Noah turned into De Longpre Avenue. He slithered to a halt behind a pale green metallic Chevrolet Classic Caprice, and immediately said, ‘Out! This is where we change cars, and we’re going to change them again when we get to North Hollywood.’
As they climbed out of the Grand Cherokee, there was an ear-splitting crack of thunder right over their heads, and the rain was dancing madly on the sidewalk. There was nobody around to see them hurry from the SUV, run to the Chevy, and pull away from the curb with twin fountains of spray.
Noah drove as if he were playing a computer game – smooth and fast, swerving from side to side, running red lights, never easing off the gas for a moment. They had a near-miss with a Wal-Mart truck on Cahuenga, with a barrage of blaring and swearing and middle fingers stuck up, but this was the kind of driving that Noah had been trained to do, always looking for the chances, always looking for the narrowest of opportunities, using the rain-slick road surface to slide and ski and get himself ahead.
He was nearly six minutes ahead of schedule when he slid sideways into Otsego Street in North Hollywood, and jammed on the brakes.
‘Just like you said,’ Adeola told him. ‘That was very sedate.’
‘We’re on the run, Adeola,’ said Noah. ‘Every second counts.’
A black Dodge Caliber was parked on the opposite side of the street. Noah climbed out of the Chevrolet, ran across the road, and opened the doors.
Silja frog-marched Adeola after him, so forcibly that Adeola had to half-jump with every step. It was unlikely that anybody was watching them, especially in the middle of a downpour like this, but if there were any witnesses, Adeola’s kidnap had to look completely convincing.
‘Where are we going now?’ asked Adeola, as they turned south again, towards the Ventura Freeway. The rain was clearing away now, and the sun was coming out again, so that the road surfaces were dazzling.
‘A little house up in Scholl Canyon, in Glendale,’ Noah told her. ‘Belongs to a friend of mine, Dave McCray. He spends most of his time filming at Cinecitta, in Rome.’
‘Do you really think this kidnap is going to work?’
‘Let’s take a look at the TV news tonight. Then we’ll know.’
Silja said, ‘My father used to tell me, you can run in your thoughts, but you won’t get anywhere.’
Noah glanced back at Adeola. ‘Very philosophical, these Finns. All those long, dark winter nights, know what I mean?’
‘And those summers,’ put in Silja, ‘when the sun never sets. You would be surprised what people can do in the middle of the night, if the sun is still shining.’
‘Maybe we can take a trip to Finland one day,’ said Noah. ‘Then you can show me.’
Twenty-Three
‘And this evening,’ said Larry Coleman on NBC News, ‘incredible live pictures as a peace delegate is abducted right under the noses of police and FBI agents at the International Peace Convention in Los Angeles.’
‘Adeola!’ called Rick. ‘You don’t want to miss this!’
The TV news coverage of Adeola’s kidnap was even more extensive than they had hoped for. It appeared on almost every news programme around the world, from CNN to Al-Jazeera. Every station showed the same jerky footage: Adeola being seized by a tall figure in a maroon tracksuit; then the stand-off with the uniformed police officers and the FBI; followed by the flood of Korean cyclists in green-and-white T-shirts, chanting and brandishing their banners.
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Adeola. She had been washing her hair, and it was all wound up in a tall white turban. ‘The way I remember it, it seemed to last for ten minutes, at least. But look – it all happened in a split second.’
‘Most of the best stunts do,’ said Noah. ‘You remember them for ever, but in screen-time they’re nothing at all. Even the car chase in Bullitt only lasted for nine minutes and twelve seconds, yet most people would swear that it lasted for more than twenty minutes.’
Larry Coleman continued: ‘Police have located Ms Davis’s abandoned SUV on DeLongpre Avenue in Hollywood. Crime scene investigators are examining the vehicle for any clues as to who might have kidnapped her.
‘So far, however, police have admitted that they have no leads. There has been no word from her abductors; no indication whatsoever why this outstanding peace negotiator should have been so dramatically snatched and driven away.’
‘Hey – outstanding peace negotiator,’ said Rick. ‘How would you like a drink?’
‘Love one,’ said Adeola.
Alvin Metzler was on television now, looking upset and harassed. ‘As you know, a suicide bomber made an attempt on Adeola Davis’s life in Dubai, and there have been other attempts which I am not at liberty to reveal.
‘So we at DOVE are seriously concerned for Ms Davis’s safety. If her abductors are watching this, I want you to know that we’re prepared to listen to any grievance you might have. We’re prepared to talk about our aims and our peace projects, and sort out any misapprehensions.’
‘You’re prepared to negotiate with terrorists?’ asked Larry Coleman.
‘I didn’t say that. But more than any other organization in the world, DOVE understands that every story has more than one side to it, and of all DOVE’s representatives, Adeola understands that the most.
‘We value her. We care for her. And we want to have her back where she belongs.’
Adeola pressed her fingers to her forehead. ‘Oh, Alvin, I’m so sorry.’
Rick came into the living room with a glass of Zinfandel for her. ‘He’ll get over it, when he finds out you’re safe and well.’
‘He’ll have to see me being killed first. How do you think he’s going to feel about that?’
They spent a quiet evening watching television and playing poker. Adeola won hand after hand, until Noah said, ‘That’s me done. If I’m going to die, I don’t want to die broke.’
‘She’s too good at reading people,’ said Rick. ‘Apart from which, she has the most inscrutable face since the Sphinx.’
He looked across at Adeola and for the first time Noah realized that there was more to their relationship than protector and protected.
‘So when is this Palestinian nutjob going to announce that he’s holding her?’ Noah asked.
‘Not before tomorrow morning. Maybe later. The longer we leave it, the better. It’ll rack up the tension, and the cops will think that he could have taken her a whole lot further away. Even flown her out of the country. Which will make us that much more difficult for them to track down.’
‘OK . . . so we’ll be shooting the video Thursday? I just need to know, so that I can arrange for Mitch to come around.’
‘Thursday would be good.’
Adeola was shuffling the cards. ‘A little disturbing to know that I only have thirty-six hours left to live. Have you decided yet how you are going to kill me?’
‘Bullet between the eyes, if that’s OK with you. It’s the least complicated. And the cheapest.’
‘I see. I have to die on a budget.’
After Rick and Adeola had gone to bed, Noah and Silja sat out on the lamplit veranda at the back of the house, smoking and looking out over the twinkling lights of Glendale.
‘How the hell did we get ourselves into this, Silja?’ said Noah.
‘Too late to worry about that. All we have to do now is make sure that we get ourselves out of it.’
They heard sirens somewhere in the distance. At first they sounded as if they were coming closer, but after a while they gradually faded away.
Noah said, ‘I’m supposed to be at Paramount on Thursday morning, to have a meeting about a new Nick Burton picture. Pirates in space, something like that.’
‘Pirates in space! It all seems so ridiculous now.’
‘You think so? Compared with all of this, it seems totally rational.’
Leon came shuffling out, holding up a DVD. ‘Hey – I’ve downloaded some Palestinian accents for you. I found a couple of interviews with Ahmed Sa’a
dat. He was the Secretary General of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, but the Israelis kidnapped him in Jericho, and put him on trial.’
‘Thanks. You’ve really helped out, you know that?’
Leon sat down on the step. ‘I only wish there was more I could do.’
‘Come on, dude. Your dad would be proud of you.’
‘I’d rather he was still alive.’
‘I know. He was always quoting Woody Allen, wasn’t he? “I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve immortality by not dying.”’
Noah practised his Palestinian accent all the next morning, until he sounded more like Ahmed Sa’adat than Ahmed Sa’adat.
‘This is Armed Front for Freedom of Palestinian!’ he shouted, crossly, at the mirror. ‘APPF! – I mean, shit, AFFP! We have your negotiator, Ms Adeola Davis! This is Armed Front for Freedom of Palestine! We have your negotiator, Ms Adeola Davis!’
It was still unseasonably hot, and all of them were beginning to grow tense and impatient, and to question the sanity of what they were doing.
‘What are you going to do if Professor Halflight isn’t interested?’ said Adeola.
‘I don’t know,’ said Noah. ‘I’m just assuming that he will be.’
‘But if he’s not? What if he makes out that he doesn’t know anything about Emu Ki Ilani, and those men in grey suits are still coming after you?’
‘I guess we’ll have to leave the country, and give ourselves new identities. I always fancied living in the South of France.’
‘And Silja? And Leon?’
‘Let’s just take this one step at a time, shall we?’ said Rick. ‘Look – it’s nearly time we made contact with DOVE.’
‘I’m not too sure I can do this,’ said Noah.
‘You have to. We’ve gone this far. We can’t give it up now.’
Noah took a deep breath. He sat down on the sagging beige leather couch, and Rick handed him a sheet of notepaper and a disposable cellphone, which Steve had bought for them yesterday, in Anaheim.
He lit a cigarette and then punched out the number of DOVE headquarters in New York. The phone rang for a long time before an operator eventually picked up.
‘DOVE, can I help you?’
Noah cleared his throat. ‘This is Armed Front for Freedom of Palestine. We have your negotiator, Ms Adeola Davis.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Jesus,’ said Noah, under his breath. Then he repeated himself, speaking more slowly and emphatically.
‘You have seen TV news?’ he asked the operator.
‘Yes, sir. I know what’s happened to Ms Davis.’
‘We have her. The AFFP. So far she is alive and well. But we have demands. You must meet our demands or she will be executed.’
‘Sir – can I put you on hold for a moment?’
‘We are AFFP! I mean, AFPF! We have demands!’
‘Sir – I need to put you through to somebody in authority.’
‘I am speaking to you. You can tell your bosses what we want. Immediate withdrawal of all Israeli forces in Palestine. Immediate demolition of separation wall.’
‘Sir—’
‘That is all. No discussion. Now it is one o’clock. I will call again at six o’clock. You will say yes to our demands or Ms Davis will be executed.’
‘Sir—’
‘That is all.’
Noah switched off the cellphone and tossed it on to the glass-topped coffee table. ‘Christ almighty. I sounded like Eddie Murphy!’
‘No, you didn’t,’ said Adeola. ‘You sounded exactly like one of those Palestinian freedom fighters I was talking to. Exactly. Macho. Intolerant. That poor girl must have been shaking in her shoes.’
At 6.15, Eastern Standard Time, Noah called DOVE headquarters again.
‘This is Armed Front for Freedom of Palestine. I am ready for your answer. Yes or no?’
‘Sir – I’m going to put you through to a gentleman who is authorized to negotiate with you.’
‘There is no negotiation. Yes to our demands, or no?’
‘Excuse me,’ a man’s voice broke in. ‘May I ask to whom I am speaking?’
‘AFFP. Armed Front for Freedom of Palestine. We have Ms Adeola Davis. You know our demands. Withdrawal of all Israeli forces from Palestine. Demolition of separation wall declared illegal by International Courts of Justice. Yes or no?’
‘Please, hold up a moment,’ the man asked him. ‘I have to confess to you that none of us have ever heard of the Armed Front for the Freedom of Palestine.’
‘We are secret organization, that is why. Secret. AFFP.’
‘OK . . . and you’re saying that you abducted Ms Davis?’
‘We have Ms Adeola Davis. Yes to our demands, or she will be executed.’
‘How do we know that you really have her? Can I speak to her?’
‘Of course.’
Noah passed the cellphone to Adeola. Adeola closed her eyes tight and tried to sound fearful.
‘Ms Davis?’
‘Yes, this is Adeola Davis. Please, help me. They say they’re going to kill me if you don’t give them what they want.’
‘Ms Davis, this is Special Agent George Windom of the FBI. I’m a trained hostage negotiator. I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of this situation quickly and safely. Don’t panic. We have hundreds of officers looking for you, and one way or another we’ll make sure that you come to no harm.’
‘They say you have twenty-four hours. Then they’re going to kill me.’
‘Adeola? This is Alvin. You just need to hang on in there. We’re all thinking of you. We’re all rooting for you.’
‘Can you give us any idea where you are?’ asked Special Agent Windom. ‘Are you still in Los Angeles, or have they taken you someplace else?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know where I am.’
Noah snatched the cellphone away from her. ‘Listen! We are AFFP! We have demands! You say yes to our demands, or you will never see Ms Adeola Davis again, only on death video! You have till six o’clock, evening time tomorrow! Then I call you again! Then you say yes!’
‘Sir – could you tell me your name, so that we can talk man-to-man?’
Noah put his hand over the phone. ‘Adeola – he’s asking me what my name is. What’s my name?’
Adeola thought for a moment. Then she scribbled on his crib sheet ‘Abdel Al-Hadi’.
‘I am Abdel Al-Hadi,’ said Noah. ‘I am leader of AFFP. You say yes to our demands!’
‘You have to understand, Mr Al-Hadi, that what you’re asking for isn’t going to be easy. The Israelis never give in to any kind of threat, even if it means the loss of an innocent life. And Ms Davis is nothing if not innocent.’
‘She is guilty! She is a hypocrite and a whore! She is a two-legged spider, who spins out a web of sticky lies!’
‘You know that’s not true,’ retorted Alvin Metzler. ‘She speaks for everybody who wants peace, whether they’re Israeli or Palestinian or any other nationality. You need to release her, Mr Al-Hadi, and then we can talk about the things you want to achieve.’
‘Six o’clock tomorrow!’ Noah insisted. ‘Then you say yes – or then she will die!’
He switched off the phone. Rick shook his head in admiration. ‘You’re living this part, man. You should have been a character actor, instead of a stuntman.’
‘I’m a two-legged spider?’ said Adeola. ‘First time I’ve ever been called that!’
‘Sorry,’ said Noah. ‘Guess I got a little carried away there.’
That night, bundled up on his couch, Noah dreamed of Jenna again. This time, he was walking across the Piazza San Marco, in Venice, and it was raining. Jenna was fifty or sixty yards ahead of him, wearing a thin white dress that was almost transparent. As she walked, she scattered scores of pigeons, which settled again as soon as she had passed.
Jenna! he called, but his voice was dead and flat and he knew that she couldn’t hear him. Thr
ee hundred feet above him, the bells rang from the campanile, and the bells sounded equally dead and equally flat, as if they were tolling a death knell.
It began to rain harder, and he stumbled into the chairs outside one of the outdoor cafes. A waiter in a long apron shouted at him. ‘Chaos! Chaos!’
Noah waved to the waiter to show that he was sorry, but by the time he had picked up the fallen chairs, Jenna had disappeared around the corner. He hurried after her, just in time to see her walking between the two granite columns outside the Palazzo Ducale, one of which was topped by a statue of St Mark, and the other by a statue of St Theodore, and the sacred crocodile of Egypt.
He knew that it was unlucky to walk between the columns, because this had once been a place of execution.
Jenna! he shouted. But hundreds of pigeons exploded into the air in front of him, and he lost sight of her altogether.
‘You’re shouting in your sleep again,’ said a hot whisper, close to his ear.
What?
‘I said, you’re shouting in your sleep again.’
He opened his eyes. Although it was two o’clock on the morning, there was a full moon shining through the window and the living room was unnaturally bright. Silja was kneeling on the floor next to him, naked, her ash-blonde hair sticking up in a halo of white flames.
‘I’m sorry. I was dreaming. I thought I was in Venice . . .’
‘Venice? Very romantic.’
‘I don’t like Venice. For some reason it always gives me the creeps.’
Without being invited, Silja lifted his blanket and climbed on to the couch on top of him. ‘I was thinking that it would be sad for us to die without ever making love.’
He stared up at her. Their faces were only inches apart. ‘You think we’re going to die?’
‘I am quite sure of it. This kidnap plan is all going to go wrong. It is a crazy plan. How can it go right? Those men in grey suits will cut our throats the same way they killed Jenna and Mo Speller and everybody else, and nobody will ever find out what happened to us. And nobody will care, either.’
Chaos Theory Page 18