Catherine Coulter - FBI 3 The Target

by Неизвестный

  "You took a cab from O'Hare?"

  "Yes, to downtown, Michigan Avenue. Emma needed some clothes, as did Molly and I. None of us were very presentable. Then we took another cab to the Jefferson Police Station, wandered in and spoke to the desk sergeant about nothing in particular, then we got a third cab out here. But they'll find us. I'm convinced of that. They probably already know we're here with you. As I said, they're good, and, as Molly and I have agreed, there's got to be an organization behind them."

  Mason Lord nodded, then said, "That was smart of you to go to a police station. It will give them pause. Please, all of you, sit down. As to any organization behind all this, we'll speak of it later. Ah, here's Miles with some lemonade."

  "I brought enough for all of you, sir."

  "Thank you, Miles," Molly said.

  "And I brought some chocolate cake I baked this morning." He looked at Emma as he poured her a glass. "You like chocolate cake?"

  "Oh yes, Mr. Miles. It's the best."

  Ramsey laughed. "Be careful or she'll eat the whole cake. She hasn't had many goodies for a while."

  Miles smiled as he ruffled Emma's hair, even as Mason Lord frowned. He watched his daughter wipe the child's hands on one of the little wet towels Miles had brought. How had Miles known to do that? He was like one of those hovering smiley-faced airline attendants. He was silent until everyone had drunk the lemonade and eaten some of Miles's chocolate cake. He hadn't known of any cake. He loved chocolate cake but Miles hadn't offered him any, either for lunch or right now. He'd had a low-cal, low-fat flan for dessert the previous night. It hadn't even tasted very good. He looked at his beautiful wife. She wasn't looking at the cake. She was looking at Molly. Her face was perfectly still. No expression at all. What was she thinking?

  Ramsey Hunt was big, tall, and very well built, but that made sense, of course, given what he'd done in his own courtroom. He was a man who obviously worked out, who took good care of himself, a man who looked as if he could deal with anything that happened to cross his path. Mason supposed he was good-looking enough, his features regular, his coloring olive, his eyes a green color that argued against Italian blood. But who knew in America? All of them were mongrels, himself included. At least he had more good Irish blood than anything else. As for his beautiful Eve, she was Swedish, every beautiful blond inch of her. She'd told him stories about her father falling in love with a German countess, but he hadn't married her. Too many control-freak genes, he'd said. No, Eve was pure Scandinavian. He'd chosen well this time.

  He looked again, hard, at the man sitting opposite him. Judge Ramsey Hunt of the Ninth Federal District Court- who would have imagined that he'd be the one to find Emma?

  What were the odds of this man's finding Molly's daughter and saving her? He cleared his throat and said, "Judge Hunt, you said you found Emma in the forest. Did she willingly come with you to your cabin?"

  "She was unconscious." He saw that Emma had stopped eating. Those ears of hers were on full alert. He said easily, "I can tell you all about it after we've got Emma settled in, all right?"

  Mason Lord said, "Very well. Miles, give them three rooms."

  "Emma and I will stay together, Dad."

  "Very well, two bedrooms."

  Ramsey turned to Molly, and said low, "Your father wants to grill me. Take Emma upstairs, all right?"

  She didn't want to go; he knew it. "Please, Molly, go. I'll set your father straight."

  "No," she said. "Emma is my daughter. You won't send me off to the kitchen to make tea."

  He understood. He said to Mason Lord, "Let's make it a bit later, sir. Molly and I will settle in. If Emma is content to stay with Miles, then we'll come see you as soon as we can."

  Mason Lord turned to his daughter. "What's wrong with you? Take your child upstairs. I want to speak to him. You had little enough to do with any of this. I want to thank him for saving you, for bringing you here. You haven't got the sense of a goat. Now, take your child upstairs. Judge Hunt and I need to talk things over."

  Molly rose. She was shaking. Odd, she thought, how he could push the buttons so easily, so quickly. Only this time, she wasn't going to fold her tent and slink away. She fought the urge to lower her head, her eyes at her feet, like a whipped dog. She jerked her head up. She'd been through too much ever to let anyone take control of her again. But she had to keep calm, not let him see how she had to fight the hold he still had on her, the pull she was still fighting.

  "I see," she said slowly, cutting him off, for he would have continued, she knew. She touched Emma's shoulder. "Emma, love, are you full? Yes, then let me wipe your mouth. Now, we're leaving this place. As it turns out, we just came for a short visit. Come along, Emma." She smiled at Ramsey. "You coming?"

  "In a flash," he said. He nodded to Miles. "Thank you for the cake and lemonade. It was delicious."

  "You don't talk to me like that, Molly."

  "I didn't talk to you in any way at all. Good-bye, Dad. A pleasure to finally meet you in person, Eve. You're a knockout stepmom."

  "Just stop it. What do you think you're doing? Where do you think you're going?"

  He'd used that cold harsh voice with her countless times when she was growing up. She turned, saying easily, "We're out of here, Dad. It's obvious that only one of us is welcome and that isn't your daughter or your granddaughter."

  "Damn you, I just want to find out what's happened, what his plans are."

  "Anything that's happened, any plans made, we've made them together. I'm sorry, Dad, but just because you're men doesn't mean you rule my world."

  "Yeah, well, if a man hadn't been around, Louey would still be beating the crap out of you."

  Molly knew Emma had heard that. "Be quiet," she said as calmly as she could manage. "Just be quiet."

  Mason watched the little girl turn, obviously puzzled, and stare at him. He saw she didn't understand, but she would soon. He saw she was gripping both their hands. Had

  Molly already taken Ramsey Hunt as a lover? Despite her daughter's presence?

  He said to Judge Ramsey Hunt, "Damn you, come back here. There's no way you're leaving my house now and taking them with you. Besides, given who you are, your chances of getting away unrecognized are about zip."

  Suddenly, Eve uncurled from her chair and rose. She smiled at all of them indiscriminately and said in a charming hostess voice, "How about some more lemonade? It will make everyone feel better."

  IT had been a long day, too long a day without Ingrid. Louey Santera rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the painful knots. The performance had hurled him to the heights, the crowd's applause still rang in his ears, as always, but now that it was over, he'd fallen into the pits. He needed Ingrid's clever hands on him.

  But he'd given Ingrid the day off. She was with her parents in Frankfurt. Maybe one of his groupie girls could rub him down. He walked to the door and pulled it open.

  "Alenon! Get in here!"

  A skinny young guy with acne and stringy blond hair stuck his head around the corner. "Yes, boss?" Even the kid's voice was stringy, with little substance.

  "Get me one of the girls, one who just might know how to unknot my neck and shoulders."

  Alenon was back in under five minutes towing a small black-haired girl who couldn't have been more than sixteen. She looked like a baby. Was she one of the groupies who trailed after him like a pack of puppies? He didn't recognize her.

  "This is Karolina, sir. She says her mother's a masseuse. She says she knows what to do."

  Louey looked into the girl's eyes. She might be sixteen in years, but not in experience. He nodded. "Hello, Karolina. Can you help me?"

  She said in excellent English, "It is my pleasure to help you, Mr. Santera. Is your daughter all right? I read in the newspaper that she was kidnapped."

  What the hell was this? "What newspaper?"

  "The Berliner Zeitung. There was an article about you. At the bottom, there was a sentence about your daughter being kidnapped. The
reporter wrote it happened somewhere out in America's Wild West. I'm very sorry."

  How had the reporter known? Hell, when she wasn't listening to him speak or writing down what he said or wrapping her legs around him, there hadn't been any time for her to find out anything. He'd just muttered something about Emma, not even a complete sentence. She must have called Denver. He turned to Karolina. "You speak English better than that reporter did."

  "My mother is American."

  "Oh," Louey said, rubbing his neck. He watched as Karolina efficiently covered the massage table with its soft flannel sheet. She stood back. Louey smiled. Slowly, he undressed for her. She didn't say a word. When he started to pull down his jockey shorts, she stepped forward, holding a towel out wide in front of him.

  When she was rubbing his feet, she said, "I'm in Al-Anon. It's for children whose parents are alcoholics. Why do you use it as a name for Rudy?"

  Rudy. That was the kid's name? He shrugged, a small movement because he was lying flat on his stomach. "Because it amuses me."

  "I see," Karolina said as she moved up the table. He felt her hands dig into his shoulders. He closed his eyes.

  It was the best massage of his life. When he woke up two hours later, Karolina was gone.

  Alenon was standing there, watching him. For how long? Had he snored? Drooled? "What do you want?"

  "I have a message from Mr. Lord for you."

  "Oh no," Louey said and sat up, pulling the sheet to his waist. "When did the old man call? What did he want?"

  "It was actually a man who said he was calling for Mr. Lord. He said he didn't need to speak to you. He said that your daughter is safe again, with Mr. Lord, at his house. That was all."

  Rudy Brinker watched one of the most talented men in the world lower his head in his hands. He looked sad, broken. But his voice, when he spoke, was vicious. Rudy listened to him curse for a good thirty seconds. Then he quietly let himself out of Mr. Santera's room. He went down the hall to Mr. Murdock's room and knocked twice.

  The ugliest man Rudy had ever seen answered the knock.

  14

  MASON LORD SWIRLED the rich golden brandy in the Waterford snifter, watching it lightly veil the sides of the glass. It was magnificent brandy, coating his tongue and his throat as well when he swallowed. He allowed himself one snifter at night, an hour after dinner.

  Eve was sitting on the sofa, watching television. He thought it was an idiotic show like Wheel of Fortune, only worse. Although he'd felt contempt for her taste even before he'd married her, he hadn't felt anything but lust for her body, and in his way of thinking, contempt couldn't begin to catch up with lust.

  She looked up. It must be a commercial. "What are you going to do with them, Mason?"

  He took the last drink of his brandy, carefully set the snifter down on a marble-topped side table, then said slowly, "I wanted them to come here. You heard me tell Molly when she called that she was to come here."

  "Yes, so she listened to you."

  "But she didn't want to. It was the man. It was Ramsey Hunt." He looked at the gold Rolex on his wrist. "He said

  he would come down to speak to me. Miles told him he wasn't to bring Molly."

  "When did he say that?"

  "Miles told him what he had to do if he wanted my protection. He'll do as I ask. He knows he needs me." He streaked his long fingers through his hair. Eve stared at him. She'd never seen him do that. "What's wrong?"

  "She needs to be controlled. The way she spoke to me. I nearly struck her, Eve."

  "But you didn't. When she threatened to leave, you backed off and told her what she wanted to hear-that you wanted to know what she had to say as well as this Ramsey Hunt." Eve paused a moment. The show was coming back on. Then she said, "You flattered her and she fell for it. You did control her, Mason."

  "No," he said, "really, she didn't fall for anything. She's scared for her daughter. She'd make a deal with the devil to keep her daughter safe, even if the devil is me." But he knew if he hadn't backed off, she'd have been out of there, and that man would have gone with her. She had to be sleeping with him, to have him so pussy whipped. He looked at his wife. She'd turned back to her game show. He walked to the door of the immense living room and quietly opened the beautiful French doors that gave onto a walled-in, quite lovely English garden. The air was soft, redolent with the intermingling scents of hyacinths, roses, and star jasmine. The jasmine he'd selected himself for the garden. There were no sounds to break the quiet. Very few people knew that half a dozen men were stationed in and around the house. As soon as Molly, Emma, and Ramsey Hunt had arrived, he'd added more guards. He turned to see Miles coming from across the hall, toward him.

  "Emma liked the spaghetti I made for her," he said. "The pasta was shaped like Jurassic Park dinosaurs."

  Mason Lord could only stare at a man who'd been loyal only to him, at his beck and call only, for twenty-two years. He'd begun here when Molly was a little girl, but he'd never

  paid her much attention. Why Emma? Sure she was pretty, she was the very picture of Alicia, but so what? He'd never paid any attention to Alicia either.

  He saw Ramsey Hunt coming down the wide staircase to his right. He was dressed well in black slacks and a white shirt. No tie, but that was all right. They'd been on the run. He called to him, "Did you deal with Molly?"

  "Yes."

  "You told her how she was to behave in my house?"

  Ramsey wanted to laugh at the heavy-handed tactics. He just smiled. "She knows exactly what to do. Now, I hear from Miles that you want to speak to me."

  "Yes, but just you, not Molly. She doesn't understand either business or strategy."

  "Last I knew, Molly was in her bedroom, giving Emma another reading lesson. The kid's really bright."

  "I read Moby Dick when I was five years old."

  "I understand that Molly was reading very early on as well. That's remarkable."

  Mason Lord had forgotten that. He nodded. "Come to my study. It's quiet there." He shut the double oak doors, cutting off the repulsive sound of that game show in the living room and all those shouting low-class slugs.

  Ramsey said without preamble, "I understand that when you heard that Louey Santera had beaten Molly you were out there like a flash. That was well done."

  Mason Lord stared at the big man standing in front of his desk, at ease, his face open, his expression even admiring.

  He wouldn't have even gone to Denver if it hadn't been for what Louey had done. "I wasn't about to let that little creep hurt one of mine."

  And that was the bottom line for Mason Lord, Ramsey thought, relieved and pleased. "And naturally you'd feel the same about Emma. She's also one of yours. Who do you think is behind this?"

  "It's a kidnapping. Louey is rich-well, not as rich as he was before my daughter divorced him, but he's doing very

  well. His European tours net him literally millions, the wretched little shit."

  "No, it's not just a kidnapping. I told you there were a lot more men after us. How many more people would you need to mount a tracking operation like that? Say at least two more, all of them professionals. Not a kidnapping, sir. Something else. I'd stake a lot on that." Ramsey paused a moment, then said, "I'm sorry to have to tell you, but you don't know yet that Emma was taken to a cabin in the woods, high in the Rockies, and sexually abused and beaten. It's another thing we have to think about. Emma needs to see a doctor and a child psychiatrist. She has nightmares. Neither Molly nor I have spoken about this because we're afraid of making things worse."

  The blood drained from Mason Lord's face. For a moment Ramsey thought he'd be sick-that, or explode. He did neither. Gradually the color returned. His breathing was slow now, calm.

  He looked directly at Ramsey. "The bastards have just signed their death warrants."

  "I shouldn't, but I feel the same way."

  "You're supposed to uphold justice and the precious laws that protect scum like that."

  "Yes," Ramsey sa
id. "I'm supposed to uphold the rights of all sorts of scum."

  Mason Lord looked at him sharply, but Ramsey's expression didn't change. "As much as I don't want to even consider it, you're probably right that there's got to be either a connection to me or to Louey. I will think about that. Actually, I'd already spoken to Buzz Carmen about my enemies being behind this. We'll see."

  "I want to leave Molly and Emma here with you. At least here I know they'll be safe."

  "Just what will you do that I can't?"