by Jeremy Pack
"She had everything she needed," he added.
"Except for me," Chris argued. "Except everything that she's ever known. I'm her family, you sick son of a bitch."
Brunner rolled his eyes. "You're as much her family as the people babysitting her were."
"Do you expect gratitude from me? You ripped my child from her home. These people might have fed her, kept her safe, but they are not me, damn you. I was her entire world."
"Yeah, well, if you'd just offed yourself like you were supposed to, you'd have saved us all some time and trouble---including her."
Anger flared anew. If given half a chance, Chris would kill the slimy bastard in the front seat with his bare hands. He would tear him limb from limb, and still, he wasn't sure that the bloodlust would be satiated.
As he struggled to contain his rage, he vowed to himself that he would watch and wait for a time to strike. When Brunner was vulnerable, he'd mutilate him slowly, painfully. That moment would come, he was sure of it. When his guard was down, when Brianna's life didn't hang in the balance---when the opportunity presented itself, he would be ready.
Brunner's eyes returned to the road ahead, and Chris shifted his weight in the seat. His mobile phone pressed uncomfortably into his backside. As he repositioned himself, an idea occurred to him---one he hadn't had time to contemplate before now.
Slowly, carefully, he reached back and worked the phone partially out of his pocket. His hand froze in place when Brunner's eyes darted to his reflection in the rearview mirror. When Brunner's attention was diverted again by a particularly sinuous stretch of road, Chris felt for and pressed the On button.
Now all he had to do was wait and pray that Jason would try to call.
It didn't take long. Several minutes after turning the phone on, he felt it buzzing in his pocket. His heart raced.
Jason.
It was a stroke of good fortune that the road continued to wend through a mountain pass. This forced Brunner to keep his attention on driving. Surreptitiously, Chris snaked his hand into his pocket and fumbled for the button that would answer the call. Although he could not be sure whether it actually was Jason on the other end of the line, he prayed fervently that it was.
When he was certain the call had been connected, he asked, in as casual a tone as he could muster under the circumstances, "Where are you taking us?"
"Shut up," Brunner replied.
"We're headed north, aren't we?" Chris pressed. "What's north?"
"I said shut up," Brunner instructed. "I'm not in the mood for small talk."
"I sure wish you would tell me what all of this is about. Why me? I write restaurant reviews. I have nothing."
"This game is growing wearisome."
"For the last time, Brunner, I have no idea what it is you think I have. The Heart of the Jungle, you said. I haven't got a clue where that is."
Brunner chuckled. "You know, this is almost a convincing charade you have going here, but I can understand why you would want to protect it. It is absolutely unique, valuable beyond the dreams of avarice."
Chris was stunned to discover the Heart of the Jungle wasn't a place at all. "I... I swear to you, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Brunner's eyes in the rearview mirror were skeptical, but Chris could tell he was beginning to doubt.
"I'll give you whatever it is you want---only, I need to know what that is."
Chris saw Brunner's eyes drift to Brianna, who was lying asleep in his arms. "I didn't rescue your daughter out of the goodness of my heart, little man. Consider her welfare. Perhaps that will jog your memory."
This was getting dire. He just couldn't seem to make Brunner believe him. "I can't help you if I don't know what you---"
"Enough," Brunner snapped, cutting him off. "You're going to hand over that diamond, and provided you don't cause me any trouble, you and your daughter might just walk away unharmed. I actually don't like killing. I don't want to hurt you."
Diamond? The Heart of the Jungle was a diamond ? What made Brunner think he had a diamond? He thought about asking for more details, but something made him hold his tongue. His best hope for escape was to play along for as long as possible, all the while searching for an opening in Brunner's defenses. He dearly hoped that would happen before he was forced to pony up some diamond he knew nothing about.
If Jason was on the other end of the line and listening, maybe it wouldn't come to that.
"I suppose I do owe you for giving my daughter back to me safe and sound," he said pointedly---a message to Jason that Brianna was with him and in one piece.
"Keep that in mind," Brunner warned.
He clung tightly to the little girl and smoothed a damp curl away from her forehead. She slept on in his arms, content and at peace. Her little mouth turned up in a tiny smile of happiness.
IN THE passenger seat of Frank's government issue sedan, Jason held his phone close to his ear. He listened intently---so intently that his hand was shaking. They were alive. They were all right---for the moment.
Because of the torrents of rain pouring down, traffic on the strip was snarled. They had been sitting in the same spot for more than twenty minutes. Frank hammered on the horn in reproach as Jason strained to hear and scribbled notes on an envelope he had fished out of the glove compartment. He heard Chris say, "I suppose I do owe you for giving my daughter back to me safe---" before the line went dead.
"The Heart of the Jungle isn't a place," Jason said, tossing the cell phone. "I'll be damned." Frank cast him a sidelong glance, obviously confused. "They're alive," Jason told him. "Sounds like they're on the road. They're headed north."
Frank kept his eyes on the road. "I'd call in an APB, but we don't have a clue what kind of vehicle we're looking for. Smart move of your client to answer the phone like that. It was risky, but smart."
"What's north?" Jason asked.
"Desert, hundreds of miles. They could be headed anywhere."
Jason worked a muscle in his jaw. "It's getting late in the day, and they'll have to stop for the night. Let's get back to the field office and project possible routes and waypoints. It might help us to put in a call to hotels or motels along the way, fax over some photos and put them on alert."
"That'll work if they stop," Frank said, hammering the horn again.
"Could be your guy Brunner will just keep on driving."
"He'll have to stop. Cars need gas. People need food... and sleep."
"True, but they're traveling through some pretty remote territory. Getting word out is going to be tricky. What's this Heart of the Jungle thing you were going on about?"
"It's a diamond. Brunner said it was unique and extremely valuable. He thinks Chris has it."
"Hmm," Frank intoned. "That's a good piece of intel. I'll have someone look into it."
"Chris doesn't seem to know anything about it, but Brunner is expecting him to hand it over. He's deadly serious."
"You're positive Chris James doesn't know anything about this diamond? That he's not trying to avoid handing it over for some reason?"
Jason frowned and considered. He shook his head. Chris wouldn't have deceived him. He wouldn't have put the daughter he'd risked everything for in jeopardy by withholding something, no matter how valuable it was. "No way. You don't know Chris. He would hand over that diamond in a heartbeat to save Brianna."
Traffic started moving, and Frank eased the car forward. He heaved a sigh. "It really must be one hell of a rock. What I want to know is, if even Chris James doesn't know he has it, how does Brunner? How is he so sure?"
Jason thought about this. "Michael. Had to have been Michael. God knows how he found out about it, but he must've been the one to tell Brunner."
"This thing is just weird. In all my years as a federal investigator, I've never seen the like. This whole complicated conspiracy---the scope of it... I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. Blake certainly has an interesting story to tell."
"What do we have on him?"
"Possession, accomplice to kidnapping, not much else at this point. He was obviously in Las Vegas when Cross was murdered, so we can't pin that on him---hell, I don't even know how we're going to implicate Brunner, since he was here too. Maybe an accessory charge, or conspiracy, but until we figure out how deep this rabbit hole goes, it's hard to say. Kingsley, you were right when you said this one was big. It's a doozy."
Jason said, "I think Blake will talk willingly. He seemed... I don't know... resigned or defeated or something before I put his lights out. I get the sense he wanted out or he wasn't as willing as it appears on the surface."
"I hope you're right." Frank consulted his watch. "I'll get the team to work on the APB and this Heart of the Jungle thing while you and I head over to Valley Medical Center, check in on Blake, and rattle his chains a little."
Jason smiled gratefully. Chris and Brianna were still in grave peril, but in absence of his ability to take any kind of direct action, Frank's plan was as good as any. The best he could do now was put his faith in the good men and women of the FBI who were doing everything they could.
Chapter 14
IT HAD been one of the hottest days of the year in Las Vegas, the thermometer topping out at 120 degrees. Late in the day, the gathering thunderheads unleashed an intense storm that buffeted the city in high winds, lightning, and torrential rains. Though the rains moderated the temperature, tourists had been subjected to an intense desert heat they had no natural ability to endure. The sharp increase in heatstroke cases and the subsequent storm---which caused continual power interruptions---had turned Valley Medical Center into a complete and utter madhouse.
When he had been brought in, Michael Blake was stable, and he had been promptly hurried away and set aside. His condition was not dire, so he was relegated to the bottom of a very long triage list.
Because of the chaos in the hospital, when a swarthy man wearing an eye patch slipped through the doors marked "Authorized Personnel Only," nobody noticed. When he pulled a harried orderly into a utility closet and promptly broke the poor man's neck, nobody noticed. When he slipped out of the closet, garbed in the dead man's scrubs and smock, nobody noticed. And when he approached the room where Michael Blake was being held under guard, the police officer stationed in front of the door barely gave him a second glance as he brandished the chart and allowed himself inside.
It was a few moments' work to inject a lethal amount of amphetamine into the IV connected to Michael's arm. He was gone from the hospital before the flatline on the heart monitor announced that Michael Blake would never regain consciousness again. Toxicology results would reveal that he died of cardiac arrest resulting from a massive drug overdose---completely unsurprising, given the clear evidence of his long history of drug abuse in the needle tracks on his arm.
In the end, Michael Blake was nothing more than another junkie, like so many others, who got careless and killed himself in search of his next high.
THEY crossed the border from Nevada into California sometime around midnight. Chris had dozed, lulled into slumber by the gentle rocking of the car as they journeyed north and then west along minimally traveled Nevada byways. They had stopped several times, only long enough to fill the car with gas or attend to their human needs. During their first stop, Brunner had searched Chris and immediately discovered the cell phone.
Cursing himself for his carelessness in not finding it earlier, Brunner had thrown it on the ground and smashed it. Thereafter, he had been watchful to the point of paranoia. Each time they pulled over, though Chris looked for an opportunity to escape, Brunner didn't let him out of his sight.
Since they'd left Reno, the terrain had become increasingly mountainous, tugging back their frenetic pace. They had been driving through Shasta National Forest for some time now, having long since passed the last town. He was jarred rudely awake by the squealing of tires and a shouted curse from Brunner who had apparently been lulled himself.
Chris peered out the window into the blackness. The landscape was dark and mysterious, a forested and mountainous expanse completely devoid of civilization.
The mile-markers flew past, and a sign appeared out of the gloom.
"Weed, 27 miles," it announced. Sounds like a happening place.
The car swerved again. "Brunner," he shouted, wrenching the man back to consciousness. "You're going to kill us."
"Shut up," Brunner snapped.
"We need to stop. If you don't get some sleep you're going to run us off the road... or worse."
"Your concern is touching," Brunner responded sarcastically, "but I'm not stupid. If you think I'm going to stop somewhere and give you an opportunity to escape, you're sorely mistaken."
Chris bit his lip. He should have known Brunner would be cautious.
The man was, after all, a sly criminal who had long experience with treachery.
Chris sat back in the seat, frustrated. After some time had passed, he saw Brunner's head dip again, and he reached out and shook him awake. Brunner jumped and jerked the wheel hard to the right, overcorrecting. The car went into a slide, and he fought with it, struggling to regain control. The front tires bit into the gravel embankment, and the vehicle lurched sickeningly. Brunner slammed on the brakes, and after more fishtailing and sliding, blessedly, they came to a stop. Brianna, awoken by the sudden violence, started wailing. Chris held her tightly, whispering, "Shh, shh, it's okay, baby, Daddy's here," into her ear.
Brunner gripped the steering wheel with white knuckled hands, breathing heavily.
Brianna made small hiccupping sobs against his chest as Chris glared at Brunner's reflection in the rearview mirror. "Take your choice. You either stop and sleep, or we die in this car." The man's eyes flicked toward Chris's reflection, and even in the feeble green glow of the dashboard lighting, Chris could read indecision there. He thought quickly. "Use your brain," he prodded. "I write restaurant reviews for a living and I have a child to worry about. I'm not exactly in a position to go commando on you."
Brunner's eyes narrowed as he considered. He was still wary, but he realized Chris had a point. He did, after all, have the upper hand.
"Apart from that, if I somehow did manage to escape," Chris continued, "where would I go? We're in the middle of nowhere."
Brunner seemed to make a decision. "Very well. We will stop at the next town. If, as you say, you truly are unprepared to 'go commando,' you will not be harmed. If you so much as twitch in the wrong way, however, it is your child who will pay the price. Understood?"
Chris clutched Brianna fiercely to his chest. He believed Brunner when he said she would suffer if he caught him in an escape attempt. He clenched his jaw. He was faced with a desperate course of action.
Eventually, he would be required to produce a diamond he had never even heard of---this Heart of the Jungle that Brunner was so desperate to get his hands on. Despite all that he'd done to try to convince the man he knew nothing about it, Brunner steadfastly disbelieved him. Chris shuddered, imagining any number of horrific things Brunner would do to get him to produce it.
Somehow between now and then, he was going to have to risk escape or die in the attempt. The alternative was unthinkable. He kissed Brianna's soft forehead and held her close. Whatever the price, he would protect this precious little girl. Of the many choices he'd had to make in his life, this was, perhaps, the easiest one of all.
IN FRANK'S spartan office, Jason paced like a caged lion. Michael Blake was dead. Their one hope for answers, the one person who could have blown this thing wide open, was lost to them forever, an apparent victim of a drug overdose.
Bullshit. Someone had gotten to him. The officer on duty had been thoroughly questioned and maintained that only medical personnel had come and gone since he'd been stationed outside the room---that is, until word came in that a dead orderly was discovered in a utility closet. The officer stuck by his story but allowed that the hospital was a madhouse when Blake had been admitted. He agreed it was possible one of the d
octors had been a fake, since he hadn't questioned any of them.
Frank's team had been working on uncovering information about the Heart of the Jungle, but had so far come up empty. There was no record of such a gemstone with either the GIA or the Diamond Registry in New York. Calls to museums and universities similarly led to dead ends.
Frank stared at Jason from his perch behind the scarred desk. His eyes were troubled. "Walking a path in my threadbare carpet isn't accomplishing anything, son. Why don't you sit down?"
Jason stopped midstride and bit his lip. He folded his arms and stared directly into Frank's eyes. "I can't handle this. I feel so helpless. It seems like everywhere we turn, we're running into brick walls." His voice was raw with emotion and unrestrained anxiety.
"You get your patience from your father," Frank chided gently.
"Speaking of which, I hear you haven't talked to your folks in a couple of months." His expression carried reprimand. "Angelica said she's left messages for you, but you don't return her calls."
Jason sighed deeply and blushed. His mother's calls had gone unanswered lately. He could have blamed it on an unusually busy schedule, but after the breakup with Bradley, he'd withdrawn, avoiding the inevitable uncomfortable questions that would come up.
He and Bradley had spent holidays with his family and Frank's, and he hadn't quite been able to bring himself to discuss the details of the split with them. He knew his mother, in particular, would be curious about it.
No special closeness had developed between Bradley and his parents, but they'd seemed to like him well enough. Even though his "lifestyle," as his father so adroitly referred to it, was openly acknowledged, his parents still struggled with acceptance. In the beginning, their disappointment had been more pronounced---after all, they had been counting on a daughter-in-law, a big wedding, grandchildren, and the knowledge that their son would have some permanence and a family of his own when they were gone. Over time, the disappointment had faded, but with each passing year, their worry over his continued lack of relationship stability had grown. Explaining that he'd failed in love yet again would have rubbed salt into those festering wounds, and he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
