The Devil's Punchbowl

by Greg Iles

  “I know about all that, Kim. About Jan, everything. Please tell me anything you know.”

  “Hang on. Mike would know more about that. He’s been taking messages from the guy.”

  “From the filmmaker?”

  “Right. He’s called here two or three times this morning. Hang on.”

  I hear the phone clatter onto something hard.

  An alarm is buzzing in my head . If Caitlin had made plans to be in New Orleans today, she would have made them directly with Jan—of that I’m sure.

  “Penn?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Mike said the guy called just a few minutes ago. He’s been trying to get Caitlin all morning. Apparently Mike figured Caitlin was with you, working on whatever you guys have been doing this past couple of days.”

  “Thanks, Kim, I appreciate it. If you hear from her, please have her call me immediately, okay?”

  “I will. Is something wrong? Should we be worried?”

  “I don’t know. Just try to find her if you can.”

  My next call is to the landline at Caitlin’s house, but by the fifth ring I’m already out of the restaurant and running to my car.

  My tires screech as I skid into the curb in front of Caitlin’s house. Her door is standing open. It was closed this morning when Annie and I left for school. For a moment I think everything might be okay, but then I realize Caitlin’s rental car isn’t in the driveway.

  Bounding up the steps, I go through the door and find Kelly crouched over Carl Sims, trying to unwrap duct tape from his wrists. Carl is lying on the floor, his eyes closed, his usually mahogany skin almost gray.

  “What happened?” I ask. “Where’s Caitlin?”

  “Not here, that’s all I know. I just got here. Carl’s fucked up. They darted him with something.” Kelly points to an orange feather lying on the floor, then looks up at me. “I think they’ve taken her.”

  “Taken her?”

  “Kidnapped her.”

  “Sands?”

  “Who else? But why, I have no idea.”

  My vision begins to blur as panic rushes through me. “I tried to call you on my way here. Why didn’t you answer?”

  “I can’t find my cell phone.”

  “Is Carl alive?”

  “His heart’s beating. They must have hit him with some kind of big-game tranquilizer. I just called 911.”

  “You didn’t check in with him last night?”

  “Dude, I didn’t wake up until two minutes ago. I think they drugged me too. Somebody must have slipped something into my drink at the Corner Bar.”

  “Why the hell would they take Caitlin now? We had an agreement!”

  Kelly gently slaps Carl’s face. “Either they want something from you, or they want to keep you from doing something.”

  “I already told them I was backing off!”

  “I just thought of a third possibility.”

  “What?”

  “Caitlin wasn’t too happy about our deal to back off. What if she didn’t? What if she kept working the case?”

  Immediately, I know Kelly’s right. Still, I say, “She wouldn’t do that.”

  He gives me a look. “Come on, man. This is Caitlin we’re talking about.”

  She told me last night that she considered our agreement terminated—

  “Do you know where she was yesterday?” Kelly asks. “What she did all day? Because Carl wasn’t with her a lot of the time. She told him she needed some time alone, and she meant it. I was surprised she let him stay here last night.”

  “That’s why she let him stay,” I think aloud. “She knew there was risk, because she was still working this thing. Damn it!”

  Kelly puts his ear to Carl’s chest, then feels his pulse.

  “What should I do? Call the FBI? Caitlin’s father?”

  “No way. Hell no.”

  “That’s what anybody else would do. That’s why this was such a stupid move on their part!”

  “Sands expects you to know the rules. Calling in the FBI automatically risks the life of the hostage. You go public, like her father might, you’d be signing her death sentence. Think about it: If Caitlin kept pushing the case, Sands would assume you were too. So he thinks you broke the agreement. They don’t want to kill her. But they could. That’s the whole point of taking her. You’ve got to stay cool. You’ll hear from them soon. You should go across the street and check your message machine.”

  “They know my damned cell number!”

  As Kelly and I stare at each other, Carl begins to cough in his arms. Then he vomits onto Kelly’s leg and the hardwood floor.

  “Thank God he didn’t do that last night,” Kelly says. “He had duct tape over his mouth. He would have done a Jimi Hendrix right here.”

  “We can’t just wait around for Sands to make the next move.”

  Kelly wipes vomit off his pants. “I should’ve just thrown him in the car instead of waiting on an ambulance. Jeez.” Kelly looks up at me with weary disgust. “What do you want to do?”

  “Grab Sands or Quinn off the street and squeeze them until they tell us where she is. You told Sands yesterday that you’d kill him if he fucked with my family. Well, Caitlin is family.”

  “She is, absolutely. But we won’t be able to get to them now. They’ve gone to the mattresses.”

  Carl seems to be breathing better, but he’s not yet coherent.

  “But why?” I ask. “Sands isn’t stupid. Why take the risk of me calling the FBI and blowing up the whole Po sting?”

  “I told you, either Caitlin gave them no choice, or you have something they want.”

  “But I don’t!”

  “Maybe they think you do. Sands thinks there’re still variables floating around out there. The USB drive, for instance. And whatever that computer kid had on him. The bird lover. And don’t forget Linda Church.”

  Kelly’s right, especially about Linda. “I could see Caitlin trying to find her.”

  “The worst scenario,” he says, “is that Caitlin was planning to go public, and they found out about it. They probably have somebody on their payroll down at the paper. Only makes sense.”

  “Jesus. Do you think they took her just to kill her? Kill her and lose her body?”

  “No. They’d have taken Carl too. This is like when kings used to exchange hostages to prevent wars from happening. Gangs still do that kind of thing.”

  “How is this like that? They have Caitlin, and we have nothing.”

  “Sands must think you have something. Probably Ben Li’s insurance.”

  As soon as these words leave Kelly’s mouth, I know what to do. I take out my cell phone, but before I punch a key, Kelly says, “Whoa, what are you doing?”

  “Watch and learn.” I speed-dial Seamus Quinn, and the Irishman answers with his usual smug sarcasm.

  “Top of the morning to ya, Mr. Mayor.”

  “It’s after lunch, Quinn.”

  “Is it? I’ll bet some people are just wakin’ up, though.”

  I nod meaningfully to Kelly. “We both know what happened last night, so let’s skip the games. I know you won’t talk about it. I just want you to know one thing.”

  “You’re not gonna threaten me again, are you? I’m getting a bit tired of that.”

  “Do you remember our conversation on the Queen on Monday?”

  “I remember your bodyguard assaulted me. With a deadly weapon. I’m thinking of pressing charges.”

  “Listen to me, you stupid bastard—”

  Calm down, Kelly mouths, shaking his head.

  “Your boss discussed some missing data. Do you remember that?”

  Quinn’s answer is silence.

  When we left the Magnolia Queen yesterday morning, Kelly assumed that Quinn had possession of the missing USB drive, and was holding it to use in a possible deal with Hull. I agreed. But if Sands and Quinn are desperate enough to kidnap Caitlin, something tells me that they have neither Ben Li’s stash nor the USB drive. And if Quinn doesn’t have it, logic leaves only one other likely candidate—someone who heard the voice memo Tim made on his cell phone before he died. Knowing Shad Johnson as I do—as a political creature
above all else—I judge that it’s worth the risk of bluffing Quinn on this point.

  “I’ve got it, Quinn.”

  “You’re lying,” says the Irishman, and for a moment my confidence wavers. But something in his voice tells me to push on, and with the dizzying rush that a cliff diver must feel, I say, “I’ve got your boss by the short hairs, you bastard, and there’s only one way he’s getting it back. A trade.”

  “Even if you have it, you can’t use it,” Quinn says with more certainty. “Your own government would bury you. You still don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

  Hope and excitement have filled my chest. “I’ll tell you what I know. Your government buddy Hull’s like a vampire—he can’t stand the light. If I go public, he’ll vanish into a puff of smoke. Keep your focus, Quinn. The thumb drive is the thing. And if you put one scratch on Caitlin, you and Sands will spend the rest of your lives on Parchman Farm. You think Irish prisons are tough? You’d be better off dead, mate. You’ll be hearing from me soon.”

  “Wait—”

  When the connection goes dead, I pump my fist. “They don’t have it.”

  “That’s great,” says Kelly, cradling Carl’s head. “The problem is, you don’t either.”

  “No. But I know who does.”

  The wail of a siren echoes up Washington Street at last.

  “Just in the nick of time,” mutters Kelly. “Christ.”

  “Stay with him until they get here,” I say, backing through the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “The DA’s office. You can find me there or City Hall.”

  CHAPTER

  51

  It’s only three blocks from Caitlin’s house to the DA’s office. I use the brief drive to call Chief Logan at police headquarters.

  “Haven’t heard from you in a while, Mr. Mayor,” Logan says with subtle sarcasm.

  “I could say the same. I’ve been pretty busy. What about you?”

  “You could say that.”

  “I’m calling to give you a head’s up on something. There was a kid named Ben Li who worked on the Magnolia Queen. Computer specialist. I think he’s in trouble—maybe even dead.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Just trust me, Chief. You ought to look into it. I’d pay special attention to things like safe deposit boxes or storage rooms the kid might have rented. You could search his house too, but I don’t think you’re going to find anything there.”

  Logan doesn’t speak for a few seconds. Then he says, “I sure wish you’d decided to tell me this a little earlier. Like yesterday.”

  “Why’s that?’

  “Did this Li kid live on Park Place?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Because a house owned by someone of that name burned to the ground before dawn this morning.”

  A cold blade of premonition slices through me, but Logan pushes on too quickly for me to read its significance.

  “I’d like to ask you a couple of questions, Penn. Face to face, if possible.”

  I’ve reached City Hall, and just in time. “I’d like that too, Don, but I’ll have to get back to you. I’m about to go into a meeting with the district attorney.”

  “That right? Be sure and give him my warmest regards.” The sarcasm drips from Logan’s voice. “Not that he gives a shit. He thinks the only thing we’re here for is to fix speeding tickets for his buddies—who are few and far between.”

  “I hear you. I’ll get back to you when I can.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out about this Li kid.”

  I tell Logan I appreciate it, then park in my private spot and start toward the building that houses the DA’s office. The lunch crowd is returning to the city offices, but I hardly respond to their greetings, my mind on a fire that was surely no accident, and that must have meaning for those with the wits to read it.

  It’s a measure of what Sands has done to this town that as I pass long-familiar faces, I wonder whether I can trust any of them.

  Rose, my secretary, is walking up the sidewalk from the parking lot.

  “Paul Labry’s waiting for you in your office,” she calls. “Apparently he showed up halfway through lunch, and he’s been there ever since. Dora says he’s very upset.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I just found out myself. He didn’t want you disturbed. Said you had to talk face-to-face and nobody should mention him to you on the phone.”

  Veering right, I trot across the grass to the door of City Hall.

  Two women in the foyer dart out of my path with a cry as I take the steps two at a time. All I can think of is that it was Labry who first gave me the name of Edward Po, from his Golden Parachute files. Asking him had been a selfish thing to do; it put both him and his family at risk. But now I sense that this act is going to come back to haunt me—or has already cost Labry dearly. If he looked deeper into the Golden Parachute investors on his own

  “Where is he, Dora?” asks a loud and insistent male voice. “Damn it, he never gets back this late from lunch!”

  “Paul?” I call, opening the door. “I’m here, man. What’s going on?”

  The man who stumbles toward me looks like a caricature of the dignified civil servant who accepted the citizenship award from me at the Ramada two days ago. He looked tired at Tim’s burial yesterday, but now his eyes are bloodshot, his cheeks flushed, and his clothes in disarray, the front left tail of his poly-cotton-blend button-down hanging askew.

  Dora gives me a look bordering on desperation.

  “Let’s go in my office, Paul. Come on back.”

  Labry stares at me like he’s about to burst into tears, then throws his hand twice in the direction of my office, walks into it, and collapses in the chair opposite my desk.

  I give Dora a placating gesture just as Rose comes in behind me. “Is everything okay?” she asks.

  “We’re fine,” I tell her. “Will you check and see whether Shad Johnson’s in his office?”

  “You want me to buzz you or wait till you’re done?”

  “Buzz me when you know.”

  Shutting the door softly behind me, I lay my hand on Paul’s shoulder and squeeze it. “What’s happened, Paul? I’ve never seen you look like this.”

  “I’ve never felt like this,” he says, staring over my desk as if I’m sitting on the other side of it, and not looking down at the top of his head.

  When he remains silent, I go around my desk and take my seat.

  “I wanted to come talk to you this morning,” he says, “but I couldn’t get up the nerve.”

  “What is it, Paul? Is it what I talked to you about yesterday? Running for mayor?”

  Labry laughs so hard at this that mucus drips from his nose. He wipes it with his sleeve, but when he lowers his arm, the smile is gone. “I can’t ever be mayor now. Never.”

  “Why not?”

  “I wouldn’t get fifty votes. I don’t deserve fifty votes.”

  “Why not? What’s the matter?”

  “I’ll be bankrupt in a month. My father too, only he doesn’t know it. We’re going to lose everything. The business our houses. All of it.”

  “What?”

  “I told you yesterday that retail’s gone down the toilet. Well, I did some things to try to compete with the big guys. Expand, you know? But I just made things worse. The debts just grew and grew. Then I did some gambling, hoping to make up the shortfall.”

  This takes me completely off guard. “I didn’t know you gambled.”

  “I don’t, really. Just enough to get to know some of the people who run the casinos. Which is crazy, when you think about it, because I didn’t even want the damned casinos here. But it was Sands who bailed me out, man. He got me out of—”

  “Sands?” I ask sharply. “Jonathan Sands?”

  “Right. One night I got a little drunk and started bitching about the banks hounding me, and Sands offered to help out. He did too. But now ” Paul looks helplessly at me, then grabs his own shirtfront and jerks it upward. “They own me, man. They own me. I owe them so much money, I could never pay it back. There’s no way I can be mayor with them p
ulling my strings like a puppet. It’d be a travesty of everything you and I ever talked about doing.”

  “Jesus, Paul I had no idea. Why didn’t you come to me? I would have tried to help.”

  “Come to you? Do you have any idea how hard that would have been? Come to you and tell you I’m a total fuckup? My old man already thinks I drove the business into the ground. He doesn’t get it, how the world has changed.”

  “Paul—look, I know you’re in trouble, but I’ve got something really big going on right now. I’ve got to make some calls.”

  He’s shaking his head again. “No, no, I told you, I was supposed to come see you this morning. I just couldn’t do it. That’s why I started drinking. I couldn’t face you, man.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  At last all his frenetic twitching stops, and he looks me dead in the eye. “They sent me to talk to you. To give you a message.”

  “Who did?”

  “Sands’s security guy. Quinn. It’s about Caitlin.”

  For a moment I’m not sure I’ve heard right, but then my face goes cold.

  “Whatever it is you’re doing,” Labry says, “you’ve got to stop it for thirty-six hours. That’s the message. They don’t have any intention of hurting her. They’ve got her in a hotel somewhere.”

  I’m pushing myself slowly away from my desk, trying to process what I’m hearing as panic and rage rise in me. “How long have you known this, Paul?’

  “Quinn came to the store this morning. Look, I know it sounds bad. But they have some big deal about to go down, and they said you guys were going to screw it up somehow, by going public with something. I don’t even know if you know about it. Maybe it was mostly Caitlin, but Penn, don’t look at me like that. You look like I took her or something. I love Caitlin. She’s got more—”

  “Get out of my sight, Paul.”

  Labry stares as though I’ve slapped his face, then begins sobbing. I stand and walk past him, heading for the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” he cries, running after me as Rose gapes.

  “To see Shad Johnson.”

  “Shad? Why?” He catches up with me on the staircase and pulls me to a stop. “Penn, if you report this, they’ll kill her.”