Racing Through Darkness

by G. K. Parks

  “Alexis Parker?” the negotiator asked.

  “Yes,” I sighed, “did you want to verify my credentials?”

  “Not particularly.” He smiled. “You were here yesterday. I’m SAC Brian Palmer. Jablonsky from the OIO called and vouched for you last night, as did Director Kendall. You have the run of my team if you need it.”

  “Trust me, nobody wants that,” I warned. “But do what you have to, and if you need me to coax out some cooperation, I’ll see what I can do for you. In the meantime, the police are looking into some potential leads.” Stifling a yawn, I added, “If it’s all right, I’d like to get some shut eye while I can.” The negotiator nodded, and I took a seat in the living room.

  It was imperative I remain close, especially with the increasing chance of further demands, but until the call came in, there wasn’t anything I could do. Sleep when you can; it was the cardinal rule we were supposed to live by.

  After catnapping most of the day, the call came late that afternoon, another nondescript message that utilized the best in identification and location deflection technology. The techs moved at light speed to triangulate a location, and the negotiator gave Peter cues on what to say in an attempt to prolong the conversation as much as possible. Leaning against the desk, I knew they were seconds away from losing the caller. Catching the negotiator’s eye, I raised a questioning eyebrow, and he nodded.

  Grabbing the extension, I cut in on the call. “The Cales have employed me to negotiate the safe recovery of their daughter. I’m not a cop. I’m a private, third party K&R consultant. How shall I address you, sir?” Peter gaped at me, and the FBI negotiator wrestled the phone from his hand and placed it on the cradle. It was the only way any of us could see to buy time for the technicians.

  “You may refer to me as Winter.” The eerie computer-modulated voice responded. “To whom am I speaking?”

  “We’ll keep this simple. You can call me Parker. I’m authorized to speak on the family’s behalf.”

  “The two million will be placed in a black briefcase and left next to the bus stop on Seventeenth. Deliver it at exactly 8:13 tomorrow evening. Come alone. Leave it and walk away. Do not look around. Do not stop. Further instructions will follow.” Without further preamble, the call ended.

  “Did we get it?” I held my breath, waiting for the response.

  “They’re somewhere on the southside, but we needed another three seconds for a more accurate triangulation.”

  “Goddammit.”

  “You tried,” Palmer offered, but Peter continued to stare in horror.

  “What have you done?” I wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t start swinging.

  “Everything I possibly can to save your daughter.” His chin quivered, and he fixed me with a hard stare before abandoning the room.

  “I thought you didn’t want the run of my team,” Palmer commented.

  “I still don’t, but we needed time. It just wasn’t enough.”

  Unlike other crimes, kidnappings differ in one fundamental respect; the family always has final say. The FBI and PD were running themselves ragged to narrow the possible locations, and Thompson and Heathcliff were analyzing the data Mercer collected. The last I heard, they were tracking the kidnappers’ country of origin. While this wasn’t ideal, it might lead to similar case files or Interpol records which could lead to a possible identification. The problem was time. We were running out, and since the Cales couldn’t pay the two million and Winter didn’t give the option to negotiate, the drop would require some creativity.

  After giving the Cales some time to cool down, I sought them out. We needed to work out the logistics for the money drop. Peter and Evelyn were ready for a fight, and I was the only enemy in sight. “You heard him,” Peter’s voice was forceful, demanding. “You have to go alone. There can be no cops.”

  “And what? You want me to pull the two million out of my ass?” Arguing with a grieving, frantic father was not the way to handle this situation. “Nothing about the drop will be the way Winter expects it to be. Demands are negotiable. He can’t honestly believe you have access to that much money that quickly.”

  “What do we do?” he screamed. “We can’t pay, so we just let him kill Catherine?” He sniffed and looked away, swallowing. Evelyn made a pitiful mewling noise at his side and buried her face against his shoulder.

  Exchanging a look with the FBI negotiator, I had to walk away. I needed a moment to regroup. I can’t do this. The words kept replaying through my brain. Taking a seat on the patio steps, I inhaled a deep breath. From inside, Peter’s voice traveled as he berated Palmer, and Evelyn’s strangled sobs reached new levels. Dialing the precinct, I prayed for some good news.

  “Please,” I practically begged, “tell me you have something.”

  “Parker?” Heathcliff sounded tense. “Is everything all right?”

  “Tell me you’ve got something.”

  “Thompson went to the OIO. He and Jablonsky are working with an Interpol liaison. There have been three similar abductions in the EU, and we’re hoping to run through the files and get a solid lead.”

  “Great, more agencies are involved.” My tone was jaded.

  “Jablonsky’s helping because it’s O’Connell.” He waited a couple of beats, but when I remained silent, he asked, “Do you want some company at the Cales’ place?”

  “No. I’m capable of being a fucking idiot all on my own.” I let out a sigh. “Derek, see if you can get in touch with Nick. Someone needs to make these people understand why we can’t follow the ransom instructions to the letter.”

  “I’ll try. But Parker, I’ll have to explain that principle to O’Connell first.”

  Swallowing my insecurities, my anger, and my fear, I strode into the house with my head held high. No more outbursts, just pure, logical reasoning. This was a business transaction. There was no reason to view it with any emotional attachment whatsoever. Winter and the other three didn’t see it emotionally. Mercer damn sure didn’t, so neither would I.

  In the kitchen, the FBI negotiator was being assaulted by the barrage of blame Peter was hurling at him. As any good professional would, Palmer stood quietly, waiting for the insults to cease.

  “Mr. Cale,” I interrupted, “your anger is justifiable. I apologize for my earlier outburst, but may we continue this at another time when the clock is no longer ticking.” Palmer looked relieved and disappeared into the background. “As always, you and your wife will make the final decisions, but it is imperative you keep in mind the flaws in following Winter’s instructions.”

  “We don’t have that much money,” Evelyn whispered. Her voice was on the brink of betraying her, and a whisper was all she was capable of.

  “What you’re suggesting won’t get our daughter back,” Peter choked out the words.

  “Tracing the briefcase, keeping eyes on the drop site, and having back-up on standby are the best ways to locate your daughter,” I insisted. “This is what the FBI team has trained for. They’ve done this countless times. They know what to do and how to do it without being compromised.”

  “Nicky said not to involve any authorities,” Evelyn said meekly.

  I bit my lip, resisting the need to mention that no authorities is what got O’Connell shot in the first place. “When I asked for permission to turn this over, you said it was okay.” Pointing out the obvious might not hurt the situation.

  “Why don’t we come up with some alternative solutions to minimize your concerns,” Palmer offered, appearing with a couple of his teammates.

  “It can’t hurt to have some options,” I urged. Evelyn and Peter didn’t seem pleased. Instead, they acted like they were being railroaded. But eventually, they acquiesced, and Palmer took charge of the train before we faced a total derailment.

  Sixteen

  I was two blocks from the drop site. It was 8:05, and with the remaining eight minutes, anything could happen. The Cales agreed to place a tracker in the outer lining of the briefcase, but
they wouldn’t let us have eyes on the drop. Since I was impersonating a K&R specialist, I was stuck delivering the bag.

  “Parker, do you copy?” Thompson asked in my ear.

  A Bluetooth was hidden underneath my long brown hair, and we were speaking over the phone. Radio signals could be intercepted, and the Cales were too skittish to allow unauthorized communications. Technically, I wasn’t supposed to be talking to Thompson.

  “Loud and clear.” I checked the time and watched as the second hand hit the twelve. Seven minutes. “I’m starting my approach now.”

  “Okay. Heathcliff boarded the bus two stops back. He’ll be on it when it makes the 8:15 pass. If anyone gets on the bus with the package, we’ll have eyes on them.”

  “All right. Keep me apprised. I’m going dark until after I clear the area.”

  “Affirmative.” Although we didn’t disconnect, neither of us spoke a word as I continued toward the bus stop. It was the typical, clear Plexiglas structure with a wooden bench inside. A teenager sat on the far edge, listening to music on his mp3 player. An elderly woman was in the middle of the bench with a few brown paper bags from the local grocery store, and the rest of the area was deserted.

  I walked toward the structure, resisting the urge to turn my head and glance at the other side of the street. One of the instructions was not to look around. Facing forward, my eyes continued to scan the area directly in front of me. There was nothing. Reaching the bus stop, I stepped under the makeshift roof and pretended to read the bus schedule while I placed the briefcase in the designated location. Checking the time, it was 8:12. Inhaling a steady breath, I continued down the street.

  “8:13,” Thompson’s voice rang in my ear, but I continued walking.

  Once I was half a block away, I wanted nothing more than to look back to see if the briefcase had been taken, but I was a professional. Two blocks later, I turned and checked for a tail. As far as I could tell, no one was watching or following me.

  “It’s done,” I said. “Now we wait.”

  I hailed a cab and took it to my parked car. Thompson and Heathcliff were working off the books since no one was officially authorized to be part of the exchange except me. During the cab ride, Thompson informed me that no one suspicious got onboard the bus, but as far as Heathcliff could tell, the briefcase was gone. Thompson was pulling traffic cam footage. The DOT had cameras everywhere, but the Seventeenth Street bus stop was one of the few blind spots left in the city. The Four Seasons had done their research.

  “I’m scanning nearby camera footage to see if I can get eyes on our guy via the briefcase tracker,” he muttered as keys were clicked in the background. If Capt. Moretti knew what was going on, he’d nail two of his top detectives to his office wall. But none of us could worry about the consequences right now. Nick was our friend, our brother, and we couldn’t sit idly by. Whether he thought I betrayed him or not, the sobering fact was we were all doing this for him.

  On the drive to the Cales’ residence, I wondered how long it would be before Winter called with further demands. The briefcase contained a tenth of the requested amount. Twenty thousand dollars was still a hefty sum, but the Cales were willing to part with it as a good faith gesture. My guess was it would piss off the kidnapper, and we’d get a call shortly. I had spoken extensively with Agent Palmer on the do’s and don’ts of the situation, but I was still unprepared to interact with Winter for an extended period of time.

  “The signal went dead five minutes ago,” Palmer said as I entered the house. “Either it’s out of range, or they found it.” Before any further speculation could be provided, the phone rang. “Easy. Use neutral language. Remain calm. This is business. If you have to make him think you’re walking away without buying the car, then do it.” Nodding, I took a seat at the table and exhaled before lifting the phone from its cradle.

  “This is not the agreed upon amount.” It was hard to tell if Winter’s voice was mechanical and cold or if that was due to the computer modulation.

  “The money is a good faith gesture. We did not negotiate a sum. Two million is beyond my client’s financial capability.” Palmer sat next to me and began making notes on the conversation.

  “This is not a negotiation. Two million is the price. Not a penny less.”

  “I am authorized to make a trade for one hundred thousand.”

  “If you only want one twentieth of the girl back, then a hundred thousand dollars it is.” Palmer scribbled the word ‘humanize’ on the piece of paper and slid it to me.

  “Winter, you are not dealing with rich people. The head of this household is an assistant. These are working class people. The girl you’ve taken, Catherine, is seven years old. They want her back alive, but two million is well beyond a reasonable asking price.”

  “Two million,” the mechanical voice repeated.

  “There is no insurance to pay out. No company to incur the loss. This is a family,” I argued. “They aren’t CEOs, moguls, or royalty. Just your average Joe.”

  “We shall send her to you in pieces.” The line went dead.

  It’s only scare tactics, I reminded myself. Although, I had no way of knowing what would happen. Palmer insisted Catherine was a rare commodity; thus, it was in their best interest to keep her healthy.

  “What did they say?” Evelyn asked, coming into the room. Thankfully, the FBI agents kept her away during the exchange since she didn’t need to know what transpired.

  “We’re still negotiating. They’ll call back,” I replied. Palmer gave her an encouraging look, and satisfied with the answer, she left the room.

  “When they call back,” he whispered, “give them a higher number, and before they can respond, find a way to disconnect. It’s important they feel they have some control, but we can’t let them think they have all the power.”

  “And if they don’t call back?” He didn’t have an answer, and he left me alone in the room, waiting for a call that might never come. My heart raced. There was a part of me that wanted nothing more than to hyperventilate until I lost consciousness, but unfortunately, I was doing a wonderful impression of appearing cool, calm, and collected.

  Ten minutes later, Winter called back. Power. This was about shifting the balance of power ever so slightly on its axis. Going in too strong wasn’t recommended. Unfortunately, it was the way I handled most situations. This required finesse. Waiting until almost the fourth ring, I answered the phone with a very chipper sounding, “Hello.”

  “Parker, one hundred thousand is unacceptable.”

  “I can get you another fifty thousand. It will take some time. Consider the offer.” I immediately hung up. What the hell was I doing? Less than a minute later, the phone rang again.

  “The offer is still unacceptable.”

  “Then let’s discuss a realistic figure we are both comfortable with.”

  “Two million,” the computer voice bellowed.

  “You’re not getting two million. You won’t even get a million. We do not have those kinds of assets.”

  “Do not take us for fools.” Winter was pissed. “We know exactly who we have. You have the money, and you will pay or else the girl is dead. Seven a.m., pier nineteen on the wharf, come alone with the cash in non-sequential hundreds. If you defy us again, there will be no other chances.”

  “Sir,” I tried professional, “defying you is not my intention, but that amount is not an option.” Palmer was standing in the doorway, listening but providing no helpful tips. He didn’t have any. “I can’t make something appear out of thin air when it doesn’t exist. What else would you be willing to take in trade?”

  Palmer shook his head. Winter was taking the power back, but there wasn’t anything else to be done. Negotiation required give and take by both parties.

  “Two million, seven a.m., pier nineteen. You will bring the money.”

  “There is no money.”

  “Then there is no girl.”

  Palmer gestured wildly, and I pulled a page ou
t of my own playbook. Whoever we were dealing with was well-versed on ransom negotiations, FBI tactics, and hostage negotiation. They weren’t well-versed in Parkerology.

  “Listen to me, you sick son-of-a-bitch, if anything happens to that little girl, you won’t see a dime. You will get nothing. Your only consolation will be running for the rest of your fucking miserable life because there will be no safe place for you to go. The good thing about leaving the authorities out of this is that I can hunt you to the ends of the goddamn earth. The feel of the wind on your skin will be my breath. The sunlight will be my eyes burning into you, and the dark,” I let out a threatening, maniacal laugh, “well, you’ll see what happens in the dark.”

  “Do not threaten me.”

  “It’s not a threat. Last chance to take my offer. Hell, two hundred thousand in exchange for the girl and all of this goes away. Think about it. You have until seven a.m. to make a decision.” I slammed the phone down. Palmer was moving like a bobblehead who just got flicked.

  “Okay. Okay. We can handle this. They don’t hold all the power, and they know we’re serious about getting the girl back. They should take the offer.” Nothing out of his mouth sounded sincere. I pushed too hard.

  “Goddammit.” I brushed past the few agents, past Evelyn and Peter, and went straight to the front door. I had to get outside. The walls were closing in, and I needed open spaces. Staring up at the starless sky, I wondered what would happen in the next nine hours.

  Seventeen

  Why didn’t we find a way to keep eyes on the warehouse or on the goons inside the warehouse? Mercer and I had been in their vicinity. These assholes should be dead or locked up, not making demands. But at the time, Mercer was calling the shots, and I trusted the bastard with Catherine’s life. Dumbass move, Parker. I dialed Mercer while Palmer ran damage control with Peter and Evelyn.