Vanished

by Danielle Steel

  “Mrs. Patterson. I am so very sorry. This will be a terrible sadness for my country,” he said solemnly with an awkward bow and an attempt to kiss her hand, but as he said the words to her, the room began reeling. She knew from what he said, that they must have found Teddy's body. She turned suddenly to John Taylor in desperation, almost clawing at him, begging him with her eyes to help her. He pulled a chair up next to her and helped her into it, and signaled to one of his men to bring her a glass of water. And when it came he held it to her lips and let her lean against him, while he almost crooned to her like a mother with a sick child, begging her to be strong and let him help her. But all she could do was shake her head and close her eyes, and want to die again. She knew she just couldn't go through it.

  “You're all right, Marielle …you're going to be fine …” She could hear his voice as she closed her eyes, and then opened them. “Jusmore minutes. I want you to look at some people for me …that's all. I just want you to look at them and tell me if you know them.”

  “Are they dead?” She was whimpering like a child and he gently stroked her hair with one hand as he touched her shoulder with the other.

  “No, they're alive. You're all right. You just have to look at them and tell me, yes or no, if you know them.”

  “All right.” She was having trouble breathing she was so afraid, and she was grateful for the chair because she knew she could never have stood up, as everyone watched her. And a moment later, a man was led into the room, escorted by two FBI men. He was tall and blond and very thin, and he had a hard, angry face, and he tried to avert his face from Marielle, but the FBI men gave him a hard shove until he faced her. He stood some five feet away from her and she shrank back toward John, but his agents held him fast, and he didn't try to escape them.

  “Do you know this man, Marielle? Have you ever seen him anywhere? Look at him carefully.” She shook her head and said that she hadn't, and she had no idea why she was there, and now she was afraid to ask him. She knew it had something terrible to do with her child, but if they had killed him, she didn't want to know it.

  They took the first man away, and then brought the second man in five minutes later. This one was dark and swarthy and he had an ugly scar that ran straight across his face and back down toward his chin, and he looked at Marielle as though he would have liked to kill her. He said something to her in German, in an angry, guttural tone, and she shrank toward John and he was quick to reassure her.

  “No one's going to hurt you, Marielle. I won't let them.” She nodded, childlike again, and still so desperately afraid to know what they'd done. And then a woman was brought in. She was blond and heavyset, about thirty. She was speaking frantically in German to the captain of the ship as they brought her in, and he finally shouted at her to be silent, and she looked imploringly at Marielle, as though she expected her to help her.

  “What is she saying?” Marielle asked.

  “She is saying that she has hurt no one,” the captain explained. She said a lot more then, and the captain finally told her again to be quiet.

  “Who are these people?” she finally asked John. “ “That's what I wanted to know from you first. You don't know any of them, Marielle? You're sure?”

  “Not a one. I've never seen them before.”

  “They've never worked for you, even briefly …or for Malcolm.”

  “I don't know. I've never seen them,” she said again. She was certain. John nodded expressionlessly at his men, and signaled for the three Germans to be removed. And when they were gone, he nodded at his men again, and then bent to say something to Marielle in earnest.

  “I want you to be very strong … I want you to be strong, Marielle …hold my hand …we're going to show you someone …and I want you to tell me if you know him.” But she was afraid the moment he said the words. She didn't have the courage to look at her dead baby. She had seen Andre when he was drowned, held him in her arms, clutched him to her heart, and she couldn't do it again …she knew it …she couldn't. She began to cry and turned, struggling to be free, as John held her.

  “I can't …” she cried, and buried her face against him. “I can't do it …please …don't make me …”

  “It may not be him …you have to help us …please …please, Marielle …” He was almost in tears himself, and he hated to hurt her. But the child they had found appeared to be a deaf mute, and did not seem to understand them. They weren't sure if he was drugged, or too frightened to speak to them, or simply didn't speak the language, and the captain didn't recall seeing him before, although the group had been aboard for days. The child looked different than the Patterson boy, but there was something about the eyes that had caught John's attention. The hair color was wrong, and he was much thinner than the photographs he'd seen of him, and older, but still … he knew he had to ask her. He couldn't let the ship sail without asking her to look at him. And some sixth sense had told him that there was something very wrong about these people. But she was clinging to him, and she refused to look at him. And then John's eyes met hers as he held her.

  “You have to do this, Marielle … for Teddy's sake …” He held her hand, and slowly her head turned, and she stared at the child they brought in, and everything stopped for an endless moment. She got up and she stood staring at him, as though unable to believe what she was seeing. His hair had been cut, and he had short dark brown hair, but it was faintly blond at the roots, and if you looked carefully, you could see that they had dyed it.

  And as she stared at him, he looked up at her, unable to believe that she had finally come to save him. She let out a heartrending scream and in two long strides she was clinging to him and holding him tightly against her. And slowly, like a forgotten sound, the child began to cry. He began to whimper at first, and suddenly there were great wounding cries, as he clung to the mother he thought he had lost forever. The captain began to cry, and there were tears streaming down John Taylor's cheeks as he watched them.

  She looked at no one for an endless time. All she saw, all she knew, all she felt, was the child in her arms, the child she thought she had lost forever.

  “My darling … oh my love …” She held him as though she would never let him go, and finally the captain assisted them off the ship, and the three Germans were taken away in handcuffs and leg irons by the FBI men. He apologized profusely again, and John informed him that the ship would have to be held in port, pending further investigation. Two-dozen men were left to guard the ship, and John helped Marielle and Teddy into the car. He had to get her back to court and tell the judge what had happened. But he had also called for additional men. He knew he was going to need an army of guards for them at the courthouse.

  He looked long and hard at the child sitting on his mother's lap. The boy hadn't smiled, but he clung to her as though he was afraid to lose her. And John touched the small fingers holding hers ever so gently.

  “Hello, little man …we've been looking for you for a long time.” Teddy stared at him, not sure whether or not to trust him.

  “They said you were dead,” he whispered softly as he looked up at his mother …”and then they put me in a box …with holes in it …and they fed me crackers.”

  “Nice folks, these krauts,” John said tautly, “I've always loved them.” They were going to do a lot of talking. They had insisted from the moment they'd been detained that they had been hired by the boy's father to take him to Germany, to “safety,” but they would not disclose the boy's father's name. They said only that the boy's parents were German. But one of them had been carrying a card with Malcolm's name on it and a phone number John recognized as Brigitte Sanders's apartment. But John had said none of this to Marielle. It was going to be interesting what else the Germans had to say once they all started talking.

  “I don't know what to say,” Marielle whispered softly to John as she clung to Teddy on her lap and they drove swiftly toward the courthouse. “I never thought we'd find him …and I was so afraid …I thought you had ta
ken me there to …” She couldn't even begin to say the words, and suddenly she realized her headache was gone. All she could think of was Teddy, held tightly in her arms, in the speeding car, beside the man who had found him.

  “I know what you thought,” he said quietly. “I wouldn't have done that to you … if that was the case, I'd have taken Malcolm. But I wanted you to see them first. They said they'd been hired by the child's parents.”

  “Malcolm's going to be so glad,” she smiled. She was glad for him. He didn't deserve to lose his son. But John Taylor said nothing.

  Twenty FBI men were waiting for them outside the courthouse when they arrived, and John had them surround Marielle and the child almost like a living cage, and the boy looked very frightened. All Marielle did was cling tightly to him in her arms, and promise him that everything was going to be all right. They were going to see Daddy in a minute.

  And as John Taylor walked into the courtroom, surrounded by his men, everyone paused, as though they sensed that something important was about to happen. The judge stared up at them. And Tom Armour stopped in midsentence. The odd group made its way down the room, and it was only when they reached the judge that the men slowly peeled away at Taylor's direction and what they saw suddenly in their midst, completely hidden there, was Marielle holding a small dirty little boy with dark hair, and the judge rose to his feet with a look of amazement.

  “Is this? …” He looked at Marielle, smiling through her tears as she looked up at him, and then at Taylor, and then in confusion across the courtroom as suddenly a woman screamed as she understood, and the spectators and the press tried to stampede, but the police held them back. They had been warned as Marielle and Teddy entered the courtroom. “My God …it's the boy!” someone shouted. “He's alive. It's Teddy!” The judge sat down again and began frantically rapping his gavel, and ordering the police to clear the courtroom. But it was Malcolm's reaction which fascinated John. When he first saw the boy, he didn't do what Marielle had done. He stood, and then he sat down, and then he looked around him as though for someone else, and only then did he suddenly leap forward. But it was almost an afterthought by then. His first reaction had not been to run to hold his baby. And there was none of the rush of emotion Taylor had seen in Marielle, that terrible terror that he was dead, and the gut-searing scream when she realized it was her baby. It was Charles who stood crying as he looked at him, and he smiled at Marielle over the boy's head as they both cried. He remembered another time, another day, and he was glad that this time had been different.

  “Thank God he's alive,” he whispered to Tom Armour, who nodded, fighting back his own emotions, as he smiled at his client through tears. He also knew what it was to lose a child, and he too was grateful that that hadn't happened. Charles wasn't even thinking of himself just then, he was just glad for Marielle that they had found Teddy.

  Malcolm looked extremely sobered as he came forward to Marielle and John and Teddy. “Thank God you found the boy,” he intoned, almost piously, but his eyes were dry, and Taylor could see that he was angry. He tried to take the boy from Marielle, but the boy wouldn't let go of his mother.

  “They said Mommy was dead,” he said, still looking terrified.

  “They must have been terrible people,” Malcolm said with an odd expression. And at that moment, John Taylor asked Malcolm to join him in the judge's chambers.

  The court had been cleared by then, and only the two attorneys, the defendant, Marielle, the child, the jury, and the countless FBI men remained in the courtroom. The judge had gone with Malcolm and John Taylor to his chambers. Marielle had no idea what was going on between them, but she sat talking quietly to Charles and Tom, and there was a feeling of peace and well-being in the room that she had never sensed in her entire lifetime. Two of the FBI men had gone out to get Teddy an ice-cream cone, and he was eating it happily while holding tightly to his mother. And she sat there holding him, feeling as though he had never left her. The last months shrank into the mists of the nightmare from whence they had come, never to return again. Teddy was home, safe and sound. After four months, and by the grace of God, and John Taylor, and maybe even Louie the Lover, Teddy was back with his mother.

  It was a long time before Malcolm and the judge and John emerged, and when they did, Malcolm's mouth was set in a thin line. John had had two interesting calls from his office. There was still a great deal they didn't know, but what they did know was that the kidnappers, or at least the three people holding him on the ship, had been hired by Malcolm. There was no doubt of it now. They were even carrying papers to prove it and they had a false passport for the child that had allegedly been provided by Malcolm. It said the boy's name was Theodore Sanders.

  “That's absurd,” he had said instantly, moments after the call came. “They're trying to implicate me in something I have nothing to do with.” He looked outraged, and reminded Taylor instantly of his connections.

  “They used your name, Mr. Patterson,” John said quietly. “And no one else's. You'll have every opportunity to identify them, and to defend yourself. We'll have to talk about this. But we're going to do it in my office. A lot of money has changed hands, a lot of people have committed crimes here while on your payroll. And if nothing else, I think you're looking at charges of conspiracy and extortion. Not to mention whatever civil matter may arise on the part of Mr. Delauney.” Taylor did not look amused, nor did Malcolm.

  The judge looked shocked. It was impossible to believe the man had kidnapped his own son, or hired criminals to do it. Why would he ever do it? But that was up to the FBI to find out. He had a jury to send home, and an innocent man to release. At least it appeared that way. It didn't seem as though Delauney was the kidnapper after all, and the child was back unharmed. It was certainly a step in the right direction.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the judge spoke solemnly to the very confused members of the jury. “It would appear that we have a miscarriage of justice here. Or we would have had, if we had gone any further. It would appear, at this time, that Charles Delauney is innocent of the crime he has been accused of. Pending further investigation, I am going to release him at this time, and I am going to send you home to your families. We are going to ask Mr. Delauney not to leave the city, and we will notify you if this case is indeed dismissed, which I believe it will be. We thank you for everything you have done here, for your good faith and your time.” He nodded and they stood up, looking as though they were going to run from the courtroom. But they all managed to smile at Marielle, and a few wished Charles good luck. One of the women stopped to kiss Teddy.

  “I am releasing you, Mr. Delauney, without bail, with the understanding that you will not leave the city of New York until this matter is settled. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Charles looked as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

  “And I'll wait to hear from you, Mr. Taylor,” the judge said to John as his agents led Malcolm away without handcuffs. Malcolm said not a single word to Marielle as he left, and he had barely spoken to Teddy. John stayed behind to take Marielle and Teddy home, and Tom was smiling at his client.

  “You're a free man. Would you like a lift home?”

  “I'd like that a lot,” he said to his lawyer. “I'm glad he's back,” he said softly to Marielle … “I couldn't stand your losing him too. You don't deserve that.” He kissed her gently on the cheek then and they looked at each other for a long moment. “I'll always love you,” he said, as Teddy stared at him, and Marielle nodded. She would always love him too, but she had nothing left to give to him. She had given it all a long time ago, and now all she had left was for Teddy.

  “Come on, I'll take you home,” John said quietly, as he put an arm around her shoulders, and slowly they walked out of the courtroom, as Charles watched them go. Tom took him home a few minutes after that, and Bea Ritter was waiting for them outside on the steps of the courthouse. When she had seen Marielle walk in, flanked by FBI men, she had kno
wn that something incredible had happened. She had sat on the steps, crying as she waited.

  “I owe you a hell of a lot,” Charles said to her, almost shyly. “You and Tom were the only ones who believed in me. And for a while there it was pretty rough going.” She nodded gratefully, and he gave her a warm hug, and then he drove home with Tom, who dropped him off at the Delauney mansion. The old butler who had worked there for forty years almost fainted when he saw him. The papers were filled that night with the tales of Teddy being found on a German ship, by FBI agents allegedly carrying machine guns.

  And by the next morning, Charles Delauney was a free man. At eight o'clock that morning, Judge Morrison had officially dismissed the case of the U.S. against Charles Delauney. With the evidence gathered the night before, Tom Armour had called the judge at home to ask him to sign the order. And by then, John Taylor had enough evidence to bury Malcolm. It was a complicated tale, and his supporters would find it difficult to believe, but he had hired the cream of the underworld to kidnap his own son and paid them a fortune to do it. Over a million dollars had changed hands to keep the boy hidden until the pressure had eased up, and he could be gotten out of the country. And finally, a German team had been brought in, handpicked and carefully trained, to spirit him back to the country where Malcolm was planning to make his home with Brigitte.

  He had planned it for a long time, almost as soon as the child was born. By then he already knew he had made a mistake marrying Marielle and not Brigitte. Marielle was distinguished, dignified, decent, and kind, and in many ways, she was the perfect wife. But it was Brigitte he longed for, Brigitte who excited him, Brigitte he wanted to make his life with, except for the fact that she couldn't have children.