Jump Cut

by Libby Fischer Hellmann

  I felt paralyzed by a profound lassitude; it was hard to even muster the energy to go to the bathroom. At about five, Luke walked me into the shower, soaped me up, and washed my hair. Then he led me down to the kitchen, heated up some soup, and forced me to take a few spoonfuls.

  My cell hadn’t been more than a few inches away all day, but I tried not to stare at it. If I did, he wouldn’t call. If I ignored it, he wouldn’t call either.

  It reminded me of a joke Rachel and I shared about parking karma. I have it; she wants it. I seem to be able to park in the best spots on Chicago city streets for free, or at least a minimal amount of money. She called me one night after circling her Wrigleyville apartment for twenty minutes trying to find a spot. While we were chatting, I told her I’d put it out in the universe. “Give Rachel some parking karma,” I intoned in a mantra-like manner.

  Thirty seconds later, she squealed. “OMG. A spot just opened up. Right in front of my apartment. You’re amazing, Mom!”

  We’d laughed so hard I almost spit out my wine.

  Now I wanted to cry. I needed cell phone karma.

  LeJeune showed up while Luke was making ginger tea. He took one look at me, saw how distraught I was, and directed most of his conversation to Luke and Jimmy.

  “I want to brief you on what we found out about our pal. Warren Stokes is from Oklahoma. He enlisted as soon as he was eighteen. Right around the First Gulf War.”

  Luke’s eyebrows arched.

  LeJeune rubbed his nose. “He was attached to the Eighteenth Infantry Regiment. Saw a little action, but most of it was mopping up. When he came back he applied to the Agency. They told him he needed a college degree, so he took night classes at Prince George’s Community College outside DC. He spent days as a security guard. At one point he applied for the DC police department but didn’t make the cut.”

  “Really.”

  LeJeune nodded. “But he did do one smart thing. He learned Arabic.”

  Luke’s eyebrows arched even higher.

  “After 9/11, he convinced the Agency he was almost fluent.”

  “Was he?” I cut in.

  “Who knows? But they took him and sent him to Afghanistan. He was back and forth for a couple of tours. Best I can tell, about five years.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  LeJeune nodded. “Then, all of a sudden he’s out. Instead of riding off into the sunset, he sets up Stokes Security. Hires a marketing company, and within a year he’s got half a dozen clients. A year later six more. He adds a bunch of ex-spooks, pretty much all military, Agency, Bureau, Secret Service. Most of them with a talent for hacking. A few months ago he gets the Delcroft account.”

  “He’s not stupid,” Luke said.

  “Agreed,” LeJeune said. “If his guys really can hack into people’s computers, there’s no telling how much dirt he can pull up.”

  I sipped the tea. It felt soothing. “Are you saying he blackmailed companies to get clients?”

  “Like I said, who knows?”

  “Why did he leave the Agency?” Luke asked

  “It’s not clear. I’ll let you know when I find out. Meanwhile let’s focus on the exchange.”

  Chapter Sixty-three

  Friday

  And that’s when my cell buzzed. All four of us stared at it. I checked the caller ID panel. Caller unknown. I held it up so LeJeune and Luke could see. They both nodded. I took a deep breath, pushed the green light, and put it on speakerphone, as Nick had instructed.

  “Hello?”

  No hesitation on the other end. “You know who this is, I assume.”

  “Yes, Mr. Stokes,” I said for their benefit.

  “And you know what I want.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well?”

  “I need to talk to Rachel. Make sure she’s okay.”

  LeJeune had said he would probably say no but to tell him all bets were off until I heard her voice. To my surprise, though, he didn’t object. “Of course.”

  There was a swish of air. A moment later, I heard, “Mom?”

  Her voice on the other end of the phone was like my birthday, Mother’s Day, and Christmas, all wrapped up in one. “Rachel. Oh my God. I love you. I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

  “Well, actually I am. I was scared shitless at the beginning, but it’s okay now.”

  I started to giggle. I knew it was a nervous reaction to the stress and fear. But I couldn’t help thinking how mature she sounded.

  “What’s so funny?” Rachel asked.

  “Nothing, honey.” Still, she wasn’t with me, and in the space of a few seconds, my giggles turned to sobs. Luke squeezed my free hand.

  Rachel picked up on my tears. “Don’t cry, Mom. Really, I’m fine. They bought me McDonald’s for dinner last night. And KFC tonight. And one of the guys is a pretty good— Look, I can’t stay on the phone. He’s motioning me to get off.”

  Was this my daughter? She sounded so level-headed and calm I would have thought she was at camp, not the captive of some ambitious, overreaching covert operative. Was I overreacting? Was all the hysteria and anxiety misplaced? “Baby, we’re going to—”

  But a sudden swish on the phone told me I was no longer talking to Rachel. My fear ratcheted up.

  “Satisfied?” Stokes said.

  “I want to talk longer.”

  “Not now. By the way, you can call off the feds. I know they’re listening.”

  All four of us exchanged glances. LeJeune leaned back with an expression that said he might have underestimated Stokes.

  “And you can tell the rest of the gang we’re going to do you a big favor.”

  “What’s that?” I said.

  “I know you’re in Lake Geneva. And you now have the drive.”

  “How do you—”

  He ignored the question.

  “There’s an airstrip behind the Lodge, the fancy resort up there.”

  “I know it.” I glanced over at Luke and Jimmy. The three of us had history there.

  “Be there at two am. You give us the drive; we’ll give you your daughter.”

  “How do I know you won’t pull a stunt at the last minute?”

  “You don’t.” He paused. “No weapons. No floodlights or cameras. No comms. Maglites and binoculars are okay. Most important, no one comes before two am. If my team sees anyone they don’t recognize, anyone ferreting around, prepping, or planting land mines or flares, the deal is off, and you’ll never see your daughter again.” Another pause. “Oh, and you will hand over the drive. Not your FBI pal or your boyfriend. Got it?”

  I was about to reply, but he disconnected.

  Chapter Sixty-four

  Friday

  “Something’s off.” LeJeune got up and started to pace.

  I followed him with my eyes. “What?”

  “It’s too easy.”

  “Maybe to you. I thought he made it pretty clear. No weapons, comms, flares—”

  He cut me off. “That’s par for the course.” He stopped pacing but continued to look tense and coiled, ready to spring into action. “Why would he stipulate you have to hand the drive over? I don’t like it.” He turned to Jimmy and Luke. “Tell me about the airstrip.”

  Jimmy spoke up. “It’s about a mile-long strip at the back of the property. It’s deteriorated over the years. Broken concrete. Weeds. It was built to fly in performers and stars who appeared at the Playboy club.”

  “And the big rollers,” Luke added.

  “What’s off to the sides? Who monitors it?”

  “It’s a private strip. Only people like Luke use it.”

  “You have your own plane?” LeJeune asked.

  “I do,” Luke answered. “But it’s not restricted. You need to fly in or out, it’s not a problem. Sometimes the city of Lake Geneva supports the strip with some funding. Sometimes they don’t.”

  “There are woods on one side,” Jimmy took over. “The resort property is on the other. There’s a small hangar on one e
nd, surrounded by an equipment shed and rows of seedlings and flowers that make up the resort’s nursery.”

  “Can my men take positions in the woods?”

  “Probably. But I don’t know how you’re going to get them there ahead of time.”

  “Is there any other way to get to the airstrip?”

  “You mean besides going through the resort?”

  LeJeune nodded.

  “There’s an abandoned dirt road that runs parallel to the strip and connects with County Route 45,” Jimmy said. “But it’s a quarter mile to the airstrip on unpaved land. They better hope they have off-road tires.”

  “What about eyes in the sky?”

  “It won’t be a great view,” Jimmy said. “Too much woodland.”

  “Still, we’ll get a sat on it.” LeJeune pulled out his cell, then stopped. “Of course, he will too, now that I’m thinking about it.”

  “Stokes?” Luke asked.

  “He was Agency. He’d know the right people to call. Monitoring sats is one of the most boring jobs in the world. For a pocket full of money, those monitors will do anything. This’ll seem like the Kentucky Derby to them.”

  “You would know,” I said. LeJeune was from Louisiana. Close enough.

  He whipped around. “Feeling better, eh, cher?”

  I allowed myself to smile.

  “Good. Because you’re going to need balls of steel in a while.”

  My smile faded.

  He looked at his watch. “We’ve got two hours. My team will be here in fifteen. I’ll reconnoiter with them and come up with a plan.”

  • • •

  Fifteen minutes later, a swarm of men in a van and two unmarked cars arrived. I was forced out of my sluggishness to make huge pots of coffee. They’d brought three dozen doughnuts, which surprised me. I thought cops had the market sewn up. After getting coffee and taking their treats, they went back outside to talk with LeJeune. Luke and Jimmy went with them.

  I stole one of the doughnuts and peeked outside while I ate it. A group of eight men, all wearing their navy FBI jackets with yellow letters, stood in a semicircle around LeJeune. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I saw a few nods. Others shook their heads. One man started scraping his foot on the gravel driveway. It was a cold night, but not brittle, a sure sign winter was loosening its grip. And thankfully there was no snow.

  After ten minutes the men dispersed and took off in the van. Jimmy went with them. Luke and LeJeune came back into the kitchen.

  “That’s one good thing…,” Luke was saying.

  “What’s good?” I asked.

  “They traced Stokes’ cell.”

  “Really?” I brightened.

  “Yeah,” LeJeune said. “But if he’s worth his salt, he anticipated we’d get it. He’s probably using a burner.”

  I rubbed my arms, feeling chilly in spite of the fire. “Well, it’s something. Where did your men go?”

  “To stake out the woods beside the airstrip.”

  “What happens if Stokes finds them?”

  LeJeune waved a dismissive hand. “What he said was bullshit. He knows we’ll be there. He’s probably got his men positioned already.”

  A pulse of anxiety streaked up my spine. “I don’t get it. If you send your men out and he sends his, and you both know it, what’s the point? What’s to prevent all-out Armageddon?”

  “That’s why we game it out ahead of time. Stokes knows that. He’s figuring out his options now. Don’t worry about it.”

  I wanted to slap him. The old LeJeune was back. Telling me not to worry my pretty little head about anything.

  “Well, I am worried. You guys are playing games with the life of my daughter!” I turned to Luke. “What do you think, Luke?”

  “I think you should listen to the FBI.”

  “You too?” I glared at him. “Please. Someone tell me something this pretty little head can understand that won’t ruin my pretty little manicure when I belt you both in the face.”

  Luke raised his hands in a back-off gesture, but LeJeune grinned.

  “She’s baaack,” he cracked. “Seriously, though, sit down and I’ll walk you through the plan.”

  “What plan? I walk down the airstrip from one direction. Rachel and Stokes come from the other. I give him the drive. He gives me Rachel.”

  “Not so simple. First of all, it won’t be him. It will be one of his proxies. He doesn’t want anyone to get a camera shot of his face. Which, of course, we would do. But that’s not the main thing. The asshole has got some play up his sleeve.”

  “What kind of play?”

  “I don’t know. But there is one. Got to be. His conversation with you was too vague. He didn’t say anything we didn’t expect. We have to make some assumptions.”

  “Like what?”

  He didn’t answer. “We’re at a disadvantage.”

  I raised my hand. “Including me.”

  He smiled. “That’s why you have us. We’ll have your back.”

  “So you are bringing guns.”

  LeJeune rolled his eyes. “Of course we are. So will he.”

  Again, I asked Luke, “Are you okay with that?”

  “Ellie, like I said, he’s the professional. Listen to him.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “You walk down the airstrip, give the guy who’s with Rachel the drive, lead Rachel back. But expect the unexpected. Be prepared.”

  “Hey, that’s one hell of a plan, LeJeune.”

  Chapter Sixty-five

  Saturday Morning

  We took off around one thirty in Luke’s pickup. Ten minutes later we reached the Lodge. Driving past the entrance brought back memories of the summer I produced a video for them, the summer I met Luke. Now we meandered through twisty roads, empty and bare at this hour, and pulled up to the hangar at the end of the airstrip. LeJeune’s men had already arrived, their bright yellow letters visible even in the blackest part of the night. I counted more than a dozen of us, including three officers from the Lake Geneva police. All to rescue one young woman. Most of the officers had shoulder mics and cell phones clipped to their waists. Most carried Maglites. If they were carrying guns, which I assumed they were, they kept their weapons holstered and well out of sight.

  One of the FBI men worked off a clipboard, estimating the distance between the hangar and the opposite end. I wasn’t sure why. Jimmy had already told them it was about a mile. While they were working, I wandered over to the hangar. I’d been on the airstrip a few times but never at night. It was in pretty bad condition, as I recalled, studded with chunks of cracked asphalt and rocks. Then again, no airplanes were ever scheduled to take off or land. Except Luke’s. And the executives from the resort.

  I followed LeJeune over to the guy with the clipboard. “We have no clear lines of sight because of the woods,” he told Nick. “But at least there are no buildings, except for the hangar and equipment room, and they’ve been searched and cleared.”

  “How will Rachel get here?” I asked.

  “She’ll likely be in a van or SUV.” The FBI guy pointed to the far end of the airstrip. “They’ll come in from that end.”

  “Do you think they’ll try anything? A double-cross or something?” I asked him.

  He looked over at LeJeune, who replied, “Well, that’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it, cher?”

  I rubbed my forehead, trying to suppress my anxiety.

  LeJeune walked over to a small knot of officers. He beckoned me to follow him. “Come over here, Ellie. We need to wire you up.”

  “You didn’t say anything about a wire.”

  “It’s for your protection. I want to hear everything that’s said, and I’ll be whispering in your ear what to say back.”

  “What if Stokes spots it?”

  LeJeune shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “He has his goons rip it off and kill Rachel.”

  “I think the po
ssibility is pretty slim. He doesn’t care about anything except that drive.”

  I kept my mouth shut. One of his men pinned a mic under my jacket and worked a tiny earpiece into my ear.

  “Now put your hat on.”

  I did.

  “Good.” LeJeune made a call on his cell. “We’re pretty exposed. Nothing we can do about that.” Was he talking to his boss?

  “So we either get double-crossed or we don’t…Yeah. Got it.” He disconnected, turned to his men. “Those of you with radios, let’s make sure we’re on the same frequency. Channel four.” Then he called out to Luke.

  “You got your b-nocs?”

  Luke held up his binoculars. “Infrared.”

  LeJeune nodded. “You’ll be our eyes.”

  “You got it,” Luke said.

  Two vans lurched into sight at the opposite end of the strip.

  “Okay, men,” LeJeune called out. “Show’s starting.”

  Luke brought the binoculars to his face and peered through them. “Two men exiting the first van. One is the driver.” I heard a faint thud as a door slid shut. “One man exiting the other van. Passenger side.” Another thump. “Looks like there are three inside the second van.”

  All at once, the headlights of the first van blinked twice.

  Jimmy blinked the headlights of his cruiser in response.

  “How many?” LeJeune asked.

  “Counting Rachel, six visibles,” Luke said.

  “Let’s hope there’s not another vehicle idling in the woods.”

  No one answered.

  LeJeune looked at me. “You got the drive?”

  I nodded shakily and slipped it out of my jacket pocket.

  “You know what to do.”

  A couple of the FBI guys snapped on their Maglites, aiming them at me like spotlights. I started forward.

  “Slower, Ellie. I know you want Rachel. But no sudden moves. You got it?”

  I tensed. I was only a few yards from the hangar, but a wave of isolation washed over me as if I was the only living person in the world. I had LeJeune in my ears and Luke on my back. Still, I prepared to do battle like a gladiator fighting solo in the forum.