by Ian Fox
Blake replied, “No one said they were killers. We don’t even know yet if she really was kidnapped. I suggest we wait a day or two. If it transpires that it is a kidnapping, then I think we should take no risks. If they ask for a sum that is within reason, it’s better to pay them than to put Emely’s life in jeopardy.”
Most heads in the room nodded.
Alexandra said, “I think it’s best if we prepare ourselves for the worst scenario. If we’re not prepared, we won’t be able to take the best action. Every badly thought-out statement to the public could cost us huge amounts of money.”
This time most heads could be seen nodding.
“I propose we appoint one person who will talk to the press and pass on information,” she added.
All eyes turned to Blake, who had taken his seat.
“OK, OK, I’ll do it,” he said. “I suggest we meet twice a day to discuss where we are.”
Maria, the secretary, walked into the room. She leaned down to Blake and whispered something in his ear, then moved away.
Blake thought for a few seconds and said, “A journalist called Robert Miles from News Continental is waiting in the reception area.”
They were all speechless.
*
Blake Crouse was sitting in his office, worried. He was pressing on the joints of his fingers, something he did when in a tense situation. These rats always sniff out a bad smell. There’s no way to keep them away.
He grabbed the receiver. “Send in Mr. … whatever his name is.”
Maria said, “Robert Miles.”
“I’d prefer to see him in hell,” Blake added.
Maria quickly put the receiver down in the hope that Miles had not heard Blake. She waved the journalist in.
“Pleasure meeting you,” Miles said as he shook hands with Blake. He looked around the luxuriously furnished office, dominated by dark wood and black leather. The walls were adorned with valuable paintings with thick frames and next to the windows there stood tall plants with broad leaves.
The bastard, Blake thought, while out loud he said, “Please, sit down.” He examined the man: tall, at least six foot two, with dark hair and small eyes. Considering his height, he was incredibly thin so that the gray suit that was too big for him awkwardly hung on his back. Frameless glasses gave him a slightly intellectual appearance.
“So, Mr. Miles, what brings you here?”
Blake was watching out for the smallest clue on his opponent’s face. He knew exactly what the journalist would say: What can you tell us about Ms. Donnovan’s disappearance? How long has she been missing? What are you going to do?
Blake’s intention was to shut the guy up before he got to the second question. He was ready to attack.
“A few articles have been written about your company already,” Miles began. “The corporation has often been mentioned as a very promising one.”
Blake listened attentively. What is he talking about?
“But I don’t think you’ve ever published any more extensive promotional material.”
“There has been no need,” Blake said in an easy tone, relieved that perhaps this was not what he had feared.
“How do you mean, no need?”
“As you probably know, the company is mainly involved in speculating in various securities. And investing in advertising doesn’t lower the price of securities,” he explained with cynicism.
“But, if I’m not mistaken, it’s been ten years since you established your own mutual fund.”
“Yes, and?”
He knew where the journalist was going with this. He wanted money for a long article about the company. Blake thought about it. Maybe a small investment in advertising would not be such a mistake. Especially if we were to focus on the capabilities of those leading the company.
The journalist went on: “So you want people to invest in your company. You grow their investment and take a certain percentage of the profit.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“May I propose a long piece about the company? At least four pages in News Continental.”
“No, I don’t think it’s necessary,” Blake said, even though he had already decided the opposite. News Continental was a popular weekly and a puff piece would reach a wide audience. Perhaps we should do something similar elsewhere, he considered.
“You’re mistaken, Mr. Crouse. An objective but overall positive article can have amazing results. People think it’s a neutral piece of reporting, but in fact it’s a promotion paid for by your company. It would say everything you wanted it to. What do you think?” He punctuated his question with a close-mouthed smile.
“Perhaps I might be interested,” Blake said, softening. “It all depends on the price.”
“Of course, Mr. Crouse. Here are our terms.”
Blake accepted an attractive folder containing a pricelist. He looked nervously around as his thoughts kept escaping to Emely. “I’d like to thank you for now.”
The journalist was expecting this reaction and got up, offering his hand. “I’d like to thank you for your time. When can I call you again?”
“Tomorrow,” Blake replied.
Just as Miles reached the door, the phone rang and Crouse answered it with his in-office “Hello.” He watched Miles leave, closing the door.
“Officers Wilson and Benotti are waiting in the reception.”
“Send them to my office, Maria.”
“Of course, Mr. Crouse.”
*
“Because of the possibility that it is a kidnapping, we’ll install all the necessary listening and tracking equipment,” Inspector Benotti said. “You probably know the rules. You must keep the person at the other end of the line talking for as long as possible.”
Blake nodded. He never thought he’d find himself in a situation like this. Until then, he had only seen such things on television. “In your experience, do you think that something bad really has happened to Ms. Donnovan?”
“Everything is possible but we mustn’t be pessimistic,” she said. “At the same time, we’ve got to be ready for the worst. Whatever has happened will become clear soon.”
Blake regarded the woman in front of him, thinking her cold and without feeling. She was around thirty-five. Her face, free of makeup, was framed by a simple hairstyle. Who knows what she’s already seen in her career? he thought.
Inspector Benotti said, “If we assume it’s a kidnapping, then we can expect the phone to ring sooner or later. We’ll ask the phone company to redirect the calls to her apartment, to Donnovan Corporation. This way we’ll be able to monitor all the calls from a single place.”
Blake nodded again.
“I’m warning you in advance that the voice at the other end of the line will be distorted and hard to understand. They’ll use short sentences and keep to the point. Do everything they ask. But demand proof. Demand they hand over Emely Donnovan.”
Benotti stopped talking for a second, weighing him with her eyes as if trying to judge if he really was fit for such a task.
“Yes, yes,” he said, “don’t worry.”
“OK, if you’re sure, we’ll install the equipment immediately.”
*
An hour later the police officers returned to his office. This time, Inspector Wilson asked, “How well do you know Ms. Donnovan?”
“I’ve known her for over fifteen years. She created the corporation, I joined it later. Our relationship is mostly a business one.”
“Had she mentioned any threatening calls?”
“No, never.”
“What about her behavior? Has she seemed under stress, or tense, recently?”
Blake thought for a few seconds. “No, she seemed pretty normal to me.”
“If she was kidnapped, do you have any idea who it could be?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll be more direct. Large companies like yours have business relations with other companies. Sometimes these deals work out in such a way that
one side benefits much more than the other. Do you think any of your business partners could be involved?”
“I’m certain not one of them would do anything like this.”
“So am I to understand that your company does not have any business enemies?”
“Donnovan Corporation is involved mainly in stock market deals. This means that we buy and sell securities for other people. All our clients are very happy with our services. We are also involved in speculative deals, which means we buy and sell securities for our company. But we don’t have any enemies in this respect either because we always play by the rules that apply to stockbroking.”
Both police officers made a note.
“We have also bought a number of medium-sized manufacturing companies and a part of our profit comes from that. But I can’t see a connection between her kidnapping and anyone involved in our business past.”
“Good. We also think a well-organized group of kidnappers is involved, whose aim is the extortion of money.”
“So you do think it’s a kidnapping?” Blake said with horror.
Inspector Wilson immediately regretted his last statement. “No, no! Sorry, it’s a possibility, like we said earlier.”
“What about her personal life?” Benotti asked, cutting into the awkward exchange.
“I’m going to have to disappoint you here. Emely never spoke much about her private life. She was a businesswoman through and through.”
“I see.”
The officers got up and walked toward the door.
Blake lifted the receiver and said to his secretary, “Maria, let the police have everything they need. Then let them use the small meeting room as a base. Call off all of today’s meetings.”
Benotti and Wilson nodded in gratitude.
*
When Blake was driving home in his new limo that night, strange thoughts were going through his head about what he said to the police: Is it true that the company has no business enemies? He then recalled a recent incident after which security had to be strengthened because a business partner had lost his temper and attacked the chief accountant. He had grabbed his collar, almost choking him. And that was not the only incident. But who could have done something like this?
Since he was exhausted, he decided to go straight to bed and think about it in the morning, when he was fresh.
Chapter 3
_______________________
The Langdon brothers were silent as Ronald steered them through the dark woods. They stared straight ahead.
Ronald thought that justice had been done, but his heart was still pounding. Never in his life had he experienced anything like it. When Emely was tied to that tree, screaming, he had felt an incredible surge of sexual desire. The more she resisted the more aroused he became. An unbelievable burst of energy forced the blood through his veins, as if he had taken some strange drug. He was shaking. For the first time in his life he felt really strong. He felt he was in control, and this feeling completely overwhelmed him. He regretted that it all finished too soon. His hands were still trembling slightly from all the excitement.
In contrast to Ronald, John had some regrets about what they had just done. Not that he felt guilty because of the murder, but Emely had somehow endeared herself to him. It’s a shame about that bitch. His thoughts returned to what she had said: “John, I’ve never enjoyed it so much …”
No woman, apart from the prostitutes he occasionally went with, had ever said anything like that to him. He guessed that women enjoyed it but didn’t want to admit they did. But Emely was the first to admit it. He thought about her perfect body, remembered her perfume. And then those words: “I think you’re much more capable than your brother. You should have been the one in charge of your company ….”
How right she was. Of course I’m the smarter one. Then he started thinking about his brother. Ronald had always been more communicative and before John managed to see the situation, Ronald had already taken the helm of their company. I should have been more forceful, stood up to him, he thought. But it’s too late now. He looked angrily at his brother’s plump face. This damn loser. He destroyed everything. I should have got rid of him long ago. He looked ahead again, clenching his fists, as his mind drifted back fifteen years.
*
“I can’t do this math,” John moaned, supporting his head with his left hand.
“You’re not the brightest spark,” Ronald said, standing near him, “but luckily you have a smart brother who’s gonna help you.”
From the kitchen chair, John looked up at him gratefully.
*
One day John joined a volleyball team. During one of the games, the ball took him by surprise and he punched it in completely the wrong direction.
“My younger brother sometimes finds it difficult to grasp simple things,” Ronald told everyone present. “See, John, the rules say that you have to hit the ball over the net.” He pointed to it with a perfectly serious expression on his face.
John looked down in embarrassment and couldn’t wait for the scornful eyes to look away.
*
Once, when Mother had sent them to the store, Ronald happily played ball with his friends while John did the shopping. He was so angry at his brother that he forgot to get the three things that Mother most wanted. When they came back home, she berated him firmly.
“It’s my fault,” Ronald said. “John finds it difficult to remember things. I made a mistake. I should’ve been with him.”
*
He always seemed so nice, John thought. But humiliating me all the time …? John looked at his brother again and felt hatred toward him for the first time in his life. How on earth have I been able to stand it for so long? The drive seemed endless. Agitated, he kept running his fingernails along his pants.
*
Finally they arrived at the house. Their father had bought the place for weekends, and in addition to their own real estate, it was the only thing left from the inheritance that they hadn’t had to sell for financial reasons. The problem was that it would be difficult to find a suitable buyer. It was like a mansion, with ten fully furnished bedrooms. It was deep in the woods, completely isolated, nearly ten miles away from the nearest neighbor.
While their father was still alive, the land around the house, measuring over ten acres, was covered with a veritable botanical garden. However, the numerous decorative plants had now been replaced by thorny creepers. The beautiful cypresses that used to be trimmed into cubes and spheres grew every which way, as if competing at which could look the wildest. Most of the trees that had been planted had dried up and been replaced by more resilient ones. The tall stone wall was the only thing that distinguished this private land from the wild woods surrounding it.
Ronald got out of the car, stretched, and yawned. “I’m tired. I’ll head straight home.”
John looked at him and replied in a sharp voice, “I don’t feel like driving home, I’ll sleep here tonight.”
“As you wish, Johnny, but I don’t think you’ll like it here alone.” He waved goodbye and climbed into his car.
John looked after him and the farther away Ronald got, the better he felt. “Let him go to hell!” he said aloud to himself. When the noise of the car engine had completely faded, he listened to the morning noises in the woods, accompanied by the howling of the wind. He felt slightly lost, without energy. He took one last look in the direction his brother had gone and took a deep breath. There was a tension in the pit of his stomach. I need some sleep. I’ll feel better then.
He went upstairs and without realizing it walked to the room where Emely had stayed. When John opened the door, he could smell her perfume. The tension in his stomach doubled. It really is a shame about that bitch. Why did she have to be so greedy? He thought about everything she had taken from them and felt the hatred, concluding, She deserved what she got.
He closed the door and set off for his room which was only a few yards away. He glanced at his face in a rou
nd wall mirror. His eyes were swollen and the sleepless night had left clear traces. The face of a murderer, he thought.
He looked away and sat on the old bed that creaked under his weight, running his fingers through his hair. Why did you have to be so damn greedy?
The thoughts refused to leave his head. She had bewitched his mind, which so badly needed a rest. I’ve never enjoyed it so much … I’ve never enjoyed it so much ….
“Damn it!” he swore and set off for the bathroom. After a long drink of cold water, he spent a minute rinsing his face. He felt a bit better afterward, returned to his room, and lay on the bed. He closed his eyes.
I’ve got two million dollars in my personal account in Switzerland ….
He turned on his side.
I think you’re much more capable than your brother… I’ve never enjoyed it so much…
He opened his eyes and spent some time looking through the window. It was seven o’clock by now and birdsong intruded into his thoughts, which were in her room, remembering how he had his way with her when he was drunk. He was deliberately rough with women, thinking that was the right thing to do. Gentleness was for weaklings, and he was not weak. Never.
He thought about her perfect body and kept smelling her perfume. Let her go to hell!
Once again he closed his eyes.
You seem like a very smart guy, unlike your brother…. In fact I think you should have been in charge of your company instead of him …. I’m serious, John. What use is my life to you if you continue to be broke?… We could make a deal. … I just want to say that I have two million dollars in my personal bank account in Switzerland. No one knows about it.
