Ransom

by Lois Duncan

  For a long moment they stood there, locked together in the horror of it.

  Then Jesse drew in a long breath and took the final step of reason. “They’ve already killed one person, Dexter. What are they going to do to us?”

  Chapter Six

  “SO THEY DID KILL HIM,” Glenn said slowly. “It figures.”

  “You don’t seem too surprised,” said Dexter.

  “To tell the truth, I’m not. There was something Buck said on the bus about Juan’s having used the gun before. And he shut Rita up so quickly when she started asking questions in front of us. They must have done something with Godfrey in order to get Buck into the driver’s seat, and … well …” He nodded thoughtfully. “It all adds up.”

  He had wondered what the matter was when Jesse came out of the back room, looking as though the world had fallen in on her, and told him, “Dex wants to see you.” He had seen Marianne’s open look of curiosity and Bruce’s sudden movement, as though to accompany him. Then Jesse had seated herself by the fireplace, and Glenn had realized that she meant him alone, and he had risen and gone into the bunk room where Dexter waited.

  The story had been a short one, and he was not surprised by it. It merely strengthened his determination about the decision he had already made.

  “We are going to have to get out of here,” he said.

  Glenn Kirtland was never going to be paid for with ransom. From the very beginning his mind had refused even to consider the possibility. The disgrace of the situation was more intolerable than the danger. Glenn Kirtland, leader of the student body. Glenn Kirtland, captain of the football team. Glenn Kirtland, hero of the campus, 170 pounds of solid, well-coordinated muscle, snatched up and kidnapped like a baby! The helplessness of the image was infuriating.

  And it wasn’t as though there were a group of strong-arm gangsters. True, in the beginning there had been two men, but Juan, for all practical purposes, was no longer part of the picture. There was only one man, well built, of course, but no better so than Glenn, and one squatty little woman. The difference was the pistol. Glenn ground his teeth when he thought of the pistol. To think that one small weapon could carry with it the power to hold five people captive!

  “If we could only get our hands on the gun …” he began slowly, and Dexter said, “We can’t. I’ve thought about it, and there’s no way. He always has it with him. He wears it under his jacket.”

  “What about at night when he’s sleeping?”

  “I imagine he keeps that pistol where he can reach it. Besides, Rita’s right in the room with him. It wouldn’t do us much good, anyway, when we’re locked up in the storeroom.”

  “The girls aren’t,” said Glenn. “Marianne’s a light-footed little thing. If there were any way of slipping in there and getting the pistol, I bet she could find it.”

  “You’d let her do that!” Dexter stared at him in amazement. “What if she got caught?”

  “If she got caught, she’d get caught. There’s nothing to lose by chancing it. We wouldn’t be any worse off than we were before.”

  “No.” Dexter shook his head decidedly. “We don’t know what Buck might do, if he woke up suddenly and found her there. Especially with the gun right there. Glenn, she’s your girlfriend. I don’t see how you could consider asking her to do that.”

  “Let’s take it by force then,” Glenn said determinedly. “There are three of us guys. You and I are seniors, and Bruce is little, but he’s wiry. We could all rush Buck together.”

  “Somebody would be sure to get hurt,” said Dexter. “Maybe even killed. Fists don’t add up to much against a gun.”

  “If we found something we could use for a weapon …”

  “There isn’t one. Marianne plowed through this whole cabin this morning and didn’t come up with anything more dangerous than a checkerboard.”

  “Well, you suggest something then!” There was exasperation in Glenn’s voice. “If you don’t think my ideas are worth trying, what do you have to offer in their place? We’re agreed we have to get out of here. That means a battle of some kind.”

  “Not necessarily,” Dexter said slowly. “I think we could cut out of here while they are sleeping. Just get in the van and take off down the mountain.”

  “And where are you going to get the car keys?” Glenn asked skeptically. “Do you plan to walk up to Buck and ask for them? He keeps them in his pants pocket, and it would be just as hard to get them away from him as it would be to get the pistol.”

  “Maybe we could start it without the keys,” said Dexter. “It’s a Chevy van and not a new one. How old would you say it is?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe four or five years old.”

  “I might be able to start it by crossing some wires in the ignition.”

  “Do you think you could?” Glenn regarded him with grudging respect. “How much time would it take you to do it?”

  “I’d have to look the thing over to know. It would be easy if I had tools. As it is, I’ll have to try to make do with a penknife. Of course, there’s the matter of getting out there. Buck locked us up last night, so I imagine he’ll do it tonight, too. I wonder if Buck has the storeroom key on the same chain with the car keys.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Glenn. “Remember how Marianne used it this morning when she unlocked the door to give us coffee? It’s more likely Rita keeps it, and if so, Marianne probably knows where it is.”

  “I’ll get her aside and ask her.” Dexter got up from the bunk on which he had been sitting. “You sit down with Bruce and let him in on the scene, and I’ll tell Jesse. We shouldn’t all be seen talking together. They might suspect we were planning something.”

  “Hey. Hold it a minute.” Glenn stopped him with a gesture. “The girls have to be in on this, to get us out of the storeroom and everything, but you’re not planning on taking them with us when we run for it, are you?”

  Dexter stared at him. For a moment he was too stunned to answer. Finally he said, “Of course, I am.”

  “That’s crazy, Dex. We’d be finished before we started. We might be out in that car an hour before you could get it running. What if Buck or Rita should wake up during that time and see that the girls are missing?”

  “Not just the girls. We’ll all be missing.”

  “But they’ll never look in the storeroom. We can lock it back up as though we were still in there, and there won’t be any way for them to know we’re gone. The girls are different. They can be checked on. All Buck has to do is walk past the door to the bunk room, and he’ll see it’s empty.”

  “What do you expect to do about them?” Dexter asked incredulously. “Leave them here? Take off in the car and escape without them?”

  “Don’t make it sound so terrible. It’s not as though they wouldn’t be rescued. We could stop at the first town and send the police back for them.”

  “And have them here in the middle of a gunfight? Or used for hostages? You are the one who’s crazy!”

  “Look, be sensible.” Glenn’s earnestness was persuasive. “We’ll leave the girls and bring help back for them. It’s the only way to do it. We’ll never make it otherwise.”

  “Then I’d as soon not make it,” Dexter said decidedly. “I’m not leaving Jesse alone here with Buck. Not for one hour or even one minute. I wouldn’t leave Marianne either. If you want to take your brother and run out on us, go ahead. I’m not going to stop you.”

  “We couldn’t do it without you. I couldn’t get the engine started.” Glenn made the admission ruefully. “I drive my car, sure, but I’ve never had time to learn much about the mechanics of it.”

  “It’s settled then?” said Dexter. “We’ll all make a run for it together?”

  “You’re calling the terms. There doesn’t seem to be much choice.”

  They stood there for a moment, taking measure of each other, two boys who would never have joined forces under other circumstances.

  It was Glenn who broke the silence. “You
don’t like me, do you?”

  Dexter hesitated. The truth was there between them, past denying. “No,” he said.

  “Why not?” Glenn asked with real interest. He was not angry, only curious. He was used to being liked by everyone. His popularity was a fact of his existence, something he had come to accept as proper and inevitable.

  Dexter considered the question.

  “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Marianne thinks I’m jealous of you. I got mad today when she said it. I guess I wouldn’t have reacted so hard if it hadn’t been true.”

  “Because I’m football captain?” Glenn nodded understandingly. “That’s natural. It’s a status thing, especially with the girls.”

  “It wasn’t just that. You seemed to have everything. You were all the things I wished I could be.” He paused. “I don’t feel that way any longer.”

  “That’s good.” Glenn accepted the statement at face value. “If we’re going to organize this escape together, we’d better be friends.”

  “We can’t be,” Dexter said quietly.

  “Why not?” Glenn asked in surprise. It had not been the reaction he expected.

  “Because you have to feel something to be a friend. You don’t feel anything.”

  “You’re crazy,” Glenn told him. “I feel as much as anybody.”

  “I don’t believe it. You haven’t given one thought to anybody but yourself since we got up here. Oh, you’ve made a big show, all right, said all the right things and made all the right gestures. ‘You leave those girls alone, Buck!’ But when the chips are down, you’d as soon take off and leave your girl here for Buck to treat any way he wants to. That kid brother of yours is scared silly, and what the hell have you done about it? Jesse’s the one who’s been looking out for him. You’re a taker, Kirtland. You use people. You stand there and let them adore you, and you don’t give anything back to them. I bet you’ve never really loved anybody in your whole life!”

  The statement hung there like a question. For a long moment Glenn struggled with his anger. A dozen retorts, a dozen denials occurred to him; he was tempted to offer them in a tirade to match the one that had just been delivered. But what would be the use of it, he asked himself; what would it gain him? Dexter could be handled, as everyone was handled.

  Slowly, deliberately he forced himself to smile. He put amusement into his voice. “I asked you to be my friend? I’m revoking the offer. With you for a friend, I wouldn’t need any enemies.”

  The tension was broken. Dexter’s face colored with embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered awkwardly. “I didn’t have any right to say that. I don’t have a right to do any preaching to anybody.”

  “That’s okay. You’re keyed up. We both are.” Glenn put his hand on the other boy’s shoulder. It was the same gesture he had used with Bruce, the night they stood in the driveway, looking at the damaged car. “When we’re out of this, we’ll laugh about it. It’ll be an adventure. Something to talk about in the lodge after skiing.”

  “Sure,” said Dexter. He shifted uncomfortably. “I’d better get out in the living room. Buck’s going to start wondering what we’re talking about for so long.”

  “I’m surprised he hasn’t checked on us already.”

  When Dexter had left the room, Glenn moved over to stand by the window. Without realizing it, he assumed the same position that Jesse had earlier, his forehead against the pane, his eyes on the trees and the sky beyond them.

  It had begun to snow. A layer of white was forming at the window ledge, and the ground appeared in dark patches where the flakes had not yet thickened.

  I could hike my way out of here, Glenn told himself.

  He toyed with the idea, letting his mind run over it. It was twenty miles, Buck had told them, to the nearest town. That was twenty miles by winding trail, but it would be shorter straight down the side of the mountain: I could make it, Glenn thought, if I had the right clothing—boots and parka or a heavy jacket like the one Buck wears. The others couldn’t do it, but I could. I could make it!

  For an instant he was tempted. The idea of starting out alone to brave the elements was pleasing to him. He was in good shape physically; his well-built body was conditioned by hours of football practice and skiing. There would certainly be some glory in having hiked one’s way to freedom, in being the valiant escapee who defied danger to send back help to the others.

  Or would it look as though he had run out on the others? Dexter’s use of that term bothered him. It was one thing to be a hero who had outwitted his adversaries, but quite another to be looked upon as a deserter of girls and a younger brother. When help did arrive, it was doubtful that they would still be here. Buck would hardly be sitting, waiting for the rescuers. As soon as he discovered that Glenn was missing, he would pack the others into the van and take off into Colorado or down into Mexico. There would be no possibility of finding them then, and it was conceivable that Glenn might be considered to blame for this.

  No, Dexter’s plan was better. Much as it irked him, he had to admit it. If only it didn’t make him so completely dependent upon the other boy’s ability. What he wouldn’t give to be able to doctor the blasted ignition himself! But mechanical know-how was not one of his fortes. Whenever something went wrong with his own automobile, he put it into the garage and let the experts take care of it.

  The whole thing was ironical. If his car had not been in the shop, he would not be here today, and in all probability Marianne would not be either. They would have taken off after school in the car and left the creaky old bus to drag its way home without them. But the car had had to be fixed, and as quickly as possible; there would have been hell to pay if anybody had got a look at that fender.

  Of course, Bruce had seen it. That had been unfortunate. There had been a few rocky moments there when the kid started asking questions: “What happened? … But don’t you have to report accidents? Won’t they have to know, at the garage, that it was reported?”

  But handling Bruce was no problem. All you had to do was buddy him. That was one thing about having a kid brother who thought the sun rose and set on you. You smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder, and he would run and fetch for you till his legs fell off and be grateful for the opportunity.

  It was different with Dexter. He couldn’t quite make Dexter out; something about the guy made him vaguely uncomfortable. That tirade, for instance, about feeling things. That was a crazy subject for a person to get steamed up about. He personally couldn’t care less about the way Dexter felt about things. Why couldn’t everybody just take the world as it came and stop getting emotional about it?

  Yet there was one thing the boy had said which bothered him. That part about not loving. I bet you’ve never really loved anybody in your whole life!

  Glenn had wondered about that sometimes. Other people did seem to get so involved with each other. Many of his friends had girls they were “in love” with; they bumbled around with stars in their eyes and fawning expressions on their faces.

  To Glenn, it seemed incredible that any one person could hold a position of so much importance to another. He dated, of course; he liked girls, especially pretty ones. That was the reason he took Marianne out so often. He had even said, “I love you,” on certain occasions, when the situation seemed to warrant that the words be spoken. But he had never felt deeply enough about any girl to look beneath the surface, to try to find out what she was really like as a person. And he never wasted emotion by thinking about any of them after the brief romances were over.

  With a shrug, he dismissed the problem. What does it matter? Someday it will happen. I just haven’t run across a great enough girl yet, that’s all.

  He stood for a while longer, watching the snow falling. If there was a lack somewhere within himself, it was one of which he was not aware.

  Chapter Seven

  THE STORY ABOUT THE missing school bus and driver was in the morning paper.

  “So that’s
the way it was done!” Rod Donavan finished reading the last paragraph and crumpled the page angrily in his fists. “This crazy Godfrey reaches the end of the run and simply keeps going. He must be insane!”

  “His wife doesn’t think so,” said Marian Donavan. “She thinks that something has happened to him. If she had any idea that he were involved in a kidnapping, she certainly wouldn’t have reported to the police that he didn’t come home last night.”

  Her voice was thin with exhaustion, her eyes swollen from a night of weeping. Her husband regarded her with concern.

  “I wish you’d lie down for a little, Marian. You know I’ll call you the minute there’s any communication.”

  “I can’t. Not now. Perhaps after Jack calls.” She paused and then added, “If he does call. He must have had my message by this time. Do you suppose he is just not answering?”

  “You left word that it was an emergency and had to do with one of the children. He couldn’t ignore that.”

  “You don’t know Jack. If he were busy with something, or partying, or just in one of those happy-go-lucky moods of his …” She raised her hands and pressed them against her forehead. “He has to call! He has to give us the money! After all, Marianne is his own daughter.”

  “She never forgets it, that’s for sure.” There was a hint of bitterness in Rod’s voice. “It’s been Daddy this and Daddy that, ‘Daddy always used to say,’ and ‘Daddy never did things that way’ until sometimes I’ve wanted to shake her, to shout at her, ‘If your Daddy was as wonderful as all that, why did he walk off and leave you?’ ”

  “You wouldn’t,” Marian Donavan said confidently. “You’d never say a thing like that to one of the children.”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t, not when you’ve worked so hard to build their father up to them. Sometimes I think it would have been better for you to have told them the truth about him in the first place, to have said, ‘Your father was a charming sort of Peter Pan guy who never grew up. He went into marriage for the fun of it, because it was a new experience, and then, when he got tired of it, he simply walked out.’ ”