“That’s all we’ve got for now.”
They turned as Farelli hurried across the damp lawn, coughing into the chilly air.
Jake asked, “What did you find out?”
“That Lewis Koppelman is red, white and blue, and gives to every charity in Los Angeles.” Farelli coughed again and spat out phlegm.
“And his wife gives even more than he does.”
“Do the neighbors know where the Koppelmans went?”
“Nope.”
“Or when they’ll get back?”
“Sometime late tonight.”
“How late?”
“Around nine or ten. They like to wait until the freeway traffic slacks off.”
Farelli coughed again and cleared his throat.
“And if the traffic is real bad, they don’t come back until Monday morning.”
Jake walked away, shaking his head dejectedly. Time was running out.
And they were standing still. Sunday, April 18, 10=02 a.m.
Joanna drifted in and out of her nightmarish sleep. One moment she was in total darkness, the next she was in bright light being forced to drink orange juice with a gun to her head. She jerked her head away and kept her jaws clenched together. Then the darkness returned, and Joanna couldn’t tell whether she was awake or asleep. Again there was light, and again there was a gun aimed at her and somebody was pulling the trigger. Now everything was in slow motion. The flash. The bang. The bullet coming directly at her. She threw up her hands and tried to move away, but something cold and hard stopped her. She desperately pushed against it, but it wouldn’t budge. Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh—!
Joanna was suddenly awake. Her heart was pounding, her mind disordered and still half-asleep. She took deep breaths, gathering herself and trying to get her bearings. She reached out and felt the cold cement floor and the mattress beside her. Then she realized she was still in the cellar.
She rolled back onto the mattress and lay next to Kate. She rubbed at her eyes and waited for her head to clear. Slowly, recent events began to come back. She remembered the milk. The goddamn milk! They had been drugged. Joanna cursed at herself in the darkness. If she had been half as smart as people thought she was, she would have seen it coming and prevented it. The signs were all there.
Little Jean-Claude was so sleepy he couldn’t keep his eyes open when normally he would have been chasing outlaws nonstop at full steam. Kate had told her something was wrong with Jean Claude but Joanna had ignored it. Stupid! Stupid!
And the milk had tasted peculiar. She had ignored that too.
Joanna’s mouth was so parched that it was difficult to swallow, and her
limbs were stiff and aching. She wondered how long they’d been asleep. Probably for hours and hours, she guessed. But there was no easy way to know, not with the window totally blocked. Joanna couldn’t even tell if it was day or night.
She stood and took a few careful steps in the darkness, trying to stretch her sore muscles. Her foot touched something on the floor, and she reached down for it. It was small and square and hollow and had a waxy feel. And it had a spout.
A carton! But she remembered that they had left the milk cartons upstairs.
Quickly she brought the spout of the empty carton to her nose and sniffed.
Orange juice!
So what she thought she’d seen in her nightmare had actually happened. They had been awakened and, in their drugged state, forced to drink orange juice that probably contained more drug. That would explain why she was so stiff and groggy and her throat so parched. With all those drugs in them, they could have slept an entire day. It might already be Sunday.
Joanna leaned over Kate and felt around for the oily rag containing the cigarette lighter. At first she couldn’t find it, and she wondered if the terrorists had discovered the rag and lighter while they were pushing more drugs into their prisoners. Without the lighter they had no chance at all. Joanna cursed at herself again, wishing she had hidden it better. Then her hand swept over the floor near the wall and made contact with the oily rag. The lighter was still in it.
Kate was now moving about, groaning in the darkness but still asleep.
Joanna gently shook her sister’s shoulder, then whispered loudly into her ear.
“Kate! Kate!”
“Wh-what?” Kate asked groggily.
“Time to get up,” Joanna said.
“Just a little more sleep,” Kate muttered and dozed off.
Joanna shook Kate’s shoulder harder.
“Get up!”
“Wh-what’s wrong?”
“Do you remember where we are?”
Kate’s eyelids started to droop, but she forced them to stay open.
“What?”
“Do you know where we are?” Joanna asked again.
“How could I forget?” Kate tried to prop herself up, then dropped back onto the mattress.
“My head feels so heavy.”
“That’s because we were both drugged,” Joanna said.
“They put something in the milk we drank.” “Bastards,” Kate said, then pushed herself up again and waited for the dizziness to pass. She tried to orient herself in the blackness but couldn’t. She had no idea where the window or the stairs were. She couldn’t even see Joanna.
“Sis, where are you?”
“Over here.”
“What time do you think it is?”
“I have no idea.”
Up above they heard heavy footsteps passing by. Then silence returned.
Kate listened intently and waited for the sound of tiny footsteps. There weren’t any.
“Have you heard Jean-Claude running around?”
“I think he’s still asleep,” Joanna said in a low voice.
“Remember how drowsy he was when we saw him last? They probably drugged him too.”
“Real bastards,” Kate hissed loudly.
“Keep it down,” Joanna whispered.
“If they hear us talking they’ll give us more drugs and we’ll never find a way out.”
“We’re never going to get out of here, Sis. We’re hopelessly trapped and you know it.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Joanna said, although deep down she knew her sister was right. It was only a matter of hours before they would be killed, Jean-Claude along with them.
Her gaze went to the wall where she thought the window was. There was still no light, not even a glimmer. She reached over and touched Kate’s arm.
“I want you to help me get up on the table.”
“For what?”
“So I can determine why there’s no light at all coming in now.”
“Maybe it’s nighttime.”
“And maybe it’s not.”
“So what?” Kate asked gloomily.
“A glimmer of light isn’t going to help us any.”
Joanna tightened her grip on Kate’s arm.
“Listen to me, and listen good. The next time those bastards come down the stairs will probably be the last time.
And I won’t just sit here and wait for them. I’m going to look for a way out, and you’re going to help me. Now that window is our only connection to the outside world. Let’s see where it leads us.”
“To nowhere,” Kate said dismally.
“It’s got bars across it. Remember? We’re as good as dead.” “Goddamn it!” Joanna snapped.
“If you don’t want to fight for yourself, at least fight for Jean Claude
Kate glared at her sister, angry with Joanna for bossing her, angrier yet with herself for not being stronger.
“Let’s get to it.”
Joanna flicked the lighter, and it gave off a very small flame. The table was now off to the left of the window. Joanna tried to recall whether she had pushed the table to its new place before going up the steps. She thought she had, but she wasn’t sure. The lighter went out by itself.
“Help me lift the table over to the window. Don’t drag it on the floor. We don’t want to make any noise.”
&nbs
p; They lifted the table and placed it under the window.
Joanna climbed up and steadied herself, her legs still weak and rubbery. She looked out the window and saw only blackness. Her eyes went to the upper part of the windowpane, and she noticed a faint, thin line of light to the left of the glass. It took her a moment to realize she was looking at the edge of something that was blocking the window.
Joanna looked down at Kate.
“Keep your hand on the wall and move to the corner on your left. You’ll find the mop there. Bring it tome.”
Kate found the mop in the darkness and brought it back to the table. She handed the mop up to Joanna, wooden handle first.
Joanna placed the mop over her shoulder, pointing the handle forward. With a quick punch she knocked out the left upper corner of the windowpane. She slowly advanced the mop through the broken pane, and the object in front of the window gave way. A bright stream of light flooded into the cellar. Joanna turned away and waited for her eyes to adjust, then looked out the window. She saw a large piece of cardboard, now tilted back and resting atop a dried-out bush and some trash.
Joanna eased herself down and leaned wearily against the table. Her legs felt shaky and ached with fatigue. She reached down and gently massaged her calf muscles. In the light she could see Kate, and beyond her the stairs leading up.
On the floor was the mattress, which looked dirty and slimy.
“What was blocking the window?” Kate asked.
“A big piece of cardboard, probably put there by Rudy.”
“Won’t he see it’s been moved?”
“Maybe he’ll think it just fell backwards.”
“But then he’ll see the broken window and figure out what we did and
he’ll really get pissed.” “Maybe not,” Joanna said, thinking quickly.
“The entire window isn’t broken, only a corner. If we hear anyone coming we’ll stuff the oily rag in the cracked pane and move the table back to where it was. With any luck, they won’t make too much of it.”
Kate shook her head.
“They’re too smart for that.”
“We’ll see.”
Kate glanced up at the shaft of light. It was bright and circular, like that given off by a flashlight.
“It must be morning.”
Joanna nodded.
“Or early afternoon.”
“You think we slept for twenty-four hours?”
“Maybe more.”
“Well, I’m going to stay awake from here on,” Kate vowed.
“I don’t want any more of those damn nightmares.”
“You had them too, huh?”
“They were the worst,” Kate said.
“And they seemed so real. It was almost kinky.”
“How so?”
Kate hesitated before saying, “I think I was in a bathroom somewhere, pulling down my panties. And Rudy was there. He kept smiling at me and laughing, watching my every move. Then he tried to touch me and a voice screamed out. And Rudy laughed even harder. It was scary as hell, even for a nightmare.”
Joanna nodded, but she knew what her sister had experienced hadn’t been a nightmare. In all likelihood it had actually happened. While they were drugged and heavily sedated, they were probably taken upstairs and made to urinate. That way they wouldn’t have to be brought upstairs again. And that also explained why neither she nor Kate had the urge to pee now although they had just awakened.
Their bladders had been emptied only a few hours before. With Rudy watching them. Joanna shivered, wondering if Rudy had touched her too.
Outside the window a car pulled up. Its door opened and closed quickly.
In an instant Joanna was standing atop the table on her tiptoes, looking through the crack in the window. The cardboard still partially blocked her line of vision, but she saw the back of a man with blond hair walking away. He was holding something under his arm. A small box or package, Joanna couldn’t be sure. A moment later he was gone. Her eyes went back to the car, but she couldn’t make out the make or model. The only parts of the car that were clearly visible were the
top of the hood and the windshield. Then she saw the blue parking decal on the windshield. A sudden shiver went through Joanna. The decal looked like the ones given to the faculty members at Memorial.
It allowed them to park in the lots closest to the hospital.
Joanna heard the doorbell ringing, then footsteps hurrying to the front of the house. Quickly she climbed down from the table.
“Who was that?” Kate asked excitedly.
“One of them,” Joanna said and handed Kate the oily rag.
“I’m going up the stairs and try to listen to what they say. I want you to climb onto the table and watch for my signal. If I hear them coming to the cellar, I’ll snap my fingers. That means plug the hole in the window with the rag and get back on the mattress like you’re asleep. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Joanna hurried up the steps and pressed her ear against the door. She heard loud voices coming from the kitchen area. A man and a woman. The female terrorist was obviously upset.
“Are you crazy coming here?” Eva screeched.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“I had no choice,” the man said.
“I tried your cell phone number fifty times, but it was always busy.”
“Nobody has been on the phone.”
“Then you’d better check it.”
“Rudy!”
Joanna heard Rudy coming down the hall with loud, thumping footsteps. Suddenly the doorknob to the cellar turned. Joanna held her breath and waited for the sound of the lock opening. Rudy tried the door again, apparently making certain it was still secured. Then he walked on. Joanna breathed a sigh of relief and pressed her ear back to the door. Now they were arguing, everybody talking at once.
Eva asked angrily, “You gave the phone to the kid to play with?”
“He was starting to cry,” Rudy explained.
“So I gave it to him to play with. He doesn’t know how to use it.”
“Give me the phone,” Eva said.
There was a pause. Joanna heard what sounded like a can of soda being opened.
She licked at her parched lips, now even more aware of her thirst.
“Well,” Eva was saying, “the kid might not have known how to use the phone, but he somehow turned it off and disconnected us from the outside world.”
“Sorry,” Rudy said weakly.
“Sorry doesn’t get it done,” Eva snapped.
“Now go back and watch the kid.”
Heavy footsteps came past the door again. Rudy didn’t bother to check the doorknob this time.
“What’s so important that you had to come here?” Eva demanded.
“I’ve got to know whether the dedication ceremony at the new institute will be held on the steps or inside,” the man said.
“I told you we won’t find that out until tomorrow morning.”
“But we may not even find out then,” the man said.
“This arriving doctor might not be told a damn thing until he gets to the ceremony.”
“I know, I know,” Eva said worriedly.
Joanna listened intently, trying to place the man’s voice. She thought she had heard it before but couldn’t be sure. The thick door and the distance to the kitchen gave the voice a muffled quality.
“There might be a way to get to our target whether the ceremony is on the steps or inside,” the man said.
“How?”
“Put the prosthesis on Wales before the ceremony starts.”
“Can you talk Wales into it?”
“I think so,” the man said.
“The original plan was for him to have his new prosthesis fitted with the President and everybody else looking on. If the ceremony is held on the steps, obviously that can’t happen. And Wales isn’t going to like that at all. So when I see him tonight at the cocktail party, I could suggest he be prepared to put the pro
sthesis on before we go to the ceremony. If it’s on the steps, he could be seen lifting up his pants leg and showing the prosthesis to the President. If it’s inside, we could just reenact the fitting. Either way Wales gets his picture taken with the President.”
“You think he’ll go for it?”
“Probably. But there’s a risk if the ceremony is held outside. If it’s held inside, we’ll know exactly where everyone will be. If it’s held on the steps, there could be a lot of distance and people between Wales and the President.”
“Inside is better,” Eva agreed.
“Much better. Your backup plan has too many problems. Too many things could go wrong.”
“I’m aware of that,” the man said. “And I’m also aware that if I push too hard for a change in plans, Wales may become suspicious. And that’s the last thing we want. He’s edgy enough as it is.”
“Has something happened to tip him off?”
“Not so far. But he’s a perfectionist, and he’ll want to know everything that’s going on and why.”
“But he has absolutely no idea you’re involved, right?”
“Right. He still thinks I’m his little underling who does what he’s told and makes all of the computerized prostheses for him.”
Timothy Bremmer! Joanna thought bitterly, the terrorists’ friend at Memorial who was feeding them vital information so they’d always be one step ahead of the police. A doctor! A doctor who was responsible for killing dozens of people—children, widows, policemen, even his own patients. And, unless some miracle happened, he would also be responsible for the deaths of Joanna and her family.
Joanna pressed her ear firmly against the door, silently cursing Bremmer and the terror he was involved in. And they were going to assassinate the President. But how were they going to do it? And why was fitting the prosthesis on Wales such an important part of their plans?
Bremmer asked, “Do you want me to implement the backup plan or not?”
“Yeah. Just in case we need it.”
“It’s too bad our first plan didn’t work out. It would have been beautiful. And it was so simple. Four Mexicans strategically spread out in the crowd as the presidential limousine pulled up. And each Mexican with two bricks of C-four incorporated in his protective vest. The President would have come over to the crowd to touch people and shake hands. Then, at the right moment, the C-four would have been detonated and everybody, including the President, would have been vaporized. And with any luck it would have been recorded on television and shown to the whole world.”
Lethal Measures Page 33
