We Can See You

by Simon Kernick

Ralph Byfield was a short, overweight man in his fifties with an inflated air of his own importance and a moist handshake. There was nothing likeable about him, and Brook imagined him to be the kind of man who’d achieved his promotions by subtly undermining his colleagues. He’d been the bank’s manager for three years now and she tended to avoid him when possible, especially as she knew he had a bit of a thing for her.

  Today he was dressed in a charcoal-grey three-piece suit a size too small for him and polished Derby brogues that looked like they were pinching his feet.

  ‘Ms Connor, always a pleasure to see you,’ he said, putting out a pudgy hand and trying not to look too interested in the empty holdall she was carrying.

  ‘Thanks for making the time to meet me, Mr Byfield,’ she said, as he led her through a side door and down to his office.

  ‘Of course – you’re one of our best customers, and we at the bank always like to be on hand to help whenever we can. Please,’ he said, motioning her to take a seat.

  Brook put down the holdall and sat opposite him across his outsize desk.

  ‘First of all, can I offer you some coffee, or green tea perhaps?’ he asked, his smile unctuous.

  She’d mentioned on one of her appearances on the TV show that she drank green tea to relax her, and it unnerved her that Byfield had obviously seen it. ‘No thanks,’ she said. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘So what can we do for you? You mentioned that it was urgent.’

  Brook had already worked out her story. ‘My husband and I have been given an excellent investment opportunity in Mexico – one that we’ve checked out and are happy with – but we need to make a deposit in cash to secure the best deal. I need two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash today.’

  Byfield’s smile evaporated and was immediately replaced by a surprised expression that was only just the right side of suspicious. ‘Ms Connor, I think any investment that requires a cash deposit of that size – especially one taking place outside US jurisdiction – is one that you and your husband should think very carefully about. We hear lots of stories about fraud …’

  ‘We know what we’re doing, Mr Byfield. We just need the money. And we need it today.’

  Byfield looked on the verge of panic. He clearly wasn’t used to requests like this. ‘That’s not going to be possible, Ms Connor.’

  ‘I believe that I have four hundred and thirty-eight thousand dollars in the standard savings account I have with you’ – Byfield started to speak, but Brook put up a hand to stop him – ‘as well as a further one hundred and forty-five thousand in my business account, and forty-three thousand in my personal checking account. That, if I calculate correctly, is six hundred and twenty-six thousand dollars. So clearly I have the money to cover this transaction and, according to the bank’s terms, I’m entitled to immediate access to it.’

  ‘We don’t keep that kind of cash on the premises,’ he said, his forehead glistening now.

  ‘Then please could you get it for me? I need it by close of business this afternoon.’

  ‘I don’t think you understand, Ms Connor. I would need to inform the relevant authorities of a transaction of this size, under the terms of the Bank Secrecy Act. There are forms that need to be submitted. It’s certainly possible to get you the money at some point in the next five business days, but it won’t happen much before then, if at all. I’m sorry, Ms Connor, but my hands are tied.’

  Brook’s earlier elation was fading fast. The kidnappers weren’t going to wait that long. And the fact that it was her own money, and she was entitled to it, frustrated her even more. She forced herself to remain calm, but coming on top of the stress of the last twelve hours, it was hard.

  ‘You say that you don’t hold that amount of cash here, but you have other branches. In an emergency, you could get the money together by close of play today, yes?’

  Byfield looked interested now. ‘Is this an emergency? Are you in some kind of trouble?’

  ‘It’s a hypothetical question,’ she said. ‘Humour me. Like you said: I’m one of your most valuable customers.’

  He didn’t like that. ‘I suppose, in an emergency, yes. But an investment in Mexico isn’t an emergency. Unless it’s something else. Something we may be able to help with.’

  There was no way Brook was going to let him know anything about her predicament. But she was playing for high stakes now, and she had to choose the way forward carefully. ‘I respect your position, Mr Byfield, and I’m happy to sign whatever paperwork needs signing, but I want my money today and I know you can get it.’

  ‘I think we’re going round in circles here—’

  ‘No, we’re not. Because if you don’t get it for me, not only will you lose me as a customer – and I’d like to remind you that as well as the six hundred and twenty-six thousand dollars in cash that I have in this bank, I have a further one-point-eight million dollars in investments with you. You’ll not only lose all that, but I will also walk straight out of here and tell every customer and would-be customer who comes through your doors today, tomorrow and the next day that you haven’t got the cash reserves to fund withdrawals. I’ll tell them that you won’t even give me my own money. And then we’ll see exactly how long it takes to start a run on your bank.’ Brook delivered this whole spiel with a calmness in her voice that belied the seething emotions she was experiencing inside. She’d considered trying to sweet-talk Byfield, but she didn’t think this approach would get her the quarter of a million by the time the bank closed, whereas the threat just might.

  It was clear she’d put him on the spot. His face was red, and he looked flustered as he fiddled with the papers on his desk. ‘You’re a very valued client, so I really wouldn’t advise you to do that, Ms Connor,’ he said, but there was uncertainty in his voice.

  Brook thought of Paige, all alone in a strange place, and pressed her advantage. ‘I don’t care what you advise. That’s what’s going to happen. If it doesn’t, I’ll also bring up the issues I’m having with your bank, and you personally, on the TV show.’ She wouldn’t, of course – they’d never let her – but now wasn’t the time for subtlety.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re doing this,’ he said, looking so genuinely confused that she actually felt sorry for him. ‘Are you in some kind of trouble?’

  ‘All I want is a portion of my money, Mr Byfield,’ Brook said, almost soothingly, knowing that it’s always good to follow the big stick with a carrot. ‘That’s all I’m asking for. Nothing more. And I just want you to get it for me by the end of today.’

  Byfield took a deep breath and met her gaze.

  The moment of truth. Brook could hear her heart beating a rapid tattoo in her chest.

  ‘Come back at four o’clock and we’ll expedite your request,’ he said, getting to his feet .

  7

  Brook had barely been inside the bank for ten minutes, but she already had a missed call from Logan. She put on her sunglasses and looked around before walking back to the car, checking for any suspicious-looking characters who were hanging around, but the parking lot was empty.

  As soon as she was back inside the car, she returned Logan’s call.

  ‘Did you get the money?’ he asked immediately.

  ‘I’ve got to go back and collect it later this afternoon,’ she told him. ‘It wasn’t easy. There are rules about withdrawing large sums of cash.’

  ‘But they’re going to give it to you, right?’

  ‘Yes. They’re going to give it to me.’

  ‘That’s great.’ He sounded relieved. ‘Are you coming home?’

  Brook sighed. She needed time to think. ‘No, not yet. I’m going to take a drive, clear my head.’

  ‘Don’t be too long, babe. I need you here with me.’

  She was suddenly very tired of Logan. ‘I’ll be back when I can,’ she said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her voice.

  ‘Did you get the photo of Paige?’ he asked her.

  ‘I did. It was a real relief
.’

  ‘She looks okay, doesn’t she?’ he said brightly. ‘We’re going to get her back, Brook. We deliver them that quarter mill and hopefully Paige will be sleeping in her bed tonight.’

  ‘There’s no “hopefully” about it, Logan. They don’t get the money until we see Paige. No way. The money gives us leverage. Without it, they’ve got no incentive to cooperate.’

  ‘I’ll make sure they know that.’

  ‘Please do, because we can’t afford to screw this up.’

  ‘Don’t you think I know that, Brook? She’s my daughter.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, too mentally exhausted to get into an argument. ‘I know she is. I’ll see you later.’ She cut the call, no longer wanting to talk to her husband, and reversed the car out into the traffic.

  What Brook couldn’t understand was Logan’s apparent lack of concern for Paige’s safety. He’d always been a pretty assertive guy – at least on the surface – and yet he wasn’t being at all pushy with the kidnappers, letting them dictate things totally when, as Brook knew from past experience, you had to wrest back control, get your opponents to show you respect. The money seemed to interest him more than Paige did, which would stand to reason if he knew for a fact that she was safe and well. The only way he’d know that for sure, however, was if he was a part of the kidnap.

  But in the end she couldn’t think of a good reason why he’d do this. If he needed her money that much, he could simply divorce her. They hadn’t bothered signing a prenup – mainly because, even now, Brook wasn’t exactly super-wealthy, and when they’d wed two and a half years ago she’d been worth a lot less – so there’d been no obvious need for one. With hardly any assets of his own, Logan would be able to claim a sizeable slice of her money anyway – far more than a quarter of a million dollars – and do the whole thing completely legally.

  Even so, Brook was certain that Logan was the key to all this. And if she could find out how, then she might be able to get a clue as to the identity of the kidnappers, because she wasn’t at all confident they were going to deliver Paige home safe and sound, even after getting the money. If they had a personal grudge, they’d keep the torment going as long as possible.

  Only one person could help Brook find out what was really going on. Someone she’d been trying to get hold of for the past three days, until Paige had gone missing. But the thing was, Chris Cervantes hadn’t been returning her calls, even though she was paying him good money for his services.

  Chris Cervantes was a private investigator. Brook had found him on the Net. She had no idea how good he was but, according to his résumé, he’d been a police officer for twenty-eight years – twenty of them as a detective – before opening up his own PI practice four years earlier, so he certainly had the experience. She’d hired him three weeks earlier to find out what Logan was doing when he wasn’t with her. She knew – or at least guessed – that he played around, but she needed to know whether it was the occasional drunken fumble or something more serious. A lot of women would have said it was better not to know. As long as everything remained fine at home – and largely it did – Brook had Paige; she and Logan got along fine most of the time; they still made love at least once a week then, why rock the boat by finding out things you know aren’t going to make you happy?

  But Brook knew the reason why. It was because she didn’t want to risk losing Paige, and she was a great believer in the maxim that forewarned is forearmed. So if Logan was planning on leaving her, she wanted to know about it now, so she could be prepared.

  She’d arranged with Chris Cervantes that he’d send her weekly reports every Sunday before midnight to a Hotmail address to which only the two of them had access. The first report hadn’t contained anything out of the ordinary (Logan was doing his usual mix of tennis coaching, hanging out in bars and going to the gym). The second report had been a little more interesting. Twice, Logan had made journeys of an hour and a half in the day (the first up to San José, the second down to King City). They were both places that, as far as Brook was aware, Logan had no business in, and on neither occasion had he mentioned being there. In San José, his car had been parked for three hours in the downtown area, while it had been parked for just over four in King City, but on neither occasion had Cervantes been able to find out what Logan had been doing. There might have been an innocent explanation for both trips, but the fact that they’d been made in secret had aroused Brook’s suspicions.

  She hadn’t confronted Logan about it, preferring to wait and see what came out of the next weekly report.

  Except that the report had never arrived. It had been due the previous Sunday, and when it hadn’t turned up by Monday morning, Brook had emailed Cervantes, asking where it was. When he hadn’t replied by Tuesday, she’d called him on his cell and left a message, before sending another email.

  Now, two days later, she still hadn’t heard a thing back from him, which was interesting in itself. The timing seemed coincidental and Brook knew from all the detective shows she watched, and books she read, not to trust coincidences.

  She thought about calling Cervantes now, but decided it might be easier just to turn up at his place in Monterey. But then it occurred to her that the kidnappers could easily have planted a miniature tracking device somewhere on or in her car.

  They might even be tracking her movements on a computer right now, just as she was sure Chris Cervantes had done with Logan. How else had he managed to track him down to San José and King City? She felt sick, knowing that they might be able to see exactly where she was going. There was no way she could turn up at the office of a private detective now. It was too damned risky. Instead she drove into Carmel and parked her car in one of the two-hour slots a little way up from the beach.

  She and Logan had picked Carmel to live in because it felt like the best place to bring up Paige. A picture-postcard little seaside town on the central Californian coast, two hours south of San Francisco, and made famous by the fact that Clint Eastwood had once been mayor, it was a place of art galleries, independent shops and restaurants, with plenty of green spaces, wildlife, state parks on the doorstep, and a magnificent beach that never seemed to get too crowded. The deep-red sunsets across the Pacific were breathtaking; the people were friendly; vehicles stopped for pedestrians crossing the road. It was safe. It was perfect.

  And now, in just one day, it had lost all its charm, the thin veneer of safety suddenly wrenched away.

  Brook wandered aimlessly around the shops, trying to pass the time before she collected the money from the bank, and feeling like a complete outsider amongst all the people going about their daily lives without a care in the world. Every so often she looked over her shoulder, but no one was following her and, even if they were, she was simply walking. And yet all the time she couldn’t get it out of her head that she ought to try to get hold of Cervantes. That he might have a clue for her.

  Finally, she stopped for a coffee and bagel at a café opposite the beach. In her current state of mind, the bagel tasted like sawdust, but she forced it down, knowing she needed to eat, before going to the washrooms and locking herself in the cubicle, cellphone in hand, ready to call him. There was no way the kidnappers could have got to her cell. Like everyone else these days, she kept it with her at all times. And yet she was also aware that there were so many ways now of tracking your every move. Was it possible that the photo of Paige they’d sent to Logan, and which he’d sent on to her, contained some kind of viral attachment that could monitor what she was looking at on the phone, or who she was calling? If she called Cervantes and they found out about it, it could cost Paige her life. The stakes were that high.

  And Brook knew that losing Paige now would mean the end of her own life. With her family gone, and her husband not the man she thought he was, Paige had become the one person who truly mattered to her. Take her out of the equation and Brook would be left staring into the abyss.

  She had no choice but to follow the kidnappers’ instructions,
deliver them the money and hope they came through. With a sigh, she put the phone away, got to her feet and exited the cubicle.

  8

  Life had never lived up to expectations for Logan Harris. At school, he’d had so much promise. A handsome, popular boy with a talent for drama and sports, he was the one voted most likely to go places in his class. The girls loved him. So did the boys. Everyone wanted to be his friend. Everyone agreed that Logan was an all-round good guy. Even his home life was great. His parents were liberal, caring, well enough off that nothing was ever too hard and, best of all (or so it seemed at the time), they never pushed him too hard.

  When, aged twenty-two, he’d left California State University with a degree, very little debt – thanks to his tennis scholarship – and plenty of optimism, the world had been Logan Harris’s oyster, and he was ready to launch himself upon it and make the kind of mark that befitted the faith his former school friends had placed in him.

  Except it had never quite worked out like that. Logan had become the perpetual nearly-man. Nearly a successful actor. Nearly a pro tennis player. Nearly a good businessman. Nearly even a good husband – at least with his first wife, Anna. But that was the problem. In the end, nearly didn’t count for anything.

  And now, as he stood staring at his reflection in the mirror, he realized that his life had finally fallen to pieces.

  Anna – the love of his life – was dead. His second marriage, made on the rebound, had been falling apart almost from the moment it had started, and now Paige was gone. Logan hadn’t realized until now quite how much he loved his daughter. Perhaps because he’d always taken her presence for granted. She was cute and pretty, and he loved how small and precious she felt in his arms when he picked her up, but then a few seconds later he’d always put her down again and find something else to do. He just hadn’t been that interested in her as a person. Until now, when it was too late.

  Now she was gone, it hurt him like a physical pain. What hurt him even more was that he had a very good idea who was behind her abduction, and if he was right – and by God, he prayed he wasn’t – then he was never going to see his daughter again.