“We have, yes,” Whittaker said, taking his mobile from his pocket. He pointed to a spot on the map not far from where they stood. “He switched vehicles here.”
“Switched?” Kowalczyk asked. “You know the vehicle he’s in now?”
“We don’t,” Whittaker answered.
“Then he could be near where the van was found,” Kowalczyk countered.
Whittaker sighed and turned to his constable. “Jacob, check with our man watching the sound. Find out if he’s seen anything. Tell him to keep an eye on the shoreline at Barkers.”
“Yes, sir,” Jacob replied and stepped from the tent.
“Do you have men searching the surrounding area where the van was found?” Kowalczyk persisted.
Whittaker took another deep breath. “Agent, if you were a kidnapper, would you ditch the van in a relatively easy place to find, close to where you were hiding?”
“I’m not a kidnapper, detective,” the agent retorted.
“Nothing yet, sir,” Jacob said, coming back under the tent, and Whittaker welcomed the interruption.
“Okay,” he replied, “thank you.” He turned to AJ. “Did you speak with Reg? He left a message for you.”
“Shit, did he?” she said apologetically. “I left my mobile in the van and didn’t check it when I came out of the water. I rushed back here.”
“No problem,” the detective explained. “Get to the Yacht Club fuel dock. You remember Ben with the Marine Unit?”
AJ nodded. “Of course.”
“He’ll pick you up there. Massey allowed us one boat making sweeps to keep traffic clear of this end of the sound. Ben will covertly drop you near these coordinates I’m about to send him,” Whittaker explained, tapping the map at his intersection between his east and north lines. “There must be a buoy on the surface for the aerial to transmit, so get close to the coordinates and find the buoy, then dive. Make a search pattern around the challenge site and see if there’s any more clues. Don’t touch anything that’s not immediately useful, and stay away from that camera if you can, in case it’s still on. He aimed it down at the puzzle on the table. Okay?”
“Got it. On my wa…” AJ started.
“So, you don’t need anything from us, it seems,” Kowalczyk interrupted sarcastically.
Whittaker stared at the tall man. “Can you get me a drone or a satellite with heat trace capability?”
Kowalczyk laughed. “That’s funny.”
Whittaker shrugged. “Then it appears you can’t do much to help at the moment, agent.”
“Wait a minute here,” Kowalczyk snapped back. “You’re serious? You expect the US government to redirect a satellite over your little island here?”
“I’m not expecting much at all, agent, but you asked about helping, and that would be helpful.”
AJ knew she needed to leave, but this was too good to walk away from.
“You’ve got yourself a big mess going on, detective. I don’t know what you have planned to deal with your man Massey here, but the FBI is on site, offering to help. You might want to take that seriously.”
Whittaker took a half step towards Kowalczyk. “Just so we're clear, agent, this is your guy, your girl, and your mess. Why your citizens had to bring it to our peaceful island is beyond me, yet here we are. So far, apart from wasting our time second guessing what we’re doing, you haven’t brought much to the table. If you have something constructive, I’m all ears. Until then, my plan is to rely on my constable successfully navigating this fellow’s party tricks and buying us enough time to figure out where he has the Briggs girl holed up. Then, we’ll arrest him or put a bullet between his eyes, whichever seems appropriate in the moment. If you have the means to get me heat trace capability, it would be of great use. If not, I suggest you gather as much information as you can on Donovan Briggs and find his connection to Jensen Massey, because I guarantee this is about the father, not the daughter. He’s in the back of Jacob’s police car if you’d like to speak with him.” Whittaker glared at the FBI agent. “Anything else you feel needs to be discussed before I get on with finding your kidnapper?”
Kowalczyk shook his head. “We’ll talk to Briggs.”
Whittaker turned to AJ.
“Sorry, leaving,” she said quickly, and scurried away.
The detective pulled up a contact on his mobile and dialled the number.
“Casey? It’s Detective Whittaker. Are you following this madness?”
“I am. What can I do to help?” the woman replied.
“Can you join me at the boat ramp by Calypso’s five minutes ago?”
Casey laughed. “I can be there in three minutes. Will that do?”
“I’ll take it,” he replied and ended the call, glancing at the video monitor.
“Hear no evil,” Massey announced into the camera on his Internet feed. “So I’ll warn you in advance, you will hear untruths in this next segment.”
The video feed switched to a prepared segment with Donovan Briggs standing on a podium addressing a crowd of people. He keenly announced the many contributions to the environment his company was making with clean energy policies and procedures. A series of speeches were edited together, saying much of the same thing. The counter in the corner had rolled past the 750,000 mark.
The two agents walked towards the police car, with Jacob following to unlock the doors.
“Still think he’s on a boat?” Beth couldn’t resist asking.
“Shut up,” Kowalczyk growled.
15
Terminator in a Bathing Suit
The old building didn’t appear very big from the outside, so I’d expected a single room inside. I guess I should have known from the instructions talking about a second door, but it still surprised me to walk into a small area only two metres deep. It was the width of the structure, with no windows and one dim light glowing from above. There had to be power running to the place from somewhere. The floor was swept free of dirt and debris, but the concrete was stained and grubby looking from years of storm floods and neglect. The second door was located in the centre of the partition wall, and next to it a small table. On the table was a helmet. Two blinking red lights flickered from the dark recesses of the ceiling at either end of the narrow entry room, reminding me once again my every move was being watched.
The helmet wasn’t a crash helmet like the one I wore on the back of AJ’s Ducati motorcycle. It was more futuristic or military looking, with sharp angles. It was flat black, and the visor was dark tinted and presumably opaque. Around the base of the helmet was a black fabric skirt. I didn’t know what or who was waiting for me through the next door, but if they weren’t expecting me, I guessed the helmet I’d be wearing would freak them out. It looked intimidating. Of course, my skinny swimsuit-clad wet body sticking out from underneath might offset the Terminator vibe.
I really didn’t want to put the helmet on. Whittaker told me to buy him as much time as possible, and I understood why. On the other hand, my goals in all of this were probably out of alignment with everyone else’s. Currently, my main objective was to wring Massey’s neck as soon as I could lay hands on him. He’d ruined my Sunday. Kicking Donovan Briggs in the balls held a strong appeal as well. As for the girl, having the unfortunate fate of being Briggs’s offspring didn’t bode well for her being someone I’d care to meet. With a bit of luck she’d be carted off to be pampered and mobbed by the press, and I could go home.
I slipped the helmet over my head and fell into complete darkness. Even looking down inside the helmet, I couldn’t see a speck of light. The fabric skirt efficiently sealed the underside to my body, and the visor was black, as I’d predicted. Thinking about being unable to see was starkly different from being unable to see. A moment before, I knew my surroundings. Now, I felt disorientated and unsure whether I was about to walk into the table, or the wall, or something else that had silently encroached on my space.
“Hello Nora.”
The voice scared the shit ou
t of me. The helmet had speakers by my ears, so Massey’s voice sounded like he was inside my head and I jumped, swinging my arms around.
“It’s okay,” his voice said in a soothing tone. “This is how we’ll guide you through the next challenge.”
“Fy faen,” I muttered and took a few deep breaths.
He laughed. “Try not to swear, Nora, we have many younger viewers watching.”
“Shit, you can hear me?” I blurted.
“The world can hear you, Nora,” he replied. “So if you could be careful with the swearing, regardless of the language.”
“You’re threatening to cut a young woman’s fingers off and kill her at the end of all this, and you’re concerned about offending people?”
The words came out before my filter kicked in. Well, I don’t really have a filter, so I could only hope I hadn’t pissed him off too badly.
“Fair point,” he countered softly. “But Skylar and everyone watching are hoping you’ll prevent any of that nastiness.”
For the first time he struck me as someone who didn’t sound like a monster. Or a madman. His voice, speaking to me so intimately inside the helmet, sounded placid and almost hopeful that things wouldn’t become violent. Maybe he hid his angry, serial killer personality well, or had a split personality and was ready to snap into Looney Tunes at any time. But in that moment, he seemed like a reasonable human. I wondered if Whittaker had established communication with him yet. My heart skipped as I realised I might be the first contact with him since this shitstorm had begun. Talking directly to the man was Whittaker’s top priority, but I was about the worst person to conduct any kind of hostage negotiation. I was far too honest for that. Blunt was the word AJ used to describe me, but I think she was being kind.
“Okay, let’s get on with it,” I said, scared I’d screw something up before we started.
“Find the door handle, Nora; it’ll open towards you,” he instructed, and I fumbled around until I felt the handle.
I opened the door straight into my foot. “Føkk!” came out before I could stop it, and I hoped my mother missed that part. “Sorry.”
I moved my foot and opened the door, then felt for the door jamb to make sure I went through the opening.
“Close the door behind you.”
I reached back, found the handle on the inside, and pulled the door closed. I could tell by how easily the door swung it was a lightweight interior door, and felt good about breaking it down if needed. The partition was painted black, but it had appeared cleaner than the concrete walls, and I wondered if Massey had built it himself. If he had gone to that much trouble, what could I expect next?
My breathing echoed around inside the helmet, and I hoped my nervousness wasn’t being broadcast to the planet. I pictured that damn counter he had running on the screen and prayed it had stopped at the 30,000 I’d last seen. After my fumbling attempt at the puzzle, they’d probably all switched off by now. Fingers crossed.
“Nora, meet Skylar,” Massey said. “And Skylar, meet your new best friend, Nora.”
I stood still and wasn’t sure whether the kidnapped woman was standing before me or this was a theoretical introduction.
“Hello,” came the weak and shaky voice of a female American through the helmet speakers.
“Skylar?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay,” she replied, sounding feistier. “This asshole kidnapped me and I’ve been tied up for days. My father won’t stand for this.”
I rolled my eyes. Now she sounded like an entitled little spoilt brat. I didn’t blame her for being pissed off and scared, but whining and pulling the daddy card was pathetic. And days? It had been about three hours.
Massey sounded slightly amused. “With that being said, this challenge is about what we hear, and what Nora will hear is Skylar,” he explained. “Skylar will direct you around the room, where you’ll collect a set of throwing rings. Once you have all four, your goal is to land the rings on a target across the room.”
Great, now we were going to play fairground games, like some TV reality show. I never watched them, but I’d heard enough babbling about them over the years. It reinforced my feeling that Massey wasn’t interested in hurting anyone. He was doing this for the attention. Whether that attention was simply his day of infamy, or if he had a bigger message, was hard for me to know, as I wasn’t watching the broadcast. I was starring in the show. My worst nightmare. I quickly corrected myself; my second worst nightmare. The vision of Ridley’s bloodied corpse laying on the deck refused to leave me alone at night, and I suspected it never would.
16
Hear No Evil
“You’ll have five minutes to complete the challenge, and you’ll want to stay away from the railings,” Massey said. “Good luck, and the clock starts now.”
I waited for my first instruction but heard nothing.
“Well?” I said impatiently. “Are you going to give me directions?”
There was a brief pause before Skylar spoke.
“This is stupid.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or shout at her.
“It’s your body parts on the line,” I replied. “I can find the door, no problem. I’m more than happy to go home.”
“This isn’t fair,” she squealed.
“What are you, a five-year-old?” I’d said it before I could think about it. “Start directing me, or hold out your finger and let him lop it off and we’ll move on to the next challenge. Shit, have him take two and we’ll go straight to the end.”
Skylar made a sound halfway between a cry and a groan. I waited.
“Move forward,” she finally mumbled, and I took two steps ahead in the way I was facing.
“Go right,” she said, and I turned to my right.
“Right!” she shouted, and I turned more to my right.
My hip touched something solid and a jolt of pain shot through my body, sending every nerve twitching. “Fy faen!” I yelled and jumped back. My tongue felt fuzzy and weird.
“I said right!” Skylar barked at me.
“I went right, you idiot,” I moaned. “Damn that hurt. Was that a railing?”
“Yes, that’s why I was telling you to go right,” Skylar continued to argue.
“Listen, you, fu…” I stopped myself and thought for a moment. “What are you looking at?”
“I’m looking at you,” she answered, as though it were the dumbest questions ever asked.
“Obviously, but are you looking straight at, or from behind me?”
“I’m looking at you,” she replied more calmly.
“So your right is my left.”
“Oh, I suppose,” she muttered after a short silence.
“And the railings are electrified, so I’d appreciate you pointing them out to me.”
“I can’t do this,” Skylar said quietly, and I could hear she was crying.
“We don’t have a choice and we’re wasting time,” I replied, proud of myself for using ‘we’ when ‘you’ was the correct term. “Just remember to reverse the direction left or right when I’m coming towards you. Come on, let’s go.”
“Fine. Turn around,” she said, sniffing the tears away.
I turned all the way around.
“Take two steps.”
I took one step, moving slowly, and was about to take the second when Skylar shouted. “Stop! Turn a little to your right.”
I hesitated before turning my best guess at 45 degrees to my right. Without a visual reference, I couldn’t even tell the extent of my movements.
“Okay, now take two steps.”
I did and was relieved when I wasn’t met by another shock.
“Go one more step and reach out.”
I nervously took another pace and stretched both hands out before me, above waist height, in case another railing resided close by. My left hand touched a wall.
“Move your hand down and left,” Skylar instructed. “Shit, I mean right, down and right.�
��
I took a deep breath and corrected the direction of my hand along the wall. It bumped into something solid and I winced, expecting another shock. But nothing came. I felt something moving around against my hand.
“That’s two of the rings!” Skylar shouted excitedly. “They’re on a hook, take them off and we’ll get the other two. They’re on the opposite wall.”
I fumbled around until I had hold of the rings and lifted them from the hook. They felt like they were made of metal, about the diameter of a football, and heavier than I would have guessed. I turned what I hoped was 180 degrees and waited for my next direction.
“Okay, take one step, then turn right.”
I took the step, then halted. “I’m going away from you now, so are you sure it’s my right?” I wasn’t keen on another zap. My tongue was just feeling normal again.
“Um, yeah, it’s your right, turn right.”
I turned to my right.
“Too much!” she shouted.
“Can you give me degrees? Or numbers of a clock?” I asked, “Give me some idea how much to angle each turn.”
“What?” she replied.
“Okay, watch,” I said, and put my hands out in front of me. I turned what I hoped was 90 degrees. It felt like it was.
“I just turned 90 degrees, a right angle, got it?”
“Okay,” she replied, not sounding like she got it.
I turned halfway back. “So that’s 45 degrees.”
“You’re confusing me,” Skylar complained.
How anyone could reach the age of whatever she was, having grown up in a first world country, and not know the degrees of a circle was beyond my comprehension. I took a few breaths and imagined the clock winding steadily down.
“Look,” I said, turning back to where I started. “This,” I rotated my best version of 90 degrees, “is hard right. This,” I continued, turning back half the amount, “is turn left.” I rotated half again, which should have been 22.5 degrees. “And this is slight left. How’s that?”
Deadly Sommer: Nora Sommer Caribbean Suspense - Book One Page 9