"Mommy's here.” From reserves I couldn't imagine, Amanda managed to keep her voice soft and soothing. “Don't worry, Evie, everything will be all right."
"If you behave yourself, Officer, everything will be all right,” said the husky voice. “But I must warn you. We lack time to search you properly, although my ... employee Jimmy always enjoys such opportunities.” From the table, Gorilla Arms turned and grinned beneath his goggles, and I was glad Amanda couldn't see it. “Hence, you may have a concealed means of communication aside from that too-obvious broach, one that might not require the use of hands. If so, I would strongly suggest you not use it. Be advised: we are all wearing state-of-the-art nocturnal vision devices, which use x-change-type nerve induction to provide ideal clarity. Even if we fail to catch you in the act, we are monitoring these grounds intensely and have, ah, an associate or two at your police department. I see you shaking your head, but I assure you it's true. How would I have known your name and occupation otherwise? You will come in handy to aid in negotiations when we reach that point, but are hardly indispensable. The moment I receive word any authorities have prematurely become aware of your situation, you and your daughter will die."
"Who are you? What do you want?"
"You may call me Mr. Blunt. Please sit down and make yourselves as comfortable as possible. We shall be here for some hours yet. I've a few things to do at the moment, but I promise we'll have a little chat soon.” He moved forward and I could finally see him. Tall and very thin with a narrow but protuberant nose. On him, the coveralls somehow appeared almost elegant. His eyes were hidden behind another pair of goggles.
He turned away, then turned back as if struck by an afterthought. “I should also mention how well this building is soundproofed to kill noise should the generator kick in. Still, I would appreciate silence on both of your parts and I suggest you take every least whim of mine most seriously.” He whirled and stepped up to the laptop; a moment later I heard the faint swishing of someone using a touchpad.
"I can't see, Mommy!"
"I know, sweetheart. Sit down with mommy and cuddle up close. It's very important for both of us to be very, very quiet."
As they lowered themselves, Amanda swung around so that her back was touching her daughter's side. I didn't understand what she was up to until her hands, bound at the wrist but still able to grab, worked their way down Evie's arm far enough to snag the string. She turned to face forward and pulled my balloon close to her head in one smooth movement.
I was asking myself a key question: did Blunt know about me? Was it coincidence he'd used the word “x-change"? Was his threat aimed only at Amanda or was he also making sure I didn't dare act? He'd obviously been following us, but x-change faces are hard to see at any distance, particularly in bright light. And I'd had the system disabled while my loved ones were walking to the shed. And I'd flipped the picture off the instant Blunt started his abduction routine. The gate goons hadn't even glanced at the balloon. The purse-snatcher hadn't, thank God, seemed to notice the small spraycan. Maybe they didn't know.
But in either case, I might be able to do something. The question was what. Contact the FBI? No, couldn't be sure they wouldn't call the cops.
I noticed a murmuring just at the edge of audibility and boosted my audio. Amanda was repeating, “Fred, can you hear me?” I could, but it wasn't easy. Her words were slurred because she was barely moving her lips and the amplification was boosting every other sound in the room.
Speaking so quietly I was confident the ambient hum-buzz and the trio of phone conversations would keep anyone farther than a foot away from eavesdropping, I said, “Okay. I hear you.” She didn't react so I said it again just a tad louder. That did the trick.
"Fred, thank God. Can you see anything?"
"Everything, dear. I've got the—"
"Anyone watching me right now?"
"No. Blunt's fiddling with a computer and the others are on phones."
"How many others?"
"Three. The one called Jimmy has to be the missing link and there's ... Thing One and Thing Two."
"Where's my purse?"
"On a shelf about ten feet in front of us, and your gun's right next to it. Thing One seemed to know exactly where it was."
"Oh sh—” she cut herself off, probably remembering Evie. “Anything behind me I can use to free my arms?"
"I don't—actually, yes! If you can scooch over about two feet to your left and back up just a bit."
"Nothing I'll bump into on the way?"
"No. You're clear."
Amanda leaned over and whispered into Evie's ear. A moment later, the two of them slowly wriggled to the side, stopping often so the balloon would float back to where I could supply new instructions. Within two minutes, they'd reached the right spot.
"What now?” Amanda asked.
"Immediately behind you, a battery is hanging from a metal strap that's edge-on to you and about the right height. I doubt it's very sharp, but the strap's thin so the edge should eventually cut the tape if you can force it between your hands and wiggle your arms up and down."
"I'll try. First let's see if I can work this string under my butt; I don't want us to lose contact.” Her hushed voice remained steady.
"Amanda, I've got to say. I knew my son had done well, but I hadn't dreamed he'd done this well. I'm proud of you. And Evie too. You've got real courage."
"I wish. But your being with us makes all the difference.” She rocked forward and managed to pin the string under her rear end on the first try. Then she extended her arms backward until they touched the strap, a little lower than I'd hoped but high enough to get decent friction if she was flexible enough. Before she could try my idea, Blunt left his laptop and headed our way.
"Amanda!” I cried. “Freeze!” Nothing wrong with her reaction time. “Blunt's coming back."
He stopped a few feet away and squatted down. “Now, Officer, I will explain your role in today's operation.” His voice was painfully loud in my ears until I turned down the audio.
"What are you, Blunt? Some kind of terrorist?"
He chuckled. “Hardly. I consider myself a ... creative entrepreneur. One very near retirement thanks to the proceeds you will help us earn."
"Why do you keep it so dark in here?” my granddaughter blurted. “I don't like it."
Blunt frowned. “You're the youngest daughter, aren't you? Eve, as I recall."
"I'd like to know about the darkness, too,” Amanda said quickly when Evie didn't respond. “Why go through so much trouble?"
"I doubt the girl is old enough to understand such things, but in the spirit of cooperation, I'll tell you both. The answer is efficiency. Efficiency is my personal god. More thought, effort, and time has gone into this than you might believe and I've polished my plan to the finest grit."
"So you're the one running the show."
"I see no harm in admitting it. Returning to the girl's question: since we've needed to work between county inspections, we've had to do considerable work in this shack over the last few nights and couldn't risk any light showing should anyone ... unauthorized pass by."
"Even with your blackout screen?"
"We only put that up this morning and largely for your benefit. Wouldn't do to have had someone nosy and clever glimpse something so odd when we've needed to open the door. You must admit, the darkness keeps you conveniently harmless and ignorant, doesn't it?"
"You weren't worried about the night security guards hearing you?"
"Ah. You're a bit clever yourself, aren't you? I must bear that in mind. Of course, you're right. I own both Manny's Maintenance and the Confidence Security Agency. No harm in your knowing that since both organizations will evaporate shortly. I think that will be enough questions on your end."
"Can I make one comment?"
He stood up for a moment, rubbed his knees, and returned to his squatting position. “Just one and only due to my single vice: curiosity."
"If you'
re expecting to retire on what you'll get by holding us hostage, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed. The LAPD has a policy—"
"No, no. Now I'm disappointed in you. I intend to hold every single soul in this park hostage, and we'll see how well your policy holds up. Almost all is in place, but we're waiting for the peak hour, when the grounds are sure to be busiest."
"How can you expect to hold that many people at gunpoint?"
"Gunpoint? We'll be relying very little on guns."
In an unpleasant flash, I understood the outline on the laptop screen. It represented the fairground's perimeter. The dots had to be bombs. And something else began nagging at me, which I couldn't pin down.
"Sometime within the next several hours,” Blunt continued, “I will push a button on my phone and then hold the phone to your ear. You will find yourself talking to an operator at your police department. At that time, you will say nothing on your own but will simply repeat whatever I tell you to say. Word for word. The smallest deviation, particularly when it comes to the numbers of certain overseas accounts, will result in—let's say considerable grief for you. Do you understand me?"
"Yes."
"Good. Do not speak again until I tell you to."
* * * *
I've never experienced time passing so slowly. Amanda worked on cutting her wrists free, and I worked like hell trying to figure a way out of this mess. Something about the image I'd seen so briefly on the screen was still bothering me, and I still had no idea what. And the minutes barely crawled. Blunt kept tinkering with something beyond my view on the shelf behind the laptop, and the three stooges blabbed constantly into their mouthpieces. At the hospice, a nurse came into my room and went away when I told her things were just dandy and I was busy.
"Boss!” Thing One called out, startling me and making Evie emit one forlorn cry. “We got a problem."
"I see that. Why, if I may ask, is grid ten suddenly filled with blue lights?"
"You know that excavator behind the carousel? Some punk just moved it to grid nine. With the backhoe down. Took out most of our remote—"
"Unbelievable. It's the bloody weekend! Canapka Construction doesn't work weekends. They barely work at all!"
"Easy, boss. Wasn't Canapka. Some smart-ass kid hot-wired it and took it for a joyride. With our security team tied up getting ready for crowd control, we don't got enough—"
"How many technicians can we put on this?"
"Um. I don't know.” Despite an obvious attempt to sound tough, his voice quavered.
"Then would it be too much trouble to find out?"
Thing One hastily punched buttons and had a quick discussion over his headset. “Only four, boss, unless you want to pull anyone off the fence crew or have fewer watchers."
"No. But four isn't enough. It seems we're going to have to pitch in and get our own hands dirty. We'll leave Jimmy alone to hold the fort."
"But boss—"
"Is that all right with you, J.C.?"
"Of course, sir.” Textbook sullen.
"And what about you, Zack? Can you bear to leave your station?"
"Sure."
"Officer Horton, you sit tight and keep your girl quiet. Jimmy, what you do on your own time is your business, but right now you keep your mind on my business or I'll shoot you myself. Got it?"
"Yeah. No problem."
Blunt and his Things stepped through the plastic curtain as if it was an airlock, and I heard the door open and slam shut.
Then we were alone with the Missing Link.
* * * *
For a while, the Link ignored Amanda and became embroiled in a phone argument with someone called Eric who apparently wasn't pushing his team hard enough to get whatever work they were doing completed on time. Eric, I gathered, couldn't figure out how he was supposed to increase his pushing while Jimmy was keeping him tied up. I began to think Jimmy wasn't going to be trouble after all. Big mistake.
I used one of those bells, or perhaps whistles, of my police-issue x-change receiver to photograph the laptop's screen, wishing the system had a zoom function. Checking the recorded image, I was relieved to find the dots clear enough to provide a detailed map of where every bomb was placed. For backup, I sent the image to Amanda's e-mail account and my own before switching back to a live feed and, for the first time, really studying the screen. The issue nagging my back brain practically jumped out at me.
A profusion of red dots glimmered outside the fairground, spread in a wide crescent near the front gate. I wondered uneasily why they'd mined that particular area and closed my eyes to think it through.
An impressively high and strong-looking chainlink fence enclosed the entire park. Even if the main gate were closed and locked, it would be still be the weakest part of the fence, the logical place for a SWAT unit to mount an assault. Once Amanda relayed Blunt's instructions, the entrance area would surely be swarming with cops—Lord! Probably every available cop in the county, an FBI contingent, various assault vehicles along with the usual police cruisers, maybe even National Guard soldiers. If his bombs packed enough wallop, Blunt could wipe out most of L.A.'s law enforcement structure in an instant! Something told me the man had bigger plans than just holding the local crowd for ransom....
I opened my eyes and found Jimmy staring at my daughter-in-law. He remained on the phone, badgering someone new, but his gaze kept shifting between the plastic-strip curtain and Amanda's chest. He shifted his chair in tiny increments, seemingly tugged by magnetic surges until he was facing her directly. Amanda's breasts were bouncing as her arms worked at abrading the tape, but apparently the Missing Link didn't realize what she was doing, or didn't care.
When the Link got to his feet, his chair creaked and Amanda froze. “What's happening, Fred?” she asked.
"Jimmy's walking toward you. No, keep working. I'm afraid you're going to need your hands."
At close range, the man appeared positively subhuman. The headset seemed as out-of-place as it would've on a gorilla. He sat down in front of Amanda, close, and stretched out a long finger to gently tap the top button of her blouse. She shrank back, but had no place to go.
For the first time in a long time, Eve spoke. “Something smells real bad, Mommy."
Jimmy turned slightly, tugged off his headset, and tossed it behind him. Without warning, he moved faster than I'd ever seen anyone move, lashing out with one of those ape arms to backhand Evie across her forehead. The blow cannoned her skull into the concrete wall behind her, and my little girl slumped over sideways as if her bones had liquefied.
"What have you done?" Amanda cried. “Evie?"
"Don't you worry ‘bout her, pretty lady, she's breathing okay. But if you're not real sweet to me and keep your mouth shut tight afterwards, I'll stomp her neck flat. Maybe I should do that first...."
"No! I'll do whatever you want. Just don't hurt her."
"You and me gonna have some fun."
Something more solid than rage moved through me, pushing through my horror and shock. I wanted to hurt this monster, and I suddenly knew how to go about it. I reached for the flash dial on my remote. Just in time, it occurred to me the sudden brightness would hurt Amanda too. Then I started shaking. I'd come thisclose to blowing a real chance to rescue my loved ones. I refused to think it might be too late to rescue Evie.
My knowledge of night-vision goggles was decades—hell, over a half century—out of date. But if Jimmy's goggles had the kind of automatic filtering built into my x-change system, he might've had no more than a moment of discomfort. And then he would've known about me for sure. Even the best auto-filters take several dozen milliseconds to work. If I wanted to put Jimmy out of commission for long enough for Amanda to get the upper hand, which I wanted with all my heart, I had to produce a light so damn bright it would blind him for at least a few minutes in that one instant.
And I had a way to do it! But I had to warn Amanda first. And I wasn't at all sure my body was strong enough for the job.
&
nbsp; The Link was panting now as he unbuttoned Amanda blouse. She was wearing a soft-looking bra underneath, and he tugged on one cup until one breast was free. He started poking at her nipple like someone trying to spear a fish, no longer bothering to even glance toward the doorway.
I tilted my x-change glasses to uncover my left eye, put the TV remote on my pillow, and forced myself upright onto the floor. The glasses slipped back into place with the motion so I bent the frames to keep it from happening again. One eye in the shed and one twenty miles away in my room, I took a deep breath and got to work.
My plan required getting the x-change camera as close as possible to the wall with the TV, but the camera was attached to my bedframe and the damn hospital bed seemed to be glued in place. You idiot, I told myself after a few futile pushes, the wheels must be locked.
Sweat pouring off me in sheets, I had to stomp repeatedly on each of the four wheel levers before the bed was ready to roll. And then I still couldn't get the damn thing to budge!
Jimmy had one hand pawing between Amanda's legs now while the other was fumbling with her belt. I heard myself swearing, even over the Link's heavy panting and little chuckles.
If only Lopez were here! I didn't dare call for help from anyone else. One thing you don't get at Saint Teresa's when you're old and sick is respect. Any nurse that came in would have to be convinced I knew what I was doing—which would take too much time at best. At worst, they'd insist on calling the police.
I shoved with all my energy, and the bed moved maybe an inch.
And then it was all over. With the first rattle at the door, Jimmy was moving with insane speed. He managed to get Amanda's blouse partly buttoned and was back in his position at the table as Blunt and Thing One pushed through the plastic strips. Jimmy wasn't just brutal, he was stupid.
Blunt pulled on his goggles and took one quick glance around the room. His gaze froze when he came to Evie's unconscious form.
"Jimmy, lad,” he said very softly, “I'll be dealing with you later. Right now, I'm advancing the schedule to avoid anything else going wrong. J.C., kindly hand me Zack's headset and put yours back on. Our guest will be using my phone. The minute Zack tells me he's finished, I'll have you order the fence crew to close the gates. Jimmy, at that point you'll notify our associates downtown. The rest of the operation, I'll handle myself.” After donning the headset, he moved the microphone in front of his laptop and mumbled for a time. Probably rehearsing his threats for the fun-loving crowd outside.
Analog SFF, June 2007 Page 12