King's Ransom

by Ed McBain

  “Ahhhh, look, Eddie, look at that beautiful piece of surprise on her face. Oh, man, this tickles me!”

  “Let me handle this, Sy,” Eddie said.

  “Where’s the gun?” Jeff said. “Come on, I have to be getting back.” He turned to Kathy. “Have you got the gun?”

  “Wh-what gun?” she answered automatically, and then she shouted, “Who is this kid? Where… ?”

  “Who is he?” Sy said, grinning. “What a question to ask. Where’s your manners, doll? We bring a guest home, and right away you get personal.”

  She whirled on her husband instantly. “Eddie, who… ?”

  “Permit me, please,” Sy said, bowing from the waist. “Son, this is Kathy Folsom, nee Kathy Neal, pride of the South Side. Beautiful, ain’t she? Feast your eyes. Kathy, this is King—” he paused, reaching, and then said—“of the wild frontier!” exploding into a fresh gale of laughter, convulsed by his own humor.

  “What’s he talking about, Eddie? Where’d you get this boy? What’s he doing here? Why… ?”

  “I’ll bet you haven’t got a gun at all,” Jeff said.

  “We ain’t, huh?” Sy answered, “Kid, we got enough artillery here to start a second Civil War. If General Lee had himself so many guns, we’d be asking your old man for Confederate bills right now.” He laughed again, a laugh of defiance which he tossed at Kathy as if challenging her intelligence. The challenge was unnecessary. The reference to bills had not escaped her. The meaning was instantly and shockingly clear. She turned to her husband and said, “Eddie, you haven’t…”

  “Come on, kid,” Sy said. “Let’s get that gun.” He showed Jeff to the door leading from the large parlor-kitchen of the farmhouse to one of the bedrooms. “The gun and trophy room is right this way,” he said. “All the comforts of home, huh?”

  She waited until the door closed behind them. Then she said to Eddie, “All right, tell me about it.”

  “It’s what it looks like,” Eddie said. His voice was low. He would not raise his eyes to meet hers.

  “Have you lost your mind?” she asked. “Have you gone completely out of your mind?”

  “Relax now, will you? Just try to relax a little.”

  Trembling to maintain control, Kathy walked stiffly to her purse, opened it, shook free a cigarette, which fell instantly from her fingers, managed to keep one in her hand while she lighted it, and then said, “All right. I’m listening.”

  “It’s a snatch,” Eddie said simply.

  “Why?”

  “Whatya mean, why? There’s five hundred grand involved here.”

  “You said…”

  “Do you need more reason than that? For Christ’s sake, this is—”

  “You said a bank. That was bad enough, but at least…”

  “I was lying. It never was a bank. I only said that. We didn’t go anywhere near a bank.”

  “No, I see you didn’t. Don’t you know how serious this is, Eddie? Kidnaping is a Federal offense! You can get the electric chair for this!”

  “Only if the kid ain’t returned before the case goes to trial.”

  “You’re already in the courtroom and this is the first I’m even hearing of it! How long have you been planning this thing?”

  “About…about six months now.”

  “Whaaat?”

  “Now look, calm down. There’s no sense getting excited.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Bobby King.”

  “And who’s Bobby King?”

  “His old man is a big wheel in Granger Shoe. You know the company, hon. They put out these expensive shoes for dames.”

  “Yes, I know the company.” She was silent for a moment. Then, very softly, she said, “Why didn’t you tell me what you were planning?”

  “Well, I didn’t think you’d go along with it. I figured…”

  “Damn right I won’t go along with it!” Kathy shouted. “Get that boy out of here this minute! Take him back where you got him!”

  “How can we do that?” Eddie said. “Come on, be sensible, will you?”

  “If you don’t take him back, I will.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “His parents must be going crazy by now. How could you do a thing—”

  “Now shut up a minute, will you?” Eddie said harshly. “He’s staying right here until we get the loot, so that’s that, so just shut up.”

  Kathy walked to an ash tray and stubbed out her cigarette. She went to the window then and stared out at the front yard.

  Eddie watched her. Gently, he said, “Kathy?”

  “You told me to shut up, didn’t you?”

  “Honey, there’s five hundred grand in this,” he said plaintively. “Can’t you…”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Half for us, half for Sy.”

  “Not any part of it! I wouldn’t touch it!”

  “It’ll take us to Mexico.”

  “The hell with you and Mexico!”

  “I don’t understand you,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “You said you wanted to go to Mexico.”

  “And you said this was the last time,” she shouted, whirling from the window. “The last one, you said, that’s what you said. A bank. A simple bank. Just to set us up in—”

  “All right!” Eddie said triumphantly. All right, it is the last one. Now how about that? Five hundred thousand dollars! An express train right to Acapulco!”

  “On a kidnaping! Couldn’t you think of a filthier, more rotten…”

  “A kidnaping, so what? Did we hurt the kid? Did we touch him? He’s fine, ain’t he?”

  Remembering the boy, Kathy turned toward the bedroom door. “What’s Sy doing to him in there?” she said, and she began walking toward the door instantly.

  Eddie caught her arm. “He’s all right. Sy promised him a real gun. That’s how we got him here. Look, honey, try to understand this, will you?”

  “I don’t want to understand anything about it. Damnit, don’t you draw the line anyplace? What gave you this crazy idea to begin with? What the hell possibly gave you… ?”

  “I just got it, that’s all. We worked it out.”

  “Who worked it out? You?” She paused. “Or Sy?”

  “We worked it out together.” He studied her face for a moment and then said, “Well, look, what’s the sense risking our necks on a stickup, huh? This is safer, ain’t it? We borrow a kid, and when we return him we get five hundred grand. Now ain’t that safer?”

  “Borrow? Who said that? Sy?”

  “No, no, for Pete’s sake, I told you we worked this out together.”

  “Did you, Eddie?”

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “You’re lying, Eddie. It was Sy’s idea, wasn’t it?”

  “Well…”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “Well, it was.” Then hastily, he said, “But it’s a good idea, Kathy, can’t you see that? We can really quit after this one, I mean it, honey. Now look, honey, I mean it—this is the last one. Look, I can… I can maybe really get to be something in Mexico. Hey now, wouldn’t that be great, huh? Eddie Folsom, huh? Me. Something, you know?”

  “Eddie, Eddie,” she said, “don’t you even realize what you’ve done?”

  “Honey, look, believe me, this is gonna be all right. I promise you, Kathy. Now, have I ever let you down, huh? Just stick with me, honey, willya? Please?”

  She did not answer.

  “Honey?”

  She still did not answer.

  “Aw, honey, please try to…”

  “Bang!” Jeff shouted, and he ran into the room carrying a shotgun, Sy grinning behind him. “Wow, what a gun!”

  “The kid likes guns,” Sy said, laughing. “Play with the gun, kid. Get to know it.”

  “Sy, is that loaded?” Kathy said, alarmed.

  “Now would I give a loaded gun to a mere child?” Sy asked. He clucked his tongue in imitation of an old lady.

  “It sure is loaded, lady,” Jeff said. He aimed
the gun and yelled, “Bang! Right between the eyes!”

  “Okay, kid, knock it off,” Sy said. “Slow down a little.” He frowned momentarily and then said, “How about tuning in the monster, Eddie?”

  Eddie looked at Kathy helplessly, as if begging her with his eyes to understand. But she would not understand, and he read that on her face, and despondently he said, “Sure, Sy,” and walked to the far wall of the parlor and immediately pulled a tarpaulin covering from a mass of radio equipment which was stacked against the wall.

  “Kid,” Sy said to Jeff, “this is Dr. Frankenstein. Watch him bring that monster to life.”

  The equipment did not, in truth, resemble a monster. There was, however, some validity to Sy’s illusion, in that the dials and switches, the needles and knobs would not have seemed inappropriate in a scientist’s laboratory. Eddie walked to the setup and threw a switch.

  “Go ahead, show off for the kid,” Sy said. “Tell him what frequency the police calls are on.”

  Absorbed with tuning the receiver, Eddie replied, “Thirty-seven point fourteen megacycles.”

  “Oh, the brain on that doctor,” Sy said. “Kathy, you hooked yourself a prize, a real prize.”

  “Why’d you drag my husband into this?” Kathy said tightly. “Why didn’t you leave him alone?”

  “Drag? Who, me? He come in willingly, sweetheart.” A high piercing shriek erupted from the receiver. “There she goes, kid,” Sy said. “The monster’s beginnin’ to speak.”

  “Hey, that’s really something,” Jeff said. “Where’d you get it?”

  “I built it,” Eddie answered.

  “No kidding? Boy, that musta been hard.”

  “Well, it…” Struggling with his pleasure, reluctant to sound too proud, Eddie said, “It wasn’t too hard.”

  “Nothing’s hard for a mastermind, huh, Kathy?” Sy said. “You’re a real electronic wizard, ain’t you, Eddie? That’s why the little woman loves you. Learned it all in reform school, too, didn’t you?”

  “Cut it out,” Kathy said.

  “What’s the matter? I’m complimenting your husband. Someday, kid, Eddie’s gonna go to a real school, be a regular schoolboy and learn radio inside out and backwards. Ain’t that right, Eddie. Tell the kid here.”

  Embarrassed, Eddie said, “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “Thomas Alva Frankenstein, that’s who he is, sonny. You want to learn how to build a set like that and have all the dames fall for you, kid?”

  “I’ll say I do!” Jeff said.

  “Okay, then here’s how. When you’re fifteen years old, hold up a grocery store.”

  “Sy, what are you telling him?” Kathy snapped.

  “What’s the matter?” Sy asked innocently. “You don’t even need a gun, kid. Just stick your hand in your pocket like Eddie did. When they catch you, they’ll send you over to Youth House, and then to Children’s Court, and then to reform school. Am I right, Eddie?”

  More embarrassed now, twisting the radio dial intently, Eddie said, “Yeah, that’s right. Sure.”

  “In reform school,” Sy concluded, “they’ll teach you how to make radios. Am I right, Eddie?”

  “Only how to fix them.”

  “I don’t see anything funny about this, Sy,” Kathy said.

  “Who’s being funny? I’m teaching the kid a trade. Shall I tell him all the other things you learned in reform school, Eddie? The other trades?”

  “Aw, tell him whatever the hell you want to.”

  “Now, now, watch your language in front of the boy,” Sy said. He grinned and tousled Jeffs hair. “Me, kid, all I ever learned was how to work in the jute mill. You ever work with jute? Don’t. It makes you sneeze. It crawls into your lungs. It even crawls up your asshole.” Sy began laughing. “How’s it coming, Doctor?”

  “I’m getting it,” Eddie said, and the radio suddenly erupted into intelligible sound.

  “… thirteen. Accident at Morrison and North Ninety-eighth. Car 303, signal thirteen. Accident at Morrison and North Ninety-eighth.”

  “This is 303. Okay.”

  “A snatch right under their noses,” Sy said, “and they’re worried about a traffic jam.”

  “Hey, you going to take me back now?” Jeff asked.

  “I’m busy, kid.”

  Jeff turned to Kathy. “How about you?” He studied her for a moment, frankly, candidly. Then having formed his opinion, he said, “Aw, you’re a girl. What can girls do?”

  Sy burst out laughing. “Kid,” he said, “you’d be surprised.”

  “Car 207, Car 207,” the police dispatcher said. “Signal thirteen, join and assist Car 204 at Douglas King estate, Smoke Rise, adjacent River Highway on Smoke Rise Road. Signal thirteen, join and assist…”

  “Hey, did you hear that?” Jeff said, excited by his discovery. “He said Douglas King!”

  “… Smoke Rise, adjacent River Highway on Smoke Rise Road.”

  “This is 207. Right.”

  “The long arm of the law is beginning to reach,” Sy said. “What’d I tell you? Ask those crumbs not to call the cops, and it’s the first thing they do.” He shook his head sadly. “You can’t trust nobody nowadays.”

  “Do you really expect to get away with this, Sy?” Kathy asked.

  “Why, certainly. And all because Dr. Frankenstein has ideas. Me, I got a worthless hobby. Swing music. Can swing music help us on a thing like this? Can Harry James blow his way out of this one? Ahhh, but Eddie’s hobby, a dream, a dream. Radios.” He closed his thumb against his fingers and then kissed the collective bunch. “I love them. I love radios. I love Eddie.” He paused. “I even love you, Kathy. Outline it for her, Doctor.”

  “She doesn’t want to hear it,” Eddie said.

  She don’t?” Sy said, surprised. What’s the matter, baby, you cold-hearted or something? This gig’s gonna go down in history, believe me. And all because Eddie knows radio. Right now, we’re listening to the bulls on his monster there. But later… Man, when I think of this scheme, it gives me goose bumps.”

  “Sy, she’s not interested,” Eddie said.

  “I’m interested in anything you do,” Kathy said softly.

  “Why, sure, she is. The little woman. Okay,” Sy said, “we called King on the way here. Told him we wanted five hundred grand, told him to get it ready by—”

  Jeff blinked. “Did you say you called… ?”

  “Shut up, kid. Told him to get it ready by tomorrow morning, and we’d call him then to let him know where and when the drop’s gonna be. Now here’s the beauty part, honey. You listening?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Okay. Tomorrow morning, we buzz King again. We tell him—”

  “Are you talking about—” Jeff started, and Sy shouted, “I said shut up, kid, now take a goddamn hint!” He glared at Jeff heatedly.

  Jeff put his hands on his hips, swaggered over to Sy and, entering into the game, using his best tough-guy voice, said, “Who do you think you are, Mac?”

  “Blow, kid, before you get hurt.”

  Still playing, Jeff said, “You want to get tough with me, mister?”

  “I said blow!” Sy shoved the boy aside angrily. Jeff, startled, stared at him and then frowned. The room was silent. And then, piercing the silence, the radio came to life again.

  “Attention all cars, attention all cars. Here’s the story on that Smoke Rise kidnaping.”

  “Hey, listen,” Eddie said.

  “Be on the lookout for a blond, eight-year-old boy wearing bright-red sweater, blue dungaree trousers, white socks and sneakers, no hat, no gloves, may be carrying a toy rifle.”

  “You’re famous, kid,” Sy said, grinning.

  “The boy’s name is Jeffry Reynolds, answers to the name Jeff …”

  “What?” Eddie said.

  “That man said my name,” Jeff said, startled.

  “Shut up!” Sy snapped.

  “… is the son of Charles Reynolds, chauffeur on the King estate. There’s
been some kind of a foul-up here, boys, and your guess is as good as mine. There’s been a five-hundred-thousand-dollar ransom demand, so chances are the kidnapers don’t know who they’ve got yet. Beats me. Anyway, that’s the story, and that’s all.”