Three hours later Josh was woken from a deep sleep by a familiar but unidentifiable sound. His eyes focused on the clock: 3:09 a.m. The sound had stopped, but then repeated. He immediately realized it was his cell phone, always set to vibrate because he couldn’t stand the loud rings or the simulated songs everyone used for ring tones. The reception was lousy at the house, but for some reason late at night calls would come through. Maybe because there were fewer people using the cell network. Maybe atmospherics; he didn’t know. The phone was vibrating against the hard wood of the nightstand by the bed and the noise was louder than a ring. The caller ID feature said the caller’s number was unavailable. It had to be George, calling at this hour. Josh flipped the phone open and croaked “George!” in a strained morning voice.
“Dr. Barnes,” said a mechanized voice, the caller’s identity hidden by a voice-distortion device, “I will trade your sister for the Ventrica. Bring a hard copy.”
“Who the hell is this? What are you talking about?” Josh knew she was safe, so this had to be Helen’s boss calling from New York. Obviously he knew who Josh was and had gotten the cell number. Josh wasn’t set up to try to track the call and he probably knew that. Josh had to clear his head and think. He could only play dumb for a minute, until he could go get Rigas and figure out what to do. Then he heard something that sucked the air out of his lungs.
“Josh. I’m sorry.” Allison’s voice. The mechanized voice came back on. “Dr. Barnes, you have one hour and fifteen minutes to get here.”
Josh couldn’t breath, couldn’t feel the phone in his hand. Somehow Helen’s boss had found George and Allison. He was there. Josh could only choke out one thought. “If you touch her, if you do anything…”
The voice on the phone cut him off. “George tells me you don’t know where the cabin is. I’m sending you a text message with instructions. I’m also monitoring your cell phone and your home lines. I will be able to track your movements. Come alone. If you make a call or stop anywhere or if I see anyone else in the car or anyone following you, your sister dies first. You have one hour and fourteen minutes.”
The static Josh heard in the background was suddenly gone and he knew Helen’s boss had hung up. He stared at the phone and starting shaking heavily, like the chills from a bad case of food poisoning. When the phone vibrated again a moment later with a text message and the directions to George’s cabin, Josh could barely feel it moving against his own convulsions. He knew there wasn’t time for this kind of panic, but he couldn’t help it. He quickly dressed and grabbed the car keys and by the time he headed toward the door he had sufficient control that the keys weren’t jangling enough to wake Rigas. Josh wanted to shake her, tell her what happened and get her help. But he believed what Helen’s boss said on the phone; if he’d found Allison then he had the resources to know if Josh disobeyed him. He believed this man would know if Josh made a call or brought anyone. As he headed to the door, Josh stopped as an image from earlier that evening came to mind. He tiptoed back to the office, careful not to wake Rigas who would have insisted she come along even if it meant riding in the trunk. She was sound asleep, the blanket half across her and dragging on the floor, her breathing heavy and regular. The T.V. was still on, but muted. By its light he could see she had added her cell phone/PDA device, keys, and assorted bills and coins to the pile on the coffee table. Next to the gun. Moving as silently as he could, bending slowly so his knees didn’t crackle or clothes rustle, Josh gently, quietly used two hands to lift the gun off the table. It didn’t make a sound. It was heavier than he’d expected. Careful not to touch the trigger – he wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t accidentally discharge the gun – Josh carried it out like a birthday cake with candles lit. Once in the hallway he found the switch she’d flipped earlier and put the safety back on. It fit into the large pocket of his coat, though the weight felt like it was pulling his right side down. He opened the front door as carefully and quietly as he had three nights ago when coming home from the first horrifying encounter with Helen. The alarm was off. He made it to the car and rolled out the driveway before starting the engine. Five minutes later he was on the freeway heading to Gorman.