by Bradley West
Sal muted his phone and said, “We have to walk over to speak to them. Look for the vehicle flashing its high beams.”
* * * * *
Travis watched the two of them outside Graeter’s. The parking lot had thinned out in the half-hour he’d been away. He hung up and texted Carla, willing her to look at her phone.
Carla snuck a glance and saw a message bubble. Stop walking. do not get into van walk toward my man’s car. coming back now. Thirty yards short of the van, she veered off toward where the two former Burma commandos sat in their green Echo sixty yards away. Beyond it, a red pickup barreled down the access road.
Muller’s faint voice in Sal’s phone insisted that Carla stay put. Sal increased his pace. Less than sixty feet away, the side door slid open to reveal a man in a black balaclava motioning to him with a long gun. Sal slowed to buy Carla more time and stopped ten feet short before slowly raising his hands.
“Get in the bloody van!” shouted the gunman in a British accent. The driver started the engine.
Sal shuffled over until he was manhandled into the back. The door slammed shut and the vehicle surged away. His captor forced him face down, handcuffed him, and put a hood over his head.
From the front seat came a familiar voice. “Search him. He has a box the size of a cigarette pack in his front right pocket.” The gunman fished out the item and held it up for display. “Good. Now let’s see what else Sal has.”
Travis was on his phone with Maung. “Let me pick up Carla. Hang back and follow that van.” Jaime braked hard to a stop and Carla climbed in, out of breath from sprinting the last fifty yards.
“What do we do next?” she asked between gasps.
“Nothing. My men will follow as best they can. The FBI already has Sal’s number, and they’ll track the van. They should have enough information to ID the perps. Let’s drive to your cousin’s and see if they’ll okay the Bureau’s involvement. Then we’ll wait for the feds to contact us. Until we hear from the FBI or my men get lucky, we won’t know where they took Sal.”
“I know where they’ll go,” Jaime said. “The ransom money is in my garage. Sal will offer to trade it for Tyson.”
“I doubt Sal takes them there right away unless Tyson’s in that van,” Travis said. “But you’re right: We need eyes on your home. Let me call my men and you give them the address and the layout. If they lose the van, they’ll stake out your house.”
* * * * *
Lindy sang along with the radio as The Eagles’ “Already Gone” blared, and doing a nice job of it, she decided. Adorable Clancy balled his fists and gurgled approval from the bassinet. Her silenced cell showed five missed calls from Fraser. Traffic was slow north on Route 1, but the scenery along Point Reyes was to die for. She lit a new cigarette off a smoldering butt with the windows half down to protect the little fellow from secondhand smoke.
In the stop-and-go traffic, she’d worked one-handed magic with internet property listings. The owner of the first prospective rental wasn’t interested in a cash customer who would arrive tonight after dark and dared to ask for references and a credit card. Screw that clown. The announcement over the news of massed Covid fatalities in Oakland gave her the context for an improved cover story. The second owner, this one of a mountain retreat outside Gualala, was sympathetic to a new mother’s wish to self-isolate far from Oakland, especially with the entire two thousand dollar month’s rental paid upfront in cash.
She just needed to buy groceries and follow her GPS to the landlord’s home outside of town. Oh crap! Where will I find breast milk this far out in the boondocks? Oh well, she’d deal with that next week.
What in the hell did newborns need other than mother’s milk? Maybe she should have bought that baby book after all.
* * * * *
“Hmm, this single key’s a lot shinier than the ones on your keyring. Any idea what it’s for?” Muller’s light tone indicated he had a pretty good idea. “Maybe it opens a box with lots of money in it?”
Sal didn’t respond. Being handcuffed, hooded and listening as his phone was dismantled and crushed hadn’t left him in a chatty mood.
“We can have you home in time for dinner if you take us to the money.”
“I’ll trade you the money for my grandson. You give me the baby and you can have all of it.”
“I’ll wager you one-point-three mill against your pain threshold that you’ll tell me where the money is ten minutes after we’re done with our little drive.”
“You don’t want anything to happen to that baby. Lethal injection is a bad way to go.”
“Sal, you’re way out of date. The great state of California’s last execution was in 2006. Try again.”
“What? You want to serve life without parole? Hanging out with the Aryan Brotherhood and drinking booze fermented in someone’s toilet?”
“I have more friends in maximum security than you have on the outside. What’s your point?”
“I know you work for Burns. What he wants is the Covid treatment which you have. You give him the drug and the thumb drive, and he’s happy. You hand me the baby and I pay you the money. Burns can’t turn you in. I keep quiet: I can’t ID anyone anyway. Everyone wins.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is a straight kidnapping: first grandchild abducted, wealthy grandfather pays up and everything goes back to normal.”
“If that was true, the baby would be on the way because you’d get the money faster. Burns will hang onto the baby until he knows the Covid cure works. What he doesn’t know is there’s only half a dose in that vial. If he tests it, he won’t have any left to reverse engineer the vaccine. He needs to preserve what little is left. I can help him.”
“I still have no idea what you’re talking about, starting with ‘Burns’ and including your half-dose. But to keep things interesting, I’m recording so we’ll pull up your hood a bit.”
Sal leaned forward, grateful he could breathe unimpeded again. “Burns, listen to me. The drug dosage is too small to test against Covid-19 and Covid-20, and still have enough left to derive the formula. There’s a quicker way. Infect me with Covid-19. I already know that the drug kills every bat coronavirus because that’s what the first half of the dosage was used for in a government lab two days ago. Once I’m sick, treat me with a micro-dose. If I recover, you reverse engineer the cure. If I don’t recover, you trade the baby for the full ransom.”
“I’ve stopped recording,” Muller said. “Speaking hypothetically, two questions. First, why are you keen to be the guinea pig?”
“Because Burns hates me, and he’d like to watch me die if I’m lying.”
“Fair enough. And what happens to you at the end of all this?”
“As long as my grandson goes free, I don’t care. Burns does whatever he wants. I’m inconsequential.”
“Take the next right and pull off,” Muller ordered the driver. “I need to make a call.” Sal was acting like he’d handed over the real cure and not the decoy vial. That meant he had a precious box in his pocket irrespective of what Burns thought. This was getting interesting.
* * * * *
Before they reached Steph and Greg’s condo, Travis received a call from Arkar and Maung. They had lost the brown van at a stoplight in Mill Valley and were headed back north to stake out Jaime’s garage. Travis was disappointed, but not surprised: single-vehicle tails seldom succeeded, either losing their quarry or being easily detected.
Myron Fillmore, San Francisco FBI office head, called soon after. “Not much help, I’m afraid. Salvatore Maggio’s cell phone went offline at 17:49 on US-101 South. The van's plates are phony and there’s no “Keefer’s Pest Control” registered in California. No hits on the fuzzy facial photos. Checking with the alphabet agencies.”
“Damn, that’s no help. I’m on my way to brief the family and will let you know.”
“I’m hosting a dinner party that starts in an hour. I’ll wait another thirty minutes. If you ruin my wife’s weekend and pull
the trigger on this, it stays pulled.”
“Understood.” Travis hung up.
“You two must be close for him to work this off the books,” Carla ventured.
“Last year I tipped him on a pending raid on Livermore Labs by anti-nuclear ecoterrorists. His team logged the bust and he ended up with a big promotion a few years after he had been demoted. It was a big comeback in a Bureau that’s not known for second chances.”
“What? I didn’t hear anything about this. Are you sure?”
“We did it right: The Department of Energy, the Bureau, two badass Burmese and a washed-up SEAL.”
Jaime pulled to a stop in front of a four-story complex. “We’re here.”
* * * * *
Muller got back in the van. “Maybe we have a deal. Describe to me how this works.”
“I call my family and tell them I’m all right, and they bring the money to Niven Park tonight as planned at 8 p.m. Your team brings the baby. My son-in-law hands over the money once he sees his son is okay. You hand him the baby and we’re done. You run your experiment on me and we go from there.” Not being able to see took a toll on Sal. He sold as hard as he could, but with no facial cues, he couldn’t tell if his new offer had traction.
“That’s a great plan, only it’s not what I told the client.”
“It’s a win-win for us. The family gets the grandson back. You keep as much of the money as you want. My side will tell Burns whatever figure you name. Think about it: It’s better for me if Burns thinks that, after the drug test, he can sell me back for a million. Your team and you will be long gone and rich.”
“Sal, you have a future in crime or politics, maybe both. Let me mull it over.”
* * * * *
Travis, Carla and Jaime spoke animatedly with a groggy Steph, a tipsy Barb and a nervous Greg. Pat was withdrawn as she nursed a glass of merlot in a corner armchair. The gist had sunk in: The kidnappers also had Sal, and the FBI was on standby until the family decided whether to bring them in.
On the coffee table, the burner rang and silenced everyone. Travis picked it up and put it on speaker.
“It’s me, Sal. I’m fine. I made a deal with the kidnappers. We’ll stick to the same arrangement as before: Greg at eight o’clock will circle Niven Park. Once they have the money, they’ll hand over Tyson.”
Amid the joyous looks in the room, there was one frown. “I’m coming with Greg to make certain the baby’s Tyson,” Steph said.
There was a pause as Sal listened to Muller in the background. “Honey, the kidnappers will allow only one of you to drop off the money and pick up Tyson. Are you up to that? You still have your C-section stitches and there’s a backpack to carry.”
“It’s my baby; I’ll manage.”
The doorbell rang and scared the hell out of the family. Travis drew his Glock and opened the door. As later attested to by the young Mormons back at the mission dormitory, Friday nights are poor for knocking on strangers’ doors.
* * * * *
Stepping out of the van, Muller called Burns from the breakdown lane. “I made a deal for the baby for the entire one-point-three million at eight o’clock. Where’s your wife?”
“I don’t know. She’s not answering her cell.”
“Which phone company does she use?”
“We have a plan with AT&T. Why?”
“This is your lucky day. I have someone at AT&T who works with law enforcement agencies . . . and me. He’ll run a trace, but it’ll come back to bite us if the police or Feds snoop. I’ll need another five hundred thousand to make this work.”
“You’re extorting a half a million-dollars to trace one phone?”
“I’m extorting half that amount. You can’t find your wife and I can, but it’s expensive. It’ll take a quarter-million to ensure that my man at AT&T and his buddies scrub the system once the trace is done. Otherwise, the two of us will end up in prison. Your choice.”
“Do it. Let me know when you find her.”
“Oh, you’ll be the first to know. You’re the one who has to collect the kid.”
“We’re almost to your Stinson Beach hideaway. Since we don’t need it for the baby, we may as well dump your buddy Sal there. Do you have a live virus to use on him?”
“I want my scientist to check out the treatment first to make certain it’s not a fake. I also need to examine that thumb drive before we decide to do anything other than kick in that arsehole’s teeth and leave him locked in a box.”
“See you in ten.”
chapter nine
CHATTY KATHY
Friday, July 10: Stinson Beach, San Rafael and Corte Madera California, night
“Yes, that’s the phone number,” Muller said. “Need a fix ASAP, plus direction of travel. Ping me the coordinates if it stops for more than ten minutes. I have two hundred fifty large with your name on it. . . no, not all up front. One hundred on Monday and the back end in thirty days . . . okay, okay . . . fifty-fifty it is. Dealt.” Muller hung up the phone, feeling a bit better.
A hooded Sal Maggio lay on the cluttered floor of Keefer’s cursed fumigation van and pondered many things, not least of which was why the kidnappers needed a phone number traced. He felt weak and dizzy and could use his heart medicine and a slug of water. The van stopped and he heard an automatic garage door descend.
“Stay with him,” Muller said. “I need to speak to our friend.” The passenger’s and driver’s doors slammed in succession.
Sal noted that the man needed a shower but held that thought. “You took two bottles of pills out of my pockets. I have hyperthyroid and a heart condition. I need one each with water. Can you help me out?”
“Fuck off.”
Burns met Muller in the kitchen, where two of the three other Black Ice henchmen reheated deli food. Muller passed over a wallet-sized box with vial and thumb drive swaddled in cotton. Burns gave them a quick look and pocketed the possibly precious cargo. A billion dollars or bust, with the odds skewed towards a worthless decoy.
“We have Maggio in the van, cuffed and hooded,” Muller said. “He doesn’t know who we are, but he sure as hell knows you’re behind it.”
“I don’t see how that matters a whit once he’s dead of coronavirus.”
“It’s not that easy. He’s no doubt already shared his suspicions with his family. You need tight alibis and spotless money trails. Speaking of which, you owe either two hundred fifty or three hundred more based on the trace I just confirmed. I need at least one twenty-five by Monday.”
“What? Where did those figures come from?”
“I rethought the plan on the drive over. We don’t want a Covid-19 patient here. For one thing, we might need to hole up in this house and we sure as shit don’t want to wear hazmat suits. For another fifty thou, I’ll have one of my men take him to Oakland where there’s a perfect place for him to incubate, sicken and either heal or die. I’ll source the virus and the protective gear and guard him for up to a week. You want us to handle it, or you want to deal with the wop yourself?”
Burns was not amused. “I’m not a bloody ATM, Rolf. Every time we speak, it costs me more. I’ve half a mind—”
Muller’s phone buzzed. “Hold that thought, I have to take this.” He turned his back and stepped into the dining room. Thirty seconds later he returned to the kitchen and stared at Burns. “Your wife is northbound on Route 1 and almost to Bodega Bay. Do you need me to tell you why?”
“Go ahead.”
“She ran away to keep the baby, and your job is to bring the kid back. Do you want me to send someone with you?”
“Not if it costs more money.”
“Then that’s a no.”
“It may take a day to turn Lindy around. We’ll be back before Sunday night.”
“If you want Sal wrapped in a smallpox blanket by tomorrow, I’ll need fifty thousand upfront plus one-twenty-five on Monday for Mr. AT&T, and the back end two weeks after that. Any of those deadlines pose a problem?”
Burns thought hard. “Do you also dispose of Sal when we’re done?”
“As long as you pay upfront, consider it a package deal.”
“Do we still meet at eight tonight?”
“The Maggios will bring the cash to Niven Park hoping to get their kid back. As that can’t happen, I plan to pull a no-show and observe from the shadows. They have two shooters, but we don’t know anything else, or even if the cops are involved.”
Burns was starting to feel claustrophobic: There were too many moving parts and he was losing trust in this man and his thugs. “If you need one hundred and seventy-five thousand right away, you’ll have to take it tonight.”
“There’s nothing easy about stealing money from armed men who expect you to try. If we take the money, the situation escalates and the police and/or FBI come in.”
“Why the FBI? I thought they handled only interstate kidnappings?”
“If babies are involved, the Feds come in if requested. I know several agents out of the San Francisco office and they’re capable. The top man, Fillmore, is a hack, but once the Bureau’s involved you’ll need to disappear forever. Are you sure you can sell your wonder cure if you’re on the run?”
“I’m not running anywhere.”
Muller shook his head. “If we grab the money tonight, my men and I might be out of work for good. That’s a high price to pay.”
“How much more?”
“I take the first three hundred for expenses, and we split whatever’s left fifty-fifty.”
“And no more fees after that.”
“Agreed. Tonight’s haul will buy you some slack.”
“Then I’ll be on my way.”
“You didn’t ask for my advice, but I’ll offer it anyway. Either Mrs. Burns is on board, or I don’t want to see her again.”
“She’ll be fine, or she’ll be gone,” Burns said and left.
Muller to his men at the kitchen table. “Anyone want to pick up thirty grand to watch Maggio die? It’s easy money if you remember to wash your hands and don’t touch your face.”
Alf shook his head. “This virus gives me the willies. Not fooking interested.”