“Why would I be invited?”
Eva took a deep breath and sighed loudly.
“What a shame! You’ve just cost your sister a broken little finger.”
“Why?” Joanna asked, suddenly shaken. Her heart was in her throat, thumping away.
“I’ve told you the truth.”
“No, you haven’t,” Eva said.
“We know you’ll be there to receive the Medal of Freedom from the President of the United States. If you deny it, we’ll break another finger on your sister’s hand.”
Joanna felt a sudden surge of nausea and ran for the sink, where she threw up.
There was no real vomitus, just a mouthful of foul-tasting bile. She retched once more and waited for the nausea to pass, her head still over the sink.
Desperately she tried to push her fear aside and think. She had told the truth, yet the terrorist didn’t believe her. Why? Why? Joanna thought about the question and her answer again. Then it came to her. At the request of the Secret Service, the ceremony for the medal presentation had been shifted from the hospital to the new institute. The medals would be presented before the dedication ceremony. Joanna had only learned of the change yesterday morning.
How could the terrorists be aware of that? She splashed water on her face and turned to Eva.
“Please let me explain.”
“It’d better be the truth,” Eva said menacingly.
“Remember your sister’s fingers. And keep in mind we already know certain things.”
Joanna nodded submissively, detecting a change in the terrorist’s voice and manner. She had become more threatening, more demanding. And this told Joanna they were talking about the information the terrorists really wanted. What the hell did they need to know?
Joanna pointed to the cans of soda on the countertop.
“May I have some soda?
Maybe that will settle my stomach.”
“Go ahead,” Eva said and took out her weapon, just in case Joanna decided to try something stupid.
Joanna opened a can of soda and slowly sipped it, her mind racing ahead. Be careful here, she warned herself, be very careful. Don’t lie, but don’t give them the information they want. Because once they have it, they’ll kill you and Kate and little Jean Claude
“Why did you lie to me about being invited to the dedication
ceremony?” Eva asked, staring at Joanna and watching her body language.
“I didn’t lie,” Joanna said, picking her words carefully.
“I wasn’t invited to the dedication ceremony. I was going there to receive a medal from the President. Nothing more.”
“And then you were to leave?”
“I would think so,” Joanna said.
“I have no connection at all to the institute.”
“So,” Eva said, thinking out loud, “you were only there because the President would be there?”
“That was my understanding.”
“Where were you to meet the President?”
“They didn’t say.”
Eva’s lips curled into a snarl.
“I think you’re lying again.”
“I’m telling the truth,” Joanna said as sincerely as she could.
“So you were just going to walk over and hope you ran into the President, huh?”
Joanna shook her head.
“I was told to call the dean’s office Monday morning for instructions.”
Eva’s eyes narrowed.
“You were to call them?”
“That’s correct.” Joanna saw the change in the terrorist’s expression. Something was wrong. Something hadn’t gone down well.
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“Ah-huh,” Eva muttered neutrally, giving no indication that she believed Joanna’s story.
“Did they mention whether the presentation would be on the steps of the institute or indoors?”
“I think I was to be told about that in the phone call.”
“Ah-huh,” Eva said again, studying Joanna’s face, looking for a twitch or nervous tic that would tell her if her captive was lying.
Joanna looked away, intimidated by the terrorist’s stare. She felt fear flooding through her once more and tried to push it away and concentrate. All of the questions now centered on the President’s visit to the institute. Why? Why was that so important to the terrorists? What possible Oh, God! The dedication was set for April nineteenth, the date on which the terrorist act was to occur. They were going to blow up the building with the President and the other dignitaries in it. That had to be it. And they need more information to make sure they can carry it out. But what information is so critical? Joanna sipped the can of soda, her mind now racing. Find out what information they need and don’t give it to them. Stall. Use
up time. Make them wait. “I could call the dean’s office now and ask them about the presentation,” Joanna suggested, knowing the offer would be immediately refused.
“They might give me the information.”
“Oh, sure,” Eva said nastily.
“And what would you tell them? That you’d just escaped from your captors and you’re on your way over right now? They wouldn’t buy that, never in a million years. And they might have enough sense to contact the police, who could track your phone call down. Is that what you have in mind?”
“No,” Joanna said softly.
“I’m just trying to save my family’s lives.”
“Well, you’re not doing a very good job so far.”
Desperately Joanna tried to think of a way out of her dilemma. She had to string them along and give them a reason to keep her alive. She had to make them believe that she could eventually get the information for them. But how? She thought about the medal presentation and who else would be there. A picture of Joe Wells flashed into her mind.
“There’s another possibility that might work.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I have a colleague who is also receiving the Medal of Freedom,” Joanna said.
“His name is Dr. Joe Wells, and he’s flying into Los Angeles from Montana late Sunday night.”
“So?”
“So he’d have to contact the dean’s office Monday morning and get instructions too,” Joanna said.
“I could call him at his hotel after he’s talked with the dean’s office.”
“What time were you supposed to call the dean’s office on Monday morning?” Eva asked quickly.
“Eight a.m.”
“And where is this Dr. Wells staying?”
“At the Hilton near Memorial. It’s a ten-minute walk to the institute.”
“So you could call him at five minutes after eight and get the information on where the medal presentation would take place. Right?”
“I would think so,” Joanna said, her heart beating so violently she thought it would jump out of her chest.
Eva weighed the matter carefully before saying, “Where is this Hilton Hotel located?”
“OnWilshire.” Eva took out her cell phone and dialed 411. After obtaining the phone number from information, she called the hotel. She spoke to the hotel operator.
“Good afternoon,” Eva said sweetly into the phone.
“Could you tell me if Dr. Joe Wells has checked in? .. . Oh, he hasn’t. I have to leave a message for him.
Could you connect me to the front desk? .. . Thank you.”
Joanna held her breath, hoping the medal presentation hadn’t been canceled altogether in view of her being kidnapped. If it had Joe would have canceled his reservation. Without Joe Wells, she was doomed. She had no backup plan. Her eyes went to the butt of the pistol protruding from the terrorist’s coat. There was no way Joanna could get to the weapon. And even if she could, she didn’t know how to work it.
“Yes,” Eva said into the phone.
“This is the dean’s office at Memorial Hospital.
You have a reservation for a Dr. Joe Wells, and it’s very important we reach hi
m. Could you tell me if he’s scheduled to check in tonight or sometime tomorrow? .. . You can’t give out that information. I see.” Eva squinted an eye, concentrating.
“Could I leave a message for you to give him as soon as he arrives? .. . Good. Will you see to it personally that the message is delivered? .. . Oh, I see. You can’t. You’re not on duty tomorrow.” Eva grinned broadly. She had the confirmation she wanted.
“Well, that will be fine. Just make certain the message gets to him. It should read: “Call the dean’s office at seven forty-five a.m. on April nineteenth.. ..” That’s correct. Thank you.”
Eva put the cell phone down on the countertop and looked over at Joanna.
“We’ll do it your way. We’ll wait.”
Joanna breathed a sigh of relief. She had bought more time.
“Unless we find another way to get the information,” Eva added ominously. She walked over to the door and yelled down the hall.
“Rudy! Bring them in here.”
Joanna’s gaze went to the cellular phone on the countertop. Lord! If she could only get her hands on that. Not only could she call Jake but he could trace the signal and pinpoint her location.
Kate came into the kitchen, carrying Jean-Claude. The little boy was so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Sis, I think there’s something wrong with Jean Claude
Joanna walked over quickly.
“Is he sick?”
“He says he feels all right,” Kate said.
“But he’s so drowsy and lethargic. And he’s usually very active at
this time of day.” Joanna placed her hand on Jean-Claude’s forehead. There was no fever or blush. His pulse and respiration were steady and slow.
“Hi, Jean-Claude,” she said softly.
“Do you feel bad?”
“I am fine,” Jean-Claude said sleepily, his eyes now closed.
“I think he’s okay.” Joanna touched the boy’s forehead again, making sure there was no fever.
“It’s probably all the excitement. And remember, they’ve let him run wild and do whatever he wants to. He may have just tired himself out.”
Kate rocked the little boy in her arms as he drifted off to sleep.
“He never gets tired like this during the day. Something isn’t right.”
“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Eva said.
“Like hell you will!” Kate snapped and held her son close.
“You go play your goddamn games somewhere else.”
Eva came over to Kate and stared at her, nose to nose.
“Don’t push it, or you’ll never see your son again.”
The color left Kate’s face.
“I I was just worried about my little boy.”
Eva continued to stare at her.
“Don’t push me again. Do you understand?”
“I’m sorry,” Kate said submissively, resisting the urge to scream and run.
“Do what we tell you and no harm will come to the boy,” Eva said.
“Now, give the child to Rudy.”
Kate hesitated for a moment, looking at the window and wondering if she could break through it with Jean-Claude in her arms.
“Now!” Eva commanded.
Kate did as she was told, making certain Rudy had a firm hold on Jean-Claude.
The sleeping child didn’t notice the transfer.
Eva went to the refrigerator and returned with two half-pint cartons of milk and two slices of white bread.
“Eat and drink quickly. You’ve already taken up too much time.”
“I hate milk, “Kate said.
“You’d better drink it,” Eva said sternly.
“Because that’s all you’ll get today.
But if you want to sit in the cellar dying of thirst, that’s your business.”
“Drink the milk,” Joanna advised.
“You don’t want to let yourself become dehydrated.”
“Yeah,” Eva said mockingly.
“You don’t want to become dehydrated.”
Joanna gulped the milk down and watched Kate do the same. The milk was ice cold and went down easily. There was a slightly sour aftertaste, but the bread took that away.
Joanna’s gaze returned to the cell phone on the countertop near the sink.
“Could we have some water?”
“Make it quick,” Eva said tersely.
Joanna walked over to the sink, gently pushing Kate in front of her.
“Drink at least two cupfuls.”
At the sink Joanna positioned herself so that she blocked the terrorist’s view of the countertop. She filled the cups from the faucet and handed one to Kate.
Joanna’s left elbow was less than a foot away from the phone. As she drank from the cup she inched her arm closer to the phone.
“This water looks rusty,” Kate complained.
“Drink it,” Joanna said, edging her arm over so that it was now touching the phone.
“It won’t hurt you.”
Kate took a mouthful and immediately spat it into the sink.
“Ugh! It tastes like metal.”
“Just sip it.”
Kate tried again and again spat the water out.
“It won’t go down. Maybe we should let the water run for a minute,” she said and reached for the faucet.
Eva came over and jerked the women away from the sink.
“You’ve had enough water.
Now move out.”
In the hall Joanna and Kate looked for Jean-Claude and Rudy. There was no sign of them. A television set was on low volume in one of the front rooms. Outside a heavy truck passed by, causing the house to rattle. Joanna heard a crying sound and stopped abruptly, then realized it was coming from the television set.
“Get into the cellar,” Eva ordered, nudging them forward with her gun.
Joanna went down the steps slowly, using the light behind her as long as she could. Everything in the cellar was the same. The mattress was still on the floor, the oily rag concealing the lighter beside it. The mop and bucket were in the corner, the table still against the wall beneath the small window.
The door behind them slammed shut, and the cellar went black. The darkness was so sudden and so intense it was disorienting. For a moment Joanna felt light-headed. She took some deep breaths and waited for the sensation to pass.
“My God! It’s even darker than before,” Kate said softly.
“It’s like a tomb.” “Give yourself a few minutes to acclimate to it,” Joanna said, her head swimming again. She looked up to where the window should have been and saw no light, not even a glimmer. Why? Had something moved in front of the window, blocking out the light altogether? She thought about climbing up on the table to check it out, but her legs seemed so tired.
“Sis,” Kate said.
“I don’t feel so good.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I feel like I’m going to pass out.”
Joanna searched the floor with her foot until she found the mattress. She reached back and guided Kate down.
“Just sit and rest for a minute.”
“I’ve got to lie down,” Kate said drowsily.
Joanna felt the swimming sensation in her head returning, more intense now. She tried to keep her eyes open but couldn’t. What’s happening to us? Why are we so tired and feel so The milk! The milk with its peculiar aftertaste! They doctored the milk. It was the last thought
she had before drifting off into a deep and dreamless sleep. Saturday, April 17, 7=40 p.m.
What the hell is taking so long?” Jake demanded.
“Do you know how many parking tickets we write every day?” asked Molly Anderson, a senior supervisor in the Parking Enforcement Division.
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Jake said irritably.
“Just find the ticket.”
“I’m talking thousands and—” “Just find the damn ticket,” Jake cut her off.
Anderson took a deep breat
h and tried to hold her temper.
“And this couldn’t wait until Monday, huh? What’s so important that I had to drag in four of my people on a Saturday?”
“A kidnapping,” Jake said, a picture of Joanna now flashing into his mind.
“A kidnapping! Jesus H. Christ! Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
Jake watched the woman rush out of the office and into a large ticket-sorting area. Through a glass window he saw the plump supervisor spreading the word and urging her co-workers on. They were searching through mountains of parking tickets, looking for the one given to the van outside the ice cream shop. Under ordinary circumstances, locating the ticket wouldn’t have been a problem. All that should have been required was to identify the meter maid and examine the pads of tickets she had written. But that was where the problem was. The meter maid originally assigned to the area had become ill while on duty Thursday morning, and a replacement had been called in. It was the replacement who had written the ticket, and no one knew who she was. The supervisor responsible for making the switch was on his way to a vacation in Mexico. Without the meter maid’s name, every
pad of tickets would have to be examined. Jake looked up at the wall clock. It was 7:45 p.m. They had been at it for over twenty-five hours with no luck. Jake lit a cigarette despite the no smoking sign and again went through every aspect of the case, trying to uncover some clue that might help locate the terrorists. And again it came down to the parking ticket, which would lead them to the van. But even that was a long shot. They’d still have to find the van, and by now it had probably been dumped and, if not dumped, certainly well hidden. A real long shot, Jake thought miserably, but it was the only shot he had. He took a deep drag on his cigarette, now thinking about Joanna and Kate and Jean-Claude and wondering if they had been harmed or injured. Or maybe they were dead, their bodies thrown into roadside bushes somewhere. A chill went through Jake as he envisioned Joanna lying in a coffin.
He pushed the image from his mind and glanced up at the wall clock. 7:50 p.m.
Just over twenty-eight hours until April 19th.
Jake leaned back against the wall and took the weight off his feet. His deep fatigue was coming on strong now, the urge to sleep almost irresistible. Jake willed himself to stay awake, knowing that if he closed his eyes he would instantly doze off and waste valuable hours. Again he thought about Joanna and wondered if she was still alive. The elevator door down the hall opened, and Jake heard approaching footsteps. With an effort he pushed himself away from the wall.
Lethal Measures Page 31
