by Michael Kerr
As she tidied her desk and switched off the computer, planning on closing early, an extremely tall man opened the door and entered.
She smiled at him and said, “Can I help you?”
Logan took in his surroundings as he closed the door behind him and smiled back at the young woman. She was pretty, not beautiful, and was wearing a lightweight charcoal gray trouser suit and a high neck white blouse. Her hair was long and the color of polished mahogany, and her makeup was subtle. Her overall demeanor was of a confident and grounded individual.
There were posters of Sanibel scenes on two of the walls, and a door at the back of the office behind her.
“Yeah, I think you can,” Logan said, having seen the name badge on her jacket that identified her as Karen. “Do you have someone that can show me a condo?”
“Ah, well, I’m a one-horse show at the moment. The girl that works for me is off having a baby, so what you see is what you get.”
“Fine. My name is Logan, and I’m here because of your father.”
Karen frowned and said, “I don’t understand.”
“If you don’t, then you need to. Do you know that your father is a hoodlum?”
“I want you to leave,” Karen said. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t want to.”
“If only life was that simple. Sometimes you have to face facts. Vince Palmer told me all about you.”
“Who the hell is Vince Palmer?”
“He works for your father. He’s a Brit that does a lot of dirty jobs for him.”
Karen looked at the phone on the desk. “Leave now,” she said, “or I’ll call the police.”
“No Karen, you won’t,” Logan said as he drew the Glock pistol from where it had been concealed under the Wrangler short sleeve shirt he was wearing.
Karen bolted like a spooked deer. Reached the back door, yanked it open and ran slap bang into Tom. As she rebounded off him, Logan was behind her. “We need to talk,” he said. “You can save a little girl’s life.”
Karen’s heart rate had risen by thirty beats a minute. She had absolutely no idea who the two very tall men were, but was afraid. The one who had said his name was Logan put the gun back in the waistband of his pants and pulled the shirt down to cover it.
“I don’t understand,” Karen said.
Logan turned and walked to the front door that led out onto the sidewalk. Locked it, turned the sign round from Open to Closed, and lowered the Venetian blinds at both the door and the street-facing plate-glass window.
Tom didn’t touch Karen. He just stood in front of her like a tree. She wasn’t going anywhere.
Karen had no idea what this was about. Didn’t want to. Just wanted to escape from the two men and get out into the light of day and scream for help. She went into attack mode like a cornered rat. Brought her right knee up hard, aiming to strike the bearded man in the balls.
Tom twisted to the left, grunted as the blow struck him in the thigh, but didn’t show much reaction to the pain in his leg.
“Easy,” Tom said to Karen. “Don’t do that again or I’ll forget that I’m a gentleman and do something that I’d rather not.”
“Sit down, Karen, we need to talk,” Logan said from behind her.
They weren’t here to rape, rob or murder her. She was sure of that. Their attitude was calm. This was not about her. Logan had mentioned her father and a little girl. There was a certain amount of curiosity mixed with trepidation in her mind.
Walking back, Karen sat down in one of the three easy chairs that faced the desk, to wait with her hands clasped in her lap and her back straight, like a schoolgirl waiting to be admonished by a pissed off head teacher for flouting some petty rule.
Logan turned one of the other chairs round so that he could sit down and face her. “Relax,” he said. “We have no intention of harming you.”
“So why the intimidation and the gun?” Karen said.
“Because you need to understand the seriousness of the situation, and what has and what may yet happen over the next few hours.”
Karen said nothing. Just pinned Logan with a look that would have probably curdled milk.
“Your father is a gangster,” Logan said. “He distributes schedule one drugs, runs prostitutes, and collects ‘protection’ payments from small businesses. That’s not my concern. I don’t give a shit about any of that. But he also deals in human trafficking, including the abduction of very young children that are sold to pedophiles, or to childless couples that cannot legally adopt for whatever reasons.”
“That is totally off the wall,” Karen said. “My father is a well-respected businessman.”
“That’s a front,” Logan said. “He runs legit companies as cover for the rackets.”
“I don’t believe you. I would know if he was what you say he is.”
“No, you wouldn’t, Karen. He has two sides to his life. He keeps them separate.”
“And just exactly where do I fit into this fantasy you have?”
“We know that he has a little girl being held at his transport company in an underground basement that is known as the Bunker. I’ve given him more than one chance to return her, but apparently he wants to go the hard route.”
“So if this was true, and I know that it isn’t, you intend to trade me for her release?”
“Yeah,” Logan said as he produced a cell from his pocket and held it out for her to take. “Phone him. Ask him about the Bunker and the little girl, and then ask him if he wants to talk to me.”
Karen punched up her father’s number.
Nick accepted the call but waited for the caller to talk. It had come up as being from Al Norris, who he knew was still in hospital waiting for Vince to collect him, unaware that his fellow Brit was dead.
“Dad?” Karen said.
“Yes, Princess. Where did you get the phone you’re calling me on?”
“From a man called Logan. He said I should ask you about the Bunker, and a little girl that has been abducted.”
“Is he with you now?”
“Yes.”
“Has he hurt you?”
“No, but he has a gun.”
“Put him on.”
“Is it true, Dad? Do you know anything about this?”
“Just hand him the phone. It’s a misunderstanding.”
Karen felt sick. She knew every nuance of her father’s voice. He was lying to her. She handed the cell to Logan.
Logan put the phone on speaker. He wanted Karen to hear the conversation. He said, “Are you ready to finally talk turkey and deal?”
“You so much as touch my daughter and you’re fucking dead, Logan,” Nick said.
“Nice to know that there’s someone you truly care about. Vince told me that Karen was your Achilles heel.”
“Vince is history, Logan. Same as you’ll be if you don’t leave Karen alone.”
“All it takes is for you to back down and let the girl go, and I’ll be in the wind. Any more delays and I’ll kill your daughter. And then I’ll kill her boyfriend, Denton, and then I’ll come for you. Think on what has happened so far. You know that I’ll keep coming.”
“Okay. How do you want to do this?”
“Carefully,” Logan said. “You’re too stupid to trust. I expect you to send some guys across to the island as soon as we’ve finished talking. But that would just put Karen’s life at great risk, because we’re back on the mainland now. I’ll call you again in a couple of hours. Be ready to bring the girl to a location I’ll give you. And when you do come, you’ll be followed. If any of your third-rate muscle is seen tagging on, all bets are off. You won’t hear from me again, and Karen will be a lost cause.”
Logan switched off the phone and looked at Karen. “I know that he’s your father,” he said. “But he’s one of the bad guys.”
“Please don’t hurt Denton,” Karen said. “I promise you that neither he nor I know anything about what is going on.”
Logan believed her. Honesty had a wa
y of shining through that duplicity did not. And Logan liked to think he could read people. Over twenty years as a cop had given him the ability to tell when someone was lying through their teeth.
“We have no intention of harming you or your partner,” Logan said. “Unless you do something really stupid. If your father plays this straight, everybody gets to live another day.”
Five minutes later they were in the Pathfinder and heading back towards the causeway. Karen was in the rear seat with her wrists and ankles bound and a blanket over her. She had begged Logan to let her call Denton, and he had told her that she would be able to when they were in a safe place.
Tom drove away from the island, out to 41, headed south to Naples and then took the Everglades Parkway ‒ known as Alligator Alley ‒ towards Miami on the east coast. Half an hour later he hung a right on State Road 29 and drove down it in the direction of Everglades City, to stop at a motel near Jerome that appeared to be derelict but had a large tin vacancy sign swinging in the breeze on squealing chains. Weeds were growing up through the compacted gravel parking lot, but there was a pickup out front that looked almost roadworthy, and a big skinny dog sprawled on the porch, which looked up for a couple of seconds and then dropped its head back down on its paws. It was too old and tired and hot to give a damn or bark at a vehicle these days.
Kimberley Fuller had just finished up hanging some washing out on the line in the back yard when she heard a vehicle’s tires on the gravel. She hadn’t had anyone check in for a week, and didn’t much care. She owned the Cypress Motel lock, stock and barrel, and had enough savings put by to see her to her grave. At seventy-six or seven, she’d forgotten exactly which, she had everything she needed, apart from her dearly departed husband, Donald, who’d been in the ground for over a decade.
Walking through to the small office, Kimberley was impressed by the sight of the good-looking giant that had opened the screen door and was smiling at her.
“You look like you’d take some feedin’, mister,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like a room for the night, for three,” Logan said. “It’ll be cash.”
“Meanin’ you don’t want to register. Am I right?”
“That’s the truth of it, ma’am,” Logan said. “Is that a problem?”
“Hell, no, and call me Kimberley, not ma’am. I don’t feel quite as old as I look.”
“Okay, Kimberley. What’s the rate?”
“Fifty bucks. For that you get a clean room with hot water and aircon.”
“Sounds fine,” Logan said. “Is there somewhere we can get a bite to eat?”
“Dalton’s Diner in Copeland is just five minutes away. The old buzzard serves up the best steak you’ve ever eaten. If you pay the place a visit, don’t mention my name though, or he’ll spit in the gravy. We fell out over somethin’ years’ back, but I don’t recall what it was and I doubt that he does.”
Logan rarely laughed, but that made him chuckle. Country folk lived in a different universe to city folk. They were a dying breed with old, hard, and usually honest values that would soon be part of history.
After paying and being given a key to a room, Logan went back out, scratched the dog behind the ear and walked back to where Tom had parked the SUV well away from the office.
Logan opened the rear door, pulled the blanket off Karen and used his lock knife to cut through the tape and free her, while Tom took the key from him and walked across to open the door to room five.
“I’m going to trust that you won’t cause a scene or do anything stupid,” Logan said. “Please don’t mistake kindness for weakness. I wish you no harm, but my only goal is to reunite a three-year-old girl with her mother, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
Karen said nothing. She straightened up and removed the now severed tape from her wrists and ankles and waited.
“Get out and go into the room,” Logan said.
Karen wanted to bolt for freedom, but looked about her to see nothing but wilderness. The old motel appeared to grow out of what she recognized to be a sawgrass prairie. They were in the Everglades. Dotted on the sea of grass were raised hardwood hammocks that were home to a mixture of subtropical and hardwood trees such as: southern live oaks, gumbo limbo, royal palm and dense clumps of bustic. Long spikes of sharp saw palmettos flourished around the base of the hammocks, making those areas almost impossible for people to infiltrate. The only way out of the area was by road, and running out onto the narrow state highway and believing that a vehicle would come by and stop for her was self-delusion. She would be caught in seconds and trussed up again.
Entering the room, Karen sat on the far bed and just stared down at the faded black and green flecked carpet and considered the fact that her kind and caring father may also be a gangster involved in everything that she abhorred.
Logan had the feeling that he had gone too far by abducting Karen Cady. The only alternative would have been to take Nick Cady’s wife, Gina, but Palmer had told him that the woman was always accompanied by two armed guards, and that an assault on the house would be impossible, due to the high level of security. Karen had been the soft target, which went to illustrate the fact that you could suffer for your father’s sins.
“Here,” Logan said, tossing a cell to Karen. “Call your boyfriend and let him know that you’re okay. Put it on speaker, and convince him not to complicate things by calling the police, or this could go badly for everyone concerned.”
“Hi, Babe,” Karen said when Denton answered. “Where are you?”
“At the bait shop. Just about to call it a day and lock up. Are you at home yet?”
“No. I’m off island. I’m helping to sort out a problem, and I’m not sure how long it’ll take.”
“I don’t understand. I thought we were going out this evening. What’s the problem?”
“Just trust me, Den. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. It’s to do with my father, but that’s all I can say. It’s an emergency.”
“Is he okay?” Denton said, not really caring one way or another about Nick Cady’s health or fortune. He knew that the man was a manipulator who mixed with bad company; a real piece of work. When he had got together with Karen, her father had had him lifted, to interrogate him in a back room of a bar he owned downtown. Told him that if he made Karen unhappy he would be taken up to Mote Aquarium on City Island in Sarasota and tossed in the shark tank with his throat cut. Nick had grinned as he said it, as if he was joking, but his eyes told a different story; they were ice-cold and unblinking behind the gold-framed spectacles. Denton had known with no doubt whatsoever that the threat was real, and that Cady was a dangerous and probably mentally deranged man. Had he not loved Karen so much, he would have been frightened off, but he was young and a little naïve and still of the belief that truelove could conquer all.
“Yes, he’s fine, but I need to be in Fort Myers tonight. I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay.”
“When will you be back?”
“Soon,” Karen said, hoping that she would be, and that it was not just wishful thinking. “I’ll call you again if…when I get chance to.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
NICK dropped the phone and pressed his fingers to his temples and made a high-pitched sound that could have been the type of strange and now archaic lament that had been the Irish tradition of keening over a body at the time of its burial. In Nick’s case it was an outpouring of pure, undiluted frustration and anger. He reached for the still half full tumbler of Scotch on the tabletop in front of him and threw it at the wall, where it shattered and rebounded, now transformed into myriad pieces of glass that caught the light and glinted as they flew off in every direction, away from the golden liquid that ran down to form globules on the stain resistant light-gray carpet.
Nick was still upstairs in the small conference room above the office of NC Transport when Larry arrived.
“The boss wants to see you, Mr. Kramer,” Jill Cassidy
, the office manager, said as she cast her eyes up in the direction of the ceiling to signify where Nick was.
Larry poured a cup of coffee from the machine on a table next to a photocopier and took it up with him. He was feeling pleased with himself. So far the day had been one of those that only come along once in a while: a day when everything was running as smooth and perfect as the Rolex he had taken from Palmer’s thick wrist.
“I just got a call from Logan,” Nick said when Larry walked in. “The bastard has lifted Karen.”
“Shit, boss. What did he say?”
“That if I didn’t give the kid up he’d kill her.”
Larry said nothing. Just waited to be told what Nick wanted him to do.
“Get me a Scotch, Larry,” Nick said. “And one for yourself. We need to work out how to get Karen back and kill Logan and whoever is with him.”
Larry went over to the small but well-stocked bar and built two large Scotch rocks. He handed one to Nick and noticed that his boss’s hand was trembling.
Nick swallowed half of the Scotch down in one gulp.
“Did he tell you where he wanted to meet and trade?” Larry said.
“No. He’s going to call again. And when he does I want everything in place. Get one of the guys to go and pick up Al from the hospital. He was SAS, same as Vince. This is something he’ll be able to organize.”
“What do we tell him about Vince?” Larry asked.
“That Logan paid him a visit and killed him.”
Larry phoned Bobby Thornton in the Bunker. Told him to leave Jack on guard duty and drive over to Lee Memorial Hospital and pick up Al and bring him back. He then fixed Nick another drink and they sat and worked out a strategy, with the priority being that Karen was not put in any undue danger.
Logan checked the unit. There was no back door, or a window in the bathroom. The only way in or out was by the front door. He considered tying Karen up, but decided that she was already going through enough of an ordeal.
“Tell me about my father,” Karen said. “I want to know.”
“You wouldn’t believe me,” Logan said. “He’s your dad. And the side of him that you know is a country mile from what he’s really like. He runs legitimate companies, pays his taxes, and no doubt gives to charity. But that’s just a front. The sad truth is he no doubt makes millions from: drugs, gambling, prostitution, human trafficking and protection. He has people stolen, Karen, like the little girl that I’m going to get back.