The call comes early. I’m awake instantly. Dusan’s voice says, “You hef anthem.”
I’m squeezing my phone hard enough to crack it. “It’s in a safe place.”
“Good. Many things happen. You hef been patient. There is change in plan.”
“What? What do you mean? I give you the anthem, you let Bunny go.”
“Soon. We did not know before of friendship with Aiden Tween.”
“I’m not friends with Aiden Tween!”
“Do not pretend. You were seen. Media say his people look for how to make him more grow up. So. You will persuade him way to do this: sing our anthem at his concert on New Year’s Eve.”
“What?”
“We will know is going to happen when they call number I give and ask for translator for the words. We will give. He sings anthem, we release your brother.”
“But I can’t—”
“There was much argue about how sharp for blotzing ax. We decide to leave dull. Death longer, more painful that way. Here is number.”
I grab a pen and scribble it down. The line goes dead.
For a long moment I stare at nothing, fighting down the panic that’s rising with last night’s mac and cheese. Then I’m in overdrive. I dig out the card Aiden Tween’s manager guy, Sumo, gave me, and I start working the phones.
Sumo gets the first call. “Talk to me,” is how he answers.
“It’s Spencer O’Toole,” I say. “You wanted the Pianvia movie from me.”
“You got it?”
“Yeah, but I’ve got something even better about Pianvia, something no one else has, and it’s perfect for AT.”
“What is it?”
“I have to show you both. When can we meet?”
“One. Industrial Arts Studios. We’re rehearsing on soundstage two.”
AmberLea gets the second call. She sounds pretty groggy. “Stayed up late to watch Alien again.” She yawns, and then her voice sharpens. “Did they call?”
“Yeah, and things have changed. I’ll tell you later. Can you and Toby meet me to see Aiden Tween again at one? It’s all set up. I’ll explain when I see you.”
“Well, I can. Toby’s not here. He ditched the show last night and texted me that he’d see us later today.”
“Where is he?”
“I’ll tell you later. My mom’s kind of ticked. She feels responsible, you know?” Then, “It’s just Spencer, Mom,” she says. I wait while she talks to her mom. AmberLea says to me, “I can pick you up. Mom’s got friends meeting her here for lunch.”
So far, so good. I’m starting to think I might handle this. The third call goes to Roz Inbow. Her oversized voice rockets out of the phone.
“It’s Spencer O’Toole. I need to get the, uh, papers you have for me.”
“Right. Just a sec,” she says. Off the phone, I hear her blare, “For crying out loud, Sigmund, of course a gram of coke and a pit bull in a stolen car is going to be an issue for your parole. I don’t care if they weren’t yours. Go wait in the hall for a minute.” Then come fumbling sounds and then she’s blaring to me. “Spencer. There’s, uh, a problem here. I took the wrong laptop case on my way out this morning. I’ve got Harv’s.”
“You mean—”
“He’s got mine.”
“Oh, no.” The last thing I need is another hassle with Smurf Cop. I can imagine him at the station, finding the calendar and music and shredding them just to bug me. “Will he have looked?”
“No, no, it’s okay. He’ll still be at home, asleep. He’s working four to midnight this week.”
“I’ve got to have that stuff.”
“I understand. Sorry about this.” Her voice drops, almost unbelievably, to a murmur. “Trust me, I don’t want anyone, including Harv, knowing I’m on an orange file, especially this one. Harv does seem to have a bit of a thing about your family. Look, when do you need this?”
I look at my watch. “Noon at the latest.”
“Damn,” Roz says. “I can’t get there and back by then. Things are crazy this morning. Where do you live?” I tell her. “Okay,” she says, “we’re Parkdale too. I’ve got an idea. Have you got a friend who could help?”
We work it out. “I’ll call him right now,” Roz says. “Again, sorry about this. What name should I tell Harv?”
I only hesitate a second. “David McLean.”