by L. T. Ryan
I slowed as I approached the open doorway. I could see that the concrete walkway stretched out about six feet, but it had no rail to stop us from going over the edge if I burst through too fast. I'd dump Tammy out of the wheelchair, sending her careening into the asphalt. I angled the wheelchair through and descended the ramp as quickly as possible with Sarah on my heels.
"Stop," the guard shouted from behind.
I pulled my sidearm and reached back and shot into the wall above his head. He ducked into the building as chunks of plaster rained down. He slammed the emergency exit door shut.
"What the hell are you doing?" Sarah rose from the squatting position she took when I reached around with the gun. Her hands were still on her head and fire was in her eyes.
"Swatting a fly." I pushed on, toward the end of the building. A car nosed around the corner. I quickly judged it as being a government vehicle. Only question I had was whether it was Frank or the police. They gave us leeway, but I shot and killed a man inside the hospital. That would require significant ironing to straighten out, and would likely have to come from someone far above my pay grade.
The car pulled all the way around the corner and I recognized Frank in the driver's seat. He pulled up next to us and jumped out.
"Sarah," I said. "You get in the back with Tammy."
"OK."
She slid into the back seat. I lifted Tammy and sat her next to Sarah, who helped steady the woman. Ten seconds later, we were racing behind the hospital toward a rear exit, on our way back to headquarters.
Chapter 22
I leaned back in my chair and placed my feet on my desk, crossed at the ankle. The sound of the ringing cell phone was stifled inside my pocket. It was barely audible. I cursed myself for switching it off vibrate. The display read Unknown caller. The clock said twelve p.m.
"Twenty-four-"
"Yeah, I got it," I said. "You don't have to keep reminding me."
The man laughed. "So, Mr. Noble's got it, does he?"
"What do you want?"
The man said nothing.
"What happens in twenty-four hours?"
"Time runs out."
"For what?"
"You're about to find out."
"Who the hell are you?"
"You're about to find that out, too."
I stood and walked around my desk to the open doorway of my office. The lobby was deserted and silent. Frank stepped out of the infirmary, his mouth open, as if he was about to say something. I held a single finger in the air to stop him.
"Give my best to Ms. Nockowitz," the man said. "If she ever wakes up again, that is."
I flipped the phone shut without responding. Tossed it on my desk and left my office, slamming the door shut behind me. Frank waited in the center of the lobby, hands in his pockets. His shoulders were slightly hunched forward and his head down.
"What is it?" I said.
"She's up."
Good news for us, bad for the guy, I thought.
I stepped into the infirmary, nodded at Doc, and smiled at Tammy. She twisted the left side of her mouth into a smile and blinked slowly.
"She OK?" I asked.
Doc nodded and said, "We countered what they put in her. She's going to be fine."
"Can she handle questioning?"
"Yes. As long as it's not the way you normally do it."
"OK," I said. "Leave."
The doctor puffed his cheeks and then blew the air out in a burst, letting his lips flap together. Perhaps he wanted to argue with me and decided against it. I didn't watch him leave the infirmary, only heard the door close behind me, leaving Frank and me alone with Tammy.
"Tammy," I said. "I'm going to be asking you some hard questions. I need you to answer the best you can. OK?"
"OK," she said.
"Tell me about Christopher's father."
"There's nothing to tell."
"What do you mean?"
"He left a long time ago."
"Where did he go?"
"Go," she said with a chuckle. "That would imply he was there to begin with."
"So would saying he left."
She pursed her lips and nodded. "He's not in the picture. He's never been in the picture. Can we leave it at that?"
"When's the last time you had contact with him?"
She glanced between Frank and me and then let her eyes settle on the wall behind me. "Years ago. I asked him for help. Never heard back."
"Tammy?" I said.
"Yeah?" she said.
"Why are you lying to me?"
"I…" She looked away.
"We're trying to help. I think the boy's father has something to do with this."
I noticed Frank straighten and assumed he was a bit confused. This wasn't something we had talked about. In fact, I didn't know where I was going with the questioning. But limited time called for a change in procedure.
A tear gathered in the corner of her right eye. It built up until it could hide in the well no more. It slid down the side of her face and dripped onto her pillow, leaving a tiny stain that faded almost as soon as it appeared. "I want my son back, that's all. I didn't mean for this to happen."
"What do you mean you didn't mean for this to happen?" I said.
She sobbed lightly, but said nothing.
"Tammy?" I said, raising my voice.
She still said nothing.
"Dammit, Tammy, we're trying to help." My voice had escalated to a yell, and the door behind me burst open. "Get the hell out of here, Doc," I said.
"It's Sarah, and you need to take it easy on her."
"I know what I'm doing."
"Do you?" Sarah said.
She had a point. Did I? Lack of sleep and an overabundance of stress had me stretched to the max. I took it out on the poor woman who'd been beaten and battered and had her son taken from her. I decided to back it up and start over.
"OK, Tammy," I said. "Aside from me and Frank, did you recognize anyone at the dinner last night?"
She nodded.
"Who?"
"Vernon Burnett."
"From seeing him on TV?"
"No."
"Where?"
She said nothing. Tears filled her eyes and soon streamed down her cheeks. She sobbed lightly.
"Tammy?" I said. "Talk to me."
"You thought I was coming onto you, didn't you?"
This time I said nothing.
She forced a puff of air that I figured had been meant to sound like a laugh. "I guess I wanted you to think that. You seemed to like me. I mean, you smiled and looked at me."
Her words made little sense to me, almost like she'd begun babbling to throw me off the previous question.
"But," she said, "that wasn't what I was doing. And then when I gave you my number, I thought my look conveyed what I meant."
"I don't have a clue what you're talking about, Tammy," I said.
Her face turned red and she lifted her clenched fists in the air. Her lips peeled back, revealing teeth gritted tight together. A half-scream, half-growl escaped through narrow gaps where her teeth didn't line up correctly, top to bottom.
The three of us flinched in reaction to the sound the woman produced. Sarah moved toward the bed.
I reached for the door, and said, "I'll get the doctor."
"Wait," Frank said. "Just wait."
Tammy eased back into the pillow that supported her upper back and neck and head. Her face went slack for a moment, and then she began to cry. Her crying lasted thirty seconds, maybe more. She took a few deep, shaky breaths and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. A meek smile crossed her face and she apologized for her outburst.
"I know the Senator," she said. She took a deep breath. "He's my son's father."
I straightened up and sensed the others in the room do the same. "Tammy, Burnett was reported missing after he didn't show up for work this morning."
She began to cry again. In between sobs, she said, "Oh my God, he's got my son."
Chapter 23
I left the room and went straight to my office. I had a name. I had a face. I had to find the bastard and put an end to this. I placed my thumb on the fingerprint reader that controlled the locks on my desk. A click followed a beep. I slid the top-drawer open and grabbed my keys and wallet and an extra gun.
Someone cleared their throat from outside my office. I looked up and saw Frank standing there.
"What are you doing, Jack?"
"Going to get Burnett."
"You don't know where he is."
"Yeah, but our buddy Pablo downstairs might."
Frank cocked his head to the side and lifted an eyebrow half an inch. "He's gone, Jack."
"Where?"
"Someone else is working on him now. Trying to get information we couldn't."
Frustration and raged mixed like two foreign chemicals that reacted negatively with one another. I stood and kicked my desk, sending it sliding three feet, almost tipping over. My monitor fell off the edge of the desk and collided with the floor with a crash.
"Who the hell took him?" I said.
Frank shrugged. "The order came from above me, Jack."
"What does this guy want?" I said. "If what she said is true, and he's the father, then he has the kid. That means he's the one calling me. What's he want with me?"
Frank stepped into my office. He kicked the door closed, then leaned back against it. He said nothing for a long while, stood there, staring at me.
The adrenaline surge faded, and my head cleared. I tried to process the new information logically. There had to be a reason this guy had a hard-on for me.
"I'm going to find out who's heading up the Burnett disappearance," Frank said. "And I'll get Harris and McKenzie involved. If anything, they can provide us with information that the news can't."
"OK," I said.
"I want you to stay in here. Relax. Wait for that next phone call."
"OK."
Frank stepped into the lobby, and then turned abruptly. "And if he calls when I'm not around, don't say a word about what Tammy told us."
I nodded, but he'd already turned away. I reset my desk and sat down behind it. Leaned my head back and somehow managed to fall asleep. A short, shallow sleep that probably did more harm than good.
I woke to the sound of my phone chirping and buzzing. It danced across the laminate desktop. I didn't have to look at the display to know that it would read unknown caller. It felt strange to read the words, knowing with ninety percent certainty that the voice on the other end belonged to Burnett. I didn't have to look at the clock to know it was one p.m. Twenty-three hours to go. Till what? Only the unknown caller knew. But I was about to find out. I flipped the phone open and held it up to the side of my face.
"I needn't give you my ominous greeting this time, correct, Mr. Noble?"
I nodded, then felt a bit sheepish, realizing he couldn't see me. "No. That part of our relationship is down pat."
The man laughed for the first time since revealing his voice. It was deep and raspy, from too many years of drinking and smoking, I assumed. I knew the laugh. I'd spent half an hour, at least, with that laugh the night before, sitting at the bar and shooting the breeze. There was no doubt in my mind that the man on the phone was Senator Vernon Burnett.
He stopped laughing and sighed. I had nothing to say, so I waited for him to make the next move.
"The time is now, Jack."
"You're turning the clock ahead?"
He snorted. "No. The time for you to move is now, Jack."
"Move where?"
"I need you to head to Miami."
"What's in Miami?"
"Well…" The man paused a beat too long. "I need you to take care of something down there."
"I'm not going."
"Then the boy dies."
"You're not going to kill the boy."
"I'm not? You a prognosticator now? You want to give me the winning lottery numbers while you're at it?"
I said nothing.
"Jack, you want this kid's blood on your hands?"
I said nothing.
"Miami. Alone. Commercial flight, not one of yours. Leave for the airport now, because I'm going to call you at six p.m. and you better be ready to move again."
I had no choice. The guy had me by the balls. And for the first time in fourteen hours, I was happy about it. He was going to put me in position to take him down. He'd make a mistake. They always did.
"OK," I said.
"You know what?" He said. "Bring the woman with you, the brown haired one, but no one else."
I lifted my head and looked into the lobby. Sarah sat across the way with her back to the wall opposite mine. She looked in the direction of my office, but not at me. I knew that I couldn't drag her down there with me. Not on a suicide mission.
"Just me," I said.
I heard the sound of plastic banging on wood as he set the phone down, then the man's muffled voice. "Come here," it sounded like he said. His words were followed by a smack, then a scream. A child yelled, "Let me go." I didn't recognize the voice. The pitch was different, higher maybe, and more melodic. The voice belonged to a girl, not Christopher. My stomach dropped as I realized we'd lost one.
"She's a cute one, Jack," he said. "You should see her. You can't imagine the kind of money she'd bring in."
I buried my rage. "OK," I said, maintaining a calm and controlled tone. "Me and the woman. We're heading to Dulles now and we'll be in Miami by six." I ended the call.
My rage resurfaced. I tipped my desk and let it crash to the floor.
Frank appeared outside my office and yanked the door open. "What happened?"
"Who do we know in Miami?"
A confused look crossed his face. "What? Where?"
"Miami," I said. "Bottom of Florida." I stepped through the doorway and pushed past him into the lobby.
Sarah looked up at me and forced a smile. "What's up?"
"You're coming to Miami with me."
"What?"
I'd heard what too many times by that point. "Listen, there's no time for questions. He's got two kids now. He wants me in Miami. He wants you to go with me."
"I can't leave and go to Miami," she said.
"You don't have a choice," I said, my words seething with anger, though not directed at her.
"Wait a minute," Frank said. "Two kids?"
"Yeah."
"Who?" He held out his hands. "We had everyone covered."
"A girl," I said. "I'd suggest you call around and see who doesn't answer. That'd be the place to start."
"Christ," Frank said. "What are we dealing with?"
I shook my head. "I'll figure that out on the flight. But for now, we've got to move." I grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her across the lobby, toward the exit. I stopped and turned. "And Frank, I need a contact down there. I'm stepping off a plane completely unarmed in a place where I don't know a soul."
Chapter 24
I blinked my eyes open and stared through the oval window, ignoring the glare from the sun and the smudges left behind from a previous passenger. From six miles in the air, the ground looked like scenery surrounding a toy train set. There were tracts of land, each a different shade of green or brown. Tiny black and gray asphalt roads and green rivers looked like snakes slithering through the serene setting.
I glanced to my left and saw Sarah leaning back, passed out. We both needed some sleep, and I was glad to see she would get more than I had. My watch said it was four p.m., which meant we'd probably already crossed the Georgia-Florida border and had less than an hour until we landed in Miami.
Burnett had only given us five hours to make the trip. Hardly enough time to get to the airport, book the first available flight, make it through security and then hop on a two-and-a-half hour non-stop flight from D.C. to Miami. We'd made it, though, managing to sprint onto our two-thirty flight as they were closing the door. Of course, my false F.B.I. credentials helped convince the airline staff t
o let us on. If caught, I'd likely spend a day in a cell. No more than two. And I'd be waiting for one of four people to come and clear me. That's how clandestine we were.
I returned my gaze to the window and the clouds and sky and perfect landscape below, sectioned off into square and rectangular plots. People think of resorts, theme parks, and South Beach when they think of Florida. The strip of country, farm, and swampland that runs through the center corridor of the state was often forgotten, and certainly ignored, by vacationing families and escaping snowbirds.
The greenness of Florida was in stark contrast with the day old snow that covered D.C. and New Jersey. I shrugged off my coat, acknowledging for the first time I wouldn't need it in Miami, maybe not ever again, for that matter. Just as the snow would soon melt away and soak into the ground or evaporate into the sky, I'd soon be recycled and returned to the Earth. I couldn't think like that, though. I didn't have time to think like that. Two innocent lives were on the line. Three if I counted Sarah. Countless more if I didn't put a stop to Burnett.
I refocused and replayed the last week in my mind. The events of the past thirty hours were my primary focus. At this point, I figured there was a ninety-five percent chance Burnett would be the man I'd be face to face with in Miami. Facts were he'd gone missing, and if I was to believe Tammy, he'd fathered her child and then abandoned them. I figured out the motive there easily enough. He had his political career to think of, and I doubt he abandoned them entirely. Probably paid her off, either one time or continuing to this day. Maybe he got tired of it. Maybe that's why he had the boy taken. The men that were the guts of the operation wouldn't question an order handed down by him. Sure, most of the kids had been taken at random, but Christopher had been targeted. I was sure of it. Pablo's statement of smacking the mother, and the bandage on Tammy's head confirmed it. Then the boy had been targeted a second time. He'd been pulled from the wreckage, supposedly. Something about the wreck bothered me. Tammy had been pretty banged up, and the car mangled. None of us were experts, although Sarah came close, but it sure looked like the only person who could have survived that crash would have been the driver. Of course, a little kid might not have been impacted. Without seeing the car in person, making that determination was damn near impossible.