The Lethal Helix

by Don Donaldson

  “Doctor,” a male voice said. “I have some instructions for you.”

  “What kind of instructions?”

  “Give up your interest in the Midland Dairy. Nothing there concerns you. Do not discuss it with anyone again.”

  Richard bristled with anger. “I don’t respond well to threats.”

  “You should learn, for the sake of Katie. Imagine how you and her grandparents in Mesa would feel if anything happened to her.”

  The caller’s reference to Katie hit Richard like a fist in the face, making his legs rubbery. Katie . . . They knew where she was.

  “There are many other areas in the country that need a neurologist,” the voice said. “Find one. We’ll expect to see a For Sale sign on your house within seventy-two hours. Don’t take this lightly.”

  At the other end of the line, Zane Bruxton’s aide, Boone, hit the disconnect button on the prepaid, untraceable “burner” phone he’d bought that morning. He then returned to the car where Bruxton waited.

  “How did he react?”

  “Defiant, before I mentioned his daughter.”

  “And after that?”

  “He didn’t say anything.”

  “Let’s go home.”

  As they drove, Bruxton wondered again whether he was doing the right thing by simply warning Heflin. It was a risky strategy, but it seemed like having him killed would be worse. That dimwit Otto Christianson was already too curious.

  Bruxton settled back in his seat and rubbed his eyes, feeling that he was on the edge of a great vortex that was slowly pulling everything associated with him toward it, trying to swallow who he was and all he had built. And he saw now that the vortex had always been there. But his strength and intelligence had kept him so far from it, he hadn’t known of its existence. Now that he was old and weak, the sound of it roared in his ears. But his brain still worked, and as long as it did, he would fight the currents that wanted to drag him down.

  AFTER THE THREATENING phone call, Richard immediately called his parents in Arizona. “Pop, this is Richard. Is Katie there?”

  “Sitting right here in your mother’s lap.”

  “May I speak to her?”

  There was a pause then Richard heard Katie’s sweet voice. “Hello . . . Daddy?”

  A tide of relief surged through him. “Hi, cupcake. Are you having a good time?”

  “I went swimming this morning. Well, not actually swimming . . . but I waded.”

  “I’ll bet that was fun.” Richard spoke to Katie for another couple of minutes. Then, hugely relieved that she was intact, he asked her to put her grandfather back on the line.

  “Pop, I have to talk to you about something. But I can’t do it right this minute. Don’t go anywhere until I call back. It’s important.” Richard hung up and sat there, at a loss for what to do. He couldn’t put Katie at risk and he couldn’t ignore what he knew about the dairy. The threat alone suggested there was a lot more to know.

  What to do?

  He sat for several minutes, bent over, his head in his hands as though trying to squeeze out an answer. He didn’t want to leave Midland. He liked it here. And the thought of having his life manipulated again by thugs was repellent.

  No, by God. He wouldn’t run. He’d fight. He didn’t know how exactly, but he’d show them they couldn’t get their way by force. But first, he had to make sure Katie was safe.

  How to . . .?

  Struck by an idea, he reached for his computer mouse and scrolled down his document list to CONTACTS. Finding the desired number, he paused. It’s one o’clock here, it’ll be seven there. For the next six minutes, he spoke to Peter Galbreath, the man who would either make or break his plan.

  At the end of that conversation, he called his parents back. “Pop, I need for you to do something for me.”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “I’m involved in something here that has caused some people to threaten Katie. And they know she’s with you.”

  “What are you talking about? Threaten her?”

  “If I don’t do what they want, they implied they’d hurt her.”

  “Son, what have you gotten yourself into?”

  “I can’t explain now. It could be nothing more than a threat. But I can’t take that chance. Do you remember when I did that year in London with the group specializing in head trauma? One of my patients was the child of an inspector for Scotland Yard. Diane and I became good friends with him and his wife. They’ve agreed to keep Katie until this is resolved.”

  “You’re going to put her in the hands of strangers?”

  “They’re only strangers to you, Pop. And it’s the safest place for her. They’ve got a little girl Katie’s age, so she’ll have someone to play with.”

  “Why don’t you just do what these people want?”

  “I can’t. If you were in my place, you’d see that. I want you and Mom to take Katie to London as soon as possible. Will you do it?”

  “If it means keeping her safe, of course. When?”

  “Can you leave tomorrow?”

  “That’s not much notice.”

  “We need to move fast. It’ll be tiring, but you can go tomorrow and come back the next day, unless you want to stay longer.”

  “How long will it take to resolve this problem?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m sure your mother won’t want to leave Katie in another country. She’ll want to know she’s okay.”

  “Then stay there a few days until I can sort this out. Let’s say a week. I’ll find a hotel for you near the people who’ll be taking care of her.”

  “Why can’t we just keep her with us?”

  “The people who threatened her might find you there. Peter Galbreath, the fellow who agreed to protect her, is a professional at dealing with things like this. Let him handle it.”

  “You’re right. I just hope I can explain that to your mother.”

  “I’ll call you back in a few minutes and let you know the travel arrangements.”

  Richard hung up and searched the Internet for an appropriate flight. Within ten minutes, he had three seats on a United plane that left from Phoenix the next morning for a connecting flight from Houston Since it was out of season, there were plenty of seats available and they were relatively cheap.

  He then called his father and gave him the pertinent flight information and told him the tickets would be waiting at the United counter. He then placed another call to London.

  “Peter, this is Richard again. It’s all set.” He told Peter the flight number and arrival time at Gatwick, then said, “I hate to keep piling things on you, but would you have time to make reservations for a week for my parents at a hotel near your home? Under the circumstances, they’re reluctant to leave Katie.”

  “As all good grandparents would be,” Peter said. “I’ll take care of it. In fact, I’ll have someone look out for them too, just in case.”

  “I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for all this.”

  “Hey, I’m not footing the bill for the hotel, am I?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I was just having you on. Considering what you did for Megan after her accident, it’s my great pleasure to do this for you. Don’t worry. She’ll be safe here.”

  “I hope this doesn’t put you or your family in any danger.”

  “Anybody tries to get to any of us, they’re the ones who’ll be in danger.”

  “I’ll try to resolve this quickly. Take care. And thanks again.”

  Richard then set about wondering how he was going to resolve the situation at all, let alone quickly.

  30

  HOLLY MEANT TO pick up some toothpaste on the way home from the office, but for hours everything Weichmann h
ad told her filled the gaps around her patients’ needs, leaving no room for the mundane. She remembered it a little after seven p.m. when she went into the bathroom and saw the empty tube in the wastebasket.

  Did she really want to go out just for toothpaste? No. Could she live with water brushing for just one night? Also no. The jeans and cross-trainers she was wearing were fine, but she needed more on top than a T-shirt. So before leaving, she slipped on a long-sleeved french terry-knit pullover.

  She drove to a small shopping center near her apartment, where the only two places open were a Rite Aid drugstore and, way across the vast parking lot, a Kroger grocery store.

  She was inside the Rite Aid for less than five minutes. When she emerged, she noticed casually that a blue van had taken the empty parking space on the store side of her car. With streetwise curiosity, she looked to see if it was occupied as she approached, but saw no one behind the wheel or in the passenger seat.

  When she passed the van, she was shocked to see a priest sitting on the pavement, his back leaning on her car, hand over his heart, his flushed face contorted in agony. Behind her car, sprawled on its side, was a bicycle.

  “Pills . . .” the priest groaned. He pointed at the pavement between him and the bicycle. There Holly saw a prescription bottle. Realizing he was probably having a heart attack, she rushed to the bottle, scooped it up, and returned with it to the priest’s side, where she looked at the label.

  Nitroglycerin.

  She unscrewed the lid, tapped a pill into her hand, and leaned forward. “I have your medicine, Father. Open your mouth.”

  His face a canvas of pain, the priest did what she asked. When Holly’s fingers were an inch from his lips, he suddenly grabbed her arm with his right hand and yanked her off balance. At the same instant, his left hand came from under his leg and he shoved an electric stun gun against her.

  The jolt of electricity ripped through Holly’s body, short-circuiting her brain and stiffening her muscles before they failed her and she sprawled limply across the priest’s body.

  The van’s door slid open, and Billy Lynch jumped out. He pulled Holly off Bobby Fowler and dumped her in the van, where they’d removed the back seats.

  Bobby grabbed up the prescription bottle Holly had dropped and stuffed it in his pocket. Leaving the bicycle, which they’d handled only with gloved hands, Bobby jumped into the van and shut the door as Billy got them moving.

  In the back, where Holly was still too stunned to realize what was happening, Bobby stuffed a washcloth they’d stolen from their motel into her mouth, then covered her lips with duct tape, which he ran twice around her head. He added two courses from under her lower jaw to the top of her skull so there was no way she could open her mouth even a slit. He covered her eyes with another length that circled her head, then bound her wrists and ankles.

  Holly was lying between two long pine one-by-fours her abductors had screwed to the van’s floor shortly after they rented it. Bobby pulled a short length of tape from the roll and nailed the free end to one of the boards at a point opposite Holly’s head. He ran the tape across her forehead and nailed the other free end to the opposite board, making sure it held her head tightly. He then ran similar strips across her chest, thighs, and calves. As he carried a final strip across her hands, he looped it twice around her wrists before nailing it. Satisfied that she could now neither sit up nor lift her legs, Bobby unfolded the long cardboard box they’d constructed, and put it over her. He tacked the edges to the pine boards and joined Billy in front.

  “You sure she can breathe?” Billy asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  Though they were going to kill Holly, Billy had no intention of having her die in the van where they could be in an accident, or where a cop might stop them for some obscure traffic reg they’d violated. He was positive the grab had been squeaky clean, but if by some weird chance they had been seen and the cops would soon be looking for them, there was no way he was going to be caught with a body. The sentence for kidnapping was no picnic, but a murder conviction could put a permanent dent in a man’s future.

  That same kind of foresight was why he’d ignored all the potential wilderness dump sites across the river in Arkansas. That would have made it a federal offense. And he sure didn’t need the FBI complicating his life.

  “I feel like a Lilliputian,” Bobby said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way we’ve got her strapped down; it’s like the Lilliputians did to that guy, Oliver.”

  “It was Gulliver.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “How can you remember Lilliputian and forget Gulliver?”

  “How do we remember any of that crap they taught us at St. Peter’s?” Bobby said. He sat quietly for a moment then asked, “Do you think about the place much?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Do you hate them? I do.”

  Billy shook his head. “I don’t hate anybody.”

  “Then why am I dressed as a priest? That wasn’t some slap at Father Lucius?”

  “It just seemed like a good way to get her attention without making her suspicious.”

  “What about the people who killed your parents? If they were here now, would you kill them?”

  “I already did. Five years ago.”

  “Well?”

  “Not out of hate,” Billy said. “But because they took something from me, something I needed very badly at that time in my life. If you don’t stand up for your rights, you’ll always have someone trampling on them. Hate just clouds the mind. Always retaliate, but never with hatred.”

  “Why are we workin’ so hard? We could have just hit this woman in the parking lot.”

  “Too chancy. When we walk away from this, I want to know for sure it’s over. No lingering in a hospital, no possibility of recovery.”

  “When the time comes, you’re going to do it, right?”

  “I’ll do it. Now that’s enough talk. She can hear.”

  Bobby was about to ask what difference that made if they were going to kill her, but Billy was acting so nice, Bobby didn’t want to risk setting him off.

  In the back, Holly had recovered to the point where she had indeed heard Billy’s remark about no chance for recovery. Though she was weak and felt as if there were a beehive in her head, she struggled against her restraints. But she could accomplish nothing.

  The man who sounded as though he was in charge was almost certainly the one who had been in her hospital room that night in Midland. And this time, she could see no escape. She’d faced death before when her bone marrow had turned against her, but then there had been options . . . treatments . . . a chance for a reprieve. Now she had no options.

  No. Don’t think that way, she told herself. There was always hope. No matter how bleak the outlook, you have to have hope. Maybe someone had seen what happened, had taken down the license number of the vehicle they were in. And even now there was a call going out to every patrol car on the streets. Help could be just minutes away.

  But no one had seen what happened. There was no call going out. In fact, the bicycle her abductors had left in the parking lot had already been stolen, so that the only evidence of what had taken place there was a few scattered white pills on the asphalt.

  From the time Billy had spent learning the city, he knew that the most direct route to the river from where they’d picked Holly up was Poplar Avenue. But that would take them directly past the Justice Center, which would be crawling with cops. He, therefore, took a less direct route to Second Street, which he followed north, through a part of the city that would never appear on a tourist brochure.

  Shortly after he crossed the Wolf River bridge, he turned onto a dirt road and followed it, fighting the wheel as ruts and potholes made the headlights jitter over the scrubby landscape. Eventually, th
e main track ran down a hill and ended in the black water of the Mississippi.

  Billy took a much fainter path to the left and eased the van through the scrub about thirty yards before braking and putting it in park. Leaving the headlights on, he said, “Okay, let’s get her out.”

  Billy left the driver’s door open when he stepped from the van so Bobby would have the overhead light to help him see what he was doing. In the back, Bobby pulled the cardboard box off Holly, folded it, and put it out of the way. He then cut the straps holding her down.

  As Bobby worked, the tiny flame of hope that Holly had been clinging to while they drove to this spot flickered and died. She could tell by the way the van had bounced around that they had left the paved road. With the door open, her nostrils were filled with the wet smell of the river. There was no way the police could find them now.

  In desperation, Holly swung her bound hands through the air, hitting Bobby in the temple. She squirmed and pivoted on her back, bringing her legs around to where she felt him against her feet. As she lashed out, pushing him hard, Billy opened the van and Bobby tumbled out.

  Calmly reaching into his jacket, Billy got his stun gun and climbed into the van.

  Holly was clawing at the tape over her eyes when she felt him get in. Still unable to see, she kicked in that direction, but he merely swatted her legs aside and pressed the stunner against her.

  The jolt of electricity immediately took Holly’s will and ability to resist. But it brought a gift too. With her mind scrambled, she was no longer able to grasp the peril she was in. If her abductors moved quickly, she would be spared the terror of waiting for death.

  Billy pulled her out of the van. With Bobby’s help he carried her past the front of the vehicle and dumped her on the ground about ten feet in front of the headlights. There, he reached into his jacket for the nylon cord he would use to strangle her. Straddling her, he wrapped the cord around her neck. Bobby turned to look away.

  The mental effects of the electric shock had worn off too soon. Horribly aware now of what was happening, but with tape still over her eyes so she couldn’t see him, Holly tried to buck Billy off her. But she hadn’t the strength.