“How long have you been living on hints and suggestions?” Jack asked. “Months? Years? We may not have that much time.”
“That’s true,” Abbot said, “but we haven’t been wasting time. As soon as Annette told us about you, even before she talked with you, we started working. Now those photos will be a help later. And we know as much about the kidnapping as anybody except the principals. That gives us something more to work on. And you, too, have been giving us leads, and an edge, and we’re going to start moving just as soon as we can. Other people are already putting things together, but we can’t do anything at all until we know where to move. What would you do? Where would you go? You have no idea. That’s what we’re trying to find out. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do. It’s just ...”
“Emily is more than just a patient to you,” Sally said. “We know. But right now, there’s nothing we can do except look for a direction.”
“The important thing at the moment,” Douglas said, “is to make sure that our lines of communication are open. When it comes time to move, we may have to move instantly.” He took out a small notebook, scribbled something and tore off the page. “This is the number here,” he said. “There’ll be somebody here twenty-four hours, until further notice. If I’m not here, somebody will get word to me within fifteen minutes. Okay? And as for Annette, if you have any need to get in touch with her, it will be through me. She and her fifth columnists up in Northampton are doing their own thing, though we’re working together closely. Okay?”
“Okay,” Jack said. “But what do I do now?”
“Fake it. Go on about your everyday business as if nothing were wrong. Keep on asking around for Emily, you’ve made yourself just a bit conspicuous and if you shut
up now, people will wonder. Just don’t try too hard. We will let you know just as soon as we find out anything. Okay?” “All right,” Jack said. He was not completely satisfied with the outcome of this meeting, but he didn’t see what else he could do. He turned to Sally. “Do you need a lift anywhere?”
“No thanks, I’m fine. Get a good night’s sleep.”
“I’ll try,” Jack said, then he left.
File Thirteen: Thursday Morning
Jack did not, in fact, get a good night’s sleep, and when he got to his office, a little before eight, he was groggy and fuzzy-headed. Mrs. McKinley handed him his coffee as he came in.
“Is that a new sweater?” Jack asked. It was a shade of red that people had stopped wearing ever since the Visitors had proved their true motives nearly three years ago.
“No, just an old one with some good use left in it. Have you found out anything about Miss Velasquez?”
“Nothing concrete,” Jack said. “I’ve been talking to some people, I’m hoping they’ll be able to find out where she is. Will you call WCTY for me please, I’d like to speak with Ms. Carpentier.”
“Sure thing,” she said, and he went on into his consulting room. The sweater bothered him. It was Visitor red, nobody wore that color these days.
The call went through but Carpentier’s secretary told him Miss Carpentier wouldn’t be in until eleven. Jack made an appointment for that time, then had to tell Mrs. McKinley to reschedule his client for that hour, and then it was time for Mrs. Van Patten.
When he was finished with his three clients of the morning he took the folder containing Emily’s photos out of his desk and drove over to the Delmark Building. The receptionist upstairs told him that Ms. Carpentier was expecting him, and he was shown right in.
“Have you had any word from Emily yet?” she asked almost at once.
“I’m afraid not. I’ve tried several different approaches, but so far 1 have nothing to work on. With one exception. That man that Sorensen saw in the lobby downstairs the night Emily was kidnapped. Who was that man, Ms. Carpentier?”
“I can’t tell you that,” Carpentier said. “I promised to respect his confidentiality.”
“Ms. Carpentier, there may be a life at stake here, maybe more than that. I don’t want to pry into this man’s affairs, but he saw Emily Monday night, he chased her out of the building, according to what Sorensen said, and at the very least, he may have seen something that could give me a lead.”
“I can assure you, he had nothing whatsoever to do with the kidnapping.”
“It doesn’t sound like that to me. I’m willing to grant the possibility, but I’d like to talk to him about it.”
“My reputation may also be at stake, Dr. Page. I have reason to regret, now, that I ever had anything to do with
Northampton. You may not be aware of it but relations between Freeport and Northampton are not as placid as they might seem—”
“I am aware of it, Ms. Carpentier.”
“We’re at truce now,” she went on, “but it could erupt into full scale conflict. 1 don’t want to see that happen. And further, there is certain technology which should not be made public. I’m sorry, Dr. Page, I just can’t do what you ask me to.”
“What does technology have to do with anything? I’m not an industry spy. I’m not going to talk to anybody about your precious technology.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Page, I just can’t.”
Jack looked at her a long moment and then sighed. He put the folder of photos down on the desk in front of her. “It’s because of these that Emily was kidnapped,” he said.
Carpentier opened the folder, saw the first picture, an exterior shot of the entrance of the Regency, and looked up at him in surprise.
“These are the pictures I gave you,” she said, “the ones Emily left here the other night.”
“Exactly. Most of them are innocuous enough. But look at the last three.”
She turned over the whole stack, and then turned up the bottom photo, the one showing the men’s backs as they hurried from the box.
“Who are these men?”
“The next one.”
She turned that one over, and just stopped moving, staring at the seven surprised faces.
“Interesting, isn’t it?” Jack asked mildly.
“Very.”
“You know who they are, of course.”
“Some of them, yes. Charles Anthony Oswald—I’ve never met him, but I know who he is. Vincent Kline— probably the second most famous face in Freeport, after Oswald. Some of the others. ...”
“And Dwight,” Jack said. “Out of uniform. In Freeport. That picture could hang him, even if he were the only one in it.”
“Yes,” Carpentier said, her voice small and faraway. “And Dwight.”
“You see why somebody wanted to shut Emily up. Wanted to find out how much she knew, whether she took those photos by accident or by plan, whether she’d told anybody about that picture. Each of those men, whatever else they might be up to, has a good reason to want to get that picture back.”
Carpentier looked up at him then, keeping out the critical picture, neatly stacked the photos and closed the folder. “The implications are frightening,” she said.
“They are. Now one of these men is responsible for Emily’s kidnapping. Look at those faces. When that flash went off, they must have thought they were caught for sure. The man who Emily ran from Monday night, he’s a part of those frightening implications. Who was he?”
“This one right here,” Carpentier said, pointing to one of the faces Jack didn’t recognize. “His name is Marty Patrushka. He was Dwight’s chief agent for the job I did up in Northampton six months ago.”
Jack let out his breath. “I’ve heard of Marty Patrushka,” he said. “Thank you, Ms. Carpentier, I hope you’ll believe me when I tell you that I won’t say any more about this than I absolutely have to, and in any event it certainly won’t be to the police.”
“Then who?”
“Let’s just say some concerned citizens who are as worried as you are about the state of affairs between Freeport and Northampton, and who want, as you do, to see things remain peaceful between the two cities.”
&
nbsp; “The resistance.”
“We don’t yet know what’s going on,” Jack continued, “but we do know that Emily’s kidnapping is part of something bigger. Even if that were not the case, Kline at least has been trying to find these photos, that one in particular. He thought I had them, and sent three thugs to get them from me.” He flexed his gloved, false hand. “Even a cripple can defend himself if he knows how. But you should be aware that Kline might figure out that you had these photos for a while, when Emily left them here by mistake. If so, they might take steps to see that you never tell what you saw.”
“I appreciate your concern, Dr. Page. I’ll tell Ron Torino to beef up the security. They’re all good men, they’ll take care of me.”
“Unless they slip and fall coming down stairs.” Carpentier lowered her eyes and gazed at the photo on top of the folder. “I can’t see how Dwight can possibly be involved in this,” she said. “It has to be Kline.”
“I think it is,” Jack said, “but Dwight is right there.” He reached over and tapped the sardonically handsome face in the photo.
“So maybe Kline forced him to come. I’ve met Dwight, worked with him. If we weren’t on opposite sides, we might be friends. Kline probably forced Oswald too.”
“I tend to agree with you, though not everybody else does. But I have reason to believe that Northampton is involved in Emily’s kidnapping too, somehow.”
“I don’t see why, but I can believe it.”
“Ms. Carpentier, it doesn’t bother me, personally, that you worked for Northampton a while back. As far as I know, that was all aboveboard—unwise perhaps but a straight piece of work. But there could have been, without your knowing it, something wrong with that job, something criminal. Maybe you suspect that, maybe that’s why you want to disassociate yourself from it now.”
“You are very perceptive, Dr. Page.”
“That’s my job. If it bothers you, and you ever want to talk about it, on a professional level, let me know, I’ll give you a good referral.”
“I don’t need analysis to tell me what’s on my mind in that respect.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” He picked up the folder and slipped the incriminating picture into it. “You’ve told me what I needed to know,” he said. “I probably won’t have to talk to you again. But be careful. And think about things. If you remember something, about your meetings with Emily, about your job in Northampton, that might have a bearing on this business, please get in touch with me.”
“I hope you find Emily.”
“I hope so too—and that she’s alive when I do.”
He left and drove back to his office building. There was a cafeteria just off the main lobby, so he had lunch and then went on up to his floor. He stepped off the elevator into the lobby which served all the offices on his floor. A man, some distance away, turned away and leaned against the wall.
It was just a man, Jack told himself, no reason to be so jumpy. He wore a dark blue suit, and was otherwise unremarkable. Probably just waiting for somebody. But he had turned away so smoothly, so quickly, as if he had been watching for Jack’s return.
Jack went to his own office door, then hesitated and looked back at the man. He was walking nonchalantly away, down the corridor. Maybe, Jack thought, it was just his anxiety, the secret meetings with the resistance, that was making him see enemies around every comer. He went into his reception room where Mrs. McKinley was working on the billing, her ever-present cup of coffee within easy reach. “Good afternoon, Dr. Page,” she said with a smile. “Has anybody called or come in while I’ve been out?” “No, Doctor. 1 keep hoping the police will call back.” “I don’t think they will, Mrs. McKinley. When’s my next appointment?”
File Fourteen: Thursday Afternoon
Jack continued with his clients until quarter to four. Mrs. McKinley informed him then that Mrs. Mitsushi had cancelled, and that he had nothing scheduled for the rest of the day.
Jack was just as glad. He found the piece of paper Douglas Abbot had given him, in his jacket pocket along with his right glove, which he always carried but seldom wore, called the resistance leader without going through Mrs. McKinley. Abbot agreed to meet him immediately at the Sanders Street house.
Annette met him at the door, wearing designer jeans and a man’s sport shirt.
“Come on in,” she said. “Good to see you again.”
In the living room, Abbot was ready with a drink in his hand. Jack accepted it gratefully.
“You might want to keep an eye out,” Jack said. “There was a man up in my lobby this afternoon, and he may have been watching me.”
“Did he follow you here?”
“1 don’t think so, but then, I’m not skilled at that kind of thing.”
“Well, let’s just sit here, and I’ll watch the street to see if anybody suspicious drives by.” He gestured Jack onto the couch under the window and took a large chair opposite while Annette opened both the drapes and the curtains. “Was the man human or Visitor?”
“He was wearing a dark blue suit, but I didn’t hear him speak.”
“What’s in the folder?” Abbot asked.
“Photos of the Regency Theater,” Jack said, “but one in particular might be of interest to you.” He took the shot with the seven men in the box out of the folder and handed it across to the resistance leader.
“Delightful,” Abbot said when he saw it. “Just delightful. If we ran this in the Herald all hell would break loose.”
“You wouldn’t really do that, would you?” Jack asked, surprised at the idea.
“Only if it seemed like the best thing to do.” He handed the photo back, and Annette came over to sit beside Jack and look at the picture.
“I know him,” she said, pointing to a solid-looking man with Amerindian features who was standing next to Dwight. “His name’s Hickory, he’s a Visitor.”
“From Freeport or Northampton?” Jack asked. Abbot got up and came over to look.
“Northampton. So, since he’s dressed like a civilian, he was here illegally too.” Hickory was shorter than Dwight, wearing a nondescript suit, holding his belt buckle with his left hand. “1 was able to check out all the passes that have been issued to Northampton Visitors during the last two weeks,” Annette went on, “and neither Dwight nor Hickory are listed.”
“This one here,” Jack said, pointing, “is named Marty Patrushka. He was Dwight’s agent when he had Vanessa Carpentier up to Northampton to help install a TV station, but 1 also know he’s an associate of Kline’s. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Not right offhand,” Abbot said, going back to his chair so he could watch the window. “But we’ll check it out. We’ll also check into Carpentier, too. We kept an eye on her when she was in Northampton six months ago, and as far as we can tell everything was aboveboard, if a bit—how shall I say it—not according to general practice?”
“Could she possibly be involved in this business?” Jack asked.
“I don’t think so. What I do think is that each of our three principals—Kline, Oswald, and Dwight—were there voluntarily, and are in league with each other. Look at those expressions, all of them guilty.”
“I suppose so. Why would they meet in secret like that? I mean, would Northampton be likely to include humans in an anti-human conspiracy?”
“Northampton,” Annette said, “doesn’t include humans in anything at all, if they can help it.”
“That’s what I thought,” Jack went on. “Yet there they are. Now what would this meeting imply if it had been held somewhere in Northampton? That somehow Dwight had forced both Oswald and Kline to come up to see him, right?”
“Yeah,” Abbot said.
“Okay, but the meeting was down here, so it seems to me
that Kline forced Oswald and Dwight to meet him. Make
sense?”
“I guess so,” Abbot said dubiously.
“So Kline is the key,” Jack went on. “Kline would have plenty of reason t
o try to make Oswald put pressure on the D. A. to drop the conspiracy to defraud charges, or maybe to get a handle on Oswald’s banking and other business. And Kline might be getting help from Dwight, easing up on inspections to facilitate his black market shipments back and forth from Freeport to Northampton and other Visitor-controlled areas.”
“I don’t see that,” Annette said. “I mean, Kline might want that, but what could he offer Northampton in return?” “I don’t know, Annette, I’m just speculating.” He took a long pull at his drink. “Have you been able to find out anything about Emily?”
“We know where she is, I think. That is, we’ve identified that secret prison we told you about. It’s right here in Freeport, can you believe it? If she’s alive, then that’s where they’d be keeping her.”
“That’s incredible,” Jack said. “How would they dare operate a prison here, in Freeport?”
“That’s just it,” Abbot said. “It’s so audacious, nobody would think they would do it. But it also implies that Visitors have more freedom and influence here than we have thought. If we can get evidence of this to the proper authorities, we could bust them right open. We’d get help from up north, and the Visitors would be in a most uncomfortable position.”
“I’d like to see that,” Jack said. “But where is this prison?”
“In the east part of town,” Annette said, “out by the mouth of the bay.”
“And they’ve been running this thing,” Abbot said, “for who knows how long, right in our laps. 1 knew our organization here was getting lax, but this is ridiculous.” “But we know about it now,” Jack said. “When do we move?”
“We’ve set a target date for Sunday night,” Abbot said. “But that’s three days from now,” Jack protested. “Why wait so long?”
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