by T. J. Jones
"We need to get those cameras up and be ready in case they try something. I can't believe he would risk the exposure just to get Gabriela back."
"New territory, maybe he wants to make an example of us. Sorry I got us into this, I'm the one that grabbed Gabriela."
"What else were we going to do, leave her there? Normal, civilized people don't force thirteen-year old girls into prostitution. There was never a choice."
"We better go over to Maryanne's and see if she's heard anything."
"Five and five. My partner is enjoying her company, but I'm sick of this.
Sell some of those oil wells bitch, and get that money!"
"That doesn't sound good." Maryanne looked over her big desk at us. "Is he saying she's being molested?"
"Maybe, but molested is alive Maryanne. And it doesn't have to mean that. It might be they just disagree on what to do. The oil well comment is odd, unless Rashad Dinar is involved." Once again, I had said too much.
"Dinar? I know that name. I deal with a Rashad Dinar, an oil trader from Dubai." We both nodded. "How is he involved?"
"He may not be. But he dabbles in young girls on the side. He had Davey Templeton killed because he was helping some of the girls get away from that life."
"Rashad? I've met him several times, and that's hard to believe. He's young, good looking and rich, a real charmer. Why would he need to be involved with something like that?"
"Money problems maybe, or just because he's disgusting." Maggie suggested. "Would there be any financial advantage for someone like him if you did sell some of your oil wells?"
"Not that I can think of. Are you certain we're talking about the same man? I could call him up right now and ask him if he's heard anything about this, we're that close."
"Maryanne, please!" Maggie leaned across the desk. "We just came from the hospital. Dinar's men nearly killed Susan Foster breaking my uncle out of a safe house, because he could testify against the bastard. He's not who you think he is. He may be charming, but he's the person that killed my brother."
"Your uncle? I thought he was killed in a plane crash years ago. And your brother? Now I'm completely lost, what are you talking about?"
"Davey Templeton was my half-brother." Maggie sank back into her chair. "Slater, tell her everything would you?"
I gave her the condensed version but pointed out that we were concerned Dinar might be plotting against us for taking Gabriela. "Susan Foster has been after him for years, and she has stacks and stacks of evidence. He's protected from extradition by some of our own people in Washington, oil and money, sex and more money. They keep the FBI off his back and he pays them off and does favors for them. Correction, his underaged slave girls do favors for them. Susan is convinced he's expanding his organization, and most of it's human trafficking, immigrant kids."
"That's awful. To think I've done business with him for years. That stops today, and I will make some calls, but not to that bastard. Hard to shut someone with his contacts down completely, but I can give him a good kick in the pocketbook. You're absolutely sure about all this?"
"Absolutely, we know he's the guy behind it all."
"If I raise hell and it starts costing him money, sooner or later he'll figure out where it started and tie it back to you Slater. Is it worth the risk?"
"He might come after you too, Maryanne. But he killed Davey. Anything we can do to him is worth the risk as far as I'm concerned. Maggie?"
"Absolutely. I'll talk to Angela and Gabriela about it, but somebody has to stop him, we owe Davey that."
"Okay then, let's deal with one scumbag at a time." Maryanne set her jaw. "What about this ransom note? Five and five?"
"Say we give them five million. They're not going to show us Jasmine, because they can't give their location away. Now they have Jasmine and a small fortune. What is stopping them from cutting their losses right then, take the money and get rid of the only witness. Sorry to be blunt, but that's the reality."
"That was always going to be a possibility, I know that Slater. What if you watch them somehow, follow them or track them? I suppose they would be expecting a tracking device."
"Depending on how and when they want to transfer the money, there might be a chance to follow them back to Jasmine."
"Two payments means two chances if they don't deliver her. There's always the risk that they'll kill her, we all know that."
"Okay. Agree to their terms, but tell them you want very specific instructions. From their perspective, the first run is to see if you'll do what they want and not bring the cops. Since there are at least two of them, one guy will probably hang back with Jasmine. It's insurance for them, because they can always threaten to kill her if we try something. It still all depends on how they want us to deliver the money, that's our chance. Obviously, you can't just put it in the mail, or leave it outside the door, there has to be some sort of an exchange."
"Maybe just keeping her alive is all we get for the first half."
"How about a video? A thumb drive of her, timestamped, so we know she's alive and reasonably well? We get that and they get the first half. Anything we get might give us an idea of who they are and where."
"That's good! How should I word the ad?"
"Missing you! Worried about your health. Need a video of that smiling face, then I can deliver the first five at the location of your choice. Be specific."
"They should be able to figure that out." Maggie said.
"Maybe Jasmine can give us a clue, but I imagine they'll be careful about that."
"Think they might have us just leave it somewhere? They do that in the movies."
"Five million dollars? They wouldn't leave it for long, and they would expect a setup. We'll just have to wait and see what they come up with."
That Butterfly, or the uncertainty it represented was tearing me up. Somehow, Jasmine had been ensnared by it. It might have been as innocuous as stopping on the side of the road to use her cellphone and never getting the chance. Maybe she had forgotten something in the house on her way to the party, and that slight delay had put her in the wrong place at the wrong time.
People run red lights all the time and sometimes the consequences are tragic. One second, or a portion of that sometimes means the difference between a sudden death or a close call with some horn blowing and hand signals exchanged. Was it all random, turning left instead of right somewhere along the line, or did the Butterfly know what it was doing? And was that Butterfly just a pawn in a bigger game, was it guided by some ultimate purpose?
It was difficult watching my mother die. At times like that, and now this, I think everyone wonders about the big questions, and their own beliefs about a higher power. It's tough for me to think that our end is predetermined, that there is one day and minute that an omnipotent being has picked for our demise. That seems too simplistic, and robs us of our free will. At forty, I still hadn't settled those questions in my own mind, but I had said a couple quiet prayers for Jasmine, just in case I was wrong about that damn Butterfly.
When the next letter arrived three days later it contained a thumbnail, and we all gathered around Tommy Ackerman's laptop to watch the clip. Jasmine was sitting in an overstuffed chair with a rope tied around her neck that disappeared behind her. She had on a sweat shirt and shorts that neither Maryanne or Maggie recognized. "They must have bought her clothes." Maggie muttered close to my ear.
Jasmine looked better than I would have expected, her voice was strong and defiant.
"Hi guys! Still alive and as good as I can be. I miss you all. This is the sixth time I've recorded this stupid thing because Beavis and Butthead here want it just right. Twice I lost my temper, and twice I blurted out their real names. The last time I tried to sneak a hint in, but they aren't quite as stupid as they look." She glanced up at whoever was doing the recording. "Not a hint, dumbass, you are stupid-looking." She appeared to be listening for a second, then looked back at the camera. "I'm supposed to tell you that my life depends on you doing exactl
y as they say, blah, blah, blah. Same thing kidnappers always say. But I wouldn't mind coming home. I am going to owe you big time Grandma, but I promise to get good grades. I'm thinking about being a cop so I can shoot assholes like these two morons. Hey…"
The clip ended before she was finished, and despite the fact that we were no closer to finding her, it was a relief to see that she hadn't given up hope. It brought a smile to Maryanne's face.
"Leave it to Jasmine to give them as much grief as she could get away with."
"She told us there are two of them." I pointed out. "And she implied that she might know them. She knows their names now at least, I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not."
"And, that they're stupid looking." Maggie chuckled. "Her bruise is mostly healed, and she didn't look too bad."
"Let's see what their demands are." Tommy unfolded the ransom note.
Maryanne, video included. Alive and well if you follow these instructions! Check GPS in tomorrow's ad. From that address drive gravel road three miles south, stop and wait. I will blink headlights three times. Put money on the road and leave the way you came. 5 million in unmarked hundreds. If there are no surprises, next five you get the girl. Midnight, on the dot.
"Gives us some time to prepare at least." I said. It had been a nerve wracking few days for all of us and we had gathered at Tommy's office to strategize. I didn't know if I should blame the postal service or the kidnappers for taking their sweet time in replying.
"I was hoping we might get a glimpse of an arm or a hand." Maggie put in. "Jasmine was trying to say as much as she could. She knows more than just their names."
"Kidnapping is a capital crime, so being recognized is not a mistake they can afford to make." Tommy pointed out. "These days, presuming no one is killed, they wouldn't get a death sentence, but they would end up in jail for a very long time. At least we have some idea of how it's going to go down."
"Midnight on a gravel road somewhere, any thoughts?" Maryanne looked at me.
"Luis could make the delivery, and I could try to follow them with the Piper after they pick up the money. No moon, so if we disable the lights it would be hard for anyone on the ground to see us if we stay high enough. The FAA frowns on that sort of thing, but I'm not going to worry about that. If Maggie goes up with me, she can watch for other planes and keep us out of their way if need be. If we're not near a commercial flyway we won't raise any red flags."
"From the air, you might be able to follow them right back to Jasmine." Tommy said hopefully.
"Can't be sure. It depends on where it is and what direction they're going. If they come back into town, we would need someone on the ground. Luis might be able to identify the vehicle if he gets close enough. If not, we just watch them from above and hope we get lucky."
"Will Luis be okay doing this?" Maggie asked.
"I'll talk to him, but I'm sure he will do anything necessary to help." Maryanne said. "Could it be dangerous for him?"
"They've talked about killing Jasmine, so I'd say yes. People have died for a lot less than five million dollars. I'll talk to him about the risks. The second that ad gets posted tomorrow we have to start making our plans."
"Should we meet here, or at my place?" Maryanne asked. "The cash is in my safe, so maybe there would be best."
"The ads have hit just before noon, so Maggie and I will be there then. I'll make sure the plane is ready. I'm going to stop and see Susan Foster and run this by her. She might have some insight."
"Is she out of the hospital?" Tommy asked, then glanced at Maggie.
"I explained how we know her, Slater." The redhead told me. "And the shooting was in all the papers."
"She's out of the hospital, but staying here in town until she heals up. No worries Tommy, if we can't trust our lawyer, who can we trust." Nobody laughed.
"This is downright embarrassing." Susan complained. She was dressed in some loose-fitting pajamas and perched on a stack of pillows at the kitchen table of the cop we had talked to the day of the shooting. "Captain Green and his wife were nice enough to take me in or I would have had to hire a nurse and been staying in a motel. No way I was ready to be alone in Titusville."
"Why didn't you call?" Maggie exclaimed. "We have a ton of room. My Mom went to Europe for two months and her bed is empty."
"Thanks, but I'm here now, so I'll stay put. A few more days and I'll be able to get around. I haven't been able to get any kind of lead on your uncle, but that's not surprising. How is the girl doing that you brought back from Daytona?"
"Kids that age are unbelievably resilient. She already seems like your normal, happy teenage girl. Loves to shop and thinks she should have a cellphone."
"I would wait on the cellphone. Sometimes those girls have been so indoctrinated and terrorized, no matter how good their situation is, they're convinced they have to call their pimp. Gabriela may believe if she doesn't call him, he will come and kill you all. It's part of the brainwashing they're subjected to, especially the younger ones. She wouldn't do it to hurt you, she would think she was protecting you. I've seen it before. In time her ability to trust that she is safe will come back."
"No cellphone, got it. I would have never thought about that."
"I've seen dozens of girls like her." Susan said sadly. "There's a pattern."
"We're trying to save another one at the moment." I pulled up a chair and slid one over to Maggie. "The kidnappers made contact and it sounds like we're going to deliver half the money tomorrow night. Two payments, only way they would do it. I need your ideas."
"Two payments, and two kidnappers?"
"Right, and it doesn't seem like they're on the same page all the time. The correspondences were odd, whoever wrote them tended to overshare."
"If there are just two of them, you have to be prepared for the first one to make a run for it. Once he gets the money, why would he go back? He leaves his partner with nothing, just the cleanup. At that point, a lone operator might just decide to kill her and cut his losses. It's possible they're tight enough that that won't happen, but the guy watching Jasmine is taking a hell of a chance, or he's an idiot."
"Not what I wanted to hear." Maggie said. "How do we know what the guy is going to do? The idea is to watch him from Slater's plane and follow him if we can."
"May come down to your gut, if you feel like he's making a run for it, try to stop him. That's what I would do anyway."
"And what if he calls his partner and he kills Jasmine?" I put in.
"And then dies in prison? If you're able to stop him, killing Jasmine would be the stupidest thing they could do, unless he wants to try to shoot it out with you. I've seen you shoot, Slater, that wouldn't end well for him."
"Maryanne wants to do whatever it takes to get her daughter back safely. What if there is shooting and we kill the guy? How do we find Jasmine?"
"Most likely these two kidnappers are associated somehow, and you could track the other one down. Not a perfect plan, I admit. I can get you a piece of equipment that may help if you decide to do it my way. If you stop him, or pin him down, you probably don't want him calling his partner."
"A cell-scrambler?" I know they exist, just not how effective they are."
"Police issue, it'll shut down any cellphone within a couple hundred yards."
"And if his partner is sitting there waiting for a confirmation call?"
"Not a perfect plan, like I said. It'll be a judgement call when the time comes. I can line up the blocker and a set of night goggles. Pretty dark at midnight."
"You're a lifesaver." Maggie stood up and hugged her.
"Hope so, nice to win one once in a while."
I dropped Maggie off at home and went back to the airport. I took all the running lights out of their sockets but left the landing light operational. I spent a couple hours going over everything mechanical I could think of to check and washed off the spots where an errant Gull had left its mark. Being the poor mechanic I am, I didn't want to tinker with t
oo much, so I closed it up and went to find Luis.
My crew consisted of three men plus Luis, all Hispanic, all legal, all better carpenters than their employer. What I lacked in skill, I tried to make up for with enthusiasm, but lately I hadn't found much time to even show up. My timing was right, and I helped unload a lumber truck before taking the foreman off to the side.
"Things are almost set for tomorrow Luis. Are you sure you want to be involved?"
"Of course, Jasmine is like my own daughter."
"It may mean following them, or even ramming their vehicle if things go to hell. You can drive my pickup, if that gets smashed up it wouldn't hurt my feelings any. Do you have a gun?"
"A shotgun, to shoot the Quail."
"Can you shoot a handgun?"
"Maybe." He grinned. "I never tried."
"Bring the shotgun, you can scare them if nothing else."
"Close up, I can do more than scare them."
"Let's hope that isn't necessary. Sorry, but I have to go downtown and get some equipment. Maybe give the guys tomorrow off with pay. You and I both need to be wide awake come midnight."
"I will come to the Senora's tomorrow and we can make a plan, like you say. We will get her back, Senor Slater, I have a good feeling."
"I wish I was as sure, Luis."
Chapter Twenty
I felt better about things by the next morning. Watching Gabriela play with the big Lab while Maggie and I ate was cathartic. Young people are amazing. Despite all the tragedy and horrors she had seen, a good meal and a dog had Gabriela well on the way to recovery.
Hopefully, whatever Jasmine was going through could be put behind her as quickly. There was a sense of excitement mixed with dread, and my gut told me that one way or the other, tonight's delivery was going to shed light on who had Jasmine and what our odds were of finding her alive. Given the opportunity, I wanted to end it.
The more I thought about Susan's advice, the more I agreed with her. Giving the kidnappers five million dollars without getting Jasmine in return seemed like asking for trouble. It seemed confusing that Jasmine wasn't more scared of her captors. She was a strong girl and one that wasn't likely to be cowed, but if the bruise on her face was any indication, she had been knocked around some. No matter how independent, she had to realize there was a chance they would kill her. Yet the girl on the tape didn't seem frightened in the least. She had been combative, but the interaction she had with her kidnappers didn't seem like someone who considered them to be a threat. Their off-camera conversation, what was intelligible, had seemed more like banter than a heated exchange.