She waited while he brought the car around. Once they were both buckled in, he looked at her. “What’s the plan?”

“We find Harry.”

He smiled at her. “Good plan. How do y—”

The faint sound of a digitized version of the song “Brown-Eyed Girl” interrupted him.

Her cell phone’s ring tone.

“It’s in your purse,” he said. “I locked it in the—”

“Trunk.”

He shifted into park, threw open his car door and climbed out. A moment later he returned with her purse, cell clipped to it, message light blinking frantically.

A number she didn’t recognize—perhaps her father had bought a prepaid for security. She quickly scrolled through a half-dozen missed calls and one text message waiting. All from Harry.

She returned the last call first, and it was answered on the first ring. “Dad, it’s me. Thank God! I was so worried.”

“Charlotte! Where are you?”

“Jack and I—”

She bit the words back, realization crashing in on her. Not her father. Her father hadn’t called her Charlotte since the second grade.”

“Charlotte? Sweetheart, are you—”

With a sound of distress, she hung up. “Drive, Jack. Now.”

He did as she instructed. “What happened?”

“Someone pretended to be Harry. They wanted to know where I was.”

“Check your messages.”

She did. At the sound of her father’s voice relief flooded her.

“Charley, I’ve been delayed. I hope to still make a late dinner. Love you.”

She frowned at the second message. “Charley, there’s a situation here. I’ll explain everything when I get there. Look . . . Be careful. Stay with Jack. Don’t trust anyone you don’t know. My flight’s due into Dulles at 7:10 p.m.”

By the third and last message there was no denying the panic in his voice. “Where are you? I’m boarding the Paris flight. When you get this, dial back so I’ll know you’re okay.”

She checked the text message next.

GREEN LANTERN EVAC SCOTLAND

She stared at those four little words, feeling as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the car’s interior.

“What’s wrong?”

“Change in plans. We’re going to Capitol Hill. The Scotland—The St. Regis.”

While he drove, she explained about the code. When she finished, he glanced at her. “This is a gag?”

“Hardly. Harry would never have sent that text message unless it was for real.”

“Maybe he didn’t send it?”

The thought chilled her, but only for a moment. “No, no one else would know our code. Even mother only knew part of it. Harry sent it.”

“This makes no sense. It’s like some cloak-and-dagger parlor game. Only you’re telling me it’s real.” Perez pulled up in front of the hotel. “What is your dad, some kind of a spy?”

She flung open the car door. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”