by Zoe Sharp
‘Bully,’ I murmured as we rode up to Manda’s floor.
Parker flashed me a quick smile in reply. ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet …’
It took a lot of loud banging on Manda’s front door, and leaning on the bell, before she answered, wearing a thin peach satin nightgown and matching wrap. As someone who slept in an old T-shirt – if I slept in anything at all – the cynical half of me wondered if the delay had been partly caused by her searching for something alluring to put on.
‘Charlie!’ she exclaimed, covering the frightened note in her voice with a gloss of annoyance. ‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’
‘Yes,’ I said pleasantly. ‘May we come in? Or do you want to wait for the FBI?’
She hesitated, by which time I had moved forwards, smiling, and before she knew it we were inside with the door closed behind us. Manda realised she wasn’t going to get rid of us easily and shrugged. She led us into the living area with its fabulous view of the skyline, which was lightening towards dawn but still dominated by the beautifully lit, iconic buildings.
Once there, she tugged the flimsy garment closer around her body and glared at us with a certain amount of scared truculence.
‘What do you want?’ Her eyes flicked to Parker as if she thought he might be easier to manipulate. He stared back, radiating menace because of the total lack of emotion he projected.
‘You know what this is all about, Manda,’ I said quietly, snapping her attention back to me. ‘Tell us about Hunt.’
‘Hunt?’ She made a show of surprise at the question, stalling furiously. ‘I hardly know—’
‘You want us to dig out the tape Torquil made of the pair of you screwing on the yacht?’ I demanded. ‘Orlando’s already admitted that you introduced them. So – who is he, where did he come from, and why have you lied about him?’
She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘I might have known that little bitch would try and stir things. Why on earth should you believe anything she has to say?’
I sighed, half turned away, and whipped back to punch her in the mouth.
I led from my shoulders rather than my hips, so it was little more than a tap, but Manda let out a shriek and fell backwards across one of the armchairs in a tangle of arms and legs. Parker shot me a disapproving glance. I shrugged and waited until Manda had gathered herself, dabbing at her split lip with experimental fingers.
‘You bitch,’ she muttered, in a dazed voice.
‘I’ve been called worse – by you, as I recall,’ I said blandly. ‘And I don’t have time to play nice, Manda. I tried that last time, and you sat there and smiled at me as you lied your arse off. Stop LYING to me!’ I let my voice snap into loudness, watched her jerk of automated response. ‘Dina’s got less than a day. They already sliced off her ear. These are the same people who beat Torquil to death. We believe Hunt’s involved. Where do we find him?’
‘How the hell would I know?’ she demanded, pushing back to her feet, defiant. ‘And even if I did, you think I’d tell you?’
Parker sighed. He reached into the pocket of his immaculate overcoat and brought out a folding lock knife, which he opened up carefully. As it reached full extension it made a sharp click that made Manda flinch. I think it was the contrast between his totally urbane appearance and the threat implicit in the blade. He glanced at me, nothing in his face.
‘Left ear, wasn’t it?’
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Manda, I realised quickly, had no doubts that Parker might be bluffing.
The combination of that and the shock of a smack in the mouth brought the words tumbling out of her. I wasn’t especially proud of what we’d just done, but it was certainly effective in the time we had available.
She told us how she’d met Hunt the previous spring and been both frustrated and intrigued by the fact that he seemed so unimpressed by her wealth.
Listening to her, it was painfully obvious that Hunt had played her like a cheap violin. He was a charmer, as all good conmen are, and he’d used Manda to carefully insinuate himself into the social circle in which she moved.
The fact that he’d specifically asked her to introduce him to Orlando, rather than presenting himself as being involved with Manda, had been a masterly touch. It allowed him to influence the other girl, while Manda got her claws into Benedict. And the hands-off approach had kept Manda well and truly hooked in a way he couldn’t have done if they’d been having an open relationship.
‘After Benedict’s kidnapping didn’t go according to plan – when his parents nearly refused to pay – Hunt said it would be better if he was the one who made contact with Lennon and Ross,’ she explained, her voice a mumble, staring at her clenched hands. ‘He said it would keep us one step removed from any of it.’
‘But?’ I said, hearing the hesitation in her voice.
‘He wanted to take things a lot further. Actively look for other people – people with money – who wanted to be kidnapped for the thrill of it, too. Make a business out of it, almost.’
‘And you went along with that?’ Parker left me to ask the questions, while he hovered in the background, projecting just the right level of intimidation.
‘He made it sound like … fun,’ she admitted. ‘Like a game, where everybody wins and nobody gets hurt.’
‘And where did Torquil fit into that theory?’
She coloured at that. It was nice to see even someone as amoral as Manda was not immune to shame.
‘That was … different,’ she said, stumbling over the words. ‘Tor found out what we were doing and was threatening to expose us – all of us – unless we let him join in. But he wanted it all to be perfect, like a movie or something. He was so furious when the snatch on Dina went all wrong. He said it was pathetic, that he’d give us all away.’
I remembered Torquil’s expression as he’d watched the two men I now knew to be Lennon and Ross escaping from the botched attempt at the riding club. His anger and disappointment now seemed understandable. At the time I’d worried it was because he might be behind the kidnaps, not that he was waiting impatiently for his turn.
‘So he was killed to keep him quiet.’
‘Yes. No!’ Manda said, head hanging. ‘Look, they don’t tell me the details. As far as I know, all that was supposed to happen was Tor was to be kidnapped and held for a couple days for a decent ransom – he talked about making his parents pay with something that would hurt them. I guess now he was talking about the Eisenberg Rainbow.’
‘So, where is it?’
She looked disbelieving. ‘Why the hell would you want it? It’s a fake.’
‘Ah, so you haven’t quite severed all ties with the kidnappers, have you, Manda?’ I said. ‘How else could you know about that?’
She flushed. ‘Hunt told me,’ she said in a low voice. ‘He said that Lennon was furious, and who knew what he might do to get even.’
‘And you believed that?’ I demanded. ‘Did Hunt also tell you that Torquil was dead before I ever left the Eisenbergs’ place with the necklace? That they’d no intention of letting him go, regardless of whether the jewels were real or not?’
‘No,’ she murmured, shaking her head. ‘No, that can’t be right. Hunt said that if we went ahead and kidnapped Tor, like he wanted, he wouldn’t be able to do anything against us, because then he’d be a part of it. But I never thought for a second that they’d kill him. You have to believe me …’
‘Would you have done it?’ I asked twenty minutes later, as Parker pulled the Navigator out from the kerb. His eyes switched from the rear-view mirror across to mine, with a flicker that could have signified just about anything.
‘Would you?’ he countered dryly.
I smiled. ‘It might have been a difficult one to explain away in court as justifiable force.’
He nodded, as if that was his answer, also. ‘The trick is not what you’re prepared to do, Charlie. It’s what they believe you’re prepared to do.’
‘I know.’
But Sean would have done it, I realised, for real, without hesitation. Maybe that was the difference between them.
Stop making comparisons!
‘The important thing is, did you believe her?’ Parker asked now, as if reading my thoughts.
I twisted slightly in my seat, watching him drive through the lightening streets, heading east for the Queensboro Bridge.
There had always been an easy competence about Parker, but where previously he’d seemed relaxed and confident, now he showed an uncertainty around me that I didn’t like. That kiss had changed things, not necessarily for the better, but there was no calling it back, I realised. Sooner or later, we’d have to deal with it and move on.
‘Some of it,’ I replied. ‘I think the bit about her becoming a little obsessed with Hunt is true. It made her angry to be under his thrall like that. From what I know of Manda, she hates having to admit to any kind of weakness.’
‘Particularly to you,’ Parker judged. ‘You must have left quite a lasting impression on her.’
‘Well, I stopped her from killing her father,’ I said. ‘That would tend to stick in anyone’s mind.’ I shook my head sadly. ‘They should have got some serious help for her back then. Who knows how differently she might have turned out?’
‘Some people just don’t want to be helped.’
Parker’s cellphone buzzed and he slotted his Bluetooth headset in place before he took the call. I realised he’d been waiting for it, hence taking the bridge rather than the Queens-Midtown Tunnel, where the signal would have been non-existent.
‘Bill,’ he said shortly. ‘Go ahead.’
He seemed to spend the next few miles listening more than talking, his face growing darker all the while. When he finally ended the call, he took the headset off and chucked it onto the dash in frustration.
I raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m assuming that wasn’t good news.’
‘Bill can’t find anything on Trevanion,’ he said. ‘And I mean anything. Fake name, fake addresses, fake references. No record of him with Immigration. Zip. Looks like he’d created a legend for himself that would stand up to initial scrutiny, but as soon as we dug down a layer, it all collapsed.’
‘Shit.’
‘Yeah, that’s about the size of it,’ he agreed with a little sideways glance. ‘That’s not all. This guy’s good – good enough to hack into a secure comms network and traffic light control programs. Bill said by digging around he’s triggered some kind of alert in the system.’
‘Shit,’ I said again, with a touch more feeling this time. ‘So he knows we’re onto him.’
He might kill Dina and run, just to cut his losses …
‘There’s ten million at stake,’ Parker said tightly. ‘He won’t cut and run now. This is what he’s been working toward.’
I wished I shared his confidence.
We headed east out of the city, against the traffic and into a fresh sun rising weakly from the ocean as if waterlogged by last night’s storm.
Dina had now been kidnapped for forty-four hours.
The deadline was ten hours away.
I cursed again the chance meeting that had caused me to open up to Hunt. ‘But how did he know where to find me?’ I wondered aloud into the quiet interior of the vehicle, and caught the twitch of Parker’s head in my direction. ‘The more I think about it, the more I can’t believe it was coincidence, him just happening to turn up as I was leaving Orlando’s parents’.’
‘You think he might have slipped a tracker on you?’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ I said. ‘Mind you, he didn’t have to bother doing that with Torquil’s ransom, did he? Gleason had two trackers on me then – one on me and one on the money. If Hunt’s so clever he can interfere with traffic lights, I’m sure he could have hacked into the GPS system and followed me that way.’
Parker’s face was grave. ‘All the company vehicles have on-board trackers in case of theft,’ he said. ‘If he’s activated this one, he knows exactly where you’ve been over the past twenty-four hours, and who you’ve talked to.’
‘There’s one person I didn’t meet at a known location,’ I said. ‘One person Hunt couldn’t know for certain I’ve been in contact with.’ Parker merely raised an eyebrow in my direction. ‘Ross. At least, I bloody well hope he doesn’t know – for all our sakes.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
‘He’s not going to call, is he?’ Caroline Willner said quietly.
We were gathered tensely in the living area at the Willners’ house. Beyond the wall of glass was a dull grey sky, specked with seagulls squabbling over the heaped kelp and general detritus that marked the edges of the tideline.
It was ten minutes past four o’clock in the afternoon. Ten minutes past the deadline the kidnappers had set. Ten minutes past the time we should have received detailed instructions about the ransom drop.
‘With this much cash at stake? He’ll call,’ Brandon Eisenberg said, his voice more confident than his tightly clasped hands would suggest. His wife had stayed away this time, I noticed, although Gleason was in attendance, taking up her usual position just behind his chair.
I wondered if Eisenberg felt guilt or vindication that he’d tried to palm off a paste copy of the Rainbow onto his son’s kidnappers. In the end, it hadn’t made any difference to the outcome. The boy was still dead.
But if they’d got their prize, would they have taken Dina so soon afterwards, and asked so much by way of retribution?
Parker glanced at me and said nothing. He’d spent the day fending off the authorities. I didn’t ask how Eisenberg himself had got them off his back. Made a few calls, probably. A guy like that always had a little black book of the right phone numbers.
When we’d got back to the house earlier this morning, we’d driven the Navigator straight into the garage and checked out the underside. Sure enough, we’d found a small magnetic GPS tracking device attached to the chassis where it was well hidden from our daily inspections. Nevertheless, I’d be beating myself up about missing it for some time to come.
I was beating myself up about so much at the moment that it could take a number.
If she dies, it’s on your head, Fox …
Bill Rendelson was currently trying to backtrack the signal from the tracker, but it was configured to fire off high-speed bursts of information that were almost impossible to follow – unless you were set up for the task.
Hunt, it seemed, had been one step ahead of us all the way.
He’d now had Dina for fifty-four hours, and the clock was still ticking.
I closed my mind to the fact that by the time Torquil had been gone this long, we knew for certain he was already dead.
I admit I was so tense that I jumped when my cellphone rang. I rose with a murmured apology for the interruption, moved across to the window. I didn’t recognise the number on the display, so I answered with a cautious, ‘Yeah?’
‘Uh, hi there, ma’am,’ said a man’s voice, careful and polite, a lifelong Brooklyn accent. ‘I’m tryin’a reach Charlie Fox. He there?’
‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘I’m Fox. Who’s this?’
‘Ah … oh,’ the man’s voice said, and I had the impression of his heart suddenly landing in his boots as whatever news he had to impart took on an added element of difficulty. ‘Well, ma’am, my name’s Officer O’Leary, from the Sixtieth precinct. We just picked up a gunshot victim, a young kid, asking for you.’
I said sharply, ‘A girl?’ Aware that Parker’s head had snapped round.
‘Uh, no,’ O’Leary said, caution forming around his words like frost. ‘Guy by the name of … um …’ I heard rustling as he leafed through his notebook, ‘… Ross Martino. You know him?’
‘Yes,’ I said faintly. ‘I know him.’ I reached automatically for the Navigator’s keys, which were still in my jacket pocket. ‘Which hospital? I can be there in—’
O’Leary gave a heavy sigh. ‘There’s no need to rush, ma’am,’ he said, a
nd I heard years of weary experience in his voice. ‘Look, I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but … the kid didn’t make it. It was a real nasty one, and by the time the paramedics reached him …’ I heard the shrug as he broke off. Wasn’t the first time he’d had to make this kind of call and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last.
‘Oh,’ I said blankly, mind reeling. Shit. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t really know him all that well. Can I ask … why are you calling me?’
Without any background to our relationship, O’Leary seemed taken aback.
‘Well, he seemed to think it was real important we contacted you,’ he said, with a note of censure. ‘Look, by the time we got there, he wasn’t makin’ much sense, y’know?’ He paused, obviously reassured enough by my claims of distance from the victim to expand. ‘He’d taken one in the gut. It was kinda messy, if you know what I mean?’
‘Yeah, I know,’ I murmured, remembering the shot the masked kidnapper – Hunt? – had aimed squarely into my own body. McGregor, Parker had told us, had lost his spleen and a part of his intestine as a result of his injuries. And I remembered, too, in a stark flash, Hunt’s apparently casual greeting when he’d engineered that meeting outside Orlando’s place.
‘You’re looking good …’
Yeah, not bad for someone he’d shot in the chest only a few days before.
I realised O’Leary was waiting for me to ask the obvious question, and hoping to avoid having to volunteer the information if I didn’t. I wasn’t about to let him off lightly.
‘So, what did he say?’
‘Well, it was kinda garbled,’ he admitted. ‘Like I said, he wasn’t makin’ much sense by then, and the medics, they was pumping him full of morphine. Something about lending somebody a horse?’ The furrows in his brow were almost audible as he spoke. ‘Then he mentioned something about Florida, and a casket. Did somebody close to him die recently? Horseback riding accident, maybe?’
‘Can you remember exactly what he said?’ I asked urgently, ignoring his query. ‘The exact words?’
