The Becić Connection

by Estelle Ryan

  She huffed a half-hearted laugh and got up from her desk. On any other day, she would’ve said something outrageous in response to Manny calling her a princess. The fact that she didn’t brought the heaviness back to my chest. It constricted until breathing became a chore.

  I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t sit here, drink coffee and pretend that I was in control of my emotions. My hands started shaking and my throat tightened until I had trouble swallowing. I awkwardly handed Eric to Colin just as he sat down. The moment I knew he had Eric, I jumped up and rushed to my viewing room.

  Most days I enjoyed being separated from my team only by the soundproof glass walls. Not today. I wanted to be alone. Away from their concern about Nikki and now me. I didn’t want to see the micro-expressions of fear when they talked about Nikki.

  I closed the glass door behind me and walked to my chair facing fifteen high-resolution monitors. I hesitated for a moment, but then pulled my chair to the three antique-looking wooden cabinets against the back wall of my viewing room. On the far side of the room was a gap between the wall and the first cabinet. Perfect for what I needed.

  I backed the chair into the space, sat down and pulled my knees up tightly against my chest. I closed my eyes and brought up an empty music sheet in my mind. It didn’t work.

  I pushed my fists against my eyes and tried again. It took another two attempts before I managed to visualise an empty music sheet. Just seeing it in my mind brought more calm.

  It took herculean effort to mentally draw the G-clef. Drawing the F-clef was less taxing. I took a deep breath and added the sharps next to both clefs to prepare the first movement for Mozart’s Clarinet Quintet. Now that I was able to completely focus on mentally writing the music, I felt my breathing ease. The pressure on my chest started to lift as well.

  I heard the door to my viewing room silently whoosh open just as I finished the first line. I wrote another line, inhaled deeply and opened my eyes on the exhale.

  Colin had pulled his chair closer and was sitting in front of me, reading something on his smartphone. He looked up and smiled when he saw me watching him. “Better?”

  I raised both shoulders. “For now.”

  “We’re all scrambling, Jenny. This is not something we’re prepared for. But know this.” He took my hands in his and leaned closer until his nose touched mine. “You’re not in this alone. We’re doing this together. All of us.”

  I swallowed. “It’s been almost ten hours since Nikki took the painting and disappeared.”

  “And we’ll find her.” He sat back and studied me. Then he smiled, turned towards the door and nodded.

  The door whooshed open again and Francine stormed in, followed closely by Manny, Vinnie and Pink. Francine sat down on the chair she usually occupied and waved me closer. “Come on, girlfriend. We’ve got to find our Nikki.”

  Colin got up in a smooth movement and held out his hand to me. I took it, making sure to keep Mozart’s Clarinet Quintet in the back of my mind. Colin pulled both our chairs to the long desk in front of the monitors and sat down next to me. I looked towards the team room. “Where’s Phillip?”

  “He’ll be here. He’s gone to his office to make a few calls.” Colin sat down on my other side. “Roxy took Eric for a walk, so it’s just us at the moment.”

  I wished Phillip was here now. His presence had been a constant in my life, a stability that I hadn’t fully appreciated until now. But I couldn’t waste any more time. I turned to Francine. “The footage?”

  “On your monitors”—she dramatically tapped her tablet screen—“now.”

  I stared at my hands for a second before I raised my eyes to the monitors in front of me. Francine had played a major role in helping me set up my viewing room and made sure that I had top-of-the-range monitors so I wouldn’t miss any details while analysing nonverbal communication.

  A paused scene was spread across four monitors in the centre. When nothing happened, I looked at Francine. This morning she was wearing a knitted brown minidress, knee-high brown leather boots and ample silver jewellery. Her make-up was immaculate as usual, but it didn’t hide the tightness around her mouth and eyes. It didn’t hide her fatigue, her fear.

  I placed my hand on the armrest of her chair. “Francine?”

  She shivered and looked at me, her eyes watery. We stared at each other for a few moments. I didn’t know what to say. How was I supposed to console someone when I was barely holding on? But Francine was made of sterner stuff. She tightened her lips and flipped her hair over her shoulder before turning back to the monitors. “The first video is from the security camera just outside the door to Martin’s office building.”

  “Play it.” Pink’s words came out hoarse. He cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything else.

  Francine tapped her tablet screen and we watched the rotating doors. A man in his late fifties exited the building and waited for a woman who came out immediately after him. They continued their conversation and she laughed with genuine mirth.

  The doors rotated twice before coming to an automatic stop. A second later they started turning again and Martin appeared. I’d seen him three months ago and had noticed the change in his physique.

  His body had lost its youthful lankiness, his shoulders were broader, his chest wider. Nikki had told me that he enjoyed going to the gym, but this change was not just muscular development. He was looking more like a man and less like a student. His dark brown hair was fashionably trimmed, but his short beard was new. It made him look more mature. It suited him.

  Onscreen, he inhaled deeply with a slight smile on his face, turned to his right and joined the end-of-the-day workers making their way home. I noticed the three men joining the busy sidewalk the moment they entered the camera view. They were dressed in smart-casual trousers and tailored jackets.

  It was not their apparel that drew my eye. It was their nonverbal cues. Their arms were too close to their torsos, their eyes constantly darting in Martin’s direction, not outright staring at him, but keeping track of him. In a few fluid steps, the man wearing the dark blue jacket stepped in behind Martin at the same time as the other two flanked his sides.

  The tallest of the three, wearing a black jacket, tapped Martin on the shoulder and said something to him. Martin slowed down and blinked in surprise at the black jacket man. Then he jerked. The third man moved so subtly and fast that I almost missed him putting a syringe in his charcoal jacket pocket.

  Martin touched his side and stumbled. The three men laughed as if they were sharing a joke with Martin. The two men flanking him draped his arms around their shoulders and continued walking with the crowd. For the untrained eye, it looked like work colleagues helping a drunk friend home.

  The monitors flickered and the view changed. Francine had found another street camera to follow them as they turned the corner, still joking and walking as if they had all the time in the world. Martin now looked as if he was barely holding on to consciousness. His feet were dragging, his blinking decreasing until his eyes didn’t open again.

  The street they were currently in was less crowded, only a few people moving towards the main street, most likely towards the nearest bus stop. High-end cars lined the street on both sides—the kind of cars one would expect to see in an area mostly populated by legal and corporate offices. The men made their way to a black van, still laughing and slapping each other on the shoulders. The German-brand van blended in perfectly. It looked new, its polished shine reflecting the street.

  The man in the blue jacket raised a remote and the van’s emergency lights blinked once. The side door slid open. Not once did the men change their behaviour to something that could alarm a passer-by. They chuckled as they smoothly helped Martin into the back of the van. The man in the charcoal jacket joined Martin before the man in the blue jacket closed the door.

  The other two got in the front of the van and a few seconds later the van pulled into the street. I would have to watch this footage again to make
sure I didn’t miss anything, but I was stunned by the control these men had over their body language and how quickly and effortlessly they had kidnapped Martin.

  The video stopped when the van turned the corner. We sat in silence for a few seconds.

  “Bloody hell.” Manny’s voice was quiet behind me. “They took Martin first.”

  “Yes.” Francine’s eyes were wide with disquiet. She pointed at the monitors. “One minute and three seconds. That’s how long it took from the moment they injected Martin to the moment they closed the van doors.”

  “Those motherfuckers knew what they were doing.” Vinnie straightened from where he’d been leaning against the doorframe and tightened his fists.

  Francine cleared her throat and looked at Manny. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head just so. I sighed. Manny was about to be annoyed.

  “Um... Manny? Darling?” she asked in a sing-song voice.

  Manny’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “Oh, hell. What have you done?”

  “Nothing bad.” She rolled her eyes when Manny swore again. “Really. I just like to keep an eye on people and things that affect me and mine.”

  “Just tell us what you have on Martin.” Colin didn’t look shocked. I took a moment to consider Francine’s action and didn’t find it surprising either.

  She looked at me. “Martin’s a creature of habit. The day Nikki told us he was Eric’s father, I started checking up on him. He must be the most predictable person on this planet.”

  “There is no possible way for you to determ...” I pressed my lips tightly together and nodded for her to continue.

  “Eric’s daddy has the same routine every single day. I’ve been thinking about that and wondering if that is maybe why he’s making such huge progress in his firm. His boring routine shows incredible self-discipline. He goes to the gym every morning at five, then back to his flat. Forty minutes later, he goes to a café to get coffee and a pastry on his way to his office.

  “On Tuesdays and Fridays, he leaves the office for a fifty-minute lunch. The rest of the week, he doesn’t leave the office until quarter to six. Once a month he goes to the theatre or opera and most Saturdays he spends at some sporting event if he doesn’t have Eric that weekend.”

  “Such a routine would make it child’s play to kidnap him.” Vinnie shook his head. “I’m going to have a talk with him.”

  “When we find him.” Francine huffed. “I think I should also tell him the internet is for more than just reading news. No naughty sites, no illegal movie downloads. Just boring news sites and research that is obviously related to his work.”

  “You hacked his computer?” Manny’s brow lowered as he glared at her.

  “Don’t judge.” She waved his question away. “He’s a good man. A good daddy for our Eric. He’s the most normal person I know.”

  “Nikki is going to be pissed when she finds out you’re spying on Martin.” Pink usually leaned against the antique-looking cabinets. Today he was standing behind us, shifting from one foot to the other.

  “Spying, shmying.” The fleeting expression of guilt on Francine’s face belied her nonchalant words. “My oh-so-terrible curiosity might just help us find them.”

  “Them.” I pushed Mozart’s Clarinet Quintet back into my mind at the reminder that both Martin and Nikki were missing. Mentally listening to the Larghetto—the second movement—helped.

  “Yeah.” Vinnie leaned back against the doorframe. “Show us what you have on Nix.”

  I shook my head and held up my hand to stop Francine. “What time did they take Martin?”

  She looked down at her tablet and tapped the screen a few times. “He left the building at eleven minutes to six and they put him in the van at ten to six.”

  “What time did Nikki get the SMS?”

  “Half past seven.” Pink looked at Francine. “You saw that SMS. It’s Martin’s usual style, right?”

  “I compared it to his other messages. He used the same emojis, the same punctuation. I would’ve believed it was him.” She closed her eyes for a second, then looked at me. “Ready to see the footage of Nikki?”

  “No.” I wasn’t ready. I didn’t think I would ever be ready. Colin’s warm hand touched my forearm and I exhaled. “Play it.”

  I grabbed Colin’s hand with both of mine and stared at the monitors.

  A parking lot filled four monitors. I had not been to that restaurant, despite Nikki’s numerous claims of the high standards of hygiene and food quality. I estimated only half the parking spaces were taken, mostly by family cars. Nikki’s red Mini Cooper turned into the parking area and she pulled into the first available parking space. She had been so excited the day she’d bought that car. She’d called it a ‘funky, nifty’ car.

  At the bottom left of the video, the time stamp showed it to be eight minutes past eight. The car door opened and she hopped out. There was a slight smile lifting the corners of her mouth and she nodded her head as if she was listening to music. Looking at this young woman who’d exploded into my life and had come to mean so much to me elicited both affection and fear. I couldn’t lose her. It would break me.

  She bobbed her head a few more times as she leaned back into the car and grabbed her handbag. Francine’s laboured breathing, Manny’s grunts and Vinnie’s swearing dissipated into white noise. I wanted to climb into the video and shout at Nikki to stop being such a daydreamer and pay attention to the dark van pulling up next to her, two of the men getting out and walking towards her.

  She didn’t see them. She wiggled her behind and swung her large canvas bag over her shoulder before she closed the car door. She didn’t even have time to turn around before the man wearing the blue jacket jabbed a syringe into her side.

  Blackness entered my peripheral vision as I watched Nikki struggle with the man in the charcoal jacket. She didn’t stand a chance against him. Her movements became disjointed, her head lolling on her shoulders. She opened her mouth and inhaled deeply, very likely to shout for help, but never got the opportunity.

  The man in the charcoal jacket gently placed his hand over her mouth and waited. Three seconds later, Nikki slumped. He picked her up and carried her the few steps to the van. I looked closer. It was indeed a different van than the one they’d used during Martin’s kidnapping. This one was smaller.

  The man leaned into the van, gingerly put Nikki on the back seat and climbed in after her. The door slid closed and the van drove off.

  The time stamp now showed nine minutes past eight. Nikki’s kidnapping had taken place in one minute. I stared at Nikki’s car, left behind in the parking lot, my thoughts jumbled, my heart beating loudly in my ears. It felt as if a heavy weight had fallen onto my chest, making breathing a great effort. The blackness closed in on me, but I pushed back.

  I ignored the conversation around me and forced my mind to focus on mentally writing the first line in the Menuetto—the third movement—of Mozart’s Clarinet Quintet.

  It took mentally writing two lines before I could focus on my surroundings. I was still holding Colin’s hand in both of mine, but was now hugging it tightly against my chest. I slowly lowered his hand and turned to look at him. There was no mistaking the anger, fear and determination on his face.

  I saw the same in the expressions of everyone else in the room, but Manny and Vinnie expressed much more rage than the others. Manny took a step closer to me. “What the bleeding, holy hell are we going to do, Doc?”

  Chapter FIVE

  “PLEASE COME IN.” SEBASTIEN Pelous’ English bore mere traces of a French accent. He waved us into his office with a strained smile.

  It hadn’t taken me long to decide that visiting Martin’s boss at his law firm would be the most prudent next step. I had met the forty-eight-year-old founder of the law firm twice before and liked his economical manner. He didn’t waste words or time.

  I followed Manny and Phillip into the opulent office with a spectacular view of the city. His firm was on the thirteenth f
loor of one of the taller buildings in Strasbourg. His success was evident in the modern and elegant finishings. The solid teak wooden desk in the reception, the paintings along the walls that would have Colin smiling with approval, everything gave an impression of style and understated wealth.

  Sebastien walked to the small glass conference table next to his desk and gestured at the four chairs surrounding it. “We can talk here.”

  Manny waited for me to sit before slumping in the chair next to mine. Phillip sat down on my other side, placing Sebastien across from me. Colin was waiting for us in his SUV. Vinnie had stayed in the team room with Roxy and Francine.

  I wasn’t naïve enough to think that I knew everything about Nikki’s life, but I knew a lot. Conversely, Martin’s life was largely unknown to me. I had very little insight into his work life and even private life. My knowledge of him was gleaned from reading his nonverbal cues whenever he visited us. That had reassured me time and again of his integrity, respect for Nikki and deep love for Eric.

  But I needed to know more about him. Even with Francine’s snooping, we still had far too little information to come to any reasonable conclusion on the motive for Nikki and Martin’s kidnappings. Or Nikki’s reason for stealing the Becić.

  “When was the last time you spoke to Martin?” Phillip asked. We had decided that it was best if Phillip spoke to Sebastien. They had known each other for many years and at present, Phillip was much calmer in his approach than me or Manny.

  “We talked yesterday afternoon just before he left. He told me that he was planning to watch a documentary on Netflix to clear his head after a long day at work.” Sebastien’s eyes shifted up and left, searching for a memory. He looked at Manny. “Do you have any idea who took him? Where he could be?” His concern was genuine and his expression grew even more troubled when Manny shook his head.

  “That’s why we’re here.” Manny straightened slightly. “Has anything been different lately? Has he seemed more stressed? Different in any way?”