Finder's Fee

by Alton Gansky

  “They demanded entrance and barged into my home!”

  “Of course they did, and had there been someone with a gun on the premises then we’d be thanking them now. It’s not their fault that someone turned in a false report.” He squeezed Zarefsky’s elbow tighter to punctuate his message. “The real crime is the person who made the false report.”

  Zarefsky stared at Pennington for a moment, and then he nodded. For a genius, Zarefsky could be stupid.

  “Maybe I have overreacted.” Zarefsky addressed the officers. “I apologize. Of course you were doing your job. I’m … well, I’m a bit of a privacy nut. Having people making demands of me then searching my home … Well, I’m sure you understand.”

  The officers smiled in the way men do when they want to end a conversation and left.

  Pennington pulled Zarefsky inside and shut the door. “How long has this been going on?”

  “I don’t know. The whole thing is stupid.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s brilliant. When did the cops arrive?” Pennington moved through a wide foyer, over handmade terrazzo tile, and into the great room. A few steps later he stood before an antique rolltop desk.

  “Fifteen minutes tops. They had been here only ten minutes when you arrived.

  “I see you had the good sense to lock this down. Where’s the key?”

  Zarefsky removed a metal key from his pocket. “I thought it best if the cops didn’t see the surveillance cameras. If they had, I probably could explain it away. I mean, most of the homes here have some kind of camera system.”

  “But not like this.” He inserted the key, turned it, and lifted the rolltop. Six color monitors filled every inch of the space. Pennington took in their images in a second. “The boy’s not in his room.”

  “He’s been told to stay out of sight if people come over.” Zarefsky seemed nervous.

  “Out of their sight, not ours.” Pennington opened a side panel in the desk and pulled a wireless keyboard from the space. He typed in a command and the image from the driveway camera rewound. He stopped, and then ran it forward. A second later he hit pause. The dark image of a man entering through the gate was fixed on the monitor. Pennington swore. “I know him.”

  “Who is he?”

  “He’s the guy from Fresno.” Pennington swore again.

  “The one with that Find woman?”

  “Yeah, the one with Judith Find. I’ve got to give him credit, this approach was sheer genius. I may have underestimated him.” He entered the commands to return the image to real time. “He called the cops and gave them a story they’d have to follow. Of course, they come barreling in, distracting you and forcing you to conceal the security system, then he walks in a few minutes later. It’s the only way he could get on the grounds.”

  “But why?”

  “For some reason he wants the boy, and if we don’t hurry, he’s going to get him.” Pennington set the keyboard on the top of the desk. “You watch the monitors. Call my cell phone if you see anything. Keep a close eye on the boy’s room and the driveway.” He glanced at the other monitors but saw nothing. “The cops are gone. Close the gate.”

  Pennington ran from the house.

  twenty-seven

  Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Luke followed the lad as he moved quickly along the wall at the north property line and toward the cliffs at the rear of the lot.

  “Of course, I know. They let me wander the grounds but I can’t go out to the street.”

  “I’m surprised they let you out of the house.”

  The boy pointed to the pool house. “I stayed there and not in the house. It’s got like guest quarters and stuff. They put in a big television and lots of video games — Xbox and everything. I think they just wanted to keep me quiet for a couple of days.”

  Abel moved through the darkness like a cat; Luke struggled to see but managed to keep up with the boy. Both moved hunched over, like special forces soldiers in the movies.

  “Abel!” The voice rolled across the grounds, loud but without alarm.

  “Uh-oh. It’s him.”

  “Who?”

  “The man. The evil man. He calls himself Mr. Pennington, but I think he’s lying about his name. Maybe I should distract him — ”

  “Not a chance, kid. If I return without you, your mother will fry my liver for lunch.”

  “Eww.”

  “Just stop talking and lead on. I’m trusting you.”

  Abel nodded and continued forward until they reached the cliff’s edge. The sound of waves pummeling the beach rose from the sand below. The darkness prevented Luke from seeing how long a drop it was to the beach below but he felt sure that a fall would not turn out good. He hoped that Abel wasn’t entertaining the idea of climbing down.

  “Be careful,” he whispered.

  “Abel! Time for dinner.” This time the voice carried an edge.

  Luke knew dinner had nothing to do with it. With the police gone, they had figured out that Abel wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Seconds became crucial.

  In an effort to maintain privacy and the separation of estates, the builder had erected a wall that ran from the front of the property to the very edge of the cliff. A simple three-foot high wrought-iron fence that matched the front gate, except for the metal screen meant to keep prying eyes from prying, ran the back of the property — a barrier to prevent someone from slipping over the edge. Abel climbed it in a second. Before Luke could speak, the boy stood on the other side, holding onto the fence with one hand. Luke’s heart shuddered.

  “Come on,” Abel whispered.

  Then he disappeared.

  Luke sprinted to the fence and looked over, hoping Abel had been able to grab onto something to prevent his fall.

  “Over here.”

  Luke turned his head and saw Abel scampering over the neighbor’s back fence; a fence made of anodized metal posts and clear plastic panels. One didn’t pay twenty million for a house overlooking the Pacific just to block the view with some opaque structure.

  Now Luke understood. He slipped over the metal fence, shinnied to the neighbor’s side of the wall and joined Abel in his trespass. In the dim light shed by the neighbor’s house, Luke saw Abel smile and wiggle his eyebrows. The boy had adventure in him.

  Wordlessly, Abel started along the wall again, this time moving toward the front of the property. In moments, they were hunkered down in a corner of the perimeter wall. Abel leaned forward and whispered in Luke’s ear. “Can you lift me to the top of the wall?” Luke nodded. “You’ll have to climb it by yourself.”

  “I can do that.”

  “He’s not calling for me anymore.” Abel’s breath tickled Luke’s ear. “He knows I’m gone. We have to hurry. He’ll start searching the neighborhood next.” He turned, stood, and Luke placed his hands on the boy’s hips and lifted. If he felt nervous about climbing a seven-foot high wall, he didn’t show it.

  Luke had a greater struggle. Even as a child he showed greater mental agility than physical. It took three tries before Luke made it to the other side and only after leaving several layers of skin on the surface of the wall.

  “This way.” Luke guided Abel north along the road. A short distance away, he could see the rental car. “That’s ours. Your mother is in the backseat — ”

  Luke’s feet left the ground. By no conscious action of his own, he turned and saw the grimacing face of the Fresno man Abel called Mr. Pennington.

  “We meet again.” He seemed to hiss his words.

  Before Luke could raise a hand something hit his head and flecks of light burst in his eyes. The man had delivered a near skull-cracking head-butt. Something thick and warm ran down Luke’s face.

  The man turned, dragging Luke with him. “You picked the wrong man to mess with, pal.” He drew a fist back. Luke tried to raise an arm in his defense but the head-butt left him stunned and slow.

  “Hey!”

  The attacker turned to the voice and Luke saw a swift, blurre
d motion. The man screamed and dropped Luke who slumped to his hands and knees. He tried to rise when something heavy rolled over his back. He heard a loud thud and got a glimpse of the attacker’s head bouncing off the pavement. He had been pushed over Luke’s back.

  “Come on. We’ve got to go.” The voice belonged to Judith.

  “Woozy … head hurts …”

  “Pass out on your own time, buddy. We’re not waiting on you any longer.”

  Luke struggled to his feet, aided by desperate hands pulling on his shirt. He staggered toward the car. “I could have handled him.”

  “That’s right, Rocky. You had him right where you wanted him.”

  “It’s not my fault. He hit me.” Luke’s senses were returning. “Abel?”

  “He’s in the car.”

  “Smart kid. He’s the one that got us out.”

  “We’re not out yet.” Judith helped Luke into the front passenger seat.

  “You okay, mister? He hit you real hard.”

  Luke recognized Abel’s voice. “Did he? I don’t think I noticed.” He touched his forehead. “Great. I’m gonna have a knot the size of a baseball. There goes my rugged good looks.”

  Judith started the car and made a quick U-turn. “What rugged good looks?”

  “Easy. I have a fragile ego.” He felt sick. “You slugged that guy?”

  “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I broke your new cell phone.”

  Luke had to think for a moment before he caught her intent. Then he laughed. Not from the humor of her comment but from the release of fear that had held him in its grip.

  From the back came the sound of gentle sobbing and the soft words, “My boy, my precious little boy.”

  The dark of the night slipped into Luke’s mind.

  twenty-eight

  Need more ice?” Judith took the makeshift icepack from his hand and examined it. She had made the pack by placing ice from the ice machine in the hall in the plastic liner of the ice bucket and wrapping that in a towel from the bathroom. He sat on the bed, she stood next to him.

  “I think it’s fine.”

  “Let me see.” Luke tilted his head up and Judith gazed down on a growing knot on the right side of his forehead. She looked at his eyes: both pupils were equal. A good sign. “That has to hurt.”

  “You have no idea. How’s the kid?”

  “He and Ida are snoozing on the sofa. Both are exhausted, especially Ida. Fear and worry are hard taskmasters. She looks worn out. We should switch rooms with them.”

  Luke had arranged for two rooms but decided they should stick together. This room on the eleventh floor was a suite with a separate bedroom and living room. A small kitchenette was tucked into one of the corners.

  “I don’t think we should stay.”

  Judith handed the cold pack back. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. There are a lot of hotels in the city; we should be safe here.”

  “Maybe, but I had to show ID to get the rooms since I paid in cash. Someone working the phones could find us pretty easy. It’s just a matter of time and discipline. If I were doing it, I’d start with the more expensive hotels within a ten-mile radius.”

  “Like this one.” Judith leaned against the low dresser. “It’s a good thing they don’t know your name.”

  “They know yours.”

  Judith smiled. “Which would be significant if I had used my name to get the rooms, but I didn’t.”

  “That’s right. Man, I think that guy knocked what little sense I had right out of my brain.”

  “Besides, where would we go?” Judith started to pace. “We have Abel now, but I have no idea what to do next.”

  “Me either.” Luke paused. “I don’t think I’ve said thank you. You probably saved my life. I don’t know what he intended but I’m certain it wasn’t good.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You really hit him with the cell phone?”

  “I held it in my fist and gave it all I was worth. I forgot to bring my brass knuckles along.”

  Luke laughed, then grimaced. “You are one tough date, lady.”

  “Is your head okay, Mr. Becker?” The young voice startled Judith.

  “I thought you were sleeping.” Luke sat up. “Ow. I’ve got a class A headache.”

  “I just pretended to sleep. My mom is real tired. I can tell. I thought that if I pretended to be asleep she might doze off.”

  “You amaze me, kid,” Luke said. “You got guts and sensitivity.”

  “I heard you talking. What are you going to do with me?”

  Judith stole a glance at Luke, then lowered herself to Abel’s level. His lavender eyes fascinated her. “We don’t know what to do, sweetheart. We’re kind of lost at this point.”

  He nodded. “You should wait.”

  “Wait for what, kid?”

  “For leadership,” Abel said. “When in doubt, the best place to go is nowhere.”

  “I prefer to be a little more proactive than that,” Luke said.

  “Waiting is doing something; it’s not doing nothing. Wait on the Lord and He will save you.” Abel stood in the door way. “I’m hungry.”

  Judith felt stunned. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I said, I’m hungry.”

  “Before that.”

  “It’s from Proverbs. You know. In the Bible.”

  “You’ve read the Bible?” Luke wondered.

  “Uh-huh, there’s one in the other room. May I have a grilled-cheese sandwich?”

  Judith said, “I’ll call room ser vice. I’ll get something for everyone.” She shot a quizzical look at Luke. When talking to Abel she couldn’t tell if she were speaking to a child or a very small man. “Let’s go in the other room and let Mr. Becker rest.”

  “Okay, but what about the others?”

  “Do you mean the men who took you?” The child had a right to feel insecure, Judith thought.

  “No. The other children. The ones like me.” Luke stood. “There’s more like you?” “Lots more.”

  “Hold still.”

  “I don’t want to hold still, Doc. I’m losing time.” Pennington shifted on the barstool. He was seated at Alex Zarefsky’s breakfast bar.

  “You were out for several minutes. Follow my finger.” Zarefsky raised his index finger and moved it from side to side. Pennington slapped it away. “Fine. Have it your way.”

  He stood, then swayed, his head full of spikes. He rubbed the growing goose-egg on the back of his skull then drew his fingers lightly across the knot just in front of his left temple. “That Find woman is going to pay for this.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.” Zarefsky stepped into the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and pulled a bottle of Advil from one of the drawers. “Here, take some of these. It should take some of the edge off.”

  “There’s got to be another player, Doc. Why would a rich chick like Find involve herself in this? She’s not the find-and-rescue type.”

  “How do you know what type of person she is?”

  “I just know. And who is the guy with her?”

  Zarefsky shook his head. “I don’t have a clue. Maybe someone like you. You know, a hired gun.”

  “He’s no operative, that’s for sure. He didn’t even put up a fight. I had him cold the first second I laid my meat hooks into him.”

  “Whatever he is, whoever he works for, he’s got the boy.”

  “For now.”

  Zarefsky leaned over the counter. “I can’t tell you how bad this is; how, really, really bad. You didn’t see a car?”

  Pennington shook his head and it hurt and the pain made him all the more angry. “I don’t remember anything after my head hit the ground. I can’t believe their luck.”

  “What about the mother?”

  “She must be with them. Her body wasn’t found in the house. We know our mystery man and the Find woman got away, so we must assume she did too.”

  “So we’ve failed to k
eep the boy, we’ve failed to kill the mother, and we have no idea what to do next. This isn’t going to go over well. My people are going to blow a gasket and that means our lives are worth diddly.”

  “I’ll get him and dole out a little payback along the way.”

  “Forget revenge, just get the boy. You’ve failed twice, I can’t protect you a third time.”

  “I’m not afraid of your people.” Pennington stood, his fists clenched.

  “Then you’re not paying attention. Get the boy. Get him soon.”

  “Don’t worry, I will.”

  Zarefsky studied the man. “Any idea how?”

  Pennington thought for a moment then said in ice-hard words, “If you can’t find the one you want, find the ones they love.”

  “Do what you must. Pull out the stops. Just make certain nothing comes back to my doorstep. Having the police rummage through my home was … unpleasant. I don’t want a repeat.”

  “Certain sacrifices must be made.”

  Zarefsky snorted. “Like what?”

  Pennington didn’t reply.

  Abel sat on the sofa eating a grilled-cheese sandwich and drawing oily potato chips from a bag. Ida had awakened from her nap and sat close to her son, running her fingers over wayward wisps of black hair. Abel took it in stride.

  Judith nibbled a turkey sandwich and sipped from a plastic bottle of cranberry juice. Ida picked at a chicken salad and Luke was making headway on an Angus hamburger. As Judith ate she studied Abel. In some ways he was unlike any boy his age she had ever met; in others he seemed normal. Most kids his age would show signs of insecurity at having been abducted then barely being rescued. He had witnessed the violence against Luke, yet he seemed undisturbed.

  “Abel,” Judith began, “you mentioned the others. What others?”

  “Like I said, the other children like me. The different ones.” He took a large bite of the sandwich, the cheese leaving a small greasy smear on one cheek. He wiped it off with his sleeve.

  “What makes them different, Abel?

  “They’re different like I’m different. Special.”

  “I don’t know what that means.” Judith felt frustrated. Was Abel being evasive? She looked at Ida.