, a familiar name and face appeared on an accepted friend request. Emily Burns was practically part of the family at one point in time. She and Collin dated steadily their entire senior year of high school. Everyone thought they would get married. They were so close and always had so much fun together. “Henry,” she called out from her desk in the den, “come here. You’ve got to see this.”

  Henry was watching ESPN in the family room, which was on the other side of the wall from her. He muted the TV and pretended to run to her side, shuffling his slippers along the hardwood floor noisily so she would hear his haste. “Yes, my dear,” he said.

  “Come around here and look at who just became my friend on Facebook,” said Sarah, pointing at the computer screen. Emily Burns’s radiant face smiled at them. Naturally beautiful, there was hardly a trace of makeup.

  “I’ll be darned,” exclaimed Henry. “Haven’t seen her in years. She looks as good as ever.”

  “Yes, she does,” said Sarah. After a pause, she added, “You know, Henry, I don’t re
member seeing Emily at the funeral. Do you?”

  Henry stopped for a moment, scratching the whiskers on his chin. “No, as a matter of fact. I don’t believe I saw her there.”

  “I wonder why she didn’t come,” said Sarah. “Considering she’s the one that tracked us down in Alaska and told us about the accident, I find it very curious that she didn’t attend the funeral.”

  “There were so many people there, she very well could’ve gotten lost in the crowd. I’m sure she would not have wanted to make a scene or upset Collin,” Henry said.

  “You would think she would at least come and say hello,” said Sarah. She paused before continuing. “That’s in the past now, isn’t it? I guess the important thing here is that she and I are now Facebook friends. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Yes, dear, it is, I suppose. What now?”

  “What do you suggest? I don’t want to be too aggressive and scare her off, but I am dying to talk with her. I really want to find out how she knew about the accident.” Sarah remained quiet as she scrolled through photos and posts on Emily’s Facebook page. “I know she and Collin patched things up a year or two ago. I wonder if Collin has communicated with her since he left. If anyone could get through to him, it’s her. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, I agree on both accounts. We need her help, but we can’t risk pushing her away by being too eager. Why don’t you just invite her to lunch? That’s a natural thing to do.”

  “That’s a marvelous idea, Henry. I’ll do that.”

  “And while you’re at it, ask her what happened that night on the back patio.”

  “I’m sure that would be a fantastic way to start our first conversation in over a decade: ‘And why is it you broke my son’s heart after he spent all day cooking and decorating and setting up that special graduation celebration?’ She wouldn’t mind that question right off the bat.”

  Henry chuckled at her quick-witted response. “Yeah, but you’re aching to know, aren’t you?”

  “Darn right I am, but I’m going to be a little more subtle than that, I think.”

  “That’s a good idea. I still think its strange how everything changed so suddenly. The night of graduation they were so happy and playful, full of smiles and hugs. Then the next night, after all of Collin’s hard work, she dumps him and tears out of here without a word. I believe that’s the last time we saw her, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it was, but the mother’s network has kept track of her, you know,” said Sarah with a gleam in her eye.

  “Oh, yeah? You’ve been stalking her, have you?”

  “I wouldn’t call it that, but I know she graduated top of her class from Johns Hopkins with a degree in Bio Medical Research and did her doctorate at Harvard. I also know she’s working at the Scripps Institute in San Diego doing cancer research.”

  “Wow, that mother’s network knows a lot.”

  “Well, the last part is right here on her Facebook profile. But Janice and Diane seem to always be in the know about that whole group of kids.”

  “Whatever happened to her parents? I always thought they were fairly pompous and high-minded,” said Henry.

  “Who knows? They never associated with us commoners. They were definitely the high society type, born with East Coast money. Wasn’t he a cardiologist? I think that’s right, from Harvard, and she was a socialite who liked to fundraise for the trendiest charities and attend all the elite galas,” Sarah said matter-of-factly. “I think Emily really looked up to her father but was controlled by her mother. If you ask me, that woman had more to do with her breaking up with Collin than Emily did.” Sarah’s voice was tinged with ire.

  Henry read a message from Emily that popped up. “Look, she’s asking how you’re doing. I think she wants to chat, so there you go. Just be yourself.”

  Sarah typed a quick response and opened a conversation that began the rebuilding of a relationship long since forsaken. The conversation flowed naturally and without interruption. By the end of their twenty minute exchange, the two ladies had arranged a lunch date for Saturday.

  Sarah was anxious. With the clock ticking, she needed help and was happy to enlist Emily in her cause.

  Chapter Five

  Munich, Germany

  May 2

  Collin shook off the grog that customarily enveloped him in the mornings, trying to remember where he was. The brochure he left on the nightstand served as a reminder that he was in Munich, Germany. He fumbled for the remote and turned the TV to CNN. He watched the news for half an hour to be sure there was nothing relevant. He flipped through the local channels, too, before going to the door to pick up the newspapers he had requested with his breakfast, which arrived at 8:00 a.m.

  He ate his eggs and toast while scouring the pages of the newspapers. Nothing. Nothing about him, his family, or the episode in London. Not even a mention of the violence in Hamburg. Nothing about his supposed connection with the assault on the computer systems of the Royal Bank of Scotland. That was good, he thought. A quick check on the Internet produced the same results. Perfect.

  After showering and dressing, it was time to take to the streets and subways. Lukas had confirmed that he had not been followed to Munich, so he was free to venture forth from his hotel and explore the city. He wore clothes to help him blend into any crowd. A dark, hooded sweatshirt, black running shoes, and jeans.

  He spent the day walking the streets, trying to look like everyone else. Only, he just pretended to have somewhere to go and something important to do. With nothing more than a quick glance, he would study faces as they went by, being careful not to make eye contact. He had learned to discern expressions and body language. He looked for anyone who appeared to be looking at or watching him. But no one paid attention to him. Not today. The suits from London and Hamburg were nowhere to be seen.

  That was good.

  During lunch, Collin managed to read a local newspaper in German and pull out a few more vocabulary words and sentence structures to keep building his language skills, although he rarely used more than the typical phrases needed to order food, a hotel room, or to buy tickets for transportation. There was a sense of accomplishment that came with recognizing words and phrases. He also listened carefully to conversations in the subway, cafes, and at street corners. He almost never spoke to anyone, but it was comforting to know that he could have a conversation about the weather, current events, or the economy and sound pretty good doing it.

  The small street-side café grew more crowded as he ate. Collin’s seat was against a wall, under an umbrella, in the far corner of the outside patio. Like many of the young people at that café, he had his laptop out on the table and was browsing the Internet. He was busy planning his stay in Munich, deciding what attractions and areas of the city Amy would most like to have seen. Being a fan of old European architecture, especially cathedrals, he knew his wife would enjoy this city, its ambience, and the wealth of sightseeing attractions.

  After lunch, Collin walked through the streets of the shopping district, taking pictures of the quaint buildings and streets, like so many of the other tourists he saw. He headed to the famous Englischer Garten, created in the eighteenth century to preserve the natural wonders of Bavaria. Miles of walking trails and wide open green space made this a place worth seeing. Collin strolled along its paths, knowing Amy would have loved this area, fighting back his emotions as he thought about her. Maybe it was a mistake to come here. His break down on the plane to Hamburg left him feeling more mentally feeble than he had in months. He pressed on for Amy’s sake, pushing aside the rising tide of feelings and focused on photographing the scenery for her.

  His efforts yielded little. The flood of memories was building, spilling over his delicate barriers. Try as he might, he could not contain it. As he walked along taking in the sights, sounds, and smells, his defenses began to break down. He heard Amy’s laughter echoing from a time years before when they had gone on a picnic together at a similar looking place in the Sierra footh
ills.

  Soon his mind was caught up in the memory, and he felt himself spinning out of control, unable to stop it. Flashbacks of Amy and the children laughing and playing in the park and on the swings gripped him as he watched a young German family. The children were the same ages as his had been and were frolicking much the same as his had done not so long ago. Collin stopped in his tracks, only ten yards from them, transfixed with a hollow gaze. His mouth half-curled up in an eerie smile as his eyes glazed over. It was a bizarre display that frightened the German children.

  Replaying that day in the park in the California foothills took him far away from reality for a few dangerous moments. He was forced to snap out of it as the irate German father approached him—irritated and intimidating with tightened jaw muscles and glaring eyes. Stunned and self-conscious, Collin turned and sprinted away as fast as his legs would carry him.

  A quarter mile later, he was well out of danger, so he slowed to a brisk walk and headed toward the downtown area to find a crowd into which he could merge. His eyes darted in every direction and his head swiveled side to side, but saw nothing unusual. These types of suspicious actions could draw attention, he knew, so he sucked in a deep breath to calm himself. He ran his fingers through his hair and let out his breath as he struggled to shake the haunting memories that had taken control of him in the park. In his mind, his children continued to run and play, laugh and call his name, hold his hand and look to him for protection.

  Like a herd of wild horses corralled in a crowded pen, Collin’s memories couldn’t be contained. His diminishing control over his thoughts and actions presented a growing peril to his safety and survival. It was time again check in with Lukas for some coaching and reassurance. He needed a friend and wished Lukas was there with him.

  “Collin, what’s up?” Lukas’s voice sounded distracted. Collin had the feeling he was calling at an inconvenient time.