Panic (A Leopold Blake Thriller)

by Nick Stephenson

  The group reached the heavy wooden doors that opened out into the entrance lobby of the library. The doorway itself was nearly twenty feet high, but was dwarfed by the fourteen enormous columns above that helped support the library’s hulking stone frame and its contents of nearly two million books.

  Inside, the cavernous main hall rose over three stories from the polished floor to the gilded ceiling, with long, three-tiered chandeliers that hung at regular intervals across the room. Despite the ornate lighting, the room received most of its illumination from the tall windows that stretched the height of the walls, letting in enough sun that Leopold wondered why the lights were switched on at all. The library smelled of cold stone and polished oak, and was silent enough that he felt a little self-conscious breathing. The only faint noises were the soft clacks of computer keyboards and the scribble of pens and pencils on notepads.

  After a short ride in the elevators, the doors opened out onto the sixth floor of the library and Leopold set off in the direction of the faculty offices, with the others close behind.

  The rare books and manuscripts section was more modern than many of the other areas of the library, with controlled lighting and glass-fronted display cabinets stretching out the full length of the corridors. As they walked through, Leopold glanced with interest at the selection of ancient texts, artwork, and tablets that sat behind the reinforced displays.

  “There’s over four thousand years of history housed up here,” he said. “And around fourteen miles of manuscripts stored alongside about half a million books detailing the entirety of human civilization. Right here is the culmination of all mankind’s achievements since we learned how to write.”

  “Thanks for the history lesson,” said Mary. “I’ll be sure to check something out on the way back. Do you think they’ll give me a library card?”

  He gave up and sighed. “Just don’t touch anything.”

  “Roger that.” She gave a mock-salute and rolled her eyes.

  They soon found the office area, exactly as Marty had described. There were five offices in total, each facing out onto a central reading area with three tables and some scattered chairs. The only sound was the buzz of an overhead neon light in its final throes and the soft thrum of the air conditioning. Leopold spotted Locke’s office in the far corner, just a windowless door with his name written in magic marker on a scrap of paper and taped to the wood. Leopold knocked gently.

  “Come in,” a muffled voice came from inside.

  Leopold opened the door and stepped inside, followed closely by the others. Professor Locke’s office was a mess, with boxes of stacked papers lining the edges of the walls and loose manuscripts and battered textbooks scattered around the floor. Locke himself stood with his shirt sleeves rolled up, sweating from what Leopold assumed was the effort of unpacking all the heavy books. The professor was short and overweight. His dark hair was slicked back with greasy hair gel, and his white shirt was littered with various stains, both old and new, all of varying color. Set on one of the shelves where he had finished unpacking was a half-eaten sandwich. The room smelled like mustard.

  “What do you want?” Locke asked, leaning against the bookshelf and wiping his brow with the back of his forearm.

  “Professor Brian Locke?” asked Leopold

  “Yeah. Like I said, what do you want? You ain’t students of mine, and I got work to do.”

  “We’re here to talk to you about Christina Logan. One of your students, right?” said Leopold, taking a step forward.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “My name is Leopold Blake, and this is Mary Jordan of the NYPD. The tall gentleman is my security officer, Jerome, and this is a private consultant, Albert Fitzgerald. We’re working with Christina’s father, Senator Logan.”

  Locke took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, contemplating. He picked up the unfinished sandwich and took a large bite, dropping crumbs onto his already-filthy shirt. He continued speaking with his mouth full.

  “Yeah, that’sh me. What’sh thish all about?”

  “When was the last time you saw Christina?” asked Leopold.

  Locke finished his mouthful of sandwich and made a smacking noise. He kept the rest in his hand as he spoke, pausing only to wipe his mouth.

  “Erm… Must have been a couple days ago during class. Why? Where is she?”

  “She’s been kidnapped,” said Mary, holding up her police shield.

  Locke dropped his sandwich. “Wh – what? Is she okay?”

  “We have evidence that you were sending Christina threatening emails. Can you explain?”

  “No! I w – wouldn’t! She’s a student of mine. Why would I want to do that?”

  “The computer in the basement. I have a copy of the entire hard drive, along with security records of you in the building at the time the emails were sent.”

  Locke began to sweat, tiny beads of perspiration forming on his greasy brow. Jerome cracked his knuckles and Locke flinched slightly, considering his options.

  “Okay, okay! I admit it! I sent her some… unsavory emails. But I would never hurt her!” said the professor, palms up.

  “What relationship existed between you and Christina?”

  “There was no relationship. Nothing more than professor and student.”

  “Then why send those messages? Were you in love with her?”

  “I – I asked her out once. She said no.”

  “That’s it?” said Mary, folding her arms.

  “W – well, I asked her out again and she got pretty mad. Threatened to report me to the dean. Little bitch. I got a little mad,” said Locke, avoiding the police sergeant’s stare.

  “The last email said that you knew some kind of secret. What did that mean?”

  “N – nothing! I was just… bluffing! Wanted to scare her a little, that’s all. I swear!”

  Mary frowned. “You’re lying, Brian. Tell us the truth.”

  “I’m not lying!” he said, trembling.

  “Your voice raises in pitch by several tones when you lie,” said Leopold, interrupting. “You also stutter, and you can’t stop playing with your hands.”

  Locke looked down at his hands and shoved them into his pockets. “Fine. Ask your damn questions.”

  “There’s only one thing I’m interested in,” said Leopold. “Tell me about this so-called family secret. Then I’ll decide what to do with you.”

  Locke slumped in his desk chair and took a deep breath. “There was a fundraising benefit held at the University last month, and my department was invited. I noticed that Christina and her father were there as well, so naturally I kept and eye on them during the meal.” He paused.

  “Keep going,” said Leopold.

  “I first noticed something was a little odd when I went to the bathroom just after the appetizers. I remember, it was this really great French onion soup with the nicest little –”

  “Get to the point, Brian,” said Mary.

  “Oh – right. Yeah, so I go to the bathroom and I see these guys out in the hallway, all dressed up in business suits and looking like they were waiting for someone. I heard one of them mention Logan’s name. Sounded like they were pretty desperate to speak to him.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “Well, I went back to the table and waited for the senator to get up and leave. Then I followed him. He met with the guys in the suits and they went into a room together. It all felt a little cloak and dagger to me, so I listened in.”

  “Go on.”

  “I went into the room next door and put my ear against the wall, which was pretty thin. I heard the senator getting really agitated about something to do with raising money, and I heard one of the others tell him that they couldn’t help him without a show of good faith, or something like that. They pretty much stopped talking after that, so I slipped back to my table before anyone noticed I’d been gone too long.”

  “Then what?” said Leopold.

  “Nothing more happened at the
dinner, but when I got home I looked up some of the details of the organization running the fundraiser. Turns out the company is a subsidiary of a corporation owned by a private equity firm that invests on the behalf of a trust fund. And you can guess who the beneficiary to the fund is.”

  “Senator Logan,” said Leopold.

  “Damn right! Seems a bit of a coincidence that a charity event set up to help starving children or whatever was managed by a company that one of the major donors actually owns. Smells pretty rotten to me. So I did some digging and found about a dozen other cases where a company owned or part-owned by the senator was involved in some kind of baloney charity deal,” said Locke.

  “What do you mean, ‘baloney’?” asked Mary.

  “Keep up, honey. For every fundraiser his company organizes, the senator makes a large cash donation in his own name. The charity’s sponsors match the donation into one of the company’s holding accounts,” said Locke. “Next, the company pipes the money through enough fake accounts to make sure nobody can trace it, and then skims a huge amount off the top. The charity ends up receiving about 25% of the total money raised. The whole thing is a massive front.”

  “How did you find all this out?”

  “I’m a professor in Columbia University’s computer science department, one of the leading centers for research in the world. I know a few people who can do useful things with computers,” said Locke, sarcastically.

  “Okay, so why was the senator so agitated at the dinner, if he’s getting so much money?”

  “Who knows? Could be that whatever he’s into requires a hell of a lot more than he can raise. That’s my theory.”

  “So why email Christina?” asked Mary.

  “I figured I could email Christina and really freak her out. After she realizes what dear old dad has done, she tells her father about the emails and then I propose a meeting. That way I can put Daddy’s little angel in her place, and expose the senator for the fraud that he is.”

  “Unless the senator happens to change your mind somehow,” said Leopold, raising his eyebrows.

  “You mean blackmail?” replied Locke, in mock horror. “I prefer the term financial persuasion. Besides, how is it different from accepting campaign donations from companies wanting to affect government policy? I say it’s about time politicians started listening to taxpayers like me!”

  “We’re not here to discuss politics. Why did you go to so much trouble to hide your tracks?” said Leopold.

  “Are you kidding? The whole point was to harass Christina enough so that I’d eventually get through to her father, who’s not exactly going to be overjoyed at the whole thing. Senator Logan could find a guy like me in a matter of minutes if he wanted to. So, unless I hide what I’m doing, I’m dead meat.”

  “You might still be,” said Mary.

  “Huh? What do you mean?” said the professor.

  “Christina was kidnapped by the same person who murdered three senators in cold blood. Chances are he already knows who you are, and he’ll be wanting to know what you know. There’s someone out there, someone dangerous, who isn’t going to want any loose ends. Catch my drift?”

  All the color drained out of Locke’s face, and his jaw fell open. He didn’t make a noise for a moment and then suddenly began to hyperventilate.

  “Calm down, Professor Locke,” said Mary, rolling her eyes. “If you cooperate with us, I can offer you police protection.”

  “W – what do you want me to do?” asked the flustered professor, panting.

  “We have a special job in mind for you,” said Leopold. “But first, I need some time to think. You need to stay here in case any of your students show up for office hours and people start wondering where you are. In the mean time, where’s the nearest room we can use?”

  “Erm… j – just round the corner. G – go left out of here and through the double doors. It sh – should be empty,” said Locke, trying to control his breathing.

  “Good. We’ll be back soon. Don’t move.”

  Chapter 30

  Leopold found the empty classroom, a narrow and windowless space, and shut the door behind him. The others each took a seat at the table as Leopold picked up a pen and scribbled bullet points on the whiteboard. Jerome shuffled uncomfortably in the small chair, which creaked under the strain.

  “What are we doing in here?” asked Mary. “We should be following up on Professor Locke’s statement.”

  “We have no reason to assume he’s not telling the truth,” said Leopold. “His statement hardly paints him as the virtuous type. He could go to prison just for sending the emails, let alone hacking into private bank accounts and blackmailing a state senator. If that story was devised to clear his name, I’d say he failed miserably.”

  “Point taken. What are you writing?”

  “I have a theory.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  Leopold finished writing on the whiteboard and stood to the side, pointing at each line as he spoke. “First, we take the kidnapping case in isolation and ignore the murders. The majority of kidnappings are committed for financial gain, with some carried out to further a political agenda, for revenge, or sometimes just for sick thrills. As the kidnapper demanded a ransom, we can rule out the second reason.”

  The others all nodded in agreement, and he moved on to the second point. “However, when the exchange was supposed to happen, the kidnapper and Christina disappeared. Why leave all that money behind? The only explanation is that the motive for the kidnapping was no longer financial.”

  “Why would a kidnapper change his motive halfway through?” asked Mary.

  “He wouldn’t. Someone who has gone to this much trouble is hardly going to alter his tactics at the most crucial moment unless the kidnapper himself were no longer in the picture. What if there were actually two kidnappers, acting independently? Each of them with their own agenda. The second kidnapper could have somehow managed to get Christina away from the first. There’s going to be at least one dead body in this scenario.”

  “Hank,” said Mary.

  “Exactly. Kidnapper number one. Problem is, it’s very difficult to question a corpse. Fortunately, the bank details we found at his house should be enough to eventually trace where that money came from.”

  “Hang on, this doesn’t make any sense. Why would someone pay a kidnapper in advance?”

  “You get an ‘A’, Ms. Jordan! It makes no sense to pay ransom to a kidnapper in advance. However, something Locke said put the last piece of the puzzle into place.”

  “And that was?”

  “Consider the facts. Senator Logan is desperate to find Christina’s kidnapper, and he only brings us in once he loses control of the situation, which I found a little irregular. Add to that his secretive demeanor during our first meeting, and my suspicions were aroused immediately. Locke’s story regarding the senator’s desperate need for a large amount of cash only confirmed my suspicions were correct.”

  “Okay, so how does it all fit together?” asked Mary.

  “Remember the senator talked about the insurance policy he had in place to cover kidnappings? It would be relatively straightforward for him to pay somebody to stage a kidnapping of his daughter, hand over the cash, and then receive the settlement from the insurance company. He then gets the cash back from his accomplice and he’s effectively doubling his money.”

  “But Christina’s father didn’t even know about Hank. How could he have set it up?”

  “According to Christina’s friends, the relationship between her and Hank was secret,” said Leopold. “However, I doubt a man of Senator Logan’s status and wealth leaves anything involving his daughter to chance. I’d be very surprised if he didn’t have security keeping tabs on Christina twenty-four hours a day. Judging by Hank’s character, it probably wouldn’t have been too difficult to convince him to stage the kidnapping in return for a modest sum. In this case, twenty thousand dollars from a shell corporation that’s likely part of the senator’
s charity scam.”

  “Couldn’t Hank just keep the cash once the exchange went down?” asked Mary.

  “Technically, yes. But I doubt he’d be alive for very long afterwards to enjoy it. Logan no doubt put some security measures in place to make sure he got the cash back,” said Leopold.

  “But why go to all this trouble?” asked Albert. “It sounds like the senator is rich enough as it is.”

  “The only thing Logan craves more than money is power. With enough support, Logan has a shot at the U.S. Senate, and from there maybe even the White House. We already know he has friends in all the right places. The only thing he needs is financial assistance, given that your average run for office can rack up bills in the hundreds of millions.”

  “All this just to further a career?” said Mary.

  “People have died for far less.”

  “This all sounds a little farfetched. We can’t just accuse Senator Logan without rock-solid evidence,” said Mary, folding her arms.

  “Evidence will come now that we know where to look. Subpoena the accounts in question, starting with the fake charities, and you’ll find the paper trail. There’ll be phone records too, linking Hank to all of this. I doubt he had the brains to cover his tracks properly,” said Leopold. “Find the one puzzle piece that fits, and the rest will all fall into place.”

  “But that still doesn’t help us figure out where Christina is now. If you’re saying a second kidnapper has her, how do we find them? We don’t even know who this person is.”

  “On the contrary, I know exactly who has Christina. It’s the same person who’s been sending people after us all day, trying to put us out of service.”

  “And who’s that?”

  Leopold wrote the name in large letters on the whiteboard.

  Chapter 31

  Stark knocked on the door to the senator’s bedroom and stepped inside without waiting for a response. They were at least an hour behind schedule, and the colonel was eager to put the next phase of the plan into effect. Logan still sat at his desk, the glow of the computer monitors bathing the dark room in a murky glow. Stark took a few steps toward the senator, who was cradling his head in his hands and breathing deeply.