Unintended Consequences

by Stuart Woods

  They all followed Dino back to the living room.

  “Stone,” Helga said, “I left my handbag in the van. I’ll be right back.”

  “I can call Stanley to bring it to you,” Stone said.

  “No, it’ll only take me a moment.”

  She left and headed for the elevator. Stone was in the middle of dinner before he realized she had not returned.

  53

  Stone set down his plate and stood up. “Excuse me for a minute,” he said to Marcel, who was deep in conversation with an attractive female police detective. He caught Dino’s eye.

  Dino came over. “What’s up?” he asked.

  Stone steered him toward the front door. “Helga went down to get her handbag a few minutes ago and hasn’t returned.”

  Dino went to a hall closet, unlocked his gun safe, and clipped the holster to his belt. “Let’s go.”

  They were grimly silent on the way down. When they reached the lobby, Dino asked the doorman, “Did you see a large, beautiful blond lady leave the building?”

  “Yessir, a few minutes ago,” the man replied.

  Stone was already out the door, looking for the van, but it was nowhere in sight.

  Dino brushed past him. “Over here,” he said. He led the way a few yards down the street where, between two parked cars, a man’s hand could be seen. They both rushed to him and found Stanley unconscious.

  “Is he alive?” Stone asked.

  “He has a pulse,” Dino said, “strong and steady.” He lifted Stanley and rolled him onto his side; there was a large gash in the back of his head.

  Dino phoned the 19th Precinct, his old house, and ordered an ambulance and every available officer. “We’re looking for a large black Mercedes van,” he said. “Start at Park and Sixty-fourth and work outward in all directions. If it’s spotted, approach with caution, but don’t let it drive away.”

  Stone stood up. “I’m going to have a look up and down Madison,” he said. “I’ll call you if I see anything.”

  “I’ll join you as soon as the ambulance gets here.” As he started down the block, he called Mike Freeman, who was at the party.

  “Yes?”

  Stone could hear the jazz and conversation behind him. “Mike, it’s Stone. Dino and I are downstairs. Stanley has been rendered unconscious, your van is gone, and so is Helga.”

  “Any sign of my other men?”

  “No, and there are three of them and the driver.”

  “I’m on it.” He broke the connection.

  Stone reached the corner of Madison, stopped and looked both ways for the van. No sign of it. He went back to where he had left Dino, who was sitting on a car bumper, holding a handkerchief to the back of Stanley’s head.

  Mike Freeman came out of the building, his phone to his ear. “My guys are over on Lexington, having dinner. They’re on their way back.”

  “So is the entire Nineteenth Precinct,” Dino said.

  The ambulance arrived, followed by more than a dozen cops, in and out of uniform, who fanned out and began a methodical search.

  Stone’s phone made a musical noise, and he dug it out of his pocket. A message was on the screen. We’ll be in touch, it read.

  Stone pressed his favorites button and called Holly, who was upstairs at Dino’s party.

  “Holly Barker.”

  “It’s Stone. Dino, Mike, and I are downstairs. Stanley is being put into an ambulance as we speak, unconscious but alive. Your van and its driver are gone, and so is Helga. She has an Agency iPhone”—he gave her the number—“Can you locate it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “And I can do more than that. I’ll call you back.”

  Stone watched the ambulance drive away, with one of Dino’s cops inside with Stanley. Holly came out of the building, her phone in her hand. “Got it,” she said, showing them the map. “FDR Drive, headed south, doing at least eighty.”

  Dino called it in and asked for an intercept.

  “Turning onto the Brooklyn Bridge,” Holly said. “Not slowing down.”

  Dino transferred the information to the dispatcher.

  “Off the bridge,” Holly said, “on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Wait,” she said. “It’s turning off onto Atlantic Avenue.”

  The three men watched with her, while Dino kept talking to the dispatcher. “We’ve got an APB for all of Brooklyn,” Dino said.

  Holly’s phone rang, and she answered it, pressing the speaker button so she could keep the map.

  “Yes, ma’am?” a female voice said.

  “Give me the view from the phone,” Holly said.

  The map closed, and the screen went dark. “The phone must still be in her handbag,” Holly said to the group. “All right, keep an eye on the phone and be careful of the battery life. Call me when you’ve got a view. Also, switch on the van’s camera.” She switched back to the map.

  “It’s gone,” Stone said. “It’s not on the map anymore.”

  “They’re indoors,” Holly said, “probably a garage.”

  “Probably switching cars,” Stone added.

  “Oh, shit,” Dino said. “We’re going to lose her.”

  The image on screen changed.

  “This is the view from the van’s camera,” she said, “looking forward through the front passenger window.”

  The view was of a row of parked cars.

  “They’ve left the van,” Holly said.

  Then something flashed by on the screen.

  “Another van! Hang on!” She reversed the footage, frame by frame, then stopped it. “Gray, maybe a Ford.”

  “Can you view the plate?”

  “No, it’s below our van’s dashboard.”

  “Let’s hope they took Helga’s handbag with them,” Dino said.

  They all stood helplessly and watched the map for signs of movement.

  “You know where they’re going?” Stone said.

  “No,” Dino replied, “enlighten us.”

  “Brighton Beach,” Stone said.

  “Oh, shit.”

  54

  Dino pressed a button on his iPhone. “Captain Andrew Shirah, please,” he said into the instrument. “Chief Bacchetti calling. Stone, have you got a picture of Helga?”

  Stone went to the photo page on his phone and found a shot he had taken in Paris. “Here you are,” he said, showing it to Dino.

  “E-mail it to me,” Dino said. “Andy? Dino Bacchetti. I’m about to e-mail you a picture of a missing woman. Hang on.” Dino switched screens and e-mailed Helga’s picture, then went back to the phone. “Her name is Helga Becker, she’s Swedish, six feet one or two, a hundred and fifty pounds, give or take. She’s been kidnaped by a Russian gang, and I think they’re on the way to your precinct with her. I want you to turn out in force, flood the area with plainclothes people, but no uniforms or marked cars, and no lights or sirens. If the locals see us coming, they’ll clam up. Show the picture around and tell them she’s a Russian girl who’s been kidnapped. They may have her in a Ford van, gray, and they’re probably going to take the van indoors to a garage or other building. Got it? Keep me posted on my cell. Thanks, Andy.” Dino hung up. “Andy Shirah is one of the best cops on the force, and he’ll do everything that can be done in Brighton Beach.”

  An ambulance pulled up to the curb; Stanley had regained consciousness and was sitting up. “I heard that,” he said to Dino. “You need me for this. I know the territory and a lot of the people.”

  “You shut up and lie down,” Dino said. “You’re going to the hospital and get patched up and x-rayed.”

  But Stanley was struggling to his feet. “You,” he said to an approaching EMT. “Get my head bandaged right here. I’m not going with you.”

  Dino shrugged and nodded at the EMT. “Do it.”

  The EMT looked a
t the back of Stanley’s head and got a compress on it. “He’s going to need stitches.”

  “Tape it shut,” Stanley said, “and don’t argue with me.”

  The EMT made him sit on the fender of a car while he applied a dozen butterfly bandages to the wound. “That will hold it, if you don’t move around too much.”

  “Stanley,” Dino said, “go sit in the front passenger seat of my car and don’t move. All you’re going to do is talk, nothing else. You got that?”

  “Yes, Chief,” Stanley said, then did as he was told.

  Stone turned to Mike and handed him the keys to the Bentley. “Send one of your guys to get my car, and the other two upstairs to keep an eye on Marcel until the car comes. When he’s ready to leave, have them take him to my house and lock it down.”

  Mike grabbed his returning men and gave them their instructions.

  “Okay,” Dino said, “Stone, Holly, come with me. Mike, you do whatever you can do. We’re going to Brighton Beach.”

  The three of them got into the rear seat of Dino’s department Lincoln. “All right, Paddy, we’re going to Brighton Beach: Brooklyn Bridge, Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, et cetera, et cetera. That’s Stanley in the front seat. When we get there, he’ll tell you where to go. Use your lights and siren as necessary, but not after we get there.”

  Dino settled back in the seat, and the car rocketed forward, lights flashing, siren on.

  “Holly,” Stone said, “what are the chances of picking up Helga’s cell phone again?”

  “Slim,” Holly said. “The tracer will work even with the phone shut down completely, but it’s gotta see the satellite now and then or get a good cell or Wi-Fi connection. Let’s hope to God they took her handbag with her when they changed cars. Dino, can you get somebody to the last location of the Mercedes van and look for her phone or handbag in it?”

  Dino got on the phone and gave the orders. “Ten minutes,” he said, “maybe less.”

  Five grim minutes later, he got a call. He listened, then hung up. “No phone, no handbag,” he said.

  “That’s a relief,” Holly said. “Now we’ve got a chance.” She checked the map page of her phone again. “Nothing yet.”

  Stanley spoke up from the front seat. “Something you need to know,” he said. “They’re going to try to negotiate, probably to get their hands on you, Mr. Barrington, but if they think negotiations will fail, their attitude will be, if she’s not an asset to them, then she’s a liability. They’ll kill her. They won’t be dissuaded with thoughts of getting caught or the death penalty—it’s how they do things.”

  Nobody said anything.

  “We’re a couple of miles out,” the driver finally said. “I’m killing the siren and lights.” He switched them off.

  “Stanley,” Dino said, “what’s your best guess?”

  “They’ll avoid the beach area,” Stanley said. “They’ll be inland a few blocks, heading for a garage or factory—something they can drive into.”

  “Tell the sergeant where to go. We’re in your hands.”

  Stone’s phone chimed, and he checked the screen. “We’ve got a text,” he said. “It says: ‘You for the girl.’”

  “Tell them yes,” Stanley said. “Don’t threaten them.”

  Stone texted back: Agreed. Where and when?

  Holly spoke up. “We’ve got a hit on the phone. It’s moving.” She held the phone where Stanley could see it.

  “Hang a left,” Stanley said to the driver.

  55

  Helga sat in a cane-seated chair, her hands tied behind her, and her feet tied to the chair. She had been working on freeing her hands since her arrival in this place, and she was nearly there. Her ankles, however, were another problem. She strained against the cord binding them, hoping to stretch it a bit, as she had done with her wrists. She knew that her guard had a switchblade knife, and she decided that she must have it, if she wished to be free again.

  She tried very, very hard and managed to slip the cord binding her wrists over one hand, at the expense of some skin. The man was too far away, though, for her to reach his knife, which was tucked into his belt. She renewed her efforts to stretch the cord binding her ankles.

  She was making progress when one of the other men walked into the office-like space where she had been put. He was a nasty piece of work, and he kept his weapon, a silenced pistol, in his hand at all times. He walked over and ripped the tape from her mouth.

  “That’s better,” he said. “Now you can suck my cock.”

  “Yes, yes, give it to me,” she said, “and I’ll bite it off for you and send it to you at Christmastime, gift-wrapped.”

  He backhanded her with his free hand, toppling both her and the chair. Helga struggled to right herself, kicking off her shoes and renewing her efforts to free her ankles. She managed to keep her hands, now free, behind her, holding tight to one wrist with the other hand.

  He walked over, grabbed the chair and pulled it upright. “Jesus,” he said, “you weigh a lot.” Helga stood up, grabbed the silencer, held on to it, then struck him flush in the nose with a hard right. She felt it break, and blood began to stream down his face. She wrenched at the pistol, trying to dislodge it from his grasp, but he was a strong man, and he wouldn’t let go. This time she aimed a fist at his throat, but he lowered his chin and caught the punch there.

  Her guard suddenly came alive and simply pushed her to the floor, her ankles still bound. The man with the pistol approached now, his body language indicating a kick to her head.

  “Stop it!” Majorov screamed from the doorway.

  The man froze.

  “I told you she is not to be harmed. Not yet, anyway.”

  The big man backed away, and her guard got busy retying her hands.

  “I have never dealt with such incompetents,” Majorov said. “I leave you alone for a few minutes and return to find that she has freed herself and broken your nose. What an idiot!” He turned to Helga. “Miss Becker, I will have no more of this nonsense. I am prepared to release you when my business is done, but if you give me further trouble, when we are done, I will allow this gorilla to have his way with you, then shoot you.”

  “Hah!” Helga responded. “Free me, and I will hand you his head!”

  “We will leave his head where it is for the time being,” Majorov said. “It is time for us to go and meet Mr. Barrington.”

  “He will not meet you,” Helga said. “He is too smart for that.”

  “You are quite wrong,” Majorov said. “He will meet me, give me what I want, and then I will free the both of you.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it,” Helga said.

  “You two,” Majorov said, “put her in the van. We are wasting time.”

  The two men cut her feet loose, and Helga slipped into her shoes again. Then they put her in the van.

  56

  Paddy, Dino’s driver, followed Stanley’s directions, whipping around corners and dodging pedestrians.

  “We’ve lost Helga’s phone again,” Holly said, “but it had stopped moving.”

  “We’ll continue to the last fix,” Stanley said. “Hang a right, Paddy, then pull over on the right.”

  Paddy put the big car into a four-wheel drift, then slammed on the brakes.

  “Here,” Stanley said.

  The building took up half the block; no signs or numbers, and the windows were painted over. There were two steel garage doors, and one of them had a smaller entry door next to it.

  “Okay,” Dino said. “Stone, you’re unarmed—you stay in the car, you hear me?”

  “Oh, all right,” Stone said.

  “Paddy, you’re with us. As I recall, you have some lockpicking skills, right?”

  “Yessir.”

  Everybody got out, except Stone and Stanley.

  “Fuck this,”
Stanley said, half to himself, then got out of the car, reaching for his pistol.

  Stone continued to behave himself.

  Dino stood over Paddy, willing him to hurry with the lock. Three minutes, and they were in. He looked over his shoulder to see if Stone was staying put. He was.

  “Everybody behind me,” Dino said. He opened the door and looked inside. The group flooded in behind him. A gray Ford van was the only object visible in the empty building. They surrounded it, then opened the doors. Paddy reached inside and came up with an iPhone.

  “Cell right here,” he said.

  “Then we’re fucked,” Holly said. “We have no means of tracking them. We don’t even know what they’re driving.”

  “Then we’ll just have to take to the streets like everybody else,” Dino said. “Let’s go.”

  They hurried back to the door and stepped into the street.

  “What the fuck?” Dino yelled.

  The Lincoln was gone.

  “Stone got himself taken! Paddy, get on the radio and put an APB out for my car, and get us another couple of vehicles, pronto!”

  “Dino,” Holly said, “this is the best thing that could have happened.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dino demanded.

  “Stone has the same cell phone as Helga—one of ours. We can track it.” She called her base and gave the instructions.

  • • •

  Stone sat between the two large Russians, one of whom had a pistol with a silencer jammed uncomfortably in his ribs. He was in the rear seat of a tan van, and Helga was in the seat ahead of him. He had tried to talk to her, but every time he opened his mouth, the big Russian next to him stuck his pistol into it. They had searched him perfunctorily for a gun, and not finding one had gone no further. They hadn’t bothered with his cell phone, and he figured that was the best chance he and Helga had. They had taken the Lincoln, which followed behind, stranding Dino and Holly.

  They had driven only a few blocks when the driver turned into a parking garage. They drove up the spiral ramp five stories, tires squealing, and emerged onto a rooftop, where a black Mercedes S-class sedan awaited. It was dark, but the rooftop was dotted here and there with lights. Yuri Majorov was leaning on the Mercedes, holding a briefcase and talking on his cell phone.