Deadline

by Anderson, James

  Braden Young was not normally a violent person, but this action gave him a deep sense of satisfaction. Without another word, he turned and headed back to the elevator.

  As the elevator descended rapidly, he wondered where next to look for Megan.

  Where would she go? Had she harmed herself?

  Suddenly, nothing at this moment seemed more important in Young’s life than the welfare of his daughter.

  He exited the elevator and headed for the hotel’s main entrance. His cell phone rang.

  When he answered the phone, it was the voice of his administrative assistant Denise Taylor. She sounded panicked.

  “Oh, Mr. Young. I’m so glad you had your cell phone on. Something awful has happened!”

  “Calm down, Denise,” said Young reassuringly. “Whatever is the matter?”

  “I’m afraid something has happened to your daughter, Megan. The hospital called and she is in intensive care. They have urged that you get right down there. Apparently it is very serious.”

  The news hit Braden Young like a pile driver.

  “What on earth happened to her, Denise?” Young asked. “Did they say? “

  “I don’t have the details, sir. But they said she drowned and was rescued by a passing boater. She is in critical condition in ICU at Toronto General. They suggest you get down there right away.”

  “Certainly, Denise, I am on my way. Thanks for calling and please ask Paul O’Connor to take over as acting managing editor until I am able to return.”

  “Yes, sir,” Denise Taylor replied. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of such sad news, Mr. Young. I do hope your daughter will be all right.”

  “Thank you, Denise. Tell Paul I’ll try to get back as soon as I possibly can.”

  Young terminated the call and went out the front entrance to hail a cab. As he sat in the back seat on the short drive to Toronto General Hospital, he felt that his entire world had suddenly been shattered like fragile crystal.

  Braden realized Megan meant more to him than anything else, including his precious newspaper career. He thought of the years that had been lost. Now it may all be too late.

  Oh Megan, honey. What have you gone and done now? If anything happens to you, I will kill that son of a bitch.

  Chapter 54

  Andrew Chase’s Office 7:05 PM

  ANDREW CHASE tried to work at his desk, but thoughts of Katie Cannon flooded through his mind, distracting him.

  Thoughts of her in the clutches of the Wolfman overwhelmed him. He feared that he may never see her alive again. It took an event like this to crystallize things for him.

  Chase knew deep down he truly loved Katie Cannon.

  He could not bear to think of life without her. It would be empty and lonely, only a shell of an existence.

  What was he thinking of even contemplating Ashley’s offer of marriage and the money incentive she was waving at him. Without Katie by his side, the newspaper would mean nothing.

  Chase realized he needed to talk to Katie about making their relationship pubic. He planned to do that if and when she was rescued from the Wolfman.

  He only hoped it wasn’t too late.

  In the meantime, he could keep busy by taking action on another front. He needed to call Ashley right away. He picked up the phone and entered her number.

  “Ashley, Andrew here,” he said in response to her voice.

  “Andrew, darling. What a lovely surprise. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Never mind, I’m delighted you’ve called. Does this mean we can start planning the wedding?”

  Andrew hesitated, not sure how to put things. He managed to find the words.

  “Well, that’s just it, Ashley. I am really flattered by your proposal and a year ago I would have jumped at the opportunity. But I’m afraid our time is past. This relationship could never work now because I’m in love with someone else. I could never give her up at any price.”

  “Andrew, that’s just your dick talking. Be sensible.” Ashley’s tone took on an icy edge.

  “You need some one in your life from the same class. Your little whore would not fit into the circles we travel in. Remember you’re also desperately in need of a cash infusion to save that newspaper of yours.”

  Andrew tried to restrain his rising anger.

  “It’s not just about sex, Ashley. I am in love with this person and I would appreciate you not referring to her as ‘my whore’. As for the cash strings, you and daddy can keep your money. I’ll find it somewhere. I and my newspaper are not for sale.”

  “Andrew, Andrew,” Ashley sighed. “You just don’t make practical sense. You will end up in bankruptcy court. You and your little slut will eke out your lives in penniless penitence.”

  “So be it,” replied Andrew. “Better that than to be your toy boy until you tire of me. Have a good life, Ashley.”

  Andrew terminated the call.

  He felt helpless. Katie was in trouble and he desperately wished he could do something about it.

  But it was out of his hands. He thought it best to leave it to the police. Hopefully they could track this killer down and rescue Katie before it was too late.

  He needed to divert his attention elsewhere. Andrew glanced at the clock on his wall and it read 7:25 p.m. Time was steadily counting down until the midnight deadline for Rupert White’s offer to purchase the Daily Express.

  Chase had told Ashley his paper wasn’t for sale at any price. But was that really true? Did he really have any other option if he couldn’t find more financing?

  Perhaps they could limp along for a couple of years, three at the most. It seemed his world was crumbling.

  First the newspaper was at risk, and then the love of his life was in danger. Perhaps he should just call Rupert White and accept his offer. That would solve his immediate financial problem.

  Wake up, Chase, he thought. Stop being such a wimp! You’re more of a man than this. You’ve always been a fighter and gone after what you want. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get your ass into gear.

  Chase turned to his Rolodex on his desk and looked up the numbers of several colleagues in the financial world. It was well after normal business hours, but he planned to shake the trees until he got the financing he needed.

  He wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Andrew started to make his calls.

  Chapter 55

  Toronto General Hospital 7:15 PM

  BRADEN YOUNG stood by the hospital bed staring down helplessly at his little girl.

  Megan lay there silently. Eyes closed. She was in a coma. She seemed so peaceful and serene.

  There were only the ominous gongs of a ventilator pushing air into her lungs. The melodious chimes of an IV pump putting precious fluids into her body. He heard the insistent buzz of a cardiac monitor with its fluorescent green lights flickering.

  Braden stood staring at his daughter. The person lying on the narrow hospital bed was a beautiful young woman, but he only saw a little girl in pigtails, vibrant and alive in a pink princess dress, wearing a golden tiara.

  Where had all those years gone? They had flown by so quickly and he had missed so much of it because of his career and his personal ambition. He felt that he had missed so much of Megan’s life and growing up.

  Now that they had been reunited, he was afraid that she would be taken from him once again. This time permanently. His eyes felt moist as he gazed down at his daughter.

  He felt a soft touch on his arm. Standing next to him was a petite nurse dressed in green scrubs. Her nametag read Sherry Andrews.

  “She is struggling with her breathing and she is very weak, but her blood pressure is good,” said the nurse. She had long flowing blonde hair and bright hazel eyes that exhibited serenity and compassion. “She is holding her own. We can only hope for the best.”

  “Megan always has been a fighter,” said Braden. “But this time she is in the fight of her life.”

  “Is she your daughter?”

  “
Yes,” replied Braden. ‘But it has been so long since I’ve seen her and now this happens. Will she pull through?”

  “It’s out of our hands now. We’ve done all we can medically. The rest is in God’s hands.”

  The nurse took Young over to a nearby desk and introduced him to a young man garbed in a white coat, with a stethoscope around his neck.

  “Hi, Mr. Young, I’m Dr. Stephen Bristol, the ICU Resident. “I’ve been taking care of your daughter. Megan is stable but in critical condition. She is fortunate that a nearby boater was able to rescue her. But I’m afraid she was in the water for some time and she ingested a considerable amount of lake water. The young man who rescued her provided CPR which kept her alive until the paramedics were able to get to her.”

  “I’m most appreciative and would like to get his name to personally thank him,” said Braden.

  “We can certainly get you his name from the lake rescue team,” said Bristol. “Now the next few hours are going to be critical. We won’t know until she comes out of the coma whether there is any significant brain damage. It depends on how long she was deprived of oxygen.”

  “How long until she comes out of the coma, doctor?”

  “It is hard to tell, Mr. Young. It could be a few hours or days. The body needs to regenerate. I’m afraid all we can do now is wait. I’ll be nearby in the unit if you need me.” The doctor shook Young’s hand and moved off to another area of the ICU.

  Young pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. He reached out and kissed her lightly on the forehead. He clasped Megan’s hand in his. He’d read somewhere that it helps to talk to patients in a coma. He didn’t really know whether it would do any good, but it couldn‘t hurt.

  Braden began to recite one of Megan’s favorite fairy tales, Sleeping Beauty. He’d read it to her so many times when she was a youngster that he still knew it by heart.

  Megan was his sleeping beauty. But no prince was going to come along to awaken her with a kiss.

  All we can do is wait, he decided.

  Chapter 56

  On the streets of Etobicoke 7:50 PM

  TIME IS running out.

  That thought ran through Detective Sergeant Peter Moon’s head as he and CID officer Brian Savage drove through a metro Toronto suburb in Etobicoke.

  Savage was driving while Moon scratched another name off the list. It was Enzo Lombardi, a cleaner who was safely at home with his wife and three kids. He was hardly a candidate to be the Wolfman.

  They had been to seven employees’ homes. No signs of Katie Cannon or the Wolfman.

  “This is like looking for a needle in a haystack,” said Moon.

  Nibbling on the end of the Fisher ballpoint pen, he checked the list of employee names. “Who is next up? Let’s see, it’s a security guard, named Ian McDonald. He lives in Mississauga, on Cawthra Road.”

  “Christ, that’s right across the city, it’ll take us at least a half-hour to get there, snapped Savage. “This list is proving to be a grand tour of the Greater Toronto Area.”

  “Quit your bitching, Brian. It’s our only lead on the Wolfman. We have to check it out. The sooner we get through this list, the better. A woman’s life is at stake here. Head for the 401, it’ll be quicker this time of night.”

  Moon punched the address into the vehicle’s Tom Tom GPS navigator seeking the fastest way to Ian McDonald’s house on Cawthra Road.

  “Right boss, let’s hope this is the right guy. We can finally cage the Wolfman and all go home.”

  “I only hope we’re in time to save Katie Cannon.”

  Moon was not certain time was on their side.

  Chapter 57

  Peshawar, Pakistan 6 AM

  THE TEEMING city of Peshawar was starting to come alive.

  Trevor Trevanian sat quietly in the back of the black Russian Zil, driven by an ISI agent. He could see the sun slowly start to rise on the eastern horizon over the white minarets of the many mosques in the city. The call to early Morning Prayer wailed across the sleeping city, slowly awakening the populace.

  Peshawar is the provincial capital of the Northwest Frontier and the Tribal Areas. Peshawar literally means City on the Frontier. It is the commercial, economic, political and cultural capital of the Pashtuns in Pakistan.

  This city of more than 1.2 million people is 99 percent Muslim, with numerous white marble mosques dotting the landscape. Trevanian saw the vehicle pass by the Mohabbat Khan Mosque and the Qasim Alik Khan Mosque.

  Trevanian later noticed other landmarks in Peshawar, such as the Bara Bridge, the campus of the University of Peshawar and the Governor’s House as they drove by. Traffic was light at this time of the morning and they made good time.

  Within minutes, the vehicle was in the centre of the city and pulled up in front of a large, grey building. The walls were stained with graffiti in a foreign language. Trevanian presumed it was Pashto.

  “Sir, your destination,” said the ISI driver-agent. “The Associated Press office is located on the second floor.”

  “Thanks,” said Trevanian.

  He felt no particular animosity to this ISI agent. He was just thankful to be free of their clutches. He picked up his Mac Powerbook and digital recorder that had been returned to him by Major Patel. He was sure the ISI had been checking out the data. He only hoped they hadn’t erased key passages.

  As the Zil sped off, leaving him at the curb. Trevanian looked down the nearly deserted street and saw a nearby hotel. The sign said Pearl Continental Hotel.

  What he wouldn’t give for a room right now. A hot shower and a few hours sleep on a real bed in crisp, clean white sheets. He had been on the go now for almost 19 hours without any serious sleep. He felt exhausted, with every bone in his body aching. But a hotel room would have to wait.

  He was on deadline. Trevanian needed to file this story within the next two or three hours if he was going to make tomorrow’s edition of the Daily Express.

  The Osama bin Laden interview would reverberate in corridors of power around the world. First, it was proof the terrorist mastermind was still alive. Second, it showed bin Laden and his al-Qaida buddies are still a potential threat to the West.

  Trevanian entered the building and made his was up a stairway to the second floor. He entered a suite of offices with Associated Press stamped on the glass.

  The office was almost deserted with only a couple of newsmen on duty. One man sat at a computer monitor writing. Another was checking the news Teletype for breaking news.

  Trevanian quickly identified himself as a Canadian journalist and said he had an important story to write and file. Ali Khan, the man seated at the computer, warmly welcomed him. He ushered Trevanian to a nearby workstation.

  Khan asked: “Would you like some coffee?”

  “That would be a lifesaver,” replied Trevanian. “I’m going to need plenty of caffeine in the next couple of hours.”

  Khan brought over a mug of hot, steaming Java and set it on Trevanian’s desk. “You need anything else, just let us know.”

  Trevanian started to work. He organized his material. He plugged in his laptop. He listened to some of the recorded interview.

  Then he started hitting the laptop keys furiously. He was glad to be a journalist again. The writing juices started to flow.

  Chapter 58

  Toronto General Hospital 8:15 PM

  BRADEN YOUNG had been at the hospital for about an hour. He finished the Sleeping Beauty tale and then continued on with another favorite fairy tale of Megan’s, Rapunzel.

  Throughout the storytelling, Megan continued to just lie there at peace, breathing gently with the aid of machines. The continuous sounds of the ventilator and the IV pump provided background accompaniment.

  “Oh, Megan. What have you done? Why? You have your whole life ahead of you,” said Braden as if Megan could hear him. “You have so much to live for. That dirt bag is not worth taking your own life”

  He felt so powerless. With one phone call he could get t
he most powerful man on Earth to solve a problem faced by one of his reporters halfway around the world. But here was his own daughter, her life in the balance. He was helpless. And he could do nothing except hope and pray.

  Braden Young was not a religious man, but he silently called upon whatever higher power there may be to spare his daughter’s life and bring her back to him. He promised he would change if only she could live.

  Braden suddenly felt a terrible thirst. He went over to nearby water cooler. He filled one of the small paper cups and began to sip the cool water.

  Suddenly there was a choking sound behind him. He turned toward the bed and was amazed at what he saw. Megan was moving. Her eyes were open and she was choking on the tubes sticking out of her mouth.

  “Megan, honey! You’re awake,” he said excitedly.

  Braden ran to the nurse’s station where Sherry Andrews was seated in front of a bank of beeping monitors.

  “It’s Megan, she’s awake!” he shouted. “Please, she needs help!”

  Sherry Andrews immediately paged Dr. Bristol. Then she ran to Megan’s bedside.

  “There, there, dear,” she said soothingly to Megan stroking her arm. “Stay calm and breathe normally. You have some tubes down your throat. The doctor will be here shortly.”

  Within minutes, Dr. Bristol joined them at the bedside. He checked Megan’s pupils with a light and they were reactive.

  “She’s out of the coma. We need to get her off that ventilator.”

  He removed the tubes, switched off the ventilator but left the IV pump running.

  “Is she going to be okay, doctor?” asked Braden.

  Dr. Bristol turned to Braden. “I think so, Mr. Young. She’s breathing on her own now but it may take a few hours to see if there is any brain damage and any physical or mental impairments. Right now she is out of danger. Things are looking good because the coma was so short. She just needs to rest.”