Marguerite. Despite his best intentions, Thomas doubted he’d get any work done until he found his aunt. Fortunately, Vincent didn’t need it right away.
Turning his attention back to his phone, Thomas opened the digital phonebook to find his techie friend’s number.
Herbert Longford was his name. An immortal who’d lived in Toronto for a while during one of his breaks from his homeland of England. Thomas had met him several years ago while delivering blood, something he occasionally did when Bastien’s couriers got behind, or one was off on vacation. The two had got talking and a friendship had formed. Herb was British, 280 years old, and even more of a computer geek than Etienne. If anyone would know if Marguerite could be tracked by her cell phone, Herb would.
Pushing the button to call his number, Thomas sank back on the love seat, mentally preparing an apology for waking the man during daytime hours when he, like most of their kind, was no doubt sleeping.
Thomas was dreaming of music when the irritating ring of the phone woke him. Despite the circumstances that had brought him to Europe it was a light and sweet refrain and was still playing through his head as he snapped his eyes open. His gaze shot to the binder on the table and Thomas automatically snatched up the pen that lay beside it as he sat up. He was already scribbling the notes on paper as he reached for the phone and flipped it open.
“Yeah?” he said absently, his attention on getting the music he’d dreamed onto paper.
“Thomas? I’m guessing by the fact that you didn’t call that Mother can’t be tracked by her cell phone,” Bastien said, sounding unhappy. “But I called just to be sure and to let you know that I’ve arranged for blood to be delivered to your room. It should arrive at sunset or shortly thereafter.”
“Sunset?” Thomas asked setting down his pen with a frown. “I won’t be here by sunset, I should think. And, yes, they can track her cell phone. I did call the penthouse to tell you that, but I got your answering machine.”
“I’ve been in my office all morning waiting to hear from you. They tracked her?” Bastien asked eagerly.
“Yes. You won’t believe where she is, though,” Thomas said with a wry laugh.
“Where is she?” Bastien asked, a frown evident in his voice.
“Amsterdam.”
“Amsterdam?” Bastien echoed with disbelief. “No. That can’t be right. Have them double check—”
“I did have it double checked, Bastien,” Thomas assured him with annoyance. “Both times it came back Amsterdam, though from two different locations in the city,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Amsterdam,” Bastien repeated, obviously not pleased with the results of the tracking. “Italy I would have believed, and anywhere in England, but Amsterdam?”
Thomas could picture Bastien shaking his head as he said the word. He spoke the name of the old city as if it were tantamount to Babylon. Rolling his eyes, he pointed out, “She and Tiny are here in Europe looking for Christian’s birth mother. Maybe the woman lives there now.”
“That’s possible, I guess,” Bastien said reluctantly. “So, you need me to arrange a flight—”
“I’ve already done that,” Thomas interrupted with exasperation. “I figured the company jet would have returned to Canada after dropping me here, so when the second tracking confirmed she was in Amsterdam, I booked myself a flight over.”
“You did?” he asked and then grumbled, “Well you should have called me, I could have arranged the flight for you.”
“Bastien, I am not helpless. I can book a flight,” Thomas said grimly. “I leave at six-fifty P.M.”
“I know you’re not helpless, but I could have booked it through the company. You’re doing this for the family. You shouldn’t have to foot the bill alone. I could have—Did you say six-fifty?” Bastien suddenly
Mercy Walker, Eva Sloan, Ella Stone