FACETS (JAKE SCARNE THRILLERS Book 6)

by Lawrence de Maria

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  ***

  The coffee shop where Scarne was to meet Alana Dallas’s two roommates, Neeja Ranganathaw and Mayleen Hau, was on Broadway two blocks from Barnard. He arrived early, grabbed a table in a room already crowded with chattering students, and was looking at a menu when the two girls walked in. They went straight to his table. He stood.

  “Hello, Mr. Scarne,” one of the girls, a lithe and brown-skinned beauty with jet-black hair, said.

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “Look around,” she said, smiling. “Does the phrase ‘sore thumb’ mean anything to you? I’m Neeja. This is Mayleen.”

  They shook hands all around and sat.

  “I hope you ladies are hungry,” Scarne said.

  “I don’t know about May, but I could eat a cow,” Neeja said, “even if it was sacred.”

  Scarne laughed. He signaled a waitress and they all ordered cheeseburgers, cokes and French fries. They chatted while they waited for their lunch. Neeja was from Bihar, a province in eastern India that borders Nepal. Mayleen was from Shanghai. She had a plain face but a nice figure, and Scarne suspected that with the right makeup and clothes she would be quite attractive. Both girls were dressed in college dishabille, jeans with ripped knees, sweaters and boots, but everything looked fresh and pressed. Both loved Barnard and New York, and said they should have listened to Alana Dallas when she told them not to go on Spring Break in Florida. They wanted a real “American” experience. What they got was a bacchanal. Rather than hang around the pool and beach parties to be pawed by drunken college boys who wanted them to take their bikini tops off, they found some family beaches, where they swam and lay in the sun. At their own hotel, which catered to Spring Breakers, they prevailed upon a sympathetic manager who moved them to a more isolated wing of the hotel at no extra charge. He also recommended some quiet restaurants in town.

  “So it was not a total disaster,” Mayleen said.

  “And as long as our parents don’t find out,” Neeja said, laughing, “we can chalk it up as a learning experience.”

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Scarne said.

  Their burgers came and the girls dug in ravenously.

  “Exams must be hard work,” Scarne observed.

  “We don’t eat when we study,” Mayleen said through a mouthful of fries.

  After they finished, Neeja said, “The blueberry pie here is to die for. They make it themselves.”

  Scarne laughed and ordered three pieces and three coffees.

  “A la mode?” the waitress asked.

  The girls’ smiles told Scarne all he needed to know. Vanilla was the universal choice.

  Over dessert, which was excellent, though Scarne couldn’t remember a blueberry pie that wasn’t, Neeja asked, “Do you know when Alana is coming back? I guess not this term. We spoke to her uncle. He told us to plan on her being our roommate next year. Even wanted to know if we needed Alana’s share of the rent to lock up the apartment.”

  “Scary-looking man,” Mayleen said. “But he was nice.”

  Scarne presumed that the “uncle” was Anastasia.

  “I think that you should assume Alana will be back for senior year,” he said, cautiously. “But there has been a development.”

  Both girls looked concerned.

  “Has she had a relapse?” Neeja asked.

  Scarne decided on partial truth.

  “Look, when I called I said I was a friend of the family, with some questions about Alana. I am acting on behalf of Alana’s mother. She hired me. I’m a private investigator.” Scarne took out his identification and both girls looked at it. “After Alana recovered, she ran off and I’m one of several people looking for her. We thought she might have come back East. I presume she has not contacted either of you since you spoke to her uncle.”

  They were interrupted when several students stopped by their table to say hello. One asked after Alana, but most of the conversation centered around exams and one particular “jerkoff” professor. The girls did not introduce Scarne. Finally, the visitors left. Both girls now looked anxiously at Scarne, who was now more than just a “sore thumb”.

  “Why did you not tell us who you were right from the start?” Mayleen demanded.

  “I didn’t want you to worry until I had a chance to speak to you,” Scarne said quickly. “And I wanted to bribe you with pie and ice cream. It’s an old private eye trick, although I might have to switch to granola bars. I’m putting on too much weight.” At least the girls laughed. “Also, I wanted to ask you to keep all this to yourself.”

  “Is she in danger?” Neeja asked.

  Time for the lies.

  “No, no. Her mother thinks she ran off with a boyfriend, or maybe just wanted some space to herself.”

  “I knew there was something wrong,” Mayleen said. “Her uncle asked us if we had heard from her, too. I thought that was odd, if she was just home ill.”

  “I’m not surprised she took off,” Neeja said.

  But Scarne was surprised at this.

  “Neeja, be careful what you say,” her roommate warned.

  “Why? Alana didn’t tell us anything in confidence, did she? It’s no big secret.”

  “What’s no big secret?” Scarne asked.

  “Alana despised her mother,’ Neeja said. “She hated going back to San Francisco. She told me she hoped to spend a quiet week in Santa Rosa at the vacation home all by herself.”

  “We were both shocked,” Mayleen said. “We are both close to our families. If it wasn’t so far for both of us, we would have gone home for Spring Break.”

  Scarne knew that Indian and Chinese families had strong ties. A girl who despised her mother would have shocked them.

  “I know that Alana and her mother may have not been close,” he said, carefully. “But you think it went beyond that?”

  “I think we may have said too much,” Mayleen said, as Neeja nodded in concurrence.

  “Listen, Neeja, Mayleen, I said that Alana was probably not in any trouble, but the longer she’s gone, the more complicated her life will become, at school and elsewhere. At some point the family may have to call the police.” Scarne knew that was not going to happen, but the two girls didn’t. “It would be much better for everyone if I locate her. And to do that, I need every bit of information I can get. Do you know why she didn’t get along with her mother?”

  The two girls looked at each other. Finally, Neeja nodded.

  “Do you know about her father?” Mayleen said.

  “I understand he was an anonymous sperm donor.”

  “That always bothered Alana,” she said. “She wanted to find out who he was, but her mother refused. Apparently Alana believed her mother had the resources to find out.”

  “That’s not easy,” Scarne said, although he knew that if anyone could break through the anonymity wall, a Dallassio could.

  “That’s what we told her,” Neeja said. “But she said the least her mother could do was give her a father, since ….”

  “Since what?”

  The girl looked at her roommate, who looked away.

  “Since she wasn’t much of a mother.”

  ***

  Scarne walked the girls back to their building and asked if he could see Alana’s room. He noted the building’s security cameras, which, he knew, had not recorded anything but Alana leaving. He went upstairs and went through her room, with Neeja and Mayleen watching.

  “Her uncle went through all her stuff,” Neeja said. “I asked him why and he said he was looking for some personal items she left behind and wanted while she recovered.”

  Anastasia had thought quickly on his feet, but Scarne suspected the roommates had been suspicious.

  “He left a mess,” Mayleen said, “but we straightened it up.”

  “You mean I straightened it up,” Neeja said. “You didn’t think it was messy. It’s what your room looks like all the time.’

  “Did Alana
have a regular boyfriend?”

  “No, no one serious,” Mayleen said. “We kind of traveled in packs, you know.”

  “So, she never had anyone back here?”

  Neeja laughed.

  “You mean, did she hook up? Yeah, once in a long while. It’s college, you know.”

  “So, no one she might have taken off with?”

  “I thought you said she took off from San Francisco,” Mayleen said.

  Scarne could have kicked himself for the slip.

  “Maybe she came back here and took off,” he said lamely. Then, figuring he had nothing to lose, he asked, “Do you know how she got to the airport when she left for Spring Break?”

  “Why do you want to know that?” Neeja asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe she said something to whoever took her. I ask a lot of questions. It’s my job.”

  “Probably took a cab,” Mayleen said. “Or maybe that teacher she was friendly with over at Columbia offered to give her a lift. He dropped her off downtown a couple of times when we went bar hopping.”

  “What teacher?”

  “Some adjunct. We take classes over there. She said he was nice.”

  “What is his name?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Wilson, maybe.”

  “No, I think it was Millet,” Neeja said.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Mayleen insisted.

  “How about Willet?” Scarne said.

  “Yes, that’s it,” Neeja said. “How did you know?”

  “I’m a trained sleuth. Now, why would a professor take such an interest in a student?”

  “It’s not like that,” Mayleen said. “The adjuncts are different. They are more like students themselves. The regular snooty professors don’t hang around with lowly adjuncts, but the students do, because most of them are regular people, you know.”

  CHAPTER 12 - A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND

  After leaving the coffee shop, Scarne called Willet, only to listen to a recorded message telling him that the cell phone number was no longer valid. That set off a small alarm in his brain. What phone had the teacher used to call in sick? Of course, there were a dozen innocent explanations. He might have used a land line, or used a friend’s phone. And what had Swartzberg said? Willet had recently shaved off his beard and mustache. Again, not all that unusual. But Willet’s name had come up several times and in a case where Scarne was grasping at straws, he decided to visit Willet at home.

  Then, his cell beeped. It was Vincent Anastasia.

  “We got another video, with a ransom demand. Where are you?”

  Scarne told him.

  “I’ll meet you at your office in 20 minutes,” Anastasia said, and hung up.

  Scarne put Willet on the back burner and found a cab. When he walked into his office suite, Evelyn told him that Anastasia was already waiting in the conference room.

  “Alone?”

  “Yes. He’s such a nice man. It’s hard to believe he’s an assassin.”

  “Hall of Fame,” Scarne said. “Did you give him any coffee?”

  “Of course.”

  “I hope it was decaf. Regular coffee makes him nuts. He’s been known to shoot people when over-caffeinated.”

  “Is that an attempt at humor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really, Jake.”

  She went back to her work and he walked into the conference room. Anastasia was sitting at the table with an iPad in front of him.

  “Where is Maura?”

  “She flew to Montreal to arrange the ransom,” Anastasia said.

  “Montreal?”

  “It’s where our diamond connections are based. When you see the video, you will understand.”

  “Let’s go in my office,” Scarne said.

  ***

  Alana Dallas appeared to be healthy. In fact, it was the best she’d looked in any of the videos. Her long blond hair looked luminous and flowed down past her shoulders. She began reading from a sheet of paper in a monotone, without any hesitation, as if she had rehearsed it many times.

  “I am well, and have not been harmed by my captors. If you wish to see me again, you will follow these instructions to the letter. My ransom is $20 million, to be paid in rough, uncut diamonds, graded both ‘fine’ and ‘commercial’. Half the diamonds must be designated ‘fine’; the rest, ‘commercial’. All the diamonds must be rated no less than A4 by the Rapaport Group, which as of this writing lists ‘fine rough’ diamonds at $3,200 per carat and ‘commercial rough’ at $1,980 per carat. All the diamonds must be between 2.5 carats and 5 carats in weight. Assuming an average weight per stone of 3.75 carats and an average price of $2,590 per carat, the total number of diamonds should be approximately 2,000, give or take 50 or 60. We do not expect the spot prices to change dramatically, but assuming good faith on your part, will make small allowances if they do. Hence, the leeway in stone count. But rest assured that any major deviation will be easily noted, and we will act accordingly.”

  At this point, Alana Dallas looked into the camera. Then, she continued reading.

  “You will purchase two items in which the ransom will be transported. One is a 19-inch Elk City Sport Gym Bag (Black only). The other is a Raven X109, 14-Inch Portable Steel Tool Box (Black only). Both items are readily available at major home goods stores. No substitutes will be allowed. A one-carat diamond weighs approximately 0.2 grams, or 0.007 ounces. Thus, the total weight of the stones will be approximately 3.2 pounds. Place the stones in the tool box, and latch, but do not lock, the box. Place the box in the gym bag, and zipper it closed. Do not attach any locking device to the gym bag. Refrain from adding any tracking device to the box or gym bag. We are professionals and will easily detect them. The consequences for such foolishness will be harsh.”

  Again, the girl looked at the camera before resuming.

  “There is a small lake, called Pecks Pond, in Pike County, Pennsylvania, near a town of the same name, about two hours from Manhattan and 30 miles from Port Jervis, New York. On the northern end of the lake is an abandoned restaurant, formerly called the Pecks Pond Inn. The inn has a small dock. Leave the gym bag and diamonds at the very end of the dock at exactly 10 PM this coming Sunday, and leave. Upon ascertaining the value of the diamonds, we will contact you with the location of the girl.”

  The video ended.

  Scarne looked at Anastasia.

  “What the hell is the Rapaport Group?”

  “It’s an international network of companies that prices diamonds,” Anastasia said. “They put out Rapaport Magazine and also have the world’s largest Internet trading service. Apparently they set the industry standard.” He shrugged. “Maura knows about this kind of thing. Me, I looked it up on Wikipedia.”

  “She wants to pay the ransom?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think that is a mistake. You have to bring the cops and the F.B.I. in. They have resources. They can stake out the whole area. Drones, infrared, night-vision goggles. They can throw up roadblocks.”

  “No cops. You heard the video. Place is probably so isolated any extra activity will be spotted by these guys.”

  Scarne was not convinced.

  “The kidnappers may use a boat for the pickup. How big can this pond be? It will be your best chance of getting these guys. You must see that.”

  Anastasia shook his head.

  “I do. Maura doesn’t. And she’s calling the shots. Don’t argue. I tried.”

  Scarne got up and paced the room.

  “Can you get the diamonds?”

  “No problem. It’s already in the works.”

  “They seemed pretty sure you could come up with the scratch.”

  “It’s not chump change,” Anastasia said. “But it won’t even come close to breaking us. Everybody from the I.R.S. on down knows that.”

  “You guys pay taxes?”

  “Damn right. They got Capone on tax evasion, didn’t they?”

  Scarne got up and poured them both more coffee.

>   “The instructions about the diamonds were pretty specific,” he said.

  “Yeah. They made sure the stones will be untraceable.”

  “Can’t they be marked in some way? With a laser.”

  “Maybe. If we had time. It’s a lot of rocks.”

  “Mark a few of them. You might get lucky. If one turns up somewhere, maybe it would lead you to them.”

  Anastasia shook his head.

  “Too risky. If these guys are as good as they seem to be, they probably have someone who can examine the stones microscopically. You notice they did not say when they would let us know where Alana is. Probably means they will take the time to check the merchandise.”

  “Vincent, there is no reason for them to keep Alana alive. She may be dead already. In fact, she probably is.”

  “No matter. Maura wants to play it out as directed. You in?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want you to make the drop with me. I’m still not sure I can trust anyone in my organization.”

  “What do you know about the place for the drop-off?”

  “Nothing.”

  Scarne got up and went out to talk to Evelyn. A few minutes later she came into his office.

  “Pecks Pond abuts the Delaware State Forest recreation preserve,” she said. “It’s popular with fishermen, campers and hikers. But it is pretty isolated.”

  “Why the hell isn’t it the Pennsylvania State Forest?” Anastasia asked.

  “It’s near the Delaware Water Gap,” Evelyn explained.

  “What’s that?”

  “The Delaware River flows through it. Has nothing to do with the state. The Delawares were an Indian tribe. Although, in fact, they were really Lenapes. The English called them Delawares because the river was named for the first governor of Virginia, Baron De La Warr.”

  “What the hell does Virginia have to … forget it, I’m sorry I asked,” Anastasia grumbled.

  “Anyway,” Evelyn continued, “there are a lot of small cabins spread around the lake, many for sale or rent. I checked a local real estate service.”

  “And you got all this in two minutes,” Anastasia said.

  “The Internet is a wonderful thing.”