Where's Ellen? (Mystery) (MPP A JOE MCFARLAND / GINNY HARRIS MYSTERY Book 1)

by Stuart Safft

  “Hello, Ken Symington.”

  “Hello, Mr. Symington. This is Steve Sanders, Ellen’s husband. Sorry to be calling you over the weekend.”

  “No, no. Not a problem. Have you heard from Ellen? Hold on a minute, let me walk outside where I can hear you more clearly.” And a minute later, “OK. That’s better. Is Ellen OK? Did you hear from her?”

  “Well, not exactly. But we…”

  “What do you mean ‘not exactly’?” interrupted Symington.

  “We, or rather I, received a ransom note from her kidnappers. I’m here now with the local police and the FBI.”

  “Oh my god!” Steve heard a deep breath on the other end. “But that must mean she’s alive — doesn’t it?”

  “Maybe. We think so, but we really don’t know anything at this point. We’re trying to figure things out,” answered Steve.

  “Well, thanks for keeping me informed. Please be sure to let me know if we can do anything to help. We’re all very fond of Ellen.”

  “Thank you, sir. In fact, there is some help I do need. The ransom note demanded $5 million, but on a very short-term basis, I can only raise part of that. I know that Tycon has a confidential insurance policy in case any of its senior executives are kidnapped and that may be our only hope if we need the funds quickly.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course. We do have such a policy, but I really don’t know much about how it works. Fortunately, we’ve never had to use it. Up until now. Let me call Charlie Hawkins, our chief financial officer. He and his staff handle all of our insurance matters. I’ll have him call you right back. Is this the phone number he should call you on?”

  “Yes, this number is fine. And thank you very much, Mr. Symington.”

  “Please. Don’t mention it, Steve. I’m glad you reached out to me. Please keep me informed. We’ll be thinking of you and praying for Ellen’s safe return.”

  Five minutes later, Charlie Hawkins called. After a quick update from Steve and confirmation from the FBI agents that it looked like it could be a real kidnapping, Hawkins promised to get the kidnap insurance policy activated immediately and to be back in touch with both Steve and the FBI as quickly as possible. Joe and Ginny gave each other several glances, bristling silently at their apparent exclusion from all this. However, they did not want to start a public inter-agency battle at this moment.

  CHAPTER 18

  Charlie Hawkins and a vice president from Mutual Insurance of America were soon back on the phone with Steve. Again, thanks to Steve’s using the speaker on the phone, the two FBI agents and the two detectives could fully hear and participate in the conversation. They all learned that getting the ransom money from the insurance company was certainly possible but would not be very timely. As Hawkins explained, “The insurance company will reimburse monies paid as ransom, but it will not provide the money up front to be used to pay the ransom.” But he quickly put Steve’s mind at ease. “As long as Tycon can be reasonably sure that the insurance company will repay us, the company will provide you with a short-term, interest-free loan of the money needed to pay the ransom.”

  “Great,” said Steve. “That’s at least one less thing for me to worry about. Thanks.”

  The insurance executive explained, “All we need is written confirmation from the FBI that the kidnapping and ransom note ‘are likely,’ not ‘are definitely,’ but ‘are likely’ to be real. As soon as we get that, we will commit to repaying the entire $5 million.”

  “I can raise some of the money by selling some of our investments,” offered Steve.

  “That’s not necessary. The policy doesn’t require any reduction based upon the amount of cash or able-to-quickly-liquidate assets owned by the company or by you,” explained Hawkins.

  Martin jumped into the conversation: “I’m Assistant Special Agent in Charge Martin with the FBI. Written confirmation from the FBI shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll talk with my superior in Cincinnati as soon as we hang up and I’ll have him fax the confirmation directly to both the insurance company and Tycon Technologies. What are the fax numbers?” Martin still had serious concerns about Steve being involved or this apparent kidnapping merely being a ruse to hide espionage by Ellen, but with no evidence and only his gut to go on, he was reluctant to not have the FBI confirm the likelihood that this was a kidnapping. He didn’t want to be the one to cause Ellen’s death if his gut turned out to be wrong.

  With the arrangements for getting the FBI fax to the insurance company and to Tycon, and then for the money from Tycon to Steve’s bank understood by all, the phone call ended and the two FBI agents, the two detectives and Steve returned to their sometimes heated discussion as to what to do and not do when the kidnappers again contacted Steve.

  Martin pointed out, “Once the ransom is paid, we’ve lost any leverage we may have. Kidnappers are mostly concerned with keeping the kidnap victim alive and healthy while they’re waiting for the money. The victim is the only reason that the ransom will be paid. Of course, in addition, if things go south for the kidnappers, the victim may prove useful as a hostage.”

  “Yes,” countered Steve, “but what if they kill or hurt my wife if we refuse to pay?”

  Florio jumped in, “We’re not suggesting that you refuse to pay. What we’d recommend, as the opportunity presents itself, is to buy time so we can continue searching for them.”

  “How do we buy time?” asked Steve.

  Martin continued, “By trying to negotiate the amount of the ransom, or by arguing about how and where they want payment to be made. By demanding proof that your wife is alive and well before you pay anything. You can claim that you need three or four days to assemble that amount of money.”

  Steve started wandering back and forth across the room, his pace quickening or slowing depending on what was being said at the moment. He was getting more and more anxious as the discussion continued. If he didn’t have the personality and play-acting skills to be a courtroom lawyer, or even to play a major role in negotiating a business contract, he surely wasn’t capable of successfully negotiating over his wife’s life, especially when most of his arguments would be bluffs and lies.

  “I hear what you’re all saying,” Steve concluded. “But I want to do whatever the kidnappers ask. This seems to be the best chance for getting Ellen back, alive and in one piece. Like you, I want the kidnappers to be caught, but my first priority is my wife.”

  Joe and Ginny had remained mostly silent during this portion of the discussion, but Ginny succinctly wrapped up the discussion: “Well, in the end, so long as Mrs. Sanders’ employer is willing to front the ransom money, it’s Steve’s decision whether to pay and whether to try to negotiate or stall for time. In any event, until the kidnappers make contact again, and depending on whether or not the contact allows for some two-way conversation, there’s nothing to do.”

  Joe gave Ginny an admiring glance, impressed with how she accurately summarized the situation and ever so sweetly ended the discussion. Steve nodded his head in silent agreement with Ginny. Shortly thereafter, the FBI agents and the detectives departed, once again leaving Steve alone in his big, silent house.

  Back at their office, Martin followed up on a few phone messages he found on his desk. One follow-up was disappointing but not surprising. “Damn!” he said.

  “Damn who or what?” asked Florio.

  “They declined our request about the Van den Broecks.”

  “What are you talking about? What request? Who’s ‘they’? And who the hell are the Van den Whoevers?” asked Florio.

  “Oh, sorry. We haven’t had much time to catch up with each other these past few hours. Van den Broeck is Ellen Sanders’ maiden name, and I was referring to her parents.”

  “And?”

  “As I expected, the Belgian police rejected our request to place a surveillance team on them. They said we have
no evidence, just a theory we thought up. I can’t argue with them about that. They also said that with no idea of how long we’d need this surveillance to go on, they could not justify the significant resources that would have to be devoted to this.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah, it’s too bad. But I’m not surprised given our lack of evidence. If our places were reversed, we would certainly decline such a request from the Belgians until they had more evidence.”

  “I know,” said Florio. “But it’s still too bad.”

  CHAPTER 19

  The next few days were one solid blur for Steve. Hearing nothing, be it from the police or the kidnappers or his wife, he walked around in a daze. He continued to go to work every morning, but returned home each evening having accomplished, or even remembered, almost nothing. He slept fitfully, sat in his chair looking at the TV barely noticing what was playing, and ate only when he forced himself to. He repeatedly told himself that “No news is good news,” but he was having increasing difficulty believing this.

  He kept trying to analyze the mysterious phone call from Ellen and her no-show at the restaurant. Had she escaped from the kidnappers but then been caught again? Was it actually a recording that the kidnappers had forced Ellen to make earlier? Was she dead? Is she being tortured, or raped, by her kidnappers? Steve could think of several possible scenarios, all of which were varying degrees of bad. Steve managed only to increase his confusion and worry. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t heard again from the kidnappers. Had something gone wrong?

  Steve became increasingly isolated; friends and neighbors soon stopped calling to ask how he was doing or if he’d heard anything. They quickly picked up on his monosyllabic “OK” and “No” answers. The calls became increasingly awkward as they didn’t know what to say and they feared that their inquiries were only making Steve feel worse. He hadn’t even spoken with anyone at the FBI or local police for two days.

  And the few days soon became two weeks. The FBI and local police called to check in with Steve every couple of days. The FBI spoke optimistically about their ongoing investigation, but neither they nor Steve had any new information to share. Other than these FBI and police phone calls and going through the motions at work, phone calls or e-mail exchanges with Ellen’s parents in Belgium every few days were just about his only human contact. Her parents told him that the tie to Steve felt like their only remaining link to their missing daughter. Steve understood this and almost felt as bad for them as he did for himself. He preferred e-mail more than the phone with her parents. Their English was limited, although far better than Steve’s non-existent French and Flemish, and their strong accents made the English they did speak sound more like French or German than English.

  Then, early one Thursday morning, Steve’s home phone rang. A voice, so heavily disguised that he couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman, said, “You better have the $5 million ready in your bank by Tuesday noon.”

  “Wait. How do I …?” Steve started to ask.

  “We’ll get to that. Just be ready by Tuesday.” And the phone connection went dead. As soon as Steve hung up, the FBI, which had been listening to all of Steve’s calls, was on the phone, with Martin telling him to stay home and not to do anything or call anyone until he and Special Agent Florio got there within the hour. Steve waited and the FBI agents arrived almost exactly one hour later.

  Martin started, “That call is good news; it means that your wife is most likely still alive. Unfortunately, the call was too short for us to trace it.”

  “What should I do now?” asked Steve. Martin and Florio spent almost 45 minutes trying to convince Steve that it would be better for Ellen if he didn’t pay, or at least delayed paying, the ransom. But Steve didn’t budge in his plan to pay as instructed by the kidnappers.

  “No. I definitely plan to pay the $5 million. But I’ll go along with your suggestion that I demand to speak with Ellen to be sure she’s alive before I pay.”

  Florio pointed out, “Since the kidnappers told you to put the money in your bank, they will most likely demand that the funds be wired to some offshore bank account. Our ability and speed to trace the funds will largely depend on the country in which the receiving bank is located, how sophisticated the kidnappers are at hiding ownership of that account through various shell companies, and the degree to which they utilize multiple and rapid wire transfers to disperse the funds once they receive them. We can almost always successfully trace the money, but the more convoluted the arrangement, the longer it will take us.”

  Steve then called Hawkins, the CFO of Ellen’s company, who immediately conferenced in his contact at the insurance company. With everyone, including the FBI agents, adding their thoughts and suggestions during the call, it was soon agreed that Tycon would wire the $5 million as a short-term loan into Steve’s bank account first thing Monday morning and that the insurance company would reimburse Tycon immediately after the ransom payment was made. But, just as a precaution, it would be only the insurance company officer who would know the password to authorize Steve’s bank to wire the money out.

  Extremely nervous, Steve had renewed hope for the first time in weeks. He did notice that, unlike the local police who had called the FBI a few weeks ago, the FBI did not reciprocate. But he felt that this was none of his business, and he had more important things to worry about than an FBI/local police turf battle.

  Later that day, Joe and Ginny returned to their desks following a three-hour seminar on profiling — what it is, why it’s unfair and not allowed and how members of the Jasper Creek Police Department should and should not approach and stop suspicious-looking individuals.

  “Well, that was a complete waste of three hours. Why don’t they also have a seminar explaining how to put our pants on?”

  “Don’t get all worked up about it, Joe. With all the publicity that profiling is getting all over the country, the chief really had no option but to mandate a seminar like this.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re right, but jeez, if everyone just used a little common sense this wouldn’t be an issue.”

  “You’re right, Joe. But perhaps some others are a bit short on common sense.”

  “Oh, shit.” Joe picked up a phone-message form from his desk. “Look at this note. We missed a call that came through on Sanders’ home phone from one of the kidnappers.”

  Ginny made two quick phone calls and less than five minutes later, she and Joe were listening to the call.

  “Damn!” said Joe. “We were stuck in that useless seminar and missed the call.”

  “Well, it’s just as well that we missed it. If we had to have sat through that seminar knowing about that call, we’d have gone crazy. But there would have been no way that we could have told the chief that our wiretaps are still in place and we surely couldn’t have gotten excused from or snuck out of the seminar.”

  “As usual, you’re right, Ginny. But I’m going to call our good friends at the Feeble Bunch of Idiots, whom I’m sure caught that call and rushed over to Sanders’ house without even thinking of calling us. Sure, ‘We’ll keep you informed.’ ”

  As Joe was reaching for his phone, it started to ring. And, sure enough, it was Martin calling to tell the detectives about the kidnapper’s call instructing Steve to have the money ready on Tuesday. Joe thanked Martin profusely for keeping Ginny and him up to speed.

  “Well done, Joe,” complimented Ginny after Joe had hung up. “I was sure that you were going to tell the Feebies that we knew about the call, thanks to our wiretap.”

  “Yes. I was very tempted. My willpower surprises even me sometimes.”

  “Well, I’m glad you held back. Think of the shit that would have come down on the chief, and then on us.”

  “No question about that, Ginny.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Tuesday morning finally arrived. Stev
e’s house felt crowded, with the two FBI agents, Joe and Ginny, and three FBI technicians ready to record and try to track any phone call to Steve’s home phone, his cell phone or Ellen’s cell phone. The FBI technicians had brought Ellen’s cell phone and laptop computer with them back to the house. Steve made a large pot of coffee for everyone, and the FBI agents and the local police had each arrived with a large box of doughnuts from Dunkin’ Donuts. After a couple of minutes whispering to each other in the corner of the large room, Martin and Florio had decided not to raise hell about Joe and Ginny being there. They agreed that their being there was to be expected, especially in view of Martin having called to tell them that the kidnappers specified this morning as the next key date. But they’d better just stay in the background and watch, otherwise they and their chief would have hell to pay.

  At exactly 10:45, Steve’s home phone rang. Taking a deep breath and waiting for a nod from the FBI lead technician sitting next to him, Steve picked up the phone. “Hello. This is Steve Sanders.”

  The same disguised voice as last week replied, “Is the money set in your bank?”

  “Yes, it is. But, before I pay you, I want to speak with my wife to be sure she’s OK.”

  “Very wise. I’d demand the same thing. See, we’re reasonable people. We’ll call you right back.” And then only the dial tone could be heard. The FBI technician shook his head from side to side, signifying that they had been unable to trace that short call.

  Less than five minutes later, Steve’s cell phone rang. Steve answered, “Hello.”

  “Oh, my god. Steve, thank heaven. It’s me.”

  “Ellen. Ellen. Are you OK? Did they hurt you? Where are you?”