“Don’t be silly, honey. It’s all squared away. Anyway, who are you going to call in the middle of the night?”
“You’re so sweet, Lou. Come to bed.”
“In a little bit, honey.”
Jennifer propped herself up on her elbows. “It’s our honeymoon, Lou. C’mon. If I can skip out of work, so can you.”
Coburn laughed and gently pushed her back onto the pillow. “In a little bit.”
Louis, Renard, and Michael sat in their car in front of a darkened service station at the northern edge of Perryville. After thirty minutes, Louis knew they were waiting in vain. If Coburn had even come, he could have taken any one of a number of routes. Louis’s speculations had been off; his guesses had been all wrong. His shoulders sagged and his head slumped forward. He pressed his fists to his eyes until he saw colors. He had tried everything he could think of to find Jennifer.
“Wait a minute, Dad,” said Michael. “The cell phones. Why does this guy have so many different phones?”
“They’re probably off-the-book phones—stolen or confiscated,” Louis said. “Coburn is careless. He should have thrown them away.”
“I mean, there are how many different phones here? Cell phones automatically keep logs of all calls made on that phone—calls dialed, calls received, calls missed—all of them. There could be lots of phone numbers listed in the logs. Did you check those?”
“No,” said Louis, sitting up. “I didn’t know about those. I don’t use a cell phone. Show me.” He handed the phones to Michael.
Michael turned on the phones, and the three men sat in the dark, their faces lit by the soft glow of cellular screens while Michael pushed buttons. Different telephone numbers kept coming up on the screens. “What if we just call all the numbers we find and see what happens?” said Michael.
“That is risky,” said Louis. “We need to find someone who can get us to Coburn without letting him know we’re here.”
“If he’s here,” said Renard.
“Wherever he is,” said Louis. “We need to find him to find Jennifer.” They divided the phones among them. “Look for phone numbers here in Perryville—703 area code, 855 exchange. If he’s got a place here, those could be handymen or plumbers or property managers, that sort of thing. That’s who we need.”
“Here’s a number,” said Michael. “It was called several times in the last few weeks, and it’s a Perryville number. There’s no indication who it is. And look: the same number is listed in the logs for received and missed calls.”
Renard spoke up. “Here’s a Perryville number. Coburn called this number three times. It’s on two other phones too. Here it is in the main directory too, under Riley. No missed or received calls for that number, though. He calls them, but they don’t call him.” In all they found eight local numbers, four identified by name.
“The ones with the names listed are most likely civilians. Let’s try those first,” said Louis. “Drive to the center of town.”
Renard drove a few blocks and parked in front of the church. You could see both ends of town from where they stopped as well as the post office and the police station across the street. Except for streetlights along the main street and a red bulb above the police station door, the town was dark. “Renard and I will get out and watch for lights being switched on and listen for phones ringing while you make the call, Michael.”
Renard looked skeptical. “It’s all we have,” said Louis yet again. “Okay, Michael, call the first number. If someone answers, don’t say anything, wait five seconds, then hang up.”
Michael punched in the number. “There’s no answer,” said Michael. They heard no phones ringing. No lights came on. “Hang up, Michael. And wait. Let’s see if anyone calls back.” No one called back. Michael tried the same number again after a few minutes. No one answered or called back.
“Try the next number,” said Louis. Michael poked away at the keypad while Louis and Renard peered up and down the street. This time he got an answering machine. Michael hung up. “Try the next number,” said Louis. When Michael called the fourth number on the list, a light came on in the small woods behind the post office. “Hello?” said a woman’s voice. “Hello? Is anybody there?” Michael waited five seconds and hung up. “It was a woman,” he said. “She sounded old.”
Louis stepped across the street and peered in the direction of the light. It came from a trailer no more than two hundred meters from where he stood. You could just make out a flower garden in front of the trailer. There was a white birdbath. “Wait here,” said Louis. He could see as he approached the trailer that there was a name beside the door. He crept closer until he could read the name, then he returned to the car. The name matched the one in the directory. “Give me the phone, Michael.” Louis dialed the number again. “Hello?” said the woman.
“Hello,” said Louis. “Mrs. Price? This is Louis Coburn. I’m terribly sorry to bother you at this late hour, but we have had a family emergency, and I was hoping you could help me.”
“An emergency?”
“Yes, ma’am. My son Lou is in Perryville and—”
“Who is this?” A man’s voice came on the line.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Price, but my name is Louis Coburn and—”
The man interrupted. “You ain’t Lou Coburn. I know Lou Coburn …”
“Yes, I know you know him, Mr. Price. He’s my son. I’m Louis, his father. That’s how I got your number. I think you and I may even have met once before when I was down here for a visit.”
“We did?” said the man. “I can’t say as I remember that.”
“Yes, sir. I think so. Anyway, I’m very sorry to bother you so late. As I told your wife, there’s been a family emergency, and I need to get in touch with my son immediately. He’s supposed to be at his place. I’ve been there a couple of times in the past, and I thought I could find it this time. But now I’m here, and, I confess, I’m a little lost and just can’t seem to find my way there …”
“An emergency? Well, where you at? He’s up there all right. He called a little bit ago from the road. I can run you up there easy enough. I hope it ain’t nothin’ too serious.”
“There’s no need for you to come out, sir. Really. It isn’t that complicated as I recall …”
“Well, it ain’t complicated at all. South on State Road 17, about four miles once you leave town, then left on Mountain Road—there ain’t no sign, but it’s the only road on the left for a good ways. There’s a boulder marks the corner. Go all the way up Mountain Road to the green iron gate on your left, and there you are. You’ll recognize it, I’m sure.”
“You’re right. I will recognize it. In fact, I remember the way now that you describe it. I’m very grateful to you, Mr. Price. And once again, my sincerest apologies to you, sir, and to your wife, for calling so late.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I guess we’ll survive. I hope everything turns out all right.”
“Thank you again, sir. And good night.”
Louis hung up the phone. The three men sat in the car and waited. After a short time the light in the trailer went out. No one came out.
“What unbelievable luck,” said Renard.
Louis could not disagree.
Louis, Michael, and Renard drove to the foot of Mountain Road. Louis peered up the steep road into the darkness. “We should wait for daylight,” he said.
“But if we wait, we’re giving him more time, and Jennifer …,” said Renard.
“I think we should go up now,” said Michael.
“Daylight changes everything,” said Louis. He did not elaborate.
Renard pushed the driver’s seat as far back as it would go and drew his jacket more tightly around himself. Louis sat upright with his hands folded on his lap. Renard listened to Michael’s slow, deep breathing coming from the backseat. Outside there were night sounds: the flutter of invisible wings, crickets chirping rhythmically, breaking off, then starting up again, an occasional waverin
g cry from an owl.
Renard was determined to keep watch. But the next thing he knew, he was waking up from a deep sleep, and the first morning light was seeping into the sky. His neck and back were stiff from having sat so awkwardly. He pushed himself upright in the seat. The seat beside him was empty. Renard swept his hand back and forth across the steamy windshield and peered out into the twilight. Louis stood next to the boulder and faced into the woods, his back to the rising light. Renard opened the door and stepped out into the cool, damp air. He took a deep breath and stretched his arms above his head. “Did you sleep?” he asked.
“No,” said Louis without looking in Renard’s direction. “It’s almost morning,” he said. “In a little while I’ll go up the mountain. You and Michael stay here and wait for my signal.”
“Your signal?” said Renard. “Alone? Do you want—”
Louis did not allow him to continue. “I have programmed the telephones. I think I’ve done it correctly. Before I go, we’ll check with Michael to make sure they do what we want them to do. If he’s there, maybe we can use his phones against him.”
“Why go alone?” said Renard. “You know he will be armed, and—”
“He may not even be there. If he’s not there, then we can search the place together. But if he is there, I think I have a better chance of succeeding if I have you both in reserve. He knows I’m not alone, and if you aren’t with me, then he has you to worry about.”
“Succeeding?” said Renard. “At what?”
“That depends on what I find,” said Louis.
Michael woke up, and the three men went over Louis’s plan. The sky lightened some, but it remained steely gray, and a few drops of rain began to fall. It was seven thirty. “Early, but not too early,” said Louis, and he set off. Michael and Renard watched him go until he disappeared into the woods. Then all they could do was wait.
Louis walked up the gravel road, his hands jammed into his jacket pockets, peering into the woods ahead of him. The road was rutted and stony, and he walked slowly. The only sounds were the rain hitting the leaves and the crunch of his footsteps. When he reached the green gate, he lifted the metal latch, stepped through the gate, and latched it again. It made a small click as the latch engaged.
There was the white SUV with the small decal on the bumper. Coburn was here. Which could mean Jenny was too. We should have stopped when the police pulled him over. But what were the odds? Louis thought. But then, what were the odds of finding him at all? And yet here we are. It only remained to be seen whether finding Coburn would be good luck or bad. Louis crossed the clearing to the front of the cabin. The windows were dark. There were no sounds, no signs of life coming from inside.
Louis climbed the stairs onto the porch and knocked firmly on the door. He heard some movement inside, and a short time later Jennifer opened the door. She was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. Her hair was tousled. She was rubbing one eye with her fist, as though she had just gotten up. Coburn immediately came up from behind and stood beside her. He was tall and muscular and had a boyish face. He had a coffee mug in his hand. Jennifer and Coburn stared at Louis.
“Daddy!” said Jennifer finally. Then again. “My God. Daddy! What on earth …?!” She turned to Coburn and grinned. “Lou, did you … Is this your doing? Oh, Lou!”
“Hello, Jennifer,” said Louis. “I’m glad to see you. I’m so glad to see you.”
“And I’m glad to see you, Daddy.” She hugged Louis happily. She looked at Lou, but he was not smiling. Neither was Louis. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“And you must be Lou,” said Louis, and held out his hand.
Coburn hesitated and then took Louis’s hand. He did not say anything. He set down his coffee mug on the table behind him.
“Come in, Daddy,” said Jennifer. “I can’t believe it. You didn’t even say you were coming … Lou, I can’t believe it. Did you arrange all this? You’re so sweet!”
“Lou didn’t tell you?” said Louis. He turned toward Coburn. “You didn’t tell her I was coming?”
Coburn looked from Louis to Jennifer and back again.
Louis spun around suddenly and opened the door. “Come outside, Jennifer. I need to talk to you,” he said.
“Stay here,” said Coburn, his voice sounding sharper than he meant it to. “Jennifer, don’t go outside. I’ll go outside with him. You stay here.”
“Why shouldn’t she come outside for a minute, Lou?” said Louis. “I just want to talk to my daughter …”
“Stay here, Jenny,” said Coburn. His voice had an urgency that caused Jennifer to turn and look up into his face. “Stay here,” he repeated, taking her by the arm now and trying to lead her away from the door.
“Why?” said Jennifer. “What are you doing? Stop pushing me, Lou. What …?”
“Stay here,” said Coburn. He was commanding her now, and he did not loosen his grip. “I said, stay here.” He took her by both arms and turned her to face him. “Listen, Jennifer, I’m sorry you have to hear it like this. I hoped … I didn’t want you to find out. But listen: your father is a … a wanted man, a dangerous man …”
“A … a wanted? What?! Stop it. Are you kidding? Why are you saying that? What are you talking about?”
“Come outside with me, Jennifer. Please. I…”
“He’s a terrorist. He’s dangerous. Don’t go,” said Coburn, making one last effort at persuasion. He tried to sound reasonable and undramatic. The honeymoon had been the perfect ruse to get her here without a struggle, and, until now, it had worked. But Jennifer was becoming agitated, and he realized that, if he were to alarm her, things could go wrong in a hurry.
Coburn had been prepared for every eventuality except for Louis walking right up to the door and into the cabin in broad daylight. God damn it! Bowes was right. “He’s a wanted terrorist,” Coburn said again. “Listen to me, Jennifer, he’s wanted for terroristic activities against the United States. He’s al Qaeda. He’s in charge of an important cell of terrorists in France. They’re planning a big action. I couldn’t tell you, Jennifer. Of course, I couldn’t tell you. You can see that. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. But he’s wanted by us and by the French. He’s a fugitive.”
“And you,” said Louis, “have been on my trail. Is that it, Coburn? Well, then, here,” he said, taking a cell phone from his pocket and pushing the call button. The automatic dialer started beeping. Coburn stared at the phone. “Here,” said Louis again, thrusting the phone toward him. “It’s dialing the police. Tell them you’ve caught a terrorist.” They heard the phone ring and then a man’s voice. It was tinny enough so that Michael’s voice was unrecognizable, but loud enough so that Coburn and Jennifer could hear. “Virginia State Police,” it said. “May I help you?” Louis held the phone out. “Take it,” he said. Coburn just stared at it. The voice spoke again: “You have reached the Virginia State Police. May I help you?”
“Go on,” said Louis. “Tell them.”
Coburn snatched the phone out of Louis’s hand. He fumbled to turn it off.
“You know, Coburn, cell phones all have GPS now,” said Louis. “It stands for Global Positioning System. I’m told the police can pinpoint exactly where a call comes from the instant it enters their switchboard. Did you know that?”
“You smart son of a bitch,” snarled Coburn, and swung a huge fist at Louis, catching him on the temple. Louis staggered. The pain of the blow made his ears ring. As he was going down, his head hit the thick leg of the kitchen table, and he lay on the floor, stunned. When he looked up, he could only see out of one eye.
Coburn had one arm clamped tightly around Jennifer’s neck and held a large black pistol against her head. “Is this what you wanted?!” said Coburn. “To bring harm to your daughter? Are you happy now, you smart son of a bitch?”
“Let her go,” said Louis. He raised his hands. “Please. Take me. You’ve got me. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? She’s no use to you now that you’ve got me. Isn’t that
what you wanted all along? Take me.”
“Get up!” said Coburn. “Get up, you son of a bitch. Get on your fucking feet, or I will kill you and her. GET UP! I said.”
Jennifer had begun crying. “Oh, Lou,” she said. “Lou, stop. Please, stop, Lou, please. What are you doing? No. You’re hurting me. No. Oh, Lou, stop … please, you’re hurting me …”
Louis struggled to get to his feet. He could feel blood trickling down his cheek from somewhere above his eye. He could taste blood where his lip was split. His head was buzzing, and the room seemed to be turning around him. He tried to see Jennifer’s anguished face, but it drifted in and out of focus. He tried to pull himself upright by holding the edge of the table, but his legs kept collapsing under him.
“GET UP!” screamed Coburn. “GET UP.”
“Please, Lou,” said Jennifer. “Oh, Lou, please. Please.”
At that moment, Renard came through the front door. He pulled up short. “Finally,” said Coburn, “the gang’s all here. All right, now we go outside. Outside. Let’s go.” No one moved. “OUTSIDE!” shouted Coburn. He waved toward the front door with the pistol. Renard stepped forward to help Louis. “Leave him alone,” said Coburn. “You better worry about your own ass. Outside! Now!”
“I warn you,” said Renard without moving. “I am a policeman.”
Coburn stared at him in disbelief. “Just move,” he said finally.
Renard went through the door first and down the porch steps. Louis followed as best he could, taking one step at a time and pausing at the bottom to get his balance. Coburn pushed Jennifer ahead of himself. He kept his arm around her neck and the gun against her head. Renard started walking toward the gate.
“Not that way,” said Coburn. He motioned with his head toward the side of the cabin. “Back there,” he said. Renard led the way around the corner and then, following Coburn’s gestures and nods, into the woods. There was no path and the hill was steep. The four struggled under low-hanging pine boughs, through briars, and across tangled undergrowth that tore at their clothes. The ground was uneven and muddy, with sticks and stones hidden in the leaves. The going was slow. Louis stumbled more than once, and each time he fell Coburn screamed for him to get up.
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