The Kidnap Victim

by Michael P. King

  “I don’t want you to do anything illegal.”

  “This isn’t illegal.”

  “It’s just not worth it.”

  “This is money I earned fair and square.”

  “How much?”

  “Sixty thousand.”

  “Sixty thousand dollars? That you earned fair and square?”

  “My hand to God.”

  “You earned sixty thousand dollars fair and square, but you had to track down this guy to get paid. You can see how fishy that sounds.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “When will you get it?”

  “I’ll have this money within the week.”

  She sighed. “Okay. Not a day longer. With or without this money you’re coming home. I need you here.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “And no more lies. You’re in the doghouse until I can be sure of you.”

  She ended the call. Stein sat behind the steering wheel looking at the face of his phone. The home invasion was the right choice. Finally, he was going to catch a break.

  Nicole sat out on the swimming pool deck talking on the phone with Bryan. The day was overcast, and the surf was choppy. The breeze felt cool for August. She pulled her beach cover-up around her shoulders and tried to button it one-handed.

  “So that’s about the size of it,” he said.

  “Sounds simple enough.”

  “There are no moving parts to this one. Monday evening I’ll make the swap and leave town.”

  “You don’t have the counterfeit yet.”

  “True, but this is Zeb’s connection, so it should all go smooth. Don’t worry. Since my midnight swim my paranoia has paranoia.”

  “That’s the way it should always be.” Nicole saw some sunshine peeking through the clouds in the distance.

  “So how are things with you?”

  “Like I told you yesterday, Bell’s still softening, but she’s only here another ten days. We don’t have much in common, and I’m not sleeping with her, so all in all I think I’m doing pretty well. Playing everything honest just makes this a tougher sell.”

  “Honesty is the hardest game. There’s not much room to spin.”

  “Exactly, manipulating a web of lies is child’s play, but a web of truth? It requires too much trust.”

  “Yeah, but it’s the only approach that’s going to work over the long run.”

  “So what are you going to do after you finish this job?”

  “Jump around for a week, and then find a place to relax.”

  “I love you. You be careful.”

  “I love you too.”

  Nicole walked back into the kitchen. She could see Denison in the mudroom in his golf clothes, his golf shoes in one hand. “There you are,” she said. “Where’s Bell?”

  “In the garage.”

  “How was golf?”

  “I’m getting old.” He set his golf shoes on a shelf by the door to the garage.

  “She give you a run for your money?”

  “She’ll be in here bragging in a minute. What have you been doing?”

  “Talking to John.”

  He studied her face. “Are you leaving?”

  “No, we’ve just been catching up. He should have asked for my help, but didn’t. Ran into a bit of trouble. His name’s Bryan now.”

  “Bryan?”

  “Yeah.”

  He put his hands on her hips and kissed her. “As long as he doesn’t need you, I don’t care what his name is.”

  Bryan drove his Camry into the U-Store Self Storage located half a block from the south loop interstate interchange in Martinsburg. Even though it was just midmorning, he had the windows up and the air-conditioning on. He drove down the rows of storage units until he came to unit 212. A black man wearing blue work clothes with the name Marty embroidered on the shirt pocket was waiting for him. Bryan got out of the Camry carrying a red book bag in one hand. “Good morning.”

  The black man eyed him suspiciously. “Am I supposed to know you?”

  “Zeb told me that you’d have something for me.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “I’m the Traveling Man.”

  Marty grunted, then turned and unlocked the garage door to the storage unit and rolled it up. On the concrete floor in the unit was a single cardboard box. “It’s five thousand for the fifty grand.”

  “Five? Zeb said three.”

  “Did he?” Marty grimaced. “I’ll split the difference. Four thousand.”

  Bryan set the book bag on the floor and squatted to open the flaps on the cardboard box. Fifty thousand in counterfeit bills. He reached in, pulled out a banded bundle, pulled a bill out at random and held it up to the light. “Very nice work.”

  “My guy knows his way around a press.”

  Bryan counted $1,000 out of his pocket, added it to the book bag with the three thousand, and tossed the bag to Marty. “That makes four thousand.”

  Marty poked through the money in the bag. “We’re good.”

  “How do I get in touch when I need more?”

  Marty shook his head. “No disrespect, but I don’t know you. I know a guy you know, which is not the same thing. So you get in touch with Zeb if you need me.”

  “Fair enough.” Bryan picked up the cardboard box.

  Marty left the book bag in the storage unit and pulled down the garage door. He watched Bryan get back into his car and drive away. Then he got out his phone.

  “Hey, Frankie. That dude you’re looking for? The con man? He was just here.”

  “Really?”

  “No doubt. He’s driving a tan Camry. I’m texting you a picture of the license plate.”

  “We owe you one.”

  “No problem. Always looking to help a friend.”

  That night a storm rolled in from the ocean. At first the rain pitter-pattered on the windows, but then the wind picked up, and the rain pounded the glass. Bell lay in bed on her side, a pillow between her legs and her phone against her ear, talking to Bobby. “Hang on, I can’t hear you.” She adjusted the volume on her phone. “That should do it. Anyway, I’m sorry I have to keep talking this through.”

  “That’s okay. It’s a lot to take in,” Bobby replied. “Are you getting any closure?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I’ve got Skip off my back.”

  “That’s a start.”

  “And Nicole isn’t evil, and Dad was faithful.”

  “But?”

  “This is a strange thing to say, but even though Nicole is kind and takes good care of Dad, and she’s not jealous of my relationship with him, I don’t think she’s good enough for him.”

  “So she’s in the same category as Skip’s wife.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  He chuckled. “But you don’t think any women are good enough for your men.”

  She smiled. “Because they aren’t.”

  “It’s a good thing your brother and your dad aren’t as picky as you. They would have gotten rid of me by now.”

  She shifted onto her back. “I miss you so much.”

  “I miss you more.”

  She touched herself. “Do you want to play telephone?”

  “I thought you didn’t want to do that anymore.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “I’m game. I’m walking toward the bedroom. Do you want me to be me or someone else?”

  “You.”

  “Are you a good girl or a bad girl?”

  “I’m a bad, bad girl.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “I’m wearing the dress I was wearing when we went to Jeremy and Stella’s party. Do you remember it?”

  “Oh, yeah. The supermodel dress. You looked…incredible. I could barely keep my hands off you.”

  “Do you remember what we did in the car at the top of the hill?”

  “Do I ever.”

  “Start there.”

  8

  The Kidnapping

  O
n Sunday afternoon, Fred Stein stood on the porch of the rental house on Rainy Street as his old friend Rudy Grissom came up the sidewalk with the two men he’d recruited to help recover the money. “Rudy, glad to see you.”

  Grissom pointed to the large black man wearing pirate earrings. “This is Kevin Johnson.”

  Johnson flashed a smile.

  Then Grissom pointed to the muscled-up blond guy with flat, dull eyes. Stein thought he looked like trouble. “This is Chris Billings.”

  Stein shook hands with them both.

  Grissom slapped Stein on the shoulder. “They work at the club. They’re reliable guys.”

  “Glad you guys could come,” Stein said. “Let’s go inside.”

  Stein unlocked the door and led the way. The house was open from front to back, with a hallway to the bedrooms and bathroom to the left. The living room held a well-worn sofa, two chairs, a coffee table, and a flat-screen TV. Next came a dining room table with four chairs. The kitchen was separated from the rest of the room by a bar height Formica countertop.

  “Nice-looking place,” Grissom said.

  Stein gestured toward the dining area. “How about we sit at the table?”

  They all sat down. “Everything set?” Grissom asked.

  Stein looked from Billings to Johnson. “You done this sort of thing before?”

  “Rudy has filled us in,” Johnson said, “but we’d like to hear it from you.”

  “Long story short,” Stein said, “I bumped into this woman who ripped me off a few years ago. She’s a grifter. I’ve been following her. She’s staying with a man and a woman. I checked the property records and did an Internet search. The guy, James Denison, is a millionaire. Loaded big time. He’s either in with them on some scam or they’re manipulating him. Either way is good for us. We threaten them, take him to the bank, he gets us the money.”

  Billings frowned. “So you’re talking home invasion. I’ve done some of those. They can get messy.”

  “They’ll cooperate. She’s a player. They can’t go to the police.”

  “What makes you think they won’t just come after us?” Johnson asked.

  “I know her. That’s not her style. She doesn’t want to attract any attention to herself. As long as she knows no one’s going to get hurt if she pays, she’s going to pay.”

  “And we get five grand?” Johnson asked.

  “Five apiece,” Stein said.

  “Out of one hundred grand?” Billings asked.

  “Yeah,” Grissom said. “But you’re being hired to do a job. You get paid no matter what.”

  “What if they don’t have the cash on hand?” Johnson asked.

  “That’s why I rented this place,” Stein said. “We’ll take one of them hostage and put them in the downstairs here.”

  “So when are we going to do this?” Billings asked.

  “Tomorrow is Monday,” Stein continued. “We hit them just before the banks open. And another thing. I don’t want any violence. Anyone gets hurt, everything gets complicated. We don’t want that. Can you guys go with that?”

  “Absolutely,” Johnson nodded.

  “For five grand, I’m not going to let anyone hurt me,” Billings said. “But if they’re cool, I can be cool.”

  “Okay then,” Stein said.

  Grissom scooted his chair back. “What did I tell you? This is going to work out just fine.”

  The next morning, shortly after 9:00 a.m., Denison, Bell, and Nicole sat around the kitchen island drinking coffee and eating breakfast. They were already dressed for the day—Denison in golf clothes, Bell in a yellow-and-green striped sundress, and Nicole in shorts and a sleeveless top. The doorbell rang. Denison walked through to the entryway to answer the door. Four men in dark clothes with automatic pistols down at their sides stood on the front steps: a blocky, gray-haired man with an acne-scarred face, a large black man with gold hoop earrings, a blond man with spiky hair, and a sloppy fat man with a thin comb-over.

  Denison’s mouth gaped open. He tried to slam the door shut, but they shoved their way in. He recognized the fat man. “Hey! You’re the guy from Jerry’s Surf House. Fred—Fred what’s his name.”

  “I’ve come for my money.”

  “I don’t want any trouble,” Denison said.

  “That’s great,” Acne Scars said, “because we don’t want to have to clean up after any trouble. You do what we say, everything will turn out fine. Where are the women?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  They pushed him back through the house. “Look at this place,” the black guy said. “They definitely have the cash.”

  Nicole appeared in the hallway. “Oh, no.”

  She’d witnessed this scene too many times before. She spun on her heels, but the blond guy grabbed her arm and pushed his pistol into her side. “Easy now, honey pie.”

  Bell jumped off her stool as they came into the kitchen. Stein pointed his gun. She yelped.

  “Sit back down. Everybody take a seat,” Stein said.

  Denison, Bell, and Nicole sat on the stools at the island. The intruders stood around them, guns in their hands, all hard looks and intimidation. “How this goes is up to you, Sally,” Stein said. “You play it easy, and no one will get hurt, I promise you. I admit that two years ago I wanted to kill you, but now it’s just about the money. You give us one hundred thousand, and we go right back out that door.”

  Nicole looked the intruders over, sizing them up. She knew that Stein was soft—that he was easy to fool and couldn’t run a crew. If he was in charge, she couldn’t think of a single reason why she should admit anything. “Mister, I told you before, I’m not Sally. I’m Nicole Carter. I don’t know what I could do to convince you, but you have to believe me.”

  “Sally Jones. That’s your name. Or that’s what you told me your name was. Maybe it was Nicole Carter all along.”

  “I’ve never met you before.”

  “Fred,” Acne Scars said, “this is going nowhere. Let’s separate them and see how long they can keep their stories straight. We can take her.” He pointed to Nicole. “Mr. Black can take him.” He nodded toward the black guy and pointed to Denison. “And Mr. White can take her.” He nodded toward the blond guy and pointed to Bell.

  Mr. White grinned. “It’ll be my pleasure.” He took hold of Bell’s arm. She tried to pull away.

  Nicole glanced from Stein to Acne Scars to Mr. Black and finally to Mr. White. It looked like Acne Scars was the brains. Mr. Black moved quickly enough, but she bet he was just here to get paid. Mr. White, on the other hand, had the pitiless look of a predator. He’d probably enjoy smacking Bell around. Nicole couldn’t allow that to happen. She was going to have to change tack. “Okay,” Nicole held up one hand. “Okay, I do know who you are.”

  Acne Scars leaned back against the refrigerator. “That’s better.”

  “But these two don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. I just met them a couple of months ago.”

  Stein snorted. “They aren’t your partners?”

  “No.”

  “So you’re working them?”

  Nicole drew out her answer as if she didn’t want to say it. “Yeah, okay, I’ve been working them. You put a wrinkle in my plan when you bumped into us a couple of weeks ago.”

  “What?” Bell glared at her. “I was beginning to trust you.”

  “Settle down, honey,” Denison said.

  Stein continued. “How much were you taking them for?”

  Nicole swallowed hard. “Everything.”

  “Meaning what?” Acne Scars asked.

  She looked down at the granite counter. She hoped Denison knew what she was doing. “If everything went according to plan, he’d be proposing to me in the next week or two. Six months from now, I’d be Mrs. Denison.”

  Denison acted confused and angry. “Really? You don’t love me? I can’t believe this.”

  “Skip was right all along,” Bell said.

  Stein smiled. “That�
��s the Sally I know.” He turned to Denison. “You’re lucky I came along. I saved you a lot of grief. That’s worth a hundred thousand easy.”

  “So there’s no reason to involve them,” Nicole said. “Let’s get out of here, and we’ll see what we can work out.”

  Acne Scars, Mr. Black, and Mr. White exchanged glances. “No way,” Acne Scars said.

  “They’re not my partners,” Nicole said.

  “Who cares?” Mr. Black replied.

  “What do you mean?” Stein asked.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Acne Scars continued. “In the end, we don’t care if they’re connected. Does she have one hundred thousand? He’s the one with the money. He’s in a bad place, and he’s going to pay.”

  “I get you,” Stein said. He turned to Denison. “You want your life back? Call the bank and arrange for our money.”

  “What if I won’t do it?”

  “You have to go to the bank, so we can’t mark you up,” Acne Scars said. He gestured at Nicole. “And you don’t care about her. She’s just a grifter. So that leaves the princess. We don’t want to hurt her, but that’s up to you.”

  The color drained from Bell’s face. She stammered. Denison shushed her. “I’ll do it.”

  “And no funny business,” Acne Scars said. “Put it on speaker.”

  Denison called the bank.

  “Good morning. ECB Bank. How can I direct your call?”

  “Hello, this is James Denison. Is Cory Davids available?”

  “One moment, please.”

  There was a short pause.

  “Cory Davids.”

  “Cory? How are you? This is James Denison. The reason I’ve called is that I need one hundred thousand dollars, cash.”

  “Cash? Wow. Could you take a cashier’s check?”

  “No, it’s got to be cash.”

  “Mr. Denison, there’s extra government reporting for a cash withdrawal of that size. Are you in trouble? Should I call the police?”

  “I’m not in trouble, and I don’t need the police. I need one hundred thousand dollars in cash.”

  “Okay, Mr. Denison. I’ll assemble the cash for you, but it’s going to take a few days.”

  “A few days?”

  “Everything’s electronic nowadays. We don’t keep that much extra money around, so I’ll have to have it brought in. That takes time.”