Lion's Head Revisited

by Jeffrey Round

  “You think he’s lying about being over her?”

  “That’s how I read it.”

  “So his motive could be revenge.”

  “Or to pressure her to come back. In any case, he’s no great shakes as a human being. What about Sarah Nealon, the surrogate?”

  “Ankle bracelet report shows she never left town. She couldn’t have done it. Even if she managed to remove it, the monitor would show it had been tampered with.”

  “Okay. Again, no surprise there. How about Eli Gestner’s hard-to-find ex–business partner, Elroy James? He still hasn’t returned my call. Hong Kong must be keeping him busy.”

  “There’s something about him in the report.” Nick flipped through the pages. “Right here. Elroy James. He was out of the city. Montreal. The records check out. Hard to fake, but not impossible. We just got the hotel CCTV footage. We’re looking at it.”

  “He wouldn’t have grabbed the kid himself. If he’s a criminal then he’s got affiliates, that sort of thing.”

  “Sure. People to do the dirty work for him. His file makes for pretty colourful reading. Numerous charges, but zero convictions. He’s got a convincing lawyer.”

  Dan stood to refill Nick’s coffee. Peering over his shoulder, he caught an address in the west end. A four-by-eight photo showed an angry, bullfrog face. The eyes were flat, predatory.

  “Is that Elroy? Man, he’s ugly.”

  “Hey!” Nick looked up, surprised. “That’s not exactly being discreet.”

  “Tell Lydia I couldn’t restrain myself,” Dan said, grabbing his car keys. “Make sure you get some sleep. You look rough.”

  Elroy James’s house was tucked among a row of warehouses, sandwiched between a welder and a stone cutter who specialized in grave markers. Angels danced alongside marble urns under the gaze of sad-eyed saints.

  The property was fenced in by an electrified grid, with security cameras placed strategically around the front and back. Dan passed it by then parked and watched from down the block. No lights showed from outside.

  He waited fifteen minutes before driving around to a rear laneway. The house was tall, with a single window high up near the roof and a basement walkout directly below. A long, narrow hut sat near the back. On most city properties it would have served as a garage. Only this one lacked a door.

  An in-law cottage? Possibly.

  Dan drove past and parked a block away. Stuffing a pair of gloves in his pocket, he headed down the lane on foot till he reached the welder’s yard. From inside came the hiss of acetylene flames and loud banging. He sauntered along, thinking of something to explain his presence, but no one challenged him.

  Emboldened, he made his way farther down till he stood between the warehouse and the fence. He could see Elroy James’s house clearly. The windows on the lower levels were covered in tinfoil. Two more cameras pointed along the near side. Clearly, Elroy had faith in security surveillance. Always a way around that, Dan thought.

  Halfway down the lane he spotted a tree that had grown through the wire, obscuring the view near the back. He reached out with a gloved hand. No sparks. He pulled. Two nails popped from the tree trunk. The fencing opened wide enough for him to slip inside.

  The hut was solidly built, with just one window on the yard side and a padlocked door facing the house. Despite being in the heart of the city, it felt isolated. It would, in fact, make a perfect bunker to hide something in. A four-year-old boy, for instance.

  Dan made his way toward it, listening for sounds from inside. Nothing. He tapped gently on the wall. To his surprise, he heard movement, something secretive and surreptitious. It lasted a few seconds then stopped.

  He knocked again, only louder. The sounds were repeated. This time Dan heard someone throw themselves against the wall in response. It occurred to him it might be Jeremy, unable to respond verbally. Or possibly gagged.

  He was tempted to leave and contact the police. To explain his actions he could say he’d heard a cry for help, but if someone in the house had seen his approach the hut would be empty by the time they returned.

  He tapped a third time. Now there was a frenzy within. Emboldened, he went to the window and peered in, but pulled back immediately as a large dark shape leapt at him. Massive paws crawled over glass and a pink mouth bared a ferocious set of teeth that would have torn him apart had they reached him.

  His heart thudded, but only an eerie silence emanated from inside the walls.

  I know why the caged bird sings, he told himself, but why doesn’t the caged dog bark?

  “It was a very large Doberman,” he told Nick when he got back to his car. “Gigantic. He keeps it locked in a small cottage on the back of his property.”

  “And this is where I tell you off for being such an idiot for getting close to it.”

  He could almost hear Nick glowering over the phone.

  “Yeah, there’s that,” Dan said. “What I can’t quite figure out is why it wasn’t making any sounds apart from moving around when I knocked on the walls. How come I didn’t hear barking? Is there such a thing as completely soundproof glass?”

  Nick thought it over. “It probably had its vocal cords snipped. It’s a drug-dealer special. A lethal weapon if ever there was one. No one would hear it coming.”

  “Scary.”

  “And you’re sure no one saw you?”

  “Not as far as I could tell. Sorry for disturbing your sleep.”

  “Sure. Now get the hell away from there.”

  “I like it when you’re bossy.”

  FOURTEEN

  Panic

  HE WAS NEARLY HOME when his cell rang.

  “Sharp.”

  It was Janice. Dan heard panic in her voice.

  “He called again.”

  “He?”

  “Yes, this time I’m certain. That distortion thing was still on, but every once in a while I could make out the tones of a male voice.”

  Dan didn’t contradict her, though he knew the point of a voice modulator was to make unrecognizable whatever came through it.

  “What was the message?”

  “I have till nine this evening. Then there’ll be another call telling us how to make a donation. In cash. He actually said ‘make a donation.’” The panic was back. “But I still haven’t got the money!”

  “Okay, try to keep calm. That gives you” — he looked at his watch — “ten hours. I’ll come over now.”

  Ashley let him in. Janice and Eli were in the kitchen, their faces sombre. The phone sat on the table. A quick call to the provider confirmed that the number was untraceable.

  “Was there any kind of threat mentioned if you don’t come up with the money?”

  Janice shook her head. “No, but I guess that’s implied, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s implied. But so far nobody has actually said they want money for Jeremy’s release, just that they want you to make a donation. Is that correct?”

  Janice looked at him, eyes wide. “Essentially, yes.”

  “Not that it will make any difference if kidnapping is proved.”

  Eli stared at him. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying they’re avoiding any reference to this being a crime. Nobody has ever actually said that they have your son.”

  “What do you mean?” He sounded on the verge of tears. “Whoever it is has to have him!”

  “I have no doubt of that,” Dan replied, “but all we’re dealing with here, technically speaking, is someone asking for money. It could be a political party asking for private donations or a charity asking for a contribution. In which case, nobody has done anything illegal.”

  “But why?” Eli demanded. “What is this all about?”

  “I don’t know,” Dan admitted. “It’s all very curious. Did you hear the conversation?”

  Eli nodded. “We all heard it. It was on speaker.”

  “Any chance it could have been your former business partner, Elroy?”

  “I — don�
��t think so.”

  Dan heard the hesitation, but whether it was from actual doubt or fear of pointing the finger at Elroy wasn’t clear.

  “What about an associate or friend of Elroy’s? It could have been someone calling for him.”

  Eli shook his head. “I have no idea. I never met his associates.”

  “Did anyone tape the call?”

  Janice shook her head. “No. We didn’t authorize it with the police.”

  “We said minimal interference. For Jeremy’s safety.” It was Ashley who spoke.

  “Okay. How did you leave things with the caller?” Dan asked.

  “When he asked if I had the money I said it was coming.” Janice fought back tears. “Only it’s not true. When I went to the bank, they said it could take a couple of weeks to approve the second mortgage. I asked about a line of credit, but they turned me down when I told them how much I wanted. I couldn’t tell them why I needed it.” She looked imploringly at him. “This is where we really need your help.”

  “How?”

  “I spoke to my mother last night. I think she was on the verge of giving me the money, but she said we should resist the demands. I told her if we resist then Jeremy will never come home. To her, he’s barely real. She’s never even met him. I think if you come with me she’ll understand this is for real and that it’s the only way to negotiate with kidnappers.”

  “You realize that paying them doesn’t guarantee you will get your son back?”

  “What else can we do?” Janice wailed. “We’ve got no other options.”

  “All right,” Dan said. “I will come with you to talk to your mother. Just tell me what you’d like me to say.”

  Janice’s eyes narrowed. “You can say she owes me, the selfish bitch.”

  Eli and Ashley watched uncomfortably.

  “I doubt that will help convince her,” Dan said. “I seldom find that family debts are repaid in the way we want them to be.”

  Janice teared up again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Call her now and tell her you’re coming over in an hour. Once she gives you the money, we still need to discuss how you’re going to deliver it to the kidnappers.”

  “Won’t someone just tell us what how to do it?”

  “Presumably they will have it worked out. But it would give you some leverage to ask to see some proof they have Jeremy before handing over the cash.”

  “You mean he won’t just be there when we pay?” Eli asked.

  “Probably not. It would be too risky for the kidnappers to have Jeremy with them.”

  Janice looked startled. “Then how —?”

  “You tell them you want assurance that Jeremy is alive. Once you know he’s all right, you agree to make the drop.”

  “How will I know he’s all right if I can’t see him?”

  “They might put him on the phone.”

  “He doesn’t talk!”

  Dan smacked his forehead. “Sorry — I wasn’t thinking. Then they might agree to put him in front of a camera. Skype, maybe. Although that would risk leaving their location open to tracking, so they might not agree.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “Then we play it their way.” He waited. “The most you can hope for is that they keep the location public, but chances are you won’t have a choice. If it’s just a cash handover, anything can happen. It could be dangerous. Unless they specify who makes the drop, I will do it. But you have to do everything they say.”

  FIFTEEN

  Beauty

  DAN WAS SURPRISED TO LEARN that Janice’s mother lived at Harbourfront in a condo not far from Nick’s. In fairy tales, beauty queens lived in inaccessible castles on mountain tops. But this was a modern version of the story. And where Nick’s building was modest, Clarice Bentham’s was palatial.

  The guard who challenged him when he drove up to the gate looked like an overgrown Brazilian muscle boy minus the beach. He squared his shoulders and made it clear this was his territory. It was like getting into an embassy.

  He scowled at Dan, prepared to resist all inquiries, but his expression turned to pleasure when Janice’s face appeared in the window.

  “Hey, Lou!”

  “Miss Bentham! Didn’t see you there. Just a moment.”

  He turned back and made a show of pushing a button that lifted a flimsy bar any car could have driven through without much effort. But it was the show that counted, Dan knew.

  “Good to see you again, Miss Bentham,” Lou said as they rolled past his small hut.

  Dan counted three Porsches and four Jaguars on the first parking level. He snagged the last visitor spot and followed Janice up to the lobby, where she was recognized by desk staff and buzzed in without question.

  In the elevator, she turned to him. “My mother has a strong personality. Please be ready for anything she throws at you.”

  “Most of my clients have strong personalities,” Dan said. “I’ll do my best.”

  The doors opened onto a subdued hallway with soft greys predominating. It managed to suggest epic proportions without being overly intimidating. Dan followed her to the single door on that floor.

  He was surprised when a maid wearing an actual maid’s uniform answered Janice’s knock.

  “Hello, Eunice. I’m here to see my mother.”

  “Yes, Miss Janice. Your mother is waiting.” Her expression was restrained. She held out a hand, indicating a long hallway to the right.

  Dan followed Janice down the corridor, past an oversized portrait of a woman with boyish grey hair and startling blue eyes that seemed to catch everything in their gaze. The hand-drawn eyebrows and sculpted cheekbones suggested an advertising campaign by a modern-day Rembrandt. At the bottom Dan caught a name: Francesco Scavullo. Donny would have had a thing or two to say about that, he knew.

  Janice reached out and touched the wall, caressing its rich brocade.

  “Hello, home,” she said softly.

  They moved on past poster-sized portraits, advertisements with blush sticks and eyeliner pencils placed cunningly alongside the models’ faces. Each bore the legend, Clarice Magna — la belleza cuesta! One of the faces looked familiar, but Dan had no time to examine it closely.

  They entered a room facing the lake. A woman stood with her back to them, gazing outward. She turned. It was the woman in the Scavullo portrait, looking much the same as in the photograph, except she was even more commanding in person.

  “Janice.”

  The voice was soft. Dan couldn’t read her expression. She could have been quietly angry or simply stating a fact: This is my daughter come to ask for money.

  “Mom.”

  The older woman approached and hugged her daughter. Her shoulders slumped. Years of pride seemed to evaporate in the gesture.

  “It’s been too long.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Janice wiped a tear from her cheek.

  Clarice Bentham turned to Dan. “Who is this?”

  “Mother, this is —”

  “I’m Dan Sharp. I’m here to help your daughter facilitate the ransom transfer. I understand you’ve agreed to put the money in her hands.”

  The older woman shook her head. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

  Dan nodded to a table where a large hat box sat wrapped. The motif: red poppies bound with yellow ribbons. La Belleza Cuesta. “I must be mistaken. I thought that was the money there.”

  Anger flitted across Clarice’s face before being replaced with something that might have been admiration.

  “You’re correct. That is the money. If it leaves here — and I haven’t yet decided whether it will — I have a man who will be going with Janice.”

  “No — this can only be done one way and there’s no room for a third person. I will accompany your daughter and make the arrangements.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “It’s my money and it will be done my way.”

  “Then you will be responsible for the death of your on
ly grandson. A grandson I understand you haven’t even met.” Dan turned. “Good day.”

  She let him reach the doorway.

  “Wait.”

  Dan turned, his look focused directly on her. “There’s no time to waste. You need to decide now.”

  “Let me speak.” She looked him up and down as though assessing his ability to complete the task. “What assurance do I have that you can do what you’re saying?”

  “The fact that I’m even here should tell you I intend to do the job I’ve taken on. If you want to read my professional qualifications, your daughter can direct you to my website.”

  “It’s a lot of money.”

  “And your grandson has only one life. It’s a gamble, but I suggest you go through with it. There is a deadline of nine o’clock tonight for Janice to have the cash in hand.”

  “Tonight?” For the first time her voice faltered. She looked sharply at Janice. Her daughter obviously hadn’t informed her of the fine print.

  Janice nodded. “Yes, it has to be tonight.”

  Clarice reached out a hand to her. “Will you be there?”

  Janice looked at Dan. “Mr. Sharp and I will go together.”

  “And what will happen then?”

  “Mother, we don’t know. We aren’t the ones running this operation. I’m grateful that Mr. Sharp — Dan — is going to do this for us.”

  “And where does all this take place?”

  Dan stepped forward. “You can’t know that, Mrs. Bentham. But I will agree to the exchange only so long as it’s done safely.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning no vigilante operations. It has to be a straightforward handover of the money — hopefully in return for the boy. No weapons.”

  “What if the kidnapper brings a gun?”

  “I assume he will. But I also assume a kidnapper does not want to become a murderer, so unless someone does something desperate, he won’t use it.”