“Do you mind sitting here with me?” she asked sadly, looking like a kid herself. In a few weeks it was going to be her birthday, and she just hoped Sam would be alive to celebrate it with her.
“No, I like it.” He smiled at her. “You're good company.”
“Not lately,” she said, sighing deeply, without even being aware of it. “I feel like I haven't been good company in years. Months anyway.” It had been so long since she'd had an adult conversation, or a quiet evening out to dinner with her husband, laughing and talking about ordinary things. Ted was the closest she'd come to that in a long time. And there was nothing normal about these days either. She seemed to be constantly engulfed by trauma and tragedy. First Allan, and everything he had left in his wake. And now Sam. “You've been through some tough stuff this year,” Ted said with admiration. “I think I'd be on a respirator by now in your shoes.” Even if things turned out all right with Sam, and he hoped they would, Ted knew she still had a lot of big changes ahead. And after everything Rick had said earlier that night, Ted was wondering if he did too. What Rick had said about Ted's marriage to Shirley hadn't fallen on deaf ears. Particularly that she might leave him one day. Although he never would have, the thought had occurred to Ted too. She was a lot less bound by tradition than he was, and especially in recent years, danced to her own tune.
“Sometimes I think my life will never be normal again.” But then again, when had it been? Allan's rocketlike rise to financial stardom hadn't been normal either. The past several years had been insane for all of them. And now this. “I was going to start looking for a house in Marin this summer.” But now, if Sam were gone, God forbid, she didn't know what she'd do. Maybe move somewhere else, to escape the memories.
“That's going to be a big change for you and the kids,” he said about their moving to a smaller house. “How do you think they'll feel about it?”
“Scared. Angry. Unhappy. Excited. All the things most kids feel when they move. It'll be weird for all of us. But maybe it'll be good.” As long as she still had three children, and not two. It was all she could think of now. And eventually they fell into an easy silence. He tiptoed out of the room around three o'clock when she had finally drifted off to sleep. He managed to get a couple of hours of sleep himself after that, lying on the floor of his room. There were two other men on the room's two beds, and he didn't care where he slept by then. He could have slept standing up, Rick always said about him. And once in a while he damn near did.
The head of the SWAT team came to wake him at five o'clock in the morning. He woke with a start and was instantly alert. The other two men were up and halfway out the door, as Ted got to his feet. He washed his face and brushed his teeth, and quickly ran his hands through his hair, as the SWAT team captain asked him if he wanted to ride with them, and Ted said he'd follow them so he didn't get in their way.
Ted passed Fernanda's room on the way out, and saw that she had woken up and was wandering around the room. She came to the door the moment she saw him and stood looking at him. Her eyes were begging him to take her along, and he squeezed her shoulder gently with one hand as their eyes met and held. He knew almost everything she was feeling, or thought he did, and wanted to reassure her. But there were no promises he could make. They were going to do their best for her and Sam. He hated to leave her, but knew he had to. It would be light soon.
“Good luck.” She couldn't tear her eyes off his, and she was desperate to go with him. She wanted to be as close as she could be to Sam.
“It'll be okay, Fernanda. I'll radio you the minute we've got him.”
She couldn't even speak, as she nodded, and watched him disappear into a car and drive away down the road toward her son.
And at that exact moment, three of his commandos were lowering themselves slowly down the rock face behind the house, on ropes, dressed all in black like cat burglars, with their faces blacked out, and their weapons strapped to them.
Ted stopped the car a quarter of a mile before the driveway, and concealed it in a cluster of trees. He walked silently in the darkness past the scouts in the bushes to the nest the SWAT team had cleared for them. Ted glanced at the men all around him carrying Heckler & Koch MP5s. They were 223mm fully automatic machine guns, used by both the SWAT team and the FBI commandos. There were five other men in the nest with him, as he put on a bulletproof vest, and put on a set of headphones so he could listen to the communications truck, and as he listened to them talking and looked into the darkness, there was a sudden stirring behind him and one of the scouts slipped into the nest, wearing body armor and camouflage. He turned to see if it was one of his men or one of Rick's agents, and he noticed that it was a woman. He didn't recognize her at first, and then realized who it was. It was Fernanda wearing the gear of one of the scouts. She had actually gotten herself there and had conned someone into believing she was a member of the local police, and they had handed her the gear. She'd put it on at lightning speed. She was right there with him, where she shouldn't be, in danger, in the front lines, or way too close to them. He was about to give her hell and send her back. But it was too late, the operation was under way, and he knew how badly she wanted to be there when they got Sam out, if they did. He gave her a fierce look of disapproval, shook his head, and then relented without a word, unable to blame her. He held her hand tightly in his own, as she crouched down beside him, and they silently waited for his men to bring Sam home to his mom.
Chapter 20
Peter lay sleeping next to Sam until five o'clock that morning, and then as though some deep primal instinct told him to wake up, he opened his eyes and slowly stirred. Sam was still asleep beside him, with his head on Peter's shoulder. And the same inexplicable intuition told him to untie Sam's hands and feet. They kept him that way all the time so he couldn't escape. Sam had gotten used to it and come to accept it in the last week. He had learned that he could trust Peter more than the others. And as Peter untied the knots, Sam rolled over and whispered one word, “Mom.”
Peter smiled at him, and got up, and stood looking out the window. It was still dark outside, but the sky was more charcoal now than inky. And he knew that soon the sun would be coming up over the hill. Another day. Endless hours of waiting. He knew that they were going to call Fernanda, and kill the boy if she didn't have the money for them. They still thought she was holding out on them and playing games. Killing the boy meant nothing to them. And by the same token, if they had any idea what he'd done, nor would killing him. He no longer cared. He had traded his life for Sam's. If he was able to escape with him, it would be a mercy, but he didn't expect that to happen. Trying to flee with the boy might slow them down and put Sam at greater risk.
He was still standing at the window, when he heard a sound that sounded like the first stirring of a bird, and then a single pebble flew toward him and landed with a soft thud in the dirt. He looked up and almost beyond his vision, he saw a stirring, and as he looked again, three dark forms were sliding down the rocks above them on black ropes. There was nothing to signal their arrival, and yet he knew they were there and felt his heart pound. He opened the window soundlessly and squinted into darkness, watching them lower themselves down until they disappeared. He put a hand over Sam's mouth so he didn't cry out, and gently moved him, until the child's eyes opened and Peter saw that he was awake. As soon as Sam looked at him, he put a finger to his lips. He pointed to the window as Sam watched him. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew that whatever it was, Peter was going to help him. He lay totally still on the bed, and realized that Peter had untied him, and he could move his hands and feet freely for the first time in days. Neither of them moved, and then Peter went back to the window. He saw nothing at first, and then he saw them, crouching in the darkness, ten feet behind the house. A single black-gloved hand beckoned, and he turned back and scooped Sam off the bed into his arms. He was afraid to open the window any wider than he had, and squeezed him through it. It was a short drop, and he knew the boy'
s arms and legs would be stiff. He was still holding him when he looked at him for the last time. Their eyes met and held for an endless moment, and it was the single greatest act of love Peter had ever committed as he dropped him, and then pointed, as Sam crawled like a baby into the bushes on all fours. He vanished from Peter's sight then, and then a black hand went up and beckoned him again. He stood staring at it, and heard a sound in the house behind him. He shook his head, closed the window, and lay back down on the bed. He didn't want to do anything to risk Sam.
As Sam crawled across the dirt and into the bushes, he had no idea where he was going. He just went in the direction that Peter had pointed, and as two hands reached out and grabbed him, he was pulled into the brush with such speed and force, it took his breath away. He looked up at his new captors, and whispered to the man who held him with blackened face and black nylon skullcap, “Are you bad guys or good guys?” The man who was holding him tightly to his chest nearly cried, he was so relieved to see him. It had gone like clockwork so far, but they still had a long way to go.
“Good guys,” he whispered back. Sam nodded and wondered where his mom was, as the men around him signaled to each other, and flattened Sam down on the ground. He got a faceful of dirt, as long pink and yellow fingers began to streak across the sky. The sun hadn't come up yet, but the men knew it wouldn't be long.
They had already ruled out the possibility of pulling Sam back up the rock face on ropes, it would leave him too exposed to gunfire if his absence were discovered. He was a risk to all his captors now, save Peter, as he was old enough to identify them and tell the police what he heard and saw.
The SWAT team's only hope was getting him out down the driveway, but that left them all exposed as well. They were going to have to make their way out through the thick brush alongside it, and some of it was so dense that there was no way for them to pass. One of them had Sam firmly in his grasp, in powerful arms as they crouched, then ran, then shimmied their way along on their bellies on the ground. And all the while, they said nothing to each other or to Sam. They moved in a precise dance, and made their way as fast as they could, as the sun peeked over the hill, and began to crawl into the sky.
The sound Peter had heard was one of the men going to the bathroom. He heard the toilet flush, and then a swear word as whoever it was stubbed his toe on his way back to bed. And a few minutes later, he heard one of the others. Peter lay very still on the empty bed, and then decided to get up himself. He didn't want one of them coming into the room and discovering that Sam was gone.
He walked on bare feet into the living room, looked out the window cautiously, saw nothing, and sat down.
“You're up early,” a voice said behind him. Peter gave a start and turned. It was Carlton Waters. He looked bleary-eyed after their excesses of the night before. “How's the kid?”
“He's fine,” Peter said without much apparent interest. He had seen enough of these men to last a lifetime. Waters was bare chested, wearing only the jeans he had slept in, as he opened the refrigerator, foraging for something to eat, and emerged again with a beer.
“I'm going to call his mother when the others get up,” Waters said, as he sat down on the couch across from Peter. “She'd better have the money ready for us, or we're done,” he said matter-of-factly. “I'm not going to sit here forever, like a sitting duck, waiting for the fucking cops to show up. She'd better get that into her head, if she's jerking us around.”
“Maybe she doesn't have it,” Peter said, and shrugged. “If not, we've wasted a lot of time.” Peter knew the score but Waters didn't.
“Your guy wouldn't be going to all this trouble if she didn't,” Waters said, and then got up to look out the window. The sky was pink and gold by then, and there was a clear view of the first turn in the driveway, and as he looked at it, he stiffened, and ran out on the porch. He had seen something move and disappear. “Fuck!” he said, running back in for his shotgun, and shouted for the others.
“What's wrong?” Peter asked, getting up out of his chair and looking concerned.
“I'm not sure.” The other two had emerged sleepily by then, and each of them grabbed one of the machine guns as Peter's heart sank. There was no way to warn the men who were making their way down the driveway on their bellies with Sam. They hadn't gone far enough yet, Peter knew, to be safe.
Waters signaled to Stark and Free to get outside, and then like ghosts they saw them. Peter could see past Waters and the others to a man in black crouching and running, and he had something in his arms. The something he was carrying was Sam. Without warning, Waters fired at them, as Stark let off a machine-gun round.
Fernanda and Ted heard the sounds where they were sitting. They had no radio contact with the commandos. Fernanda squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed Ted's hand. There was no way for them to know what had happened, all they could do was wait. They had lookouts watching for them, but they had seen nothing yet. But from the rattle of the machine gun, he knew they were on their way with Sam. He didn't know if Peter would be with them. It would be riskier for the boy if he was.
“Oh God…oh God…” Fernanda whispered as they heard the guns go off again, “please…God…” Ted couldn't look at her. All he could do was stare into the dawning light, and hold her hand tightly in his own.
Rick Holmquist had taken a step out of the nest and was standing, as Ted turned to him. “Any sign of them yet?” Rick shook his head and the guns went off again. They both knew there were a dozen more commandos lining the driveway, in addition to the three who had gone in from the top. And beyond them were an army of men waiting to go in once Sam was out.
The gunfire stopped then and they heard nothing. Waters had turned to Peter and looked at him. “Where's the kid?” Something had aroused his suspicions, and Peter had no idea what it was.
“In the back room. Tied up.”
“Is he?” Peter nodded. “Then why the fuck do I think I just saw a guy running across the driveway with him… tell me that… will you …” He slammed Peter backward against the wall of the house, with his shotgun just under Peter's neck, choking him, and both Stark and Free stared. Waters turned to Jim Free then and told him to go in the back room and check, and he came back running seconds later.
“He's gone!” Stark looked panicked.
“I knew it… you sonofabitch …” Waters looked Peter dead in the eye as he slowly strangled him, and Malcolm Stark pointed the machine gun at him. “You called them, didn't you … you fucking pussy… what happened? Did you get scared? Felt sorry for the kid? You'd better start feeling sorry for me. You fucked us out of fifteen million dollars and yourself out of ten.” Waters was blind with rage and fear. He knew that whatever happened, he wasn't going back to prison. They were going to have to kill him first.
“If she had the money, she'd have come up with it by now. Maybe Addison was wrong,” Peter said hoarsely. It was the first time the others had heard his name.
“What the fuck do you know?” Waters turned back to look down the driveway as far as he could, and took a few steps away from the house as Stark ran after him, but there was nothing to see. The men who had Sam with them were halfway down by then. Rick had just caught a glimpse of them running, and he turned to signal Ted. And then at almost the same moment he saw Carlton Waters and Malcolm Stark appear, and they started shooting at his men. Sam flew out of one man's arms, and was grabbed by another. They passed him along like a baton in a relay race, as Stark and Waters just went on shooting at whatever they could see.
Fernanda's eyes were open by then, and she and Ted were staring down the driveway. She looked just in time to see one of Rick's FBI men take careful aim at Waters and bring him down like a felled tree. He lay facedown on the ground as Stark ran back to the house with bullets flying all around him. Peter and Jim Free had gone back into the house, and Stark was screaming when he ran in.
“They got Carl!” he shouted, and then turned on Peter, still holding the machine gun. “You bastard, you kil
led him!” Stark said as he fired a round at Peter. Peter had time to look at him for only a fraction of an instant before the bullets sawed his body in half, and he fell at Jim Free's feet.
“What are we going to do?” Jim Free asked Stark.
“Get the fuck out of here, if we can.” They already knew the brush was too thick on either side, and there was rock face behind them. They had no equipment to climb it, and the only way out was through the front and down the driveway, which was littered with bodies now, not only Carl's but the men that he and Stark had shot, before they got him. There were three bodies lying on the ground between the front of the house and the road, and Sam saw them as the man carrying him ran. He was like a running back heading for the end zone. He just ran harder and suddenly he was within two feet of Ted and Fernanda. They could see Sam now, as the sun streaked across the road. She was sobbing as she watched him, and then suddenly Sam was in her arms and everyone was crying. His eyes were wide and he looked shell-shocked and filthy dirty, but he was screaming for his mom, and she couldn't make a sound.
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