by Alex Hughes
I dialed slowly, double- and triple-checking the number. I put the box down on the ground and straightened up while the phone rang. And rang. And rang.
Finally he picked up.
“Adam Ward.” Fiske’s voice popped the syllables of each letter slowly, taking the maximum enjoyment out of the moment. I knew then that this would be bad.
“Fiske,” I said. “Is this the part where you tell me there’s a sniper to take me out already set up here?”
“An excellent question, Mr. Ward. An excellent question indeed. How gratifying that you take me seriously. As it happens, I have other plans for you today.”
I paused, using all my skills as a Minder to identify every mind in the vicinity. A few dog walkers a block away, office workers, and the like. No one near. No one paying attention, and no one with the focus I thought a sniper would need. Assuming they were within my half-mile range. Of course, I’d thought to check only after I’d talked to him. If someone had been there, it was probably already too late.
The only comfort I had against that thought was that Fiske wasn’t a straightforward man, at least from what I’d seen and participated in in the task force. Yes, he rewarded loyalty and punished disloyalty. He usually did what he said he was going to do. But he was a chess player, a wheels-within-wheels kind of guy. If he said he had other plans for me today, they would be far worse than a single bullet, but I might, in the end, survive.
“What are we here to talk about?” I asked him.
“Mr. Ward, you should know two very important things. One, that I am the architect of your partner’s destruction, and two, that I hold your charge’s life in my hands. I imagine you have questions. You may ask them, and then I will offer you a series of choices. I suggest you choose very wisely.”
I took a deep breath, putting my emotions aside with great effort. I had one opportunity to take back some control. Mendez and Jarrod had said, if I could keep him talking, that I might be able to get Tommy back. And I’d been on the street too long to think rolling over got you anywhere at all. I breathed again, deeply, once, twice, knowing that I wasn’t going to get a second chance at this.
“If you remain silent, I will kill your partner,” Fiske said in a matter-of-fact tone that made it all too clear he was serious.
“You will not,” I said finally. “I will play your game, so far as it goes. Just realize I’ll have some things to say as well.”
“Ah, wonderful. I do so love an intelligent opponent. Ask your first question.”
“By my partner, you mean Cherabino,” I said, stalling. I felt like I was behind, like I was still processing what had happened up to this point, much less what he was saying now.
“I’d suggest you not try my patience with obvious questions.”
What was his exact wording? “Why did you engineer my partner’s destruction, and what exactly does that mean?”
“That’s two questions, but I’ll let it go for now. The why is simple. You came into my house without my permission and killed one of my associates.”
So I had killed him. “That was an accident,” I said. I’d turned on the sleep center of the woman’s brain, and she had hit her head on the tile on the way down. “I did not intend to harm her permanently.”
“You exposed a hole in my security system and so I let you go, but the death . . . I do not take the death of my associates lightly,” Fiske said. “You should know by now that I had to answer that.”
By his rules, I suppose he did. “And this is your retaliation? Against me?”
“I had a plan, naturally, to discredit you at the highest levels, but you ended up in Savannah before I had a chance to implement it. Fortunately you were there for your partner’s destruction, which was an excellent start.”
Finally it clicked. “You set up the guy outside the concert? You had someone beat him to death, and then you planted the fingerprints and bribed the witnesses to lie?”
“Ah, finally he asks a good question. Yes, that is exactly what I did. And today, my dear friend the Decatur mayor will inform the police commissioner that your partner must lose her job. So much more apropos than a simple execution, don’t you agree? She does so love that job, your partner.”
I closed my eyes, feeling vacant, horribly vacant. If I hadn’t had that vision of the future, and Cherabino hadn’t acted on it . . . “Is there anything I can do to get you to use your influence to reinstate her?” I asked, and then kicked myself. I couldn’t deal with this guy. I couldn’t.
But negotiation was the only thing that might work, I told myself. That was what Mendez had said.
“Ah, but he wants to jump ahead. Let’s finish the question section of the game before you move to the choices. Ask your next question, and make it a good one.”
“Why kidnap Tommy?” I asked. “If the judge set up the attack on her own, and your blackmail wasn’t working, wouldn’t it have been easier just to release the information to discredit her?”
“I can hear the pain in your voice. How wonderful. I must confess, it was delightful to find you popping up here, in the middle of this judicial matter. Especially after my men lost you in Atlanta, which they already regret. I have a policy that no one takes a job against me or mine, or against anyone I am already targeting myself. This is basic courtesy for the boss, and if I don’t enforce the policy strenuously, I don’t deserve the title. I had already made it clear I had an interest in the Pappadakis case, and the judge was involved. Her freelancers should never have accepted her money, and they have been appropriately disciplined.”
“They’re dead,” I said.
“Yes, Sibley is very efficient, isn’t he? The bodies should not have been found for a few weeks yet, but I did force his timeline unnecessarily fast. I have arranged for the critical evidence to be lost and we’ll end up in the same place as we started. Plus a mistrial, and an opportunity to deal with you as you deserve. I do so love it when I can kill two birds with one stone.”
“How can you be sure the evidence is lost?” I asked.
“I have allies nearly everywhere. You should know this by now, Mr. Ward.”
“In the judicial system here in Savannah?”
“Ah. Another intelligent question. The judicial system in Savannah has been strangely reluctant to accept my little favors, it is true, especially as compared to your own home territory. But until this little dustup, it seemed well on the way, and the business community is very open.”
“Like your friend Pappadakis.”
“He is not a friend, he is a supplier. Surely you know the difference. I provide him with certain . . . connections in exchange for difficult-to-obtain parts that I need for other business ventures.”
“You don’t seriously think you’ll get him off the charges? I mean, it’s clear he beat his mistress to death.”
“So judgmental. You have your little foibles as well—never, ever forget that, Mr. Ward. In this case I merely have to provide a significant show of resistance. His second-in-command has already been groomed, and if I show myself a strong ally, he’ll make the same deals with me as did his predecessor. And to be honest, it’s far more fun when they resist. I had had hopes that your dear judge friend might turn into an ally, after an appropriate time. But she did not, sadly.”
“Why attack the judge at all?” I asked.
A small, self-satisfied laugh. “And why should I not? If she agrees to my terms, I have a powerful ally in a relatively new territory. Judges are so useful, you understand. If she resists, she is easily made an example to keep my allies here in Atlanta—or really, anywhere in my territory—inclined to keep their end of our little deals. There is no downside.”
I shook my head, processing all of that. Fiske was playing a chess game, a long chess game for some final goal I didn’t understand, and we all were just pieces to him.
“Why Tommy?” I demanded final
ly. “Why the photograph? Why kidnap Tommy? You already had what you wanted from the judge.” I was unable to keep the desperation out of my voice. It was almost worse, the turmoil going on inside me against the absolute calm in his voice.
“People who get too clever must be dealt with,” Fiske said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Forcing the judge to destroy her own career seemed ever so much more fun than doing it myself, as I said. Not to mention I get to see the local news commenting on her perfidy as we speak. She is ruined, and I get to watch. And it leaves us here, with this little game between us. You made the mistake of getting attached to the boy. I do so love it when opponents make mistakes. Without you, I likely would have returned him today.”
“So he’s still in danger, and it’s my fault.” I closed my eyes. “You want me to destroy myself the way that the judge did. That’s why you sent me the vial.”
“Very good, Mr. Ward. And thus far you seem to have passed up my little temptation. Good for you, and I mean that. I have every confidence that it won’t last, however. Once an addict, always an addict, is that not what your precious Twelve Steps program says? How delightful you’ve given me a second hold over you now. Tommy is such a delightful little boy, is he not?”
I felt like he’d stabbed me with a serrated knife in the heart, and was twisting it, twisting it. “What do you want?” I asked, barely with it enough to do anything but react. But I had one chance to get through this. “What will it take to get Tommy out of there alive?”
“Ah,” he said, the sound of a shark admiring a particularly lovely prey trapped against the reef. “I see it’s time to enter the choice portion of our little discussion.”
I reached out without thinking about it, to Tommy, just to try to connect one more time. After all the failures, however, somehow this time it worked.
I was suddenly in two places at once, in a moldy barn full of hay, and on the sidewalk, a phone receiver pressed to my ear. My internal eyes struggled to see both at once.
“The lady or the tiger,” I heard Fiske say, as if far away. “Shall we see what you will choose?”
I looked around at the barn, as if with a sense of inevitability. Thin, winter-clear sunlight pooled around me in watercolor streaks, the imprecision coming from the odd connection with Tommy.
With a thought, I was outside the kid, looking at him, while at the side Sibley stood near a phone, waiting.
“Are you listening, Mr. Ward?” Fiske asked.
“Yes, yes, I’m listening,” I said. I didn’t know what I’d missed, and my heart lurched. I was going to lose track of this. I was going to lose Tommy, or Cherabino, or myself, or all three.
“What do you choose?”
“You have to give me more information about the choice,” I said, hoping I didn’t give away how lost I felt, torn between two realities. Fiske would take full advantage, I knew.
“I know you are stalling. I can reinstate your partner in her job with minor consequences. All it takes is a phone call to our dear mayor, and from him to the commissioner. In exchange, Sibley will visit you some dark night and strangle you to death. You won’t know when. You will have at least a few weeks to anticipate the blow.”
“Sibley will have to go back to jail,” I said, grasping at straws.
“Perhaps. Perhaps. I do have other enforcers, Mr. Ward. So what will it be? You give up your own life in exchange for your partner’s career? As you watch the ticking time clock on your life run out? Sibley has said your fear was particularly strong when he strangled you. This time he won’t stop. He’ll take his time, and perhaps he will take a recording to amuse me.”
I thought about agreeing, as horrible as that was. I seriously, truly thought about it. But Sibley . . . I couldn’t sign up for that, one of my worst fears, when I didn’t know when it was coming. And Cherabino would kill me herself if she ever found out I’d gotten her job back from Fiske. She’d spent years on a task force to take him out, not to play nice.
But how to say it? This was the time at which Swartz would probably say I should pray. So I threw up an intention to whatever Higher Power that was listening, and hoped it might help.
My heart was beating in my chest like a drum.
“Time is ticking, Mr. Ward.”
“What will it take to free Tommy?” I spat out, voice thin and breathless. I couldn’t believe I was saying no. I couldn’t believe I was letting him destroy everything Cherabino loved. But I couldn’t just agree, not knowing what it would mean for that kid who’d trusted me to keep him safe. “How does that choice affect the kid?”
Fiske laughed then, and I didn’t like the sound. “Very good, Mr. Ward. You cannot have both.”
I forced myself to breathe, and thought of Tommy. I had to, or I would fall apart. I would do anything for Cherabino, anything. I would crawl over glass for her . . . but that vision, that vision that had haunted me for months. I couldn’t turn my back on that kid either. Then, like a switch, my mind connected with Tommy’s again, and I was back in that barn, with the old, moldy hay. I could feel his fear, his fast-beating heart as he stared at Sibley.
Adam? he said, shock in his mind. Is that you?
I’m here, Tommy. I’m here. I’m so sorry we haven’t found you yet.
I felt him think, and then a rush of words I didn’t catch. The Link was light, and I was strained already.
I was back in my own mind listening to Fiske say, “If you go silent again, I will shoot your partner in the head.”
“I’m getting tired of threats,” I said, tired, stupid in my tiredness and fear, well past any sense of self-preservation. “Let’s assume for a moment that I’m doing the best I can to manage a very tired mind. And that I believe you absolutely in what you’re promising. What is the second choice?” I asked him. “What is the deal for Tommy’s life?”
He paused for a long moment. “I ought to kill you for talking back to me.”
“But you’d rather not. You’d rather not kill me, or you would have done so already. Isn’t it more fun to torture me with possibilities, to hold things over my head? Where would the fun be if I just rolled over and gave you what you wanted?”
Another long pause.
“I’m right, aren’t I? The torture part is working, and it’s working well for you so far. Why not just tell me how the rest of the game goes?”
He made a thoughtful sound, and I tried to reach out to Tommy again, not as deep, just enough so he’d know I was there and help was on the way.
Fiske said then, “You’re right. If I wanted you dead, you would be dead already. The rest of the game is simple. I know you have a connection to the boy, psychically. You were Minding him, after all. I’d suggest you connect to him again.”
“It will take me a second,” I lied.
“Take your time.” A tinge of sarcasm in that voice, a tinge of frustration, but still that quality, that confidence that made me think I still had him, or he had me. Either way, he wasn’t hanging up the phone.
And I did—I strengthened that connection with Tommy.
I’ll stay with you as long as I can, I said.
“Are you in place, Mr. Ward?”
“I’m here,” I said. “Tommy is scared.”
“Wonderful. He’s not a fool, unlike his mother.”
Tommy asked, What do I need to do?
“Wh-wh-what was the choice?” I asked Fiske, finding myself very weak in that moment, knowing I was out of time.
“You are a very perceptive man, Mr. Ward. Since you came into my home and destroyed a person in my employ, I too will come into your world and destroy something that you love. You have a choice—this boy here or your loyalty.”
“What?”
“It truly doesn’t matter to me. You, as I, share this idea of keeping your word, so far as it goes. You promise to do an unspecified favor for me, in the next
two months. There will be a watch counting down this time, a watch with a tracking device I can read. If at any time you take off this watch, I will know it and our deal will be over. You will not like what happens if our deal is over.”
“What favor?” I asked.
“Ah, ah, ah. Nothing so easy on your end. I will have you do something you very much do not want to do. It won’t be against your partner, or your sponsor, but against someone else—anyone else. You will do whatever I tell you to do, promptly, because I asked.”
“Why?”
“Because it amuses me to take from you the one thing you value more than your partner values her job—your integrity, Mr. Ward. You’ve had it a handful of years now and you value it highly. You have thirty seconds to make your decision.”
“You have to give me more time. Please, Fiske, you have to give me more time.” I moved closer to Tommy, staying there, trying to offer whatever comfort I could. The air was cold, the sunlight thin, and I smelled the old moldy hay and horse droppings like they were right there next to me.
Tommy’s mind held on to mine, shivering. How do I get away? he asked me, small and scared.
Sibley was leaning against the post now and glanced at the phone. Clearly he was waiting for Fiske to call.
“You have to give me more time,” I repeated, my own voice small.
“I have to do nothing I don’t want to do.” Fiske’s tone was smug, amused, everything that made me want to destroy him.
How do I get away? Tommy asked me, and he struggled on the chair.
Be still, I heard Sibley’s voice sound, and that overwhelming force of that device I couldn’t see came over Tommy. He was still.
I didn’t see a way out. I didn’t see a way out at all.
“If you do not promise to do what I say, Sibley will kill him,” Fiske said, still in that obscenely happy voice. “He will kill him and you will watch. You deserve this, after all. You deserve to be put in your place after you made this personal.”
