The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 4-6: Redemption Thriller Series 10-12 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set)

by John W. Mefford

  A phone rang from behind me. I turned and saw an officer lean across a table and pick up a cell phone. “Whose phone is this?”

  “It’s mine.” William had just sat up, wiped his face. “Toss it here, will ya?”

  The officer did just that. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Stan and Brook emerge from the car. They both looked like they’d gone ten rounds in a boxing match against a young Mike Tyson. Either they had bad news or pressure from their superiors was reaching a suffocating level. I could feel a pit in my stomach. Any optimism for a positive resolution to this kidnapping seemed to be fading.

  “It’s him…the man who took Drew!” William jumped to his feet, while placing a quick hand over the receiver. “He’s on the phone!”

  With the blink of an eye, hope had returned.

  15

  A throng of people converged on William so fast he jumped, nearly dropping the phone. “Let me speak to Drew,” he said.

  I moved within inches of William, where I could hear the person on the other end of the line. “I can’t let you.”

  If I had to guess, he sounded like he was in his twenties. Was that a sniffle?

  “I’m not going to do anything you tell me until you let me hear Drew’s voice.” William arched his back.

  Stan huddled up next to us and started silently mouthing, “Chill, chill,” at William. He didn’t want him to agitate the kidnapper. Meanwhile, Brook was motioning to a man at a table. I think she was trying to track the location of the person on the line.

  “Listen, Gramps, you’re gonna have to trust me. He’s doing fine.”

  William’s face tightened, and he released a purposeful breath. “I just want him back. Safely. When can I have Drew back?”

  Another sniffle and a slight pause, as if the man had been distracted.

  “Hello? I’m not here to play games. I want my Drew back.” William’s timbre was curt. His Type A response came out of the wild blue. I hadn’t thought he could focus, let alone project an image of an ass-kicker.

  “I’m here, Gramps. Chill out, dude. I’ve got a lot going on around here.”

  I thought I heard a slight chuckle.

  William pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment, then back. “None of this is funny. Not unless this is nothing more than a prank.”

  “This ain’t a prank. How do you think I know your phone number, old man? Geez.”

  William covered his phone, turned to me and Stan. “Drew must have memorized my phone number. He’s a math whiz.”

  “Are you talking to someone, old man?”

  “I…uh.” William fumbled his words, his eyes darting around.

  “Listen. I know you’re at the house with all those cops. I drove by already.”

  “Did you have Drew with you?”

  “Maybe so, maybe not,” the caller said, this time with a more audible chuckle. “That’s for me to know and you to….well, you know the saying.”

  I heard a sucking sound, as if the guy was taking a drag on a cigarette. I felt Stan’s eyes on me, but I kept my focus on William.

  “I’m tired of playing games. I want Drew. What is it going to take?”

  “Glad you asked, old man. Money, and a lot of it.”

  “I’m sorry, but I only have a few thousand dollars to my name. But I will give you all of it, every single dollar I own as long as you give me Drew unharmed.”

  I heard clapping. “Nice one, Gramps. You get the fucking gold star for being such a stand-up guy.”

  William’s head lit up like a Rudolph’s nose. He began to pant. “Give me my grandson back, dammit.”

  Brook whispered from behind us, “Please don’t agitate him. Just say yes to everything he asks for.”

  But William didn’t hear a word she said. He might as well have been in a closet. He was so worked up he was either going to have a heart attack or say something he shouldn’t. Neither was a good option.

  A quick chuckle. “You think you’re in control? Man, you are smoking some wacky shit. Can I borrow some of that?” More laughter.

  The chords in William’s neck became strained, as if something inside was about to explode out of his body. I put my hand on his forearm until he looked in my eyes. “Be calm,” I whispered. “Think about Drew.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, then released a deep breath. “Okay,” he said in a calmer voice. “Let’s work together to figure out how you can get what you need, and then I can get Drew back.”

  “That’s my man. Virtual high-five, Mr. Cooper. Have you ever seen those reruns of Hangin’ with Mr. Cooper? Awesome show, dude. You gotta check it out.”

  William clenched his jaw, but somehow found the restraint to not snap back.

  “While I can appreciate your new approach to this conversation, it’s all about the bottom line. And my bottom line is a cool one million dollars,” the man said, suddenly using an over-the-top cartoonish voice. Then he chuckled again. He was mimicking Dr. Evil from the Austin Powers movie. This guy was a goofball. I caught Stan looking at me, shrugging his shoulders. He didn’t know what to make of this guy either.

  “I already told you, I don’t have that kind of money. If you wanted to make a lot of money out of this deal, you should have taken one of the rich kids on the other side of town.”

  “But it wouldn’t be as fun if I couldn’t talk to you, Mr. Cooper.”

  Another sucking-drag sound. Another chuckle.

  “That’s some good shit,” the man said quietly.

  I couldn’t get a bead on this guy. One second, he was engaged, giving demands, the next he sound like a teenager who was in the middle of his wake-and-bake.

  “Listen, Gramps. I know you don’t have a million bucks. But I got faith in you, man. You have friends. And they have friends.”

  “I don’t know…” William looked at me.

  I whispered, “Stay calm. We’ll figure it out.”

  “You do want to see Drew again, right?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “That’s what I thought. So, I’ll give you until five o’clock to round up the money. Sound fair?” Again with the annoying chuckle, then, “As if you have any choice.”

  “I’m just not sure how I’ll come up with that kind of money. Not that fast.”

  “That’s part of the fun of this whole thing, Gramps. I give you a challenge, and then you see if you can meet it.”

  “And what if I don’t? What if I get less money? Will you take less, if that’s the best I can do?”

  “Do you think I’m some kind of sick bastard or something?”

  William wiped sweat off his forehead. “Good. I’ll do my best.”

  “You’ll do your best? I guess I should interpret that like this: if you’re able to round up, let’s say, five hundred grand, then I’ll give you half of Drew back. Is that fair?”

  “What the fuck?” William gasped as tears flooded his eyes.

  “Hey, fair is fair, right? Like I said, I got faith in you, William. I’m cheering you on. So is Drew.”

  There was silence.

  “Wait.”

  “Yes, William?”

  “How do I get you the money?”

  “Right. Almost forgot the best part. How about you meet me at the front of the Alamo? Yeah, I like that. The infamous last stand for Texas independence. And I don’t want to see any cops, got it?”

  “Okay.” William’s eyes shifted to me.

  “I know you got friends. You can bring one friend, but no cops, no Feds. They make me break out in hives. And I don’t want their stinking money. They’ll put a tracker on it of some kind. No cops should help you get the money.” Another sucking drag sound. “Is that clear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Better not waste time, Gramps. Drew is counting on you.”

  “Just tell him that his granddaddy loves him.”

  “That’s real sweet, old man. Sure, I’ll pass it along,” he said. “By the way, if any of your cop friends have hope of tracking my call,
it ain’t possible. I took care of everything. I’m a frickin’ genius. Later.”

  The line went dead.

  Shaken, William looked right at me. “You’ll be by my side, won’t you, Ivy?”

  Anything to get Drew back.

  16

  I barely had time to say two words to Cristina before William and I were whisked away in a caravan of police cars. Stan had said the deputy police chief wanted all the players in their war room ASAP. The goal, he said, was to map out a step-by-step plan on how to bring Drew home safely, while hopefully getting an opportunity to apprehend the suspect. Before I could argue the role that the police should play, Stan jumped into a car in front of us and we were off.

  As we pulled into the parking lot of the South Substation, a wide-eyed William leaned closer to me. “The kidnapper said to keep the cops out of it. This looks like we’re doing the opposite.”

  “This just tells me that everyone is freaking out, and that people in high positions are demanding answers. When I get a chance, I’ll talk to Stan.”

  “I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize getting Drew back safely.”

  “I’m with you, William.”

  “But we’re wasting valuable time.”

  An officer in the front seat looked back our way. I started to feel like we were the felons.

  I patted the top of William’s hand as the car rocked to a stop. We were ushered through a back door and straight into a room with a large oval table. Monitors and whiteboards covered every inch of wall space.

  There must have been thirty people in the room, including folks with SWAT written on their shirts. I spotted Stan talking to Brook at the head of the table, along with a man with a lot of stripes on the sleeve of his uniform. Brook introduced him as Deputy Chief Larry Miller. He gave a five-minute speech about the value of teamwork and a can-do attitude. He extended his hand in William’s direction and then pledged that everyone in the department would do anything in their power to bring Drew home safely.

  “Does that include leaving us alone?”

  William’s comment sliced the crowd into silence. No one said a word for a good thirty seconds. Not until Brook spoke up.

  “I can understand your hesitancy, Mr. Cooper.”

  “What do you care? A few hours ago, you thought I was just an old drunk who was getting in the way.”

  Another wedge of silence. It was uncomfortable but necessary. Stan’s eyes bugged out. Time for me to jump in.

  “I think what William is saying is that he appreciates all the attention, but I think we’d feel better if we reduced the size of this team to just a few people.”

  A few mumbles, and then the deputy chief gestured for the four of us to stand. “Follow me to my office.” He was out the door and down the hallway before I could blink. We caught up as he pushed open his office door. Stan and Brook were right behind me and William.

  “I don’t get called out like that very often.” With a square jaw and his fists anchored to his waist, the DC looked like he was ready to pound someone’s head.

  No one moved, not even Stan or Brook. Had he brought us into his office to do nothing more than reprimand us?

  As intimidated as I felt, I couldn’t let this drag on. We had much work to accomplish in a very small time frame. “Sir, if I may, William was not trying to call you out. But he and I both heard the kidnapper state very clearly that Drew would not be returned if cops were involved. Just having this conversation could put Drew at risk. We don’t know who this guy knows, how he gets his information. So, if it’s okay with you—”

  “Stop right there.” His monotone directive again got everyone’s attention. I could feel sweat gathering at the collar of my shirt. A second before I opened my mouth, he got to the point.

  “I was about to say that I made a mistake.” He paused, eyeing each one of us.

  Stan released a burp. Perfect timing.

  “I let the emotions of the bureaucrats above me subconsciously dictate how we should address this rescue operation. That was wrong.” He leaned on his desk, his weight supported by his fists, which were red and white.

  William fidgeted with his fishing cap, sitting up in his chair.

  “Going forward,” the DC said, looking into my eyes, “we work as a team. This small team right here. Ivy, you’ve been here before, not too many hours ago, in fact. We’ll follow your lead, Ivy.”

  Now the pressure was really on.

  17

  We all found chairs, and the five of us had a spirited conversation for the next ten minutes. A significant concern was raised: what if the person on the phone with William was also responsible for kidnapping Billy? With the woman responsible for luring Billy out of Target now dead, it appeared some greater force might be involved with the kidnappings.

  “You guys said this kidnapper sounded like a pot-smoking punk who didn’t really know what he was doing,” Brook said, a hand on her hip. “And now we’re thinking he’s one of the greatest criminal minds in the last century? I think we’re overestimating this guy. He sounds like a simpleton who pulled the one-million-dollar idea out of his ass; he’ll probably just smoke all the money away.”

  “But are we willing to take that risk?” Stan said. “What if this guy is behind everything? He apparently has a good grasp of technology—he likely scrambled the security cameras at both Target and 7-Eleven. Think about society now. How many video-gaming, pot-smoking punks can also hack their way into the NSA? Too many. I ask again, are we willing to take the risk?”

  “Not with my Drew, we’re not,” William countered.

  With that, I rose to my feet and declared that we could no longer sit around the police substation and discuss our plans. The kidnapper had William’s cell phone number. He could be tracking William’s every movement up until the time of our impending swap at the Alamo.

  Brook took a step toward the closed office door, blocking my path. “Hold on a second. We’ve still got a lot to talk through. Our positioning during the swap, who goes after the kidnapper, whether we have a few undercover cops in place on the pavilion, how many backup teams we have in place.” She paused, sucked in a breath. “And that doesn’t even cover the biggest question: from where in hell are you going to get a million dollars?”

  “I have a friend, and I’m hoping she’ll be able to figure something out,” I said.

  William pulled up next to me as the others got out of their seats. I could see he was eager to separate ourselves from the police.

  “You’re talking about Zahera,” Stan said as more of statement.

  I nodded. “I doubt she has a million dollars in cash, but she has connections I couldn’t dream about.”

  Brook moved out of the way, but still had some strong words for me. “This guy could be brilliant, or he might be as dumb as rocks, but we’ll fuck this up unless we have a solid plan in place.”

  “I understand, Detective.”

  “Details, details, details,” she said, smacking her hand to emphasize each word. “If we don’t have the details, we don’t have dick.”

  “Detective!” Miller’s booming voice bounced off the walls. William flinched.

  “Sorry, sir,” Brook said, clasping her hands behind her back. “I want that kid back more than anyone. I just think we’re going about it all wrong.”

  “I don’t like this any more than you do. But sometimes, you’ve got to throw the handbook out the window and go with your instinct.”

  “I understand, sir,” she said, not very convincingly.

  I opened the door.

  “Ivy, we need to talk this through,” Stan said.

  “If anything, Boy Genius is monitoring William’s phone, but not mine. I’ll call you, and we can talk through the details. For now, I need to contact Z and figure out how to raise a million bucks.”

  He gave me an assuring nod. “We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  “You better.”

  And we were off.

  18

/>   Crossing my legs, I gazed out the window of the corner sandwich shop a block away from Zahera’s high-rise condo. Residents of San Antonio scurried like fire ants down the street, holding anything they could find—newspapers, backpacks, purses, even umbrellas—to block out the unrelenting sun. Once they reached a patch of shade, they’d lower their guard and blow out a breath as if they’d crossed the Mohave Desert.

  I checked the time on my phone. Just after one in the afternoon. Where’s Z, dammit? I kicked my leg to avoid biting my nails and then arched my neck to see if Zahera might be sauntering down the sidewalk.

  No sign of her.

  Nothing to worry about. Zahera is the most reliable person I know.

  But what about her friend, Timothy?

  Earlier, when her cell phone had rolled to voicemail three times in five minutes, I called her office to learn that she’d taken the morning off. Something about a board meeting with the San Antonio Museum of Art. She must have turned her cell phone off. The hunt continued. I found a number for the museum, then practically had to bribe the person on the line to break into the board meeting and pull Zahera out to take my call.

  Once she heard about my predicament, she told me she’d call me back in thirty minutes. William and I had waited at Smoothies and Stuff, wondering, hoping she could come through for us…more importantly, for Drew. Finally, she had called us back and said, “Drew has an angel looking over him. And that angel’s name is Timothy Jankovich.”

  William had pumped two fists above his head as Zahera explained the details. “I knew I had a room full of people with gobs of money. So, I explained the urgency of raising the money and how saving one kid’s life was far more important than raising funds to bring in more artwork from Europe or Asia. The curator looked at me like I had a horn growing out of my head, but I ignored him.”

  “Thank you, Z. You’re the best.”

  “Damn straight, you are,” William had said, looking like he was about ready to break out into a dance.

  “It really wasn’t me though.”