Paying the Piper

by Simon Wood

  How had the Piper gotten the phone to him? He remembered the collision outside. Had the man he’d bumped into slipped the phone into his pocket? Was that man the Piper? He tried to conjure up the man’s face in his head and came up blank. He hadn’t taken much notice of him. His focus had been on the woman he’d upended. She’d been conveniently there to catch the ricochet. Maybe the Piper didn’t work alone. It made sense. Kidnappings are hard to pull off solo. Then again, these two strangers could be totally innocent. Maybe the Piper had seen the woman go down and had pounced. Scott had felt a number of people brush by him when he’d helped her up. Any number of them could have been the Piper.

  This was crazy. What did it matter who had slipped him the phone? The deed was done.

  “I’m alone.”

  “Good. A few ground rules about this phone. It stays on at all times, and you don’t tell anyone about it. Not your wife and not Sheils. You always pick up. If you fail to comply, I will take it out on Sammy. Are we clear?”

  Scott wanted to reach through the phone and tear out the Piper’s throat. He clenched his teeth together to confine his thoughts. “Yeah, we’re clear.”

  “I thought we’d chat without Sheils and company listening in. How are you getting on with the ransom?”

  “We’re close,” Scott lied.

  The Piper whistled. “You’ve done well. I didn’t think you’d get that much so quickly. I suppose you sold your soul to your newspaper.”

  “Anything for my son,” Scott snapped.

  “Don’t get sore, Scott. This is business. It’s not personal.”

  “Bullshit.”

  The Piper’s electronic device disguised his voice, but not his tone. Anger and disgust cut through. “You’re right, this is personal. You’re the only person who can give me what I need.”

  “Money?”

  The Piper laughed. “I thought you understood. I couldn’t have made the message any clearer.”

  What’s he talking about? Scott thought. What message? What have I missed?

  “I misjudged you. You might not be the right person for this.”

  “For what?”

  “For the real ransom demand.”

  All the air seemed to disappear from the room, leaving him light-headed. He was suffocating in the cramped confines of the men’s room.

  “What do you mean?”

  The smugness returned to the Piper’s voice. “The money is only a diversionary tactic to keep the FBI busy. I don’t want them getting in the way of our real business.”

  Scott was afraid to ask, but he had to. “Which is?”

  “I have scores that need settling, and you’re going to be settling them for me. That’s the ransom. Understand, if you tell the FBI about this, I’ll kill Sammy. Fail to comply with my demands, I’ll kill Sammy. Do anything to annoy me, I’ll kill Sammy. And, Scott, I won’t be as compassionate as I was with Nicholas. Sammy will know pain like he knows breathing, and he’ll know that his father caused it all. Do I make myself clear?”

  Scott felt sick. This was his fault. His doing. It wasn’t fair. Not to Sammy, Jane, or Peter. “Let Sammy go. Take me. I’ll do whatever you want me to, but let my son go.”

  “Scott, it doesn’t work like that. Killing you in the most painful of ways would be very satisfying, but it wouldn’t sate me, not fully. I’d get hungry again the moment it was over. I need something substantial. Seeing you squirm will satisfy me. Are you squirming now, Scott?” He paused for an answer that didn’t come. “C’mon, Scott, don’t be a spoilsport. Admit that you’re squirming.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Scott asked.

  “I want you to find Mike Redfern.”

  Scott and Guerra drove back to his house. He held the check from the Independent in his hand, now worth nothing. The two million was window dressing. The Piper wanted his pound of flesh torn from Scott, not cut. How the hell was he going to find Mike Redfern? Worse still, how was he supposed to do it under Sheils’s nose?

  It was obvious the Piper wanted him to suffer, but how much? Did the Piper even want him to succeed with this demand? Finding Redfern might be an act of futility designed to provide an excuse to kill Sammy. Scott’s stomach clenched at the thought, forcing him to lean forward.

  “Are you okay?” Guerra asked.

  “Yeah, fine.”

  She didn’t look convinced. “You look terrible.”

  “It’s just the stress. I’ll be fine when I get out of this car.”

  The media was still waiting when Guerra pulled onto his street. SFPD cleared a space for them to pass through. A Mercedes S600 filled his driveway. The owner’s identity became apparent the moment Scott stepped from the car.

  “What is the significance of Charles Rooker’s arrival?” a reporter asked.

  “Are you going to apologize to him, Mr. Fleetwood?” another demanded.

  Nicholas’s father? Scott didn’t need this on top of everything else. Rooker had called Scott a hero after he’d announced contact with the Piper. He hadn’t called him anything after Nicholas’s death. Scott couldn’t imagine what the man wanted, not at a time like this. He ignored the questions and disappeared inside the house.

  He found Sheils and Brannon seated at the dining table, deep in conversation with Jane and Rooker. They stopped when Scott walked in. Jane jumped up and engulfed him in a hug.

  “Charles is giving us the two million. We have Sammy’s ransom, Scott.”

  Rooker rose from his seat. When Scott had last seen him, he had been a big man in every sense—height, girth, and persona. The death of his son and the loss of his wife had clearly diminished him. Scott had contributed to this man’s decline. It made Rooker’s gesture all the harder to stomach.

  “Mr. Fleetwood, this is a terrible thing,” Rooker said.

  “I don’t know what to say. Mr. Rooker, why are you helping us?”

  Rooker pumped Scott’s hand two-handed, shaking his head sadly. “I can’t stand by and let that man terrorize another child the way he did Nicholas. Our differences mean nothing as of today.”

  A lump grew in Scott’s throat, cutting off his air and his words. He didn’t know what to say to Rooker. He’d ruined this man’s life, robbing him of his only child. Scott didn’t deserve this. This man’s generosity humbled him.

  “Thank you. We’ll pay back every penny.”

  Scott’s emotions got the better of him and he broke into tears. He released Rooker’s hand to hug Jane. She was the only thing holding him up. He wept for Sammy, Nicholas, and all the people he was going to betray by working for the Piper. The fist clutching his insides tightened its grip.

  “It’s okay, baby,” Jane cooed. “This is a good thing.”

  It took a minute for Scott to regain control. He took a seat next to Jane. She held his hand under the table, squeezing it tight.

  “I’d like to caution you about paying the ransom,” Sheils said.

  “Why?” Jane demanded.

  “As soon as you pay the ransom, Sammy is no longer of value.”

  “Not paying the ransom got my son killed,” Rooker said.

  “We’re paying the ransom,” Scott said. For all the good it will do, he thought.

  Sheils conceded without fuss. “I can’t stop you. I can only advise you,” he said. “Now that we have the ransom covered, the banks will work very quickly.”

  “I’ve already spoken with my bank,” Rooker said. “They’re preparing the money now.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Sheils said. “The bureau has ties to a number of banks. They keep funds set aside for us to exchange with victims and use for ransom money. We have several million dollars’ worth of nonsequential bills recorded so that even if the Piper detects our tracking devices, we know every one of the serial numbers.”

  “Tracking devices?” Scott said. “I’m not taking any chances with Sammy’s life.”

  Scott realized too late how that must sound to Rooker, having taken risks with Nicholas’s life.


  “The Piper already knows we’re here. He just has to switch on a TV.”

  Scott couldn’t make out if there was a slam aimed at him in that reference, but he didn’t care.

  “The Piper would think something very strange was going on if he didn’t find any tracking devices,” Brannon said. “We want him to focus on the trackers and not our other tactics.”

  “You do want him caught, don’t you?” Sheils asked.

  “All I care about is Sammy.”

  Jane squeezed his hand again, her signal to him to cool down.

  “So what are these trackers?” Scott asked.

  “We have a variety,” Brannon said. “We’ll have them built into the drop bag and the paper bands as well as between the bills.”

  “You’re saying these are decoys. What else do you have planned?” Jane asked.

  “We’ll have surveillance teams in the air and on the ground,” Sheils said. “We’ll have a number of ways to catch the Piper.”

  Rooker’s expression turned stern. “How is any of this different than what you told me eight years ago? You didn’t catch the Piper then.”

  Sheils shifted in his seat. “There were complications last time.”

  “You mean Redfern?”

  “Yes.”

  “Redfern had no involvement in the other kidnappings. What’s your excuse there?”

  “Mr. Rooker,” Sheils said, “I understand your frustration with our failures.”

  “I don’t think you do.”

  “Charles,” Jane said, “please hear him out, for Sammy’s sake.”

  This seemed to soothe Rooker and he relented.

  “Technology has changed since the Piper’s first kidnapping. Our procedures are more refined, and this kidnapping is different from all the others. I believe that’s the thing that’s going to trip up the Piper.”

  “How so?” Rooker asked.

  “The Piper has singled out Scott. This is personal, which means it’s emotional for him. He won’t be as focused as with previous kidnappings, and that’s how we’ll get him.”

  Rooker nodded and smiled, yet Scott got the feeling that he didn’t entirely believe in Sheils’s plan. Scott felt the same way. The Piper was too well organized to fall prey to his own emotions.

  “Let’s hope you’re right, Agent Sheils,” Rooker said, “for that little boy’s sake.”

  Peter wandered into the dining room. Scott’s stomach lurched at the sight of Sammy’s twin. To see Peter was to see Sammy. Peter was a constant reminder of Sammy’s abduction.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Scott said.

  Peter came over to the adults, and Scott slipped an arm around his shoulders.

  Rooker got up from his seat and approached Peter. Peter retreated from the property developer.

  “It’s okay,” Jane said. “Mr. Rooker is a friend.”

  Peter glanced at Scott for confirmation. Scott nodded that everything was cool. Peter still looked wary, but stayed his ground.

  “Friends don’t call me Mr. Rooker. They call me Charles.” Rooker knelt before Peter. “You must be Peter.”

  Peter nodded.

  “I’m here to help you get your brother back.”

  “Are you with the FBI?”

  Rooker shook his head.

  “Charles”—Scott found it hard calling Rooker by his first name—“is lending us the money to get Sammy back.”

  “Not lending. Giving. Banks lend money. Friends give it.”

  Jane released Scott’s hand to palm away a tear.

  “Mr. Rooker,” Sheils said, “we need you to come to the bank to sign for the money.”

  “Of course.” Rooker stood. “I think it might make a nice outing for Peter.”

  Peter’s eyes went wide. “Can I?”

  “I don’t know,” Jane said, but Sheils shrugged.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Rooker said.

  Peter stood with Rooker, his trepidation forgotten at the promise of being part of the FBI sting operation.

  The meeting was breaking up and Sheils was issuing instructions to his team and explaining the procedure to Rooker when Scott’s cell phone rang. He pulled it off his belt and checked the caller ID. George Moran.

  “I need to answer this,” he said to Jane. “It’s George.”

  Jane frowned.

  “I’ll just be a second.” He shifted to the living room. “Yes, George.”

  “Rooker is at your house. What’s going on?”

  “He’s putting up the ransom.”

  “That’s fantastic.”

  Scott didn’t know who’d responded—George the friend, ecstatic that the ransom was raised, or George the newspaper editor, ecstatic with a great human-interest angle for the story.

  The Piper’s cell phone vibrated in Scott’s pocket. Scott started at the sensation, and panic rushed through him. What was the Piper playing at? He had to know he’d be in the company of the FBI. Didn’t he want Redfern? If the Piper carried on screwing with him like this, he’d blow it and he’d have to find the bastard himself. There was no way he could answer the call, not with George on his other phone.

  The Piper had said to always answer the phone. There was enough hubbub in the house to disguise the cell’s vibrating, but a second’s lull, and someone would hear it. He couldn’t let it continue ringing. He had to switch it off, but if he did, the Piper would hurt Sammy. If someone discovered the phone on him, then Sammy was dead. The choice was simple. He slid a hand into his pocket and pressed the phone’s end key. The cell stopped vibrating, and he thought he’d puke.

  “Can you get Rooker to meet with us?” George asked.

  “We’re just leaving for the bank.”

  “Can you bring him by afterwards?”

  He needed time alone to find Redfern, and George had just given him his excuse. “Charles,” he called over his shoulder, “the Independent would like to interview you. Could you come by the paper after we’re done at the bank?”

  “Why?” Sheils asked with suspicion.

  “Because of Mr. Rooker’s generosity.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Rooker said. “I want people to know why I’m doing this.”

  “We’ll meet you at the office,” Scott said to George, and hung up.

  “I’ll have a car brought around,” Sheils said.

  “No,” Jane said. “I don’t want Peter riding around in police cars with men with guns. He needs stability and familiarity. We’ll go in ours. You can follow.”

  As they headed toward their cars, all Scott could think about was what the Piper was doing to Sammy.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Scott stood at the entrance of the bank vault. It looked utilitarian compared to the gleaming examples found in the movies. Still, Peter was getting a kick out of being allowed inside. Bank staff had taken him and Jane into the vault while Brannon supervised the two million being counted out and bagged. According to Sheils, the money would remain with the bank until the drop.

  Sheils sidled up next to Scott. “Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

  Scott thought he meant the immense amount of wealth being put aside for him, until he noticed Sheils’s gaze was on Rooker. The property developer was sitting at a desk behind the tellers. Rooker was on the phone while he and the bank manager examined a computer screen.

  “What is?” Scott asked.

  “That man is putting up the ransom for Sammy, despite what you did to his son.”

  Scott guessed Sheils’s goading wasn’t going to let up. He kept a tight grip on his temper. He wouldn’t give Sheils the satisfaction of losing it in public.

  “I didn’t do anything to his son.”

  “You’re right. You didn’t. That’s what killed him.”

  “There’s one thing we can both agree on.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Charles Rooker is a better man than the both of us put together.”

  Rooker and the bank manager concluded their business with a joke. He rejoine
d Scott and Sheils. He clapped his hands together and smiled.

  “We have the Piper’s ransom,” Rooker said. “Now, shall we tell your newspaper how he can choke on it?”

  “Yes,” Scott said.

  They drove to the Independent. As they entered the building, Peter said he was hungry, so Jane took him in search of a restaurant, with Brannon in tow. George Moran set Rooker up in the boardroom with the reporting team. He even managed to entice Sheils into the interview. Suddenly, Scott found himself unattended.

  He’d been wondering how he’d wrangle some alone time to check out Mike Redfern’s whereabouts for the Piper, and now he had it. He estimated he had an hour at the most before George had enough to work up a story. Was an hour enough to find Redfern?

  He grabbed a city directory and disappeared inside George’s office. Redfern had owned a house in Piedmont at the time of his conviction, but had sold it to pay his legal fees. Scott logged on to a website listing property information and ran a search for Mike Redfern. The database came up blank on all fifty states. Considering the kind of legal fees Redfern had run up, Scott doubted he could afford real estate anywhere.

  The only person that had stood by Redfern was his younger brother, Richard. Richard was listed, and Scott called him on the Piper’s cell. The phone wouldn’t be traced back to Scott, and knowing the Piper, it wouldn’t trace back to him, either.

  While the phone rang, he worked up a cover story. Considering the purpose of his call, he couldn’t identify himself.

  “Richard Redfern.”

  “Mr. Redfern, my name is Sims and I’m trying to locate your brother Mike Redfern regarding outstanding college loans.”

  “College loans?” Richard said skeptically.

  “Yes, he obtained two loans in connection with his CPA accreditation.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m getting sick of you people harassing me. I know you want to talk to my brother about this damn Piper business. Leave us alone!”

  Richard hung up before Scott could say anything more.

  Of course he wasn’t the only one trying to find Redfern. No doubt every news organization in the country was seeking a quote from him.