“What destination, Daniel?” I demanded, leaning forward against the vinyl headrest.

“He booked a private charter out of Teterboro Airport,” Daniel said.

“To where?”

“A direct flight to Podgorica, Montenegro,” he said.

My hand tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white.

“Montenegro has no extradition treaty with the United States,” I said.

“Exactly,” Daniel said. “And the flight is scheduled to depart at three-fifteen.”

“That is less than two hours from now,” I said.

“If they get on that plane, you will never see a dime of the family trust again,” Daniel said.

“I am calling Marcus right now,” I said. “Keep watching them, Daniel.”

“I will,” he said. “The valet is bringing their Mercedes around to the side exit now.”

I hung up and immediately dialed Marcus Vance, my lead attorney.

The taxi bounced violently over a pothole, sending a jolt of pain up my spine.

“Marcus, Preston is fleeing the country,” I said as soon as he picked up.

“What do you mean?” Marcus asked.

“He is heading to Teterboro right now,” I said. “He has a charter flight booked to Montenegro for three-fifteen.”