The assembly in the conference room included those who’d been there earlier—Gretchen, the commander, Trina, and Lee—and the commander’s guru Marvin in his familiar warm-up suit and cap. A wardrobe that simplified must make getting dressed in the morning a breeze.
We walked in on the heels of another newcomer, a short, male fireplug in a conservative three-piece suit named Ralph Whitman, the Di Voss Company’s CFO. Judging by his sour expression, he’d already been apprised of the kidnapper’s demands. “Let’s get on with this,” Whitman said, taking a seat next to Lee, the one I’d been heading for.
I settled for an empty chair beside Trina. Bettina remained standing near the door, as if guarding us from intruders.
The new video had been sent at eleven-nineteen a.m., not from my office computer—which had been under the scrutiny of InterTec—but from a display laptop at a local electronics store. Another agent had been dispatched to that location to see if any of the floor salespeople had noticed anyone using their machines. If my experience with electronics-store employees was any indication, they wouldn’t even have noticed if the building had been on fire.
The video began to play on the big screen.
Again Gin was featured, blinking into a harsh light while standing in front of the mottled wall, looking even colder than before. The difference this time was that the city had awakened. There were background noises—the low rumble of traffic, a church bell gonging, and a couple of other distinctive sounds, including circus music.
Gin seemed oblivious to the city sounds as she read from a sheet of paper, informing us that “‘the fifteen million dollars should be wi-ayd to account number S325469554 at Bank Austria Cayman Islands at any time between the present and precisely noon on Tuesday.
“‘At noontime, assumin’ the transfer has been made without incident, Bill Blessin’ will be notified, via his cellular phone, of the address where he can find Ted Parkhurst and mahself. He is to travel alone. We will be alive and well, merely bound and gagged.’”
She looked directly into the camera. “An’, Billy, if you’re watching this, please hurry, ’cause it’s cold enough heah to freeze champagne.”
The back of a large figure suddenly entered the frame, its gloved hand lashing out to slap Gin across the face. “Say only what is written,” the odd mechanical voice ordered.
Alone on camera again, mouth red with blood trickling from one corner, Gin glanced at the paper in her hand with moist, frightened eyes. She read in a halting voice, “‘S-should you involve police awh FBI, awh should you fail to follah these instructions in any way, ouah captors will be forced to k-k-kill Ted and mahself.’”
The screen went to blue, then black.
“Will there be any problem wiring them the money?” the commander asked Whitman.
“Wiring the money is not the problem,” Whitman answered. “Getting the money back from Gibraltar is the problem. Insurance companies tend to balk when they find out you refused to notify the FBI or even local law enforcement. According to the security people you hired”—he pointed to Lee—“I can’t even call Gibraltar’s CEO to get a reading on it.”
“We can worry about the insurance claim after the fact,” the commander said. “Right, Marv?”
Marvin raised both hands, palms up, indicating two plates of a scale. “Money or people’s lives?” he said, moving his hands up and down. “You can always get more money.”
“If the kidnapper is as dangerous as everyone seems to think,” Whitman pointed out glumly, “there’s no reason to believe that money will make any difference to him.”
“We are wiring the money, Ralph,” the commander said with a finality that shut the CFO up like a clam.
“Did anyone hear the background noises?” I asked. “Not just the traffic, I mean.”
“The church bells,” Gretchen said.
“Dogs barking,” Marv said. “Sounded like a whole pack.”
“What was that music?” asked the commander.
“I can’t begin to count the times I ran behind the source of that music waving a quarter,” I said. “The Mister Softee soft-serve icecream truck.”
“I’ll get someone to find out the morning routes,” Lee said, “as well as the addresses of kennels and dog parks. Perhaps we will discover an intersection.”
The commander stood up. “Thanks to each of you for your cooperation. And thank you, daughter, for the presentation.”
As everyone headed for the door, I stopped Trina. “Could you ask someone to put the footage Gabe Farris took at the superhero exhibit on a disk for me?”
She gave me a half-smile. “Working on your talent reel, Billy?”
“Never know when you’re going to need one,” I said.
Lee was standing with Bettina at the door, both of them watching me approach.
“What was that about?” Lee asked, pointing her lovely chin at the departing Trina.
“Shop talk,” I said.
“We should have some of that right now,” she said. “I’m sure Bettina will excuse us.”
“Of course,” Bettina said, and left us alone in the room with Gretchen. We waited while she powered down her computer, snapped its lid shut, and, giving us a curt nod, departed.
“I have a long list of things to do regarding Mr. Aharon’s arrival,” Lee said, “but if you so desire, I will tell A.W. to expect to spend the night in his own bed.”
“At about ten?”
“Or even earlier,” I said. “I’ve got to be on the set at the crack of dawn tomorrow.”
“I’ll make it nine,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you to feel hurried.”
Then, in a sudden display of compartmental dexterity, she lost her sexy smile and it was back to business. “You are prepared to go through with the plan on Tuesday?”
“Sure. But I’m a little curious why Felix wants me to come alone.”
“You won’t be alone,” she said. “I’ll make sure of that.”
“There’s something else I’d like you to do. Treat Trina Lomax to one of your famous InterTec background checks.”
“Why?”
“Earlier today, when you asked who’d be interviewing Aharon if Gin weren’t available, she didn’t even have to think twice,” I said. “Lance was the obvious second choice, but Trina didn’t even give him a moment’s consideration. She had the answer on the tip of her tongue, almost as if she’d known for some time Gin wouldn’t be free.”
“As fond as I am of your devious mind, chef dear, I think Ms. Lomax was simply establishing a backup plan. From what I’ve seen of Lance, I can understand her decision to do the job herself.”
“Maybe. But why are they holding Gin until Tuesday afternoon? It’d be much more efficient and less risky to close the deal today or tomorrow. Why wait, if not to keep Gin off the show? What’s scheduled for the show? Let’s see. Hmmmm. Isn’t there an appearance by a controversial guy some people would like to see dead?”
“I’ll get that background done at once,” Lee said.
“Make sure it includes the INN assignments she’s had over the past couple of years. I know that she was in the same locations as some of Felix’s kills. It would help to know if she was nearby for all of them.”
“You’re saying Trina could be Felix?”
“Why not?”
“Felix—a woman? You are a wonder. Whatever gave you that idea?”
As much as I would have liked to tell Lee about Joe and Rita Margolis both claiming the figure in the Cheetah outfit was feminine, I didn’t want to drop any names on Lee. I didn’t want her or her minions bothering Rita or Joe, or dragging them into this mess.
“Everybody knows you females are deadlier than us males,” I replied.
“Don’t you forget it, Mister Softee,” she said, giving my face a none-too-gentle pat.