Day of Reckoning

by John Katzenbach

  “No, no. Alone—I’ll do it alone.”

  “We’ll follow you,” Lauren said. “In our car.”

  “No!” Duncan shouted. “Alone! She demanded I go alone.”

  “But what about us?” Megan cried.

  “I don’t know! Just wait. Please, my God, just get out of the way.” He was rushing through the door. The three women stood and watched as Duncan threw himself into his car and fired back down the driveway.

  “Oh, God,” Megan said, as she saw him spin the tires and race up their street. “Oh, what have we done?”

  “What is it, Mom?” Karen asked.

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  She turned to the twins and adopted a half-smile of encouragement that she knew they would disbelieve. They went back into the house to wait. She was filled with things to say, but said none of them, realizing that every word that might fall from her lips was more foolish than the next. For one horrible instant she wondered whether she would ever see any of her men again. Then she forced the thought away before it sickened her. She gratefully accepted the steaming tea from Lauren’s hands, trying to let its warmth fill her and obliterate the cold that was spreading within her so steadily.

  Duncan didn’t look at his watch, but knew his time was probably gone. He pulled the car into the back of a bus stop, praying that none of the local policemen spotted him as he rushed across the sidewalk. As he approached, he heard the telephone ring and he threw himself into the booth, grabbing the receiver.

  “Yes—”

  “Hey, Duncan! Good going,” Olivia said. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

  She and the two men had moved inside the mall. There were telephones at a half-dozen different locations, which she’d staked out.

  “What next?” Duncan asked. “Dammit.”

  “Impatient, huh?”

  “I want my boy.”

  “All right. At the other end of town, in front of the Stop and Shop. That’s where Megan buys your groceries. You’ve got eight minutes. But, Duncan—”

  “Yes!”

  “First reach under the telephone stand and take what you find there.”

  She hung up and checked her watch.

  Duncan thrust his hand beneath the telephone and found some­thing taped to the underside of the stand. He ripped it free. It was a compass. He jammed it into his pocket and dashed back to his car.

  Duncan thought of nothing except his son, and speed. He ran a yellow light and passed another car in the breakdown lane, causing the cold air behind him to fill with blaring horns. He could feel sweat on his forehead as he pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. He saw the phone stand, and slammed on his brakes. He ran toward the booth. Lights from the front of the store made the area seem gray and lonely.

  The phone was quiet.

  Duncan looked down at his watch. Seven minutes, he thought. I’m sure it took no more than seven minutes to get here. He waited. He watched the second hand sweep up towards the eighth minute and he reached out his hand.

  The phone remained quiet.

  His hand shook as he placed it on the receiver.

  Ring, damn you, he thought.

  There was no sound.

  Panic filled him. He could feel his heart tripping. He searched about frantically, wondering whether he was at the wrong phone. He couldn’t see any others. He stared at his watch.

  Nine minutes.

  Oh, my God, he thought. What’s wrong?

  He was aware of the cold and increasing darkness. It was as if he was caught in the last of the day’s light, while Olivia worked from the shadows. He looked about wildly. The town around him seemed misshapen and bloated, as if he was looking at a hundred familiar locations and yet seeing them for the first time.

  Ten minutes.

  Tommy, he thought with despair.

  Then the phone rang. He ripped it toward his ear.

  “Hey, thought I’d give you a little extra, what with all the traffic and everything,” Olivia said pleasantly.

  Duncan gritted his teeth.

  “Do you think we’re watching you, Duncan? Don’t you realize that somewhere along the road, we’re keeping an eye on you? That’s the purpose of this little dog and pony show. Got to see if you can take orders. I know you couldn’t. Not eighteen years ago.”

  “Where next?”

  “Harris Farm Supplies on Route Nine. It’s five miles, Duncan. I know you’re familiar with it. Like to get seedlings there, and probably your Christmas tree as well. Mulch for the shrubbery. You like a little gardening, don’t you? You know where you’re going. Oh, yeah, you’ve got, oh, how about six minutes. The phone’s right in front, but you know that.”

  He ran to the car.

  Duncan saw the sign for the farm store, and maneuvered across traffic, accelerating into the parking lot. Six minutes, he thought. Six minutes have passed. He slammed down hard on the brakes and jumped from the driver’s seat, only to stop in his tracks. He felt his heart plummet through his body: There was a woman talking on the outside phone.

  He raced toward her. The woman looked up as he approached.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” she said.

  “It’s an emergency,” Duncan replied.

  The woman was middle-aged. She wore a parka against the cold. “Look, Mom, there’s a problem here. I’ll be by to pick up the kids as soon as I finish here and at the grocery.”

  “Please,” Duncan said. He stared at his watch.

  The woman glared at him. “Someone says they need the phone. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

  Duncan reached for the phone. “Hang it up!” he shouted.

  “I’ll remember the broccoli,” the woman said.

  Duncan seized the telephone and slammed it down on the hook. The woman took a quick step back. “I ought to call the police!” she said. “You rude bastard!”

  Duncan turned his back on her and heard her stomp across the gravel drive. He looked at the telephone.

  When it rang, he reached out in relief.

  “Olivia? It wasn’t my fault, there was someone on the phone—I’m sorry,” he said.

  She laughed.

  “Close, math-man. Real close. Hadn’t really expected to get a busy signal at that phone. Who would want to stand in the cold talking? Ah well, onwards and upwards. Now, how long a drive is it to Leverett?”

  “Twenty minutes.”

  “Okay. On the way into the center of town, there’s a Seven-Eleven convenience store, right next to the Mobil station. The phone’s in front. Twenty minutes.”

  Duncan drove quickly. Within seconds he had passed out of Greenfleld and was enveloped by intermittent light and shadows, as bare stands of trees rose against the sky. He turned on his headlights, which blocked a bit of the falling night away, but he felt alone, as if at sea. The road to Leverett was a winding, two-lane back road. He had driven it many times, yet on this occasion it seemed eerily unfamiliar. For a moment or two, he had trouble keeping his car in the lane; despite tugging at the wheel, it seemed to drift on him. He lowered the electric window on his side, flooding the car with frigid air. Still he felt warm, and he could feel dampness on the back of his neck, rubbing against his jacket collar. He saw his hands on the wheel and they were white and ghostly.

  He spotted the gas station and the convenience store next door with a minute to spare. He cut past the pumps and pulled in front of the telephone. He jumped out and leaped to the phone. Then he stood waiting, wondering what was next. He fingered the compass in his pocket and imagined that Olivia was watching him.

  The phone did not ring.

  I’m here, he thought. I’m here.

  The drive had quieted his jangled nerves some. He glanced at his watch. All right, dammit.
Here I am.

  The phone remained quiet.

  He waited, as he had before. At first he thought Olivia was just playing another head game with him, so his concern was limited. Then, as each minute passed, he increased his anxiety, stepping swiftly from discomfort to worry, to sweaty fear and finally reaching the ledge of panic.

  The phone remained quiet.

  He did not know what to do.

  As before, he cast about, wondering whether he’d reached the wrong location.

  His eyes swept across the neighboring gas station. He spotted a single exterior phone booth, located by the road, midway between the convenience store parking lot and the exit for the station.

  He looked back at the telephone in front of him, which remained frustratingly silent.

  No, he thought, she said this one.

  He looked at his watch. Five minutes over deadline.

  Duncan refused to allow himself to think of consequences. He knew that Olivia was doing something, but he was unsure what. He tried to imagine, but drew only a blank.

  He was again aware of the grayness of the afternoon. He could just make out the edge of night in the sky. He could see his breath steaming from his mouth like smoke.

  Ten minutes over deadline.

  He looked over again at the other telephone.

  She mentioned that gas station.

  Duncan stared at it. There was a lonely, brief moment when no cars or trucks were passing, and the air grew quiet.

  He froze. He strained his hearing.

  It’s ringing, he thought. He felt dizzy with fear.

  He stepped away from the front of the convenience store, toward the solitary phone booth. A car rolled past, obliterating the sound, but he took a quick step, then another, and the ringing sound became clearer, more insistent.

  He began to walk tentatively toward the phone. He glanced back over his shoulder at the phone at the convenience store. Indecision ricocheted about within him.

  He started to walk briskly.

  The ringing seemed to grow louder in his ears.

  He quickened his pace. He started to jog.

  As he watched, he saw one of the station attendants head toward the phone booth. No! Duncan thought. No!

  He broke into a sprint, dashing across the parking lot.

  He saw the attendant swing open the door and pick up the phone, staring oddly at it, after a second.

  “No!” Duncan cried. “Here! Don’t hang up!”

  He could see the man looking quizzically at the phone.

  “Here! Here! Dammit, I’m here!” he shouted, running flat-out now, sprinting for all he was worth, waving his arms wildly.

  The man swung halfway out of the booth, looking at Duncan. “Hey,” he said, “you Duncan?”

  “Yes!”

  “Well,” the attendant said. “I’ll be damned. There’s a call here for you.”

  Duncan seized the phone.

  “Yes. Yes! Here I am!” He shut the door on the slightly bewildered attendant, who shrugged and moved away.

  “Good going, Duncan. I didn’t figure you’d manage this one. Really, I didn’t . . .” Olivia said with mock enthusiasm.

  “You said the Seven-Eleven!”

  “Hey, got to be a little flexible.”

  “You said it and I was there!”

  “Duncan, Duncan, calm down. I just wanted to see if you were into it or not.” She snorted a brittle laugh. “I’d have called the other phone in a couple of minutes. I just wanted to see if you could figure it out.” She laughed again. “Maybe I would have.”

  Duncan took a deep breath. He tried to steady himself, but realized it was futile. He managed only to remove the quaver from his voice.

  “What’s next?” he asked.

  “Directions. I’ll only say them once. Ready?”

  “No—yes—go ahead.”

  “Ready!”

  Duncan took another deep breath.

  “Yes.”

  “Take out your compass. Go north three point three miles. Go east two point six miles. At the fork, go northeast one point one miles. Stop the car. There will be a field to the west. Go into the field until you find a marker. Then wait for instructions. Got it?”

  “Repeat them, please, Olivia.”

  “Duncan, Duncan, I’m trying to be so fair, and yet I sense you don’t appreciate my efforts.” She laughed mockingly. “All right. I’ll repeat them: north three point three. East two point six, northeast one point one. Go, Duncan. Get going.”

  She hung up the phone. She turned to Bill Lewis and Ramon Gutierrez and said, “Like a lemming headed to sea. He is disoriented, scared, and acquiescent. One might even say ripe.” She smiled. “Mission accomplished,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  They were both too nervous to do anything other than smile awkwardly. They’re weak, Olivia thought, and had to fight off a momentary disgust. They get close to a bit of money, and it gets to them, bad. I still need them, she thought. Not much longer, but just a little while. She quick-stepped from the mall, trailed by the two men, who had to hurry up to keep up with her.

  Duncan climbed behind the wheel of his car and reached over the dashboard to set the odometer to zero. He placed his hands up along his head, to try to steady the dizziness that trapped him. He thought it must be like being caught in a whirlpool. He felt his heart racing within him. To try to calm himself, he repeated the directions to himself, like some devilish mantra, and picked the compass out of his pocket. For an instant the needle bounced about, as confused as he was, then it settled and Duncan realized that he could take a side road and head due north. He put the car in gear, blew a long breath of whistling wind out between his clenched lips, and headed out.

  Once again, within a half-mile he had been enveloped by country­side. He drove slowly, looking up at the old New England farmhouses that he passed. They were a uniform clapboard white, frayed by time and hard winter, and all the barns seemed swaybacked with age and duty. The earth seemed brown and the tree stands black. Tree branches hung starkly against the last light. The world seemed suddenly ancient, primeval, and frightening. The road became a slippery gravel surface, and the car started to bounce in and out of potholes. He was cutting between fields and hills; alone but for the occasional farm vehicle that he passed heading in.

  His first turn was easily found and he proceeded, keeping an eye on the odometer.

  He found the fork in the road, checked the compass, and turned to the northeast. Excitement swept over him, and he allowed himself to think, if only for an instant, that he was about to see his son. He battled against false hopes and watched the odometer. Nine-tenths of a mile; one mile; one point one miles.

  Duncan stopped the car.

  What little light remained to the day was precious. The sky was a gray-black blend, fading toward night with each passing second.

  He stepped out and surveyed the field that opened up before him. There was a hedge, and an old stone wall, which came up to his waist. Beyond that, perhaps a half-mile away, was a line of forest. The field rolled toward the woods, like a placid ocean toward the shore. He stepped to the stone wall and scrambled over.

  Duncan cleared his thoughts, thinking only of the money in the briefcase and his son. He started to walk across the field, only to sink up to his ankle in mud. He pulled his foot free with a whooshing sound and continued, fighting against the loose, slippery ground, feeling the dampness seep into his sneakers and socks, chilling his feet. There was some thin ice in the field, as well, and Duncan heard it crunch beneath his shoes.

  He stumbled once and dropped the briefcase. He kept going.

  What am I looking for? he wondered. He kept his eyes wide, roving from side to side, trying to find some marker. The light was almost gone, and with it came desp
air.

  Duncan struggled on. He turned and looked back toward the road. He realized he was nearly midway across the field.

  It’s got to be here, he thought.

  The night cold seemed to fill him.

  “Where is it?” he cried out loud. “Where?”

  He pushed on another twenty yards and spotted a wooden stake pushed into the earth. It had a Day-Glo orange band painted around the top. That’s it, he thought, and he picked up his feet, half-running, half-falling to reach the marker.

  Then he stopped.

  He stood next to the stake and peered at it. There was no sign, no message, no indication that it was anything other than a stake in the midst of a field. For an instant, confusion and pain pummeled him.

  Duncan breathed in. His soaked feet sent waves of cold through his body. He shivered and thought he could sense the remainder of the day’s warmth blowing up into the overcast sky.

  He talked to himself: “She said to wait for instructions. All right, Olivia, instruct me.”

  The silence grew about him.

  He leaned up against the marker and breathed out slowly. Unbidden, tears started to flow down his face. What’s wrong with me? he wondered, but he was unable to check the surge within him. I am strong, I am prepared, he told himself, but the words were scant comfort. The flood of darkness around him carried only more despair, and he felt his hopes dwindle. He clutched the briefcase to his chest, as if it were a child, and he rocked back and forth a bit, trying to warm himself, trying to imagine what had gone wrong, what was happening, what he was supposed to do. His mind filled with pictures of his son, which crushed down further on his heart. He let out a sob, but he remained standing by the marker, realizing in that horrible instant that he had no other plan, no other idea of what to do.

  A hundred and fifty yards away, hidden in the treeline, Olivia watched through her binoculars. Satisfaction filled her entire body and she shivered, but not from the increasing cold.

  “So, Duncan, how long will you wait? How long will you stand there in the middle of nowhere? Will you wait all night for your son? Will you wait a few minutes? How much patience do you have? Can you stand the cold? Can you stand the pain? All by yourself? How long, Duncan? Eighteen years,” she whispered. “Eighteen years.”