“They are pros at this. And they’re always one step ahead of us because they know where they’re going and we don’t.”
Jake went over to a drinking fountain and took a swallow, then splashed
cool water on his forehead. All through the night he had gone over every detail of the case, looking for a clue or lead but finding nothing. The van was the key to the terrorist group. Jake was certain of that, and so was Dan Hurley. It was Hurley’s idea to check the tire marks left by the van as it screeched away from the crime scene. An automotive expert had been called in in an effort to identify the tire manufacturer, which might lead them to the make and model of the van. But the tire mark was incomplete. The expert guessed it was made by a tire from a General Motors van, but he couldn’t be sure. And while we’re looking at tire marks, Jake thought miserably, a sadistic son of a bitch with a razor could be working over Joanna. The van. The goddamn van. He had to find it.
The door to the I.C.U opened abruptly. A surgeon wearing a long white coat came over to the detectives. He was tall and lanky, his hair gray and crew cut. The name tag on his coat read robert
KANE, M.D.
“How’s our man?” Jake asked hurriedly.
“Not good,” Kane said.
“He should have been dead five times over. But he’s a real fighter.”
“I need to talk with him,” Jake said urgently.
“Three people’s lives are at stake.”
The surgeon hesitated.
“I doubt that he’ll be able to answer your questions. His vital signs are still shaky, and he’s heavily sedated to boot.”
“It’s life and death,” Jake said gravely.
Kane took a deep breath, not wanting to subject his patient to any additional stress.
“Keep your questions simple, and don’t push him. If he starts to go sour, you move out pronto.”
“Right,” Jake agreed quickly.
The surgeon led the way back into the surgical I.C.U. The room was much smaller than Jake thought it would be. There were five beds lined up in a row against the wall, all occupied. The patients lay motionless, but some were groaning above the sound of the ventilators. Over the head of each bed was an electronic monitor that showed the patient’s pulse, blood pressure and respiratory rate.
The surgeon went to the middle bed, where he leaned over the patient and called out, “Mr. Fischer! Can you hear me?”
Sol showed no response.
“Sol! If you can hear me, open your eyes.” Sol’s eyelids fluttered briefly, then opened a little.
“Sol, the police are here. They need to ask you a few questions.”
Sol’s head moved in what seemed to be a nod. He wetted his lips with his tongue.
Kane glanced at the monitors above the bed. The blood pressure was 100/70, the pulse rate 96 per minute. He hoped again that he had found and tied off all the bleeders in Sol Fischer’s abdomen. The surgeon gestured to Jake with his head.
Jake moved in and bent over, close to the patient’s ear.
“Mr. Fischer, I’m Lieutenant Sinclair. Do you remember the shooting yesterday?”
Sol licked at his parched lips.
“They grabbed the little boy. I ran out to help.
That’s all I remember.”
“Do you remember the shots?”
“Jus-just the sound.” Fischer slowly exhaled, then closed his eyes.
The surgeon quickly looked up at the electronic monitors. The vital signs were stable. Kane gently shook the old man’s shoulder.
“Sol, are you still awake?”
Sol swallowed with effort, keeping his eyes shut.
“When can I have a little water?”
“We’ll give you some ice chips to suck on in a few minutes.”
Sol nodded appreciatively.
Jake asked, “Do you recall the vehicle outside your shop? The one that drove away?”
“They parked in the loading zone and stayed there until the shooting.”
“What kind of vehicle was it?”
“A van.”
Jake moved in closer.
“What was the make?”
“Don’t know.”
“Do you remember anything about it?”
Fischer’s eyes blinked briefly, then shut again.
“I think it had a dark color.”
Jake straightened up, realizing that he had come to another dead end. He looked across at Farelli.
“We’ve got to find that damn van.”
“We ain’t going to do it without a license number,” Farelli said.
“No way.”
“Ask the meter maid,” Sol muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
“What?” Jake quickly leaned over the patient.
“What about the meter maid?”
“She gave him a ticket for parking in the loading zone.” Jake ran for
the door, Farelli a half step behind him. Friday, April 16, 2=28 p.m.
Joanna awakened stiff and groggy. Everything was black and dead quiet, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was. Then she heard Kate stirring beside her and felt the hard mattress beneath her.
With effort Joanna pushed herself up and waited for her head to clear. The mattress, she thought, now remembering how the terrorists had thrown it down the stairs. In the darkness it had landed with a thud. At first she and Kate had believed it was little Jean Claude body that had bounced down the steps and slammed onto the cement floor. It had frightened them out of their wits. Then they saw the mattress, which had ended up in a standing position against the wall. Thank God for the lighter. Without it they could have spent an hour crawling on the floor, frantically searching for a body that wasn’t there.
Above Joanna heard people walking. First came very soft footsteps, then loud ones. Two people, she surmised. Probably Jean Claude and Rudy, whose job it was to follow the little boy around. The footsteps gradually faded, and Joanna envisioned Jean Claude galloping away on his imaginary horse, having no idea how close to death he was. Maybe it was best that way.
She again thought about their predicament and about possible ways out. There was no chance of escape even if Jean-Claude was in the cellar with them. He was small enough to crawl through the narrow window, but not through the iron bars across it. She wondered whether the bars were bolted in. If not, maybe they could be pried loose. But then what?
Joanna’s gaze went to the place on the wall where the window should have been.
There was no light, not even a glimmer. There was no sunlight, which meant it must be night. She shifted around on the mattress, trying to
guess what time it was and how long they’d been asleep. Hours for sure, if the stiffness in her joints and muscles was any sign. But how many hours? Joanna wished she still had her watch. At least that would have kept her oriented to time.
There was a loud thud on the floor upstairs. Then another, even louder.
Kate awoke with a start.
“What? What was that?”
“Something fell on the floor above us,” Joanna said.
“Was it Jean-Claude?” Kate asked, her head clearing quickly.
“I doubt it,” Joanna said.
“I heard him running into another room a moment ago.
He’s fine.”
“When do you think they’ll let me see him?”
“In a little while. It won’t be much longer.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because Jean-Claude will get cranky and start crying if he doesn’t see you soon, and they don’t want that,” Joanna told her.
“Now, I want you to flex your arms and legs and get the circulation going.”
Kate stood and tried to stretch the soreness from her muscles.
“Jesus! I’m so stiff.”
“It’ll pass.” Joanna flicked the disposable lighter. The flame seemed even smaller than before and illuminated things poorly. She quickly reached for the oily cloth on the floor, then turned the ligh
ter off.
“What are you doing with the rag?” Kate asked quietly.
“I’m going to wrap the lighter in it and place it against the wall,” Joanna whispered.
“They might search us again when we go back upstairs.”
“Why not just put it under the mattress?” Kate whispered back.
“Because they might search down here while we’re up there.”
Upstairs a faucet was turned on, and they could hear water running through the pipes. The blackness around them intensified the noise, which went on and on.
Then there were heavy footsteps and the noise stopped.
Kate reached out her hand, trying to locate Joanna.
“Where are you, Sis?”
“On the other side of the mattress.”
“Damn! It’s so dark down here.”
“I know.”
The darkness seemed more intense to Joanna as well. And the air was so
still it was almost suffocating. She now wished she hadn’t flicked the lighter on to find the rag that was right at her feet. The brief light had only made the blackness seem more enveloping. And more important, she had used up another flick of the lighter, which was already low on fuel. Stupid! Stupid! Use your damn brains!
The door to the cellar suddenly opened. It took a moment for them to acclimate to the blinding light. Then they saw a long shadow coming from the top of the stairs.
“Get up here!” Eva barked out.
Joanna quickly turned to Kate.
“If they ask you anything, keep your answers short. The longer you talk, the more likely you are to make mistakes.”
“I’ll just tell them I don’t know,” Kate whispered.
“Be careful,” Joanna cautioned.
“Remember, they’re not stupid.”
Joanna started up the steps, taking them slowly. The bright light was still hurting her eyes, and she had trouble focusing her vision. She stumbled briefly, grasping the metal pipe railing to steady herself. As she neared the top of the stairs, she slowed even more, searching for a light switch on the wall. She saw only cracked plaster.
“Hurry it up,” Eva said impatiently.
“You’re wasting time.”
Joanna came through the doorway. She turned her head away, as if the bright light was still painful to her eyes. She used the extra seconds to scan the wall behind her. Then she saw the light switch. It was in the hall outside the cellar door. Shit!
Joanna turned back to face Eva and Rudy. Jean-Claude was standing between them.
“Ma-ma?” Jean-Claude asked, looking up at Joanna.
“She’s right here,” Joanna said and stepped aside.
“Ma-ma!” Jean-Claude cried out happily and threw himself into his mother’s arms.
Kate hugged and kissed Jean-Claude again and again. She tickled the secret spot on his neck and watched him laugh, loving him more than life itself. Then she hugged him again.
“How are you doing, my little man? Are you okay?”
Jean-Claude nodded to his mother.
“Have they fed you?”
Jean-Claude nodded hesitantly.
“Is the food not good?”
Jean-Claude made a face. “You must still eat it,” Kate said.
“That is very important. You must promise me.”
Jean-Claude nodded unenthusiastically and took his mother’s hand.
“Come to television.”
“Perhaps later,” Kate said and hugged her son once more.
Joanna glanced down the hall and saw bright light flooding in through the kitchen window. She had been wrong. It was day, not night. Probably late morning or early afternoon. They had slept for over twelve hours.
Eva watched Joanna, who continued to stare down the hall toward the kitchen.
“I
hope you’re not going to try anything dumb.”
“I was looking for the bathroom,” Joanna lied easily.
“It’s the next door down,” Eva said, then motioned to Rudy with her head.
Joanna walked across the hall and into the small bathroom. Rudy was right behind her. She tried to close the door, but he blocked it with his foot.
“Do you mind?” Joanna asked.
“Mind what?” Rudy smiled humorlessly.
“I can’t go if you’re watching me.”
Rudy considered the situation, now pulling at his crotch. He wondered if he could persuade Eva to let him fuck the two women before he killed them. And he could screw them without a struggle too. All he had to do was promise to free them afterwards. They’d go for it. He stared at Joanna’s bust, thinking she’d be a much better piece of ass than her sister.
“Well?
“Joanna asked.
“Leave the door open,” Rudy said and stepped outside.
Joanna sat on the toilet and began urinating. She quickly surveyed the bathroom.
It was small and windowless, with a tub, basin and medicine chest. There was no soap or towels, nothing on the countertop. To her side was a small cabinet beneath the basin. She leaned over and peeked in. It was empty. There were no utensils or tools, nothing that could be used as a weapon.
She wiped herself and flushed the toilet. With the sound of rushing water she hurried over to the medicine chest and opened it.
Rudy stepped in behind her and slammed the mirrored door shut. He gave her a hard stare.
“Looking for something?”
“Toothpaste,” Joanna said, thinking quickly.
“I’ll bet,” Rudy said.
“Get your ass out into the hall.” Eva was waiting for them at the entrance to the kitchen. Kate was sitting on the floor in the hall, Jean-Claude in her arms. The little boy was sucking contentedly on his thumb, his eyes half-closed.
Eva said to Rudy, “Take the mother and child to the television room and keep them there.”
“What if she’s got to pee?”
“Watch her.”
Rudy grinned malevolently.
“I’ll stay real close.”
“If anything happens to her, you’ll get nothing from me,” Joanna warned.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Eva said tonelessly. She signaled to Rudy and watched him usher the mother and child into the front room. Then she turned to Joanna.
“You. Into the kitchen.”
Joanna entered the bright kitchen. The windows were all closed, their Venetian blinds down but opened. Outside the sky was clear and blue, the sun blazing. The backyard was large, with a garage and trees and hedges. Joanna couldn’t see any other houses.
“Sit,” Eva commanded, pointing to a dinette chair.
Joanna pulled up the chair and tried to collect herself. Think! she told herself. Think before you answer the questions. And talk slowly. You set the pace, not her. Make her wait. It’ll give you more time to think.
Eva sat across from Joanna and leaned forward, her elbows on the dinette table.
“I’m going to ask you some questions, which I hope you’ll answer truthfully. I really do. Because for every lie I catch you telling, I’ll have Rudy break a finger on your sister’s hand.” Eva grimaced theatrically.
“And you know how much that will hurt.”
Joanna swallowed hard.
“You’ll get the truth.”
“Good.” Eva stood and began circling slowly around the table.
“I need to know who is in charge of the rehabilitation institute. I want his name.”
A test question, Joanna thought.
“If you’re talking about the director, his name is Josiah Wales,” she said deliberately.
“Have you ever visited the institute?”
“On several occasions.”
“How many times?”
Joanna furrowed her forehead, as if she were searching for the correct answer.
“Two, I think.”
“Recently?” “Within the past month.”
“And what was the purpose of these visits?”
Joanna h
esitated, wanting to keep the answers as general as possible.
“To track you down.”
“Well, all you tracked down were a bunch of stupid Mexicans.”
“Which led directly to you.”
“Yes, you were very clever.” Eva took out her pistol and pointed it at Joanna’s forehead.
“You were so clever that you’re now looking into the barrel of a gun I’m holding.”
Joanna nodded, realizing how foolish her response had been. Don’t be confrontational. Be submissive. And think one step ahead.
“I’m not in a very good position, am I?”
“And it’ll get worse if you lie.” Eva returned the gun to her coat pocket and began circling the table again. She waved away a flying insect and continued to pace.
Joanna kept her eyes on the terrorist and quickly organized her thoughts. One of the test questions was bothering her. The terrorist had readily accepted Joanna’s answer that she’d been to the institute twice. How did she know that was the correct answer? Someone must have told her, and that someone had to be in the institute. But who? And why?
“I need some information about the new institute,” Eva said, breaking into Joanna’s thoughts.
“What do you know about it?”
Joanna shrugged.
“Not much. I’ve never been inside.”
Eva stopped abruptly and gave Joanna a long stare.
“Never?”
“Never,” Joanna said firmly.
“I’ve passed by it a few times, but I’ve never been inside.”
Eva started circling again.
“Do you know when the new institute will open?”
“The dedication is set for April nineteenth.”
“And who will be there?”
“A lot of dignitaries, I guess.”
“I need names,” Eva said sharply.
The test questions were over, Joanna told herself. The invitation list was known only to Simon Murdock and the Secret Service. No one in the institute, not even Josiah Wales, knew the entire list.
“I don’t have that information.”
“Do you think the mayor of Los Angeles will be there?”
“I guess so.”
“What about the governor?”
“Maybe.” “And, of course, you’ll be there.”
Joanna looked at the terrorist oddly.
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