by Tony Lavely
“I messaged her I was busy. I’ll get back to her later.”
“Did Wendy and the others IM too?”
“Yeah. Text, too,” overlapped Jamse’s “IM?”
“Instant messaging. Next to text messaging on your cell phone, the way to keep in touch. Oh, but not on your cell phone,” she said with a smothered giggle. “Do you know her ID? Or any of the other girls’?”
“Wendy’s is the only one I know. They didn’t want me bothering them.”
“And Wendy’s is?”
“Everywhere the same. All of them. wendynotpeterswendy.”
“Not a fan of J. M. Barrie, I guess.” In response to Lisa’s question, “I was guessing Peter was Peter Pan, and so that she wasn’t a fan of Peter Pan. Sir Barrie wrote it.”
“Oh. Yeah, she hated it.”
“Well, I think that’s about it, unless you can think of something else we should know?” Lisa shook her head no. “We appreciate the help, Lisa.”
“Just bring her back, please.” She ran from the room near, Sue was certain, tears.
On the way to the front door, Wendy’s father stopped them to say, “I sense you don’t have a lot of hope for her. For any of them.”
Sue made to answer but Jamse stopped her. “Your delicacy was best for the girl.” To Wendy’s father, he continued, “The natural optimism of Ms Jinet notwithstanding… As she explained to your daughter, we have had contact with a… man whose activities may align with the events involving your daughter. However, we have little proof against him even for the activities of which we are aware. There is merely very weak circumstantial evidence linking him with the events here.” He glanced at Sue. “However, Ms Jinet has promised Lisa, and others, that we will recover your daughter.
“This we will do, because we are all dismayed by the abhorrent nature of these events, whether related or not.”
Susan grimaced as Jamse scrutinized the parents. “I also feel obliged to say that, given the length of time since her disappearance, your daughter, like the other girls, is unlikely to return to you unchanged, or even undamaged.” He paused, heaving a deep sigh, unusual for him, then continued, “I pray that she and the others can be returned alive.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jamse.” Wendy’s mother blinked several times; her eyes glistened. “We’ve hesitated to talk about things like… what you said. I guess we hoped if…” Her husband placed his arm over her shoulders, and she looked into his eyes. “I hoped that if we didn’t talk about it, it wouldn’t happen.” She leaned into him with a sigh. “Please do your best. Lisa is all we have left, and she’s full of self-blame.”
“Why’s that?” Sue asked.
“She was sick with a stomach bug that day, so she wasn’t on the bus with Wendy. She thinks it might have been different if she’d been there.”
Jamse nodded. “Yes. I agree completely,” he said quietly. “Different. But not better, certainly, for her or you. Looking at her, and the pictures of Wendy you have shared with us, be grateful she was ill that day.”
As they started through the door, Lisa ran down the steps, rubbing her eyes, first with a finger, then with her fist, at once a pseudo-adult and a child. “Please, sir, can I help at all? I’ll do anything to get Wendy back.”
Jamse gaped at the girl. Then with a tenderness that Sue had never before seen, he ran a finger along Lisa’s cheek. To Sue, very quietly he said, “First you and Kevin, then Rebecca and Melissa. Now this lovely girl offers to assist us. These young ladies have made quite a mark.”
Dropping to a crouch in front of Lisa, he took her hand and said, “Lisa, I am certain you understand that we are unable to accept your offer. For the present, please stay here with your parents, studying, learning, growing up as you should. If in a few years, you continue to feel the urge to tilt at windmills with us, I assure you Wendy will remember our names.” With a final squeeze of Lisa’s hand, he stood and turned to Sue. “Come then.” He walked into the sun. Dumbfounded, Sue almost tripped as she followed him.
At the car, they thanked the liaison officer, who asked for the name of the man Sue had mentioned to Lisa, yielding when told their information really was quite thin and not obtained either through completely lawful means or inside US jurisdiction.
On the drive back to the airport, Sue asked: “Can I spend a little more money?”
“You know how Kevin feels about that.” She laughed. Every one of them knew how deVeel felt about expenses. “On behalf of which quest?”
“Wendy. I think, if she can get near a computer, she’ll try and sign in and reach a friend. All the IM clients report when someone on your buddy list signs on; we can set up a computer with all the IM clients running and wait to see if she signs on.”
“That seems quite a faint hope.”
“Thanks. I didn’t think it was that good. But, it is a hope.”
“The cost of the computer is insignificant. The access required already exists. Where is the expense?”
“A team to monitor the computer continuously. Can’t even leave for pee breaks. We have to assume that, if she can log on, she won’t be able to stay very long, so we’ll need to always be there, ready.”
Jamse considered this as Sue drove toward the airport. “That seems to require a minimum of three.”
“More,” she replied as she drove under an approaching airplane.
“Why more than three?”
“Because if we only have three, they’ll get bored. And while one’s all we need most of the time, she or he’s gotta eat, and go to the bathroom, and just relax. Nothing much more boring than watching a computer do nothing. Which is what this one will do, all the time till we need it.”
“Very well. Call to set it up. As soon as possible.”
She agreed and called Boynton to begin the acquisition of equipment and staff.
The computer was working when they arrived at the resort. Days were filled with incessant planning for an operation which had, as yet, no immediate goals. No one knew where the objective was, or who it was, or how to accomplish the goal. They knew only two answers: what the goal was, and when the girls had been taken—far too long ago.
CHAPTER FOUR
Decisions
THE WEEKS BETWEEN APRIL VACATION and the end of the school year passed much as Beckie had anticipated.
Finals were nearly over; no surprises there. They would all move up in September. She and Melissa would be seniors!
For the hundredth time, Beckie counted the money Jamse had given her as they packed that April morning in London. It seemed extravagant, amounting to almost two thousand dollars.
Sue’s updates had been more regular than Beckie expected, but without much content. Beckie shared them with Melissa and Mike. They were concerned but, Beckie could tell, more interested in each other than the missing girls. Worse, she could no longer even find news on the Web to indicate that anyone was continuing to look for the girls. Late at night when she couldn’t sleep, the girls were the reason. She pondered hard to find a way she could help them. Mr. Jamse hasn’t got anything for me to do in Santa Fe. But if I’m responsible, how pathetic am I, going on vacation while those girls… They’re not on vacation!
The pondering settled her on London; since they’d shut down the villa in Rome, it was the only place that she might make any contact with the kidnappers. And she spoke the language; she could get around there. She checked plane fares; she could score a round trip to London for under eight hundred dollars. Her passport was up to date. She’d already planned a trip as soon as school was out—she’d have to miss the session at the Equine Academy, but this was more important to her. She could do the riding lessons any time. But those girls…
She understood that she might be obsessing over them but obsessed or not, she knew that she’d not tell Sue or Mike or Melissa until they couldn’t stop her. So, the money. She’d agreed with Melissa not to spend it, at least not all at once, until they could explain it better. But this, this seemed like the right thing
to do with it. So right she’d do it even if she had to fly.
“I know you’re busy with work and all, Dad,” Beckie said. They were in his home office. “It’d be a waste of your time to drive me to Syracuse, to the Academy.”
“It’s not a problem, Beckie.”
“I know, but it’s still four or five days you’d be gone.” She leaned against the corner of the desk. Gotta be calm here. “I’ll fly. I already talked to them and they can pick me up. And the tack’s on the way.” She looked into his eyes. “Really, doesn’t that make better sense?”
His cell phone rang just as she finished. He looked at the screen and apologized to her, then picked it up and answered. The conversation was short, and Beckie thought, not very pleasant.
“Well,” he said, “your offer is certainly well-timed.” He looked at the calendar atop his desk, finding the square with his finger. “We have an important customer arriving, and the guys in Sales want me to spend at least two days with their team.” He looked up at her. “So… If you’re really sure about it—”
“I am, Dad!” She curbed her excitement. Don’t want him suspicious! “It’ll be fine. Like I said, they’ll pick me up at the airport.”
Two days after school finished, Jim drove her to Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport. Mike and Melissa came along to give her another couple of goodbyes.
Jim stopped, engine and flashers on, outside the Lindbergh Terminal, and asked, “You sure you want to fly, instead of me driving you?”
Beckie shook her head. “We talked about this, Dad. You’re needed at work and besides, the ticket’s non-refundable.”
Mike handed Beckie her backpack as she let go her hug with Dad. A quick embrace with Melissa, and then Mike, and she humped the pack up to her shoulder. “Thanks for dropping me off. I’ll call in when I get settled.” She turned toward the door.
Before she reached security, she looked back to make sure none of them had followed her in, then walked into the ticketing mezzanine to find the American Airlines counter. She already had planned the change in flights at Chicago. The man selling tickets was pleased to convert many of her dollars into a round trip ticket to London. Because of the short notice, it was more than she had planned, but it did have a thirty day return. She had enough to cover it.
She found economy on the eight-hour flight far less comfortable than any flight she’d ever been on, except for goin’ to Hawai’i! She glanced at the man in the middle seat next to her. At least I fit.
At Heathrow, the walk through the Customs and Immigration Hall was uneventful; following the mass of in-bound travelers, she had the presence of mind to say “vacation” and “sightseeing” when asked why she desired entry to the United Kingdom. Arrival time was later in the morning than she remembered from April.
Out in the terminal, Jamse’s lessons covering the railroad system served her well and she was soon in London near the US Embassy, courtesy of British Rail and a short walk. She even had a small supply of pounds, and a phone that worked.
Well, she thought, sitting in the sun beside her backpack on a bench in the park fronting the Embassy, what now? It’s noon, and the part of the plan to get here has been executed. What’s next? It took barely a second to admit that there was no more to her plan. So, okay. I know Mr. Jamse and Sue, with a gulp, but they’re in the States. And Nigel. The end game of her actions this day came to her in a flash. She’d done all this to help find the girls. The only connection she had with those likely holding them was Nigel. She needed to see if he’d hire her back to dance for him, in the hope that the bad guys would come back for her.
She knew how to find Nigel’s establishment. In an hour, she pounded on the solid front door of the bar. The worry that she’d break her hand dissipated; the door opened and Nigel stood there, gaping at her. However, his leer took mere seconds to develop.
“‘Ope you’re ‘ere to dance, luv?” Beckie nodded and followed him through the small foyer. He stopped just inside the house and looked at her again. “You been ‘ere afore? Look kinda familiar.”
“No,” she muttered. “But I need the money, long as nothin’ else goes on.”
“Nothin’ else? Like wot?”
“Like ‘oring, you know,” Nancy said as she walked up to them from the bar.
“Oh,” he said. “No, none of that ‘lowed ‘ere. Catch you, you’re right out on your arse, you are.”
“Don’ think that’s gonna be a problem,” Nancy said dryly. “You gonna ‘ire ‘er?”
“Right. Might be some’d like ‘er.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Get ‘er papers done, willya?”
Beckie stood, goggling at the two.
“Well, com’on then, luv. Get you set up. Lemme see your passport, right?” Nancy led the way toward the small stage that Beckie recalled all too vividly. The realization hit her: she had walked off the pier, vented the airlock and opened all the hatches. All alone, following this beautiful woman, she forced back a choking sob and carried on.
Nancy surprised her. “So you came back,” she said as she reached the base of the four steps from the house up to the stage level. The woman looked back at Beckie’s face. “Yeah, Nigel’s not too good with faces, but like as not ‘e’ll remember you when you’re on stage with nothin’ on.” Nancy led her to the same closet she’d shared with Melissa and Jamse those weeks ago. “Why’d you come back, then? Can’t believe you just need the cash.”
Beckie nodded. “Ran away,” she said, with a catch in her voice.
“Right,” Nancy said. “Right.” There was hint of resignation in her voice. “Well, you did well enough that I’ll ‘elp you out. Where’s the other one, eh?”
“She didn’t want to come,” Beckie whispered. She’d never imagined that anyone might actually remember her.
“Yeah, that makes sense. She seemed a bit, I dunno, at sea, maybe.” Looking Beckie up and down: “Wot size are you? ‘Bout a two? You got nothing in that pack for a costume, right?” Beckie nodded, but Nancy had already turned toward the door. “Wait ‘ere a sec.” She was gone. Beckie sat in front of the table; as she turned to face the mirror, Nancy returned carrying a handful of lacy fabric.
“’Ere you go, luv. Pick a couple of these and you can use ‘em till you get enough to get your own. Let me know when you’ve decided and I’ll show you ‘ow to get in and out of ‘em on stage.” She left again.
Beckie sorted the flimsy bits of fabric by color, looking them over with her inexperienced eye. She found five different costumes, none of which would constitute acceptable dress anywhere outside the club. Still, they were something; she felt a flush of gratitude for Nancy’s offer. She chose one, a peignoir with a teddy like thing that seemed to her to be nothing but a front and not a lot of that. Thinking she had arrived at the point in this experience where she needed help, she stepped into the hallway looking for Nancy and ran into another girl she recognized from before. Beth was the name she recalled.
“Hello, there,” Beckie heard. She recognized Beth’s cosmopolitan accent. “What are you doin’ here?” Beckie didn’t notice the look of surprise on her face.
“Jus’ workin.’ Need some cash,” Beckie answered, almost under her breath. “Seen Nancy?” Beth pointed toward the beaded curtain blocking the way to the stage.
“Thanks,” Beckie said and slowly walked that way, thinking, Maybe I shoulda planned a little more. Planned at all, she retorted to herself. But I’m here, and unless I just go home, I’d better start working on getting snatched, ‘cause I don’t have enough money to do anything else. And I’m not ready to head home. Not yet.
Nancy was working on something at the far side of the stage, at the back of the proscenium arch. “Hi,” Beckie ventured.
“Right. You ready, then? Just a sec. Nigel, bless ‘is soul, never looks at this stuff, and someone’s gotta make sure it all works, and doesn’t kill one of us.” A few more twists and turns. “’Ere, take the torch, willya?” Nancy picked up a cou
ple of light bulbs and led them toward Beckie’s space. “Wha’d you pick out, then? Let’s see.”
Back in the closet, Nancy stood with her back to the door. “Right then, let’s put it on.” The next several minutes were filled with another new experience for Beckie, as she stripped to her briefs and then tried to figure out how the teddy went on. Finally, probably to keep from laughing, Nancy showed her the way the straps fit over her shoulders and legs to hold the lace in place while enabling an easy exit. The peignoir was much easier.
“Right. Now to take it off. You’ll be there for about five, six, minutes, two songs worth. Most of the first song, keep it like that, but flip the robe around so they can see the teddy. When it ends, or just before, drop the robe like this…” Nancy slid the garment down Beckie’s back so it rode the swell of her butt. “Don’ let it drop too far, till you let go.” She pulled the robe back up. “Right, then. Give it a try.”
Beckie moved slowly around the small room, avoiding the chair. She moved the robe back and forth as instructed, finally letting it slide slowly down her back to fall to the floor.
“Right. Great!” Nancy said. “The teddy’s almost as easy.” Nancy showed her how to dance, moving her hands on the teddy to cover, then expose, then cover again the interesting parts of her body, ending with time tested methods of letting it slip from her shoulders to fully expose her. “And when you do that, after a couple more seconds, the lights’ll go dark and you pick up your stuff and come back ‘ere.
“How’ll I know when to go on?” Melissa had always led.
“I’ll let you know. Tonight, we won’ be going right after each other, so I’ll tell you.” Beckie nodded. “Right. Which is the other one?”
Beckie admitted that she’d not been able to figure out any of the other costumes, even as well as the one she had been wearing. She picked one, in sea green, and Nancy went through the process again, advising her to start with the robe and teddy outfit.
Having been introduced to the mysteries of the quick fasteners and slip on and off techniques, Beckie would be able to use any of the costumes Nancy had brought. She picked out another, returned the rest, then dropped to the chair to await, she wasn’t sure what. She had the impression that Nancy would protect her, at least from some of her mistakes. But she hardly had time to refresh her concerns about the wisdom of her actions before the door rattled.