by Vic Robbie
Outside, fellow shoppers packed bags of groceries into cars, oblivious to the danger she faced.
‘What if I refuse?’
His laugh was mirthless, and he pushed his hat back on his head and stared away from her before extracting a pistol from the harness under his left armpit. ‘Lady, you’ve no choice. Refuse, and we’ll hand you to the cops with Solomon’s dossiers and the evidence of his murder.’ He hesitated to let that percolate. ‘You’ve twenty-four hours to get rid of the kid.’
‘If I agree, what then?’ She tried to stop her voice from quavering.
‘Simple.’ His mean lips broke into a grimace, and he bared his yellow teeth. ‘Kill the kid, and you’ll hear no more from us.’
She played for time.
‘But, understand. We’ll be close by and if something goes wrong. Bang.’ He smashed the pistol on the dashboard.
‘If I succeeded, Solomon said he’d help me.’
He sucked in his breath. ‘That offer’s run out. It’s as dead as Solomon. The new agreement is if you kill the kid we’ll back off the murder rap. If you fail…’ With a shrug, he got out of the car.
30
On their return from the beach Natalie noticed the grey Oldsmobile sedan parked near the wooden steps that ran down to the sand. It had been there when they passed earlier, but so engrossed was she answering Freddie’s torrent of questions she had not seen it.
‘Is it better living by the ocean?’
‘Does the air mean you live longer?’
‘Why is everything covered in salt?’
‘Does the water come up onto the road?’
And so on. Natalie couldn’t complete an answer before being asked another question.
She had offered to take Freddie to the beach to give Alena a break, and his mother agreed after a little gentle persuasion. On the other hand, Ben was reluctant to let them out of his sight, and Natalie knew he did not trust her. But Alena assured him it would be all right, and Freddie insisted, so he gave in.
Solomon’s heavies would be watching, and she looked around but saw no one. As they walked to the stairs, Freddie was in a hyper mood. They passed locals out cleaning cars or sweeping front yards, but they showed little interest apart from the occasional ‘Good morning.’ Stuck between a rock and a hard place, no matter which way she jumped, she would end up with a bloodied nose or worse. In New York, she had hoped to persuade Solomon to change the deal. But on the phone, he had been angry and requested she meet him. Now she had no idea whether he might have agreed. Those heavies were not the listening kind. If they were lurking nearby and there was still no sign of the Nazis, it would be safer to carry out Solomon’s original wishes. Several times she opened her bag and felt for the stiletto that had stood her in good stead over the years. Once, she pricked her finger and winced.
It was one of those mornings that nature delivers to remind Californians they cannot take their good luck for granted. Most retirees reckoned on three certainties on escaping to the State – the pension cheque would turn up in their bank account every month; no goddamn bugs would eat them alive; the sun would always shine. Not today, a thick marine layer had moved in from the ocean, and within minutes visibility plunged to twenty yards. The mist transformed the once-friendly bathers, enjoying the surf, into mysterious dark shapes that could have been beings from another world. It didn’t curtail Freddie’s enjoyment. He ran back and forth, picking up pebbles, and plunging into the surf, screaming when the breakers bowled him over before regaining his feet, his mouth full of water. She watched Freddie like a cat does a mouse before pouncing. And while he cavorted, she attempted to devise a method that would allow her to escape.
Drowning was a common occurrence here but not today. Although visibility was poor, there were enough bathers to come to his rescue. Maybe she should creep into his bedroom while the others were asleep and insert the stiletto into an ear. She could take the car, and by the time Ben and Alena awoke, she would be far away. At first glance, it would look as though he had died of natural causes because the wound would be minuscule. Only an otoscope would determine the cause of death. But that would not be easy as Ben watched her every move. Even more worrying was a gnawing doubt she could kill Freddie, which meant the alternative would be to hand him over to the Nazis. And where were they?
As they reached the top of the steps, she noticed the Oldsmobile with its back passenger door open, blocking the sidewalk. Hesitating, she tried to restrain Freddie, but he wriggled free and ran ahead. As he drew alongside, he glanced in and stopped. Two arms, with a rag in one hand, pulled him in.
Startled, she faltered as another man stepped around the front of the car and slammed the door shut. There was no sound from Freddie.
‘Hey!’ Natalie moved forward, an arm outstretched. ‘You can’t–’
‘We have.’ The Geordie voice, soft and unhurried, came from behind her. She turned to see Klein with a .22 target pistol in his hand. Pointing it at her midriff, he offered her a crooked grin. She’d seen what damage a firearm like that could do at close range and froze.
‘We’re taking the boy,’ he said.
‘I thought we had a deal.’
His broad smile annoyed her. ‘Aye, pet, that’s right.’
‘I was supposed to deliver him.’
‘Exactly! As you’ve played a part, I’ll make it as painless as possible.’
‘I took him to the beach so it would give you the chance to get to him.’
As if he believed her, he tilted his head for an instant. ‘Not sure that’s the way I saw it, pet. Doesn’t matter. Surely you didn’t think we could let you live?’
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
‘Had doubts about you all along and then we found you’d been collaborating with those filthy Jew boys. That’s why we got rid of Solomon, but they still won’t give up.’
It was time to beg. ‘I played my part in the kidnap attempt in London.’
‘It worked well and helped persuade them they weren’t safe in England. For us, it would be much easier to lift him in America. So you did your job,’ he added with finality.
‘I helped…’
‘Why did you hit my man so bloody hard?’ He rubbed his head as if he had been hit.
‘Wasn’t my intention to hurt him, just make it look real.’
‘I thought you’d taken his head off.’ He laughed and winced at the thought.
‘I could have if I’d wanted to. The plan worked. Freddie now regards me as his best friend and wants me to go everywhere with him. That’s why I got him away from the house this morning.’
Realising she was attempting to delay the inevitable, he glanced around. ‘I’m afraid time’s up.’
‘No–’
‘It will be quick.’ His voice hardened, and he moved the gun upwards, pointing it at her heart. ‘Farewell, pet.’ His finger moved on the trigger.
‘Can you risk this, cheri?’ Her eyes were wide and staring, her voice edged with desperation.
He glanced away and then back at her. ‘Whaddya mean?’ He gestured with the pistol.
At least, he was listening. ‘What did you use on the kid?’ She was breathing easier.
He didn’t move a muscle, just stared coldly. ‘Our special cocktail. Works every time.’
‘Wherever you’re taking him, you’ll have problems. He won’t be unconscious forever so what happens when he wakes? He’ll start hollering. How will you shut him up? You can’t keep knocking him out. Are you going to gag him on a plane? What if he screams all the time?’
She could see doubts nibbling at his mind behind a calm exterior.
‘You can’t use force to quieten him. Your bosses wouldn’t like their precious merchandise damaged. He’ll be terrified of you as the strangers who tried to abduct him in London. How will you overcome that?
The gun wavered.
‘The boy trusts me.’ Her head nodded, encouraging him to agree. ‘When he sees me, he’ll be quiet instead of
screaming. I’ll persuade him we have to go with you and all will be okay. He’ll trust me. I’ll stress that we’ll come to no harm and that his maman and Ben will sort things out and we’ll all be together soon. That way he won’t feel alone.’
‘What do you get out of this?’
‘My life, cheri. When you deliver the boy, let me go, and you’ll never hear from or see me again.’ Unlikely, but it would be a stay of execution.
He lowered the pistol. ‘Get in.’ Pointing to the car, he prodded her with the muzzle of the gun into the back seat alongside the unconscious Freddie. ‘Understand one thing. Step out of line, and your death will be slow and painful.’
He climbed in behind the wheel and gunned the Oldsmobile into life.
‘Where are we going?’ Wondering if Solomon’s heavies were in the vicinity, she stole a glance out of the window.
He studied her in the rear view mirror. ‘On a plane.’ It didn’t matter whether she knew.
‘Where to?’
‘You sure ask lots of questions, pet. What’s it got to do with you where we’re headed? It’s somewhere the boy will be safe, and no one will find him.’
The Oldsmobile with Klein at the wheel roared past raising dust and so close they had to jump back to avoid being run down.
‘Cochons,’ Alena shouted. ‘Pigs.’ And she waved a fist at the receding car before brushing the dust from her dress.
Ben grabbed an arm and pulled her back up the drive towards the rented Ford. ‘Get in. Quick.’ With her door still open and a squeal of tyres, he reversed onto the road.
‘What’s the rush?’ she asked in bewilderment.
He could just make out the grey Oldsmobile disappearing around a bend in the road. ‘Did you see who was in the car?’
A kaleidoscope of emotions flashed across her face as she studied him, pleading that it wasn’t what she feared. ‘Who?’
‘Natalie.’
He’d seen her white face in the back of the car. But it was impossible to tell whether she was collaborating with the kidnappers or taken against her will.
‘Natalie,’ she repeated and put a hand to her face. ‘Where’s Freddie?’ As if expecting to see him walking up the road, she glanced around.
‘He must be with Natalie.’ And he cursed himself for having trusted her.
‘But who–’
‘Nazis. Recognised the driver. The heavy who attacked us in London.’
‘Oh, God!’ Her face turned white, and she seemed defeated. ‘Anyone but them.’
He placed a hand on her arm, and her body convulsed as silent tears coursed down her cheeks.
‘I knew this would happen, and I let it.’ She blamed herself. ‘Why did I let him go with that dreadful woman?’
‘It’s no one’s fault,’ he said and grimaced as he manoeuvred the car around a group walking on the road. But he wasn’t sure about that. He had his suspicions about Natalie all along, and there was no consolation in being proven right.
‘If we lose them now, I’ll never see him again.’ The sentence finished in a mournful wail like a siren winding down.
‘While we keep them in our sights, we have hope.’ He wondered if they could match the Oldsmobile for speed once they hit the open road.
Gathering herself, she leant forward, her forehead almost pressing on the windshield. Then, realising the gap wasn’t closing, slammed herself back in the seat. ‘It’s no use,’ she said, and her body seemed to fold. ‘The bastards are getting away.’ Then with hope. ‘At least Natalie’s with him, she’ll take care of him, won’t she?’
He nodded unconvincingly and kept quiet. It was an opinion he was reluctant to share. Natalie must have been in this from the beginning, waiting for the moment to snatch Freddie. Now they were taking him to the Nazi hierarchy. And it could be anywhere.
‘What can we do?’ Her voice rasped, her knuckles turning white as she twisted the hem of her dress.
As they approached the town, the road became busier, and he needed all his skills and concentration to keep the pace up without hitting anything. At least, it slowed the Oldsmobile also, and they were not increasing their advantage. Coming to a stop sign, he gambled as the junction looked deserted. He stood on the accelerator, but halfway across he heard the blast of a car horn followed by a heavy thud. The blow rocked their heads one way then the other and slammed them into the side windows.
‘What the–’
They had been hit in the rear door behind Ben, causing the Ford to swing around and pirouette out of control as if skating on ice. He wrestled with the wheel but knew they could only wait to see where they would end up. A telegraph pole, as wide as a barn door, appeared in front of them.
This is going to hurt.
He glanced at Alena who shrieked and had both hands up covering her face. He caught a glimpse of a second car close behind as they plunged into the pole before it slammed into their side, propelling them into the windshield. The sounds of wheels spinning and hub caps falling off and rolling away continued for seconds, or minutes. And there was a rattling and groaning as it settled.
Alena slumped on the dashboard with a nasty bruise ballooning on her forehead. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked and felt foolish when he realised the damage, and his mouth tasted full of cotton wool.
Two men wrenched open the doors and stuck their heads into the cabin, scanning the interior. At first, he thought they might be aggrieved that he had jumped a stop sign. But their demeanour was composed, and a coldness emanated from them. ‘Where is the boy, lady?’ A man with a thin, grey face snarled at Alena.
And when there was no reply, the other who had a permanent smirk, elaborated: ‘Where’s your son, Freddie?’
‘They’ve got him,’ she cried, pointing up the road.
They both followed her hand and then looked at each other before Thin face grabbed Ben’s collar. ‘Who are they?’
‘Nazis.’
It was not the answer they wanted.
‘Where are they taking him?’ Thin face shook him again, but Ben was groggy. Everything was moving although he was still. The road rippled towards him like incoming breakers and then receded, and the car swayed and rose and fell like a sailboat riding the waves.
‘They’ve taken my Freddie.’ She gestured with her head.
With a look of exasperation, Thin face shouted at his colleague. ‘Let’s go.’ And they ran to their car and pulled open the doors and clambered in. They reversed and turned in a wide circle and went in pursuit. The other car was nowhere to be seen.
He attempted to fire the Ford, and it spluttered into life but expired after progressing a few yards with a horrendous screech of metal on metal. He got out to check the damage. It was terminal.
As he kicked one of the rear tyres with gusto, the whoop of a siren announced the arrival of a black and white patrol car that disgorged two overweight cops.
31
A toxic cocktail of despair and anger had overwhelmed Alena by the time they returned to the house after a long and aggressive interrogation. He poured a stiff whiskey as she sat on a sofa and told her to down it in one. And he provided some ice in a separate glass, which she dabbed on the bruise swelling as large as a golf ball on her forehead. ‘My son was kidnapped, but the cops treated me like a criminal,’ she said, throwing away a used ice cube.
The car was not going anywhere apart from the breakers’ yard, and it would have been pointless explaining to the law why the Nazis wanted Freddie. They were light on humour, and it would have resulted in a ticket to the slammer.
Instead of doing as he told her, she sipped the drink as if processing every mouthful. The glass was held in such a fierce grip, he feared it might shatter into pieces, and her face was white. But there were no more tears although he realised she was crying within as her body trembled. After several sips, she took a gulp of the whiskey. ‘What do we do now?’ Her eyes were open but the shutters down.
Rather than answer, he offered a sympathetic look. What must it be lik
e to have a loved one torn from you?
‘Perhaps Natalie might be able to send a message or even help Freddie escape.’ He felt guilty for raising hopes. Natalie could have been taken hostage; more likely she was a willing party to the kidnap plot.
‘Where will they take him?’ She concentrated on the drink, not expecting an answer.
Slumping down beside her, he struggled to find the words that would help ease her grief. Any word or inflexion could worsen things.
‘Natalie can look after him, I’m sure,’ he said eventually, trying to conceal his doubts.
It didn’t pacify her, and she turned with a questioning stare.
‘I don’t know where they could’ve gone,’ he said.
‘Out of the country?’
The possibilities were endless, and then with dread, he remembered the Mexican border was no more than an hour’s drive away. If the Germans took that route, he would be lost. He swallowed a good measure of his drink to prevent himself from talking. They could take Freddie anywhere.
Alena drained hers, and he took the glass and recharged it.
She lay in a foetal position around the glass. ‘Surely the Nazis just can’t take a child across borders. Someone will stop them.’
Wasn’t that simple.
‘Unfortunately, there is a way.’
‘What way?’ She demanded an answer.
He took a long drink and moved it around in his mouth.
‘Tell me.’
To hide his concern, he paced the room. ‘The border with Mexico is close. They wouldn’t have any problem getting through there. Americans may be particular about who we allow into the country, but Mexicans aren’t as strict. They’re happy for anyone to come and spend money. Tijuana isn’t far. From there, they could fly anywhere.’
Putting a hand to her mouth, she bit her knuckles. ‘Where?’ And she glanced at her watch, wondering if they’d already crossed.