Lena picked up the phone at work one rainy morning just before lunch. Compton had been expecting a call from Fermi who was in the midst of moving to Chicago. When he called, she was to find Compton immediately. So she was expecting a male voice on the other end of the line. Instead she heard a sobbing woman, whose obvious anguish made her words incomprehensible.
“Hello? Who is this?”
More crying, followed by a sharp intake of breath.
“Please, who is there?”
“Mi-Mrs., Stern,” She stammered. “It’s—it’s Mabel McNulty.”
It took Lena a moment to register the caller. They always addressed each other as Mrs. Stern or Mrs. M. But when she realize who it was, a bolt of fear streaked up her spine. “What’s the matter? Is Max all right?”
“The—the police are here.”
Panic surged through Lena. She began to shiver uncontrollably. “The police? What happened?”
“Mrs. Stern, I can’t believe it.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know—I just don’t know how it happened.”
“Mrs. McNulty,” Lena was shouting now, so loud that Sonia looked up from her desk in alarm. “Where is Max?”
A fresh stream of crying filled her ears. Lena jumped up. With her free hand she grabbed her purse. A swish came over the telephone line, and a deep male voice said,
“Mrs. Stern? This is Officer Delgado. Chicago Police Department.”
Lena’s stomach clenched, and a wave of nausea worked its way up to her throat.
“Your boy, Max—has been kidnapped. We’re sending a squad car to pick you up.”
* * *
Mrs. McNulty and Max were on their way back from the Museum of Science and Industry where Max loved to wander through the Coal Mine exhibit, Mrs. M said. She had brought the stroller in case he was tired, but Max wanted to walk by himself. She always held his hand when they walked outside, but this morning Mrs. M was juggling the stroller and an umbrella as well as Max. They had just reached the bend in the road that turned into 57th Street when someone raced up behind Mrs. M, shoved her, and snatched Max.
The movement was so sudden and aggressive that Mrs. M fell to the ground. She screamed and so did Max, but just then a car pulled up behind them and slowed. The man who had Max opened the back door and threw himself and the boy into the back. The car sped off.
Everything happened so fast that Mrs. M didn’t have time to catch the license plate. Not that it would help. It would take hours, if not days, to find the DMV record of the auto. Mrs. M raced home to call the police.
Lena didn’t remember the ride in the squad car, but twenty minutes later, she was talking to two policemen in her living room. Officers were combing the area, they said; they were marshalling all their resources to find Max.
But they were at a disadvantage. They didn’t know the make of the car—all Mrs. M could recall was a dark sedan. They didn’t have a license plate either, or a solid description of the kidnapper. Still, they were canvassing neighbors, and cruisers were parked at 57th Street to stop and question motorists. They sent cops to the Museum to interview the guards and staff. A photo of Max had been circulated and was being posted. No one wanted another Leopold and Loeb.
Lena listened as the officers explained, but their voices seemed to be muffled by a thick hazy blanket. She felt distanced from the conversation, as though she didn’t quite understand what they were saying. In a corner of her brain she knew she was in shock, but she had no idea how to deal with it. She sat on her sofa, hands folded politely in her lap, as if she were listening to a piano concerto.
FBI Agent Lanier, the same agent who’d come when Karl died, showed up thirty minutes later. Mrs. M went through her story again, shooting apologetic glances at Lena.
When Mrs. M finished, Lanier told Lena to stay at home and near the phone. “The chances are good whoever has Max will make a ransom call before long.”
“But I can’t pay. I have no money.” It was the first thing she’d said since Lanier arrived.
“They don’t know that. They probably think Mrs. McNulty is a nanny or governess, and you live in one of those big homes on Hyde Park Avenue. The two of them were perfect marks.”
Lena made a sound that wasn’t quite a sob. “I’m a secretary at the University. It’s all I can do to put food on the table.”
“You’re working at Met Lab again, right?”
“Yes. The Physics Department.”
Lanier nodded, as if he was confirming what he already knew, and changed the subject. He didn’t press her about the work going on there, but Lena couldn’t tell him if he did. She’d signed a strict confidentiality agreement when she went back. She could speak of it to no one, including the authorities.
Time seemed to stop that afternoon. After the police officers left, it was quiet except for the plunk of raindrops against the windows. Lena didn’t move from her spot on the sofa. Agent Lanier stayed but didn’t talk much. Around five he said he was going back to the office, but another detective would arrive. As he opened the door to leave, he gave her explicit instructions.
“When you get the call, call me immediately. They’ll tell you not to, but you must. We’ll be working in the background to get your boy back.” He paused. “Mrs. Stern, there are good reasons to think he will be returned safely. More than one person was involved. Which means it was a conspiracy. They took him for a reason. Probably money. If it had been just one man, we’d be looking at a more ominous situation. Don’t lose faith.”
He left and closed the door softly. Faith? Lena had no faith. Watching raindrops dribble sideways across a window, she knew, again, that she must have done something very wicked to warrant the punishments that had befallen her. Why had God chosen her?
Slowly she rose from the sofa and trudged into the kitchen. She took a tall glass from the cabinet and filled it with water. She drank about half, then examined the glass. She turned around and hurled the glass across the room. It smashed against the opposite wall and exploded, flinging shards of glass and water across the floor. The sound of shattering glass was oddly comforting.