Game Theory

by Barry Jonsberg

  Spider and I hurried to the car and hopped in. I didn’t bother opening the door this time. The engine roared and Spider backed up, did a three-point turn and burned off down the track, the undercarriage scraping wildly. I noticed his hands on the wheel were shaking.

  ‘Maybe you can drive quicker, Spider?’ I said.

  ‘No worries,’ he said, and floored it.

  It was only when we were on a proper road and I hadn’t heard the sound of a pursuing Harley that I relaxed. And I use the word ‘relaxed’ in its loosest sense. The only thing really relaxed and loose about me was my bowels. I put the gun down into the footwell very gingerly and then rubbed at my eyes.

  ‘By the way, Spider,’ I said. ‘I really appreciate how you did all the talking back there. Made it so much easier.’ I think he had uttered a dozen words in total.

  ‘WHAT?’ yelled Spider.

  ‘Never mind,’ I said. I could do without the noise anyway. I wasn’t listening for a Harley anymore. I was keeping my ears peeled for the sound of police sirens.

  There was a gun sitting in the footwell and I couldn’t think of any convincing explanations for its presence.

  CHAPTER 23

  It was three o’clock when Spider dropped me off at home. Gardner and Moss were there and so was Summer. Mum was pacing back and forth in the front room. I was pleased to notice that only one strange car was parked outside. Maybe Gardner had put some pressure on the media.

  Everyone wanted to talk to me but I excused myself on the grounds that I needed to visit the bathroom. In fact, I had an illegal handgun tucked into my butt crack and it didn’t seem like a good idea to let Gardner notice the bulge. I went into my bedroom and put the gun under my pillow. Funnily enough, I didn’t feel tough. I felt silly. Then I unzipped the newly purchased backpack, removed its twin from inside and put it under my bed. I kept the other in my hand.

  When I went downstairs, there was a meeting convened in the kitchen. I was made to go over the phone conversation with the kidnapper while Moss took notes in a small notepad. I told them everything except the time when he said he would ring again. I also didn’t mention his advice to keep the police out of the next call.

  ‘It was a short conversation,’ I said. ‘Just get the money, put it into a backpack and wait for another call. He said that wouldn’t be before seven, to give us enough time to get the money.’ I put the backpack onto the table. ‘I bought a pack this morning. He was pretty specific about the kind he wanted,’ I lied.

  Gardner picked it up and examined the zips and the seams.

  ‘Big enough and strong enough,’ he conceded. ‘Good. Listen, everyone. Summerlee and I went to her bank and the money was delivered to her home by a security firm. Two million dollars in one hundred dollar bills.’ He pointed to a couple of sacks in the corner of the kitchen. ‘The money is there and soon I’ll transfer it to this backpack. Then it’s simply a question of waiting for the next call and finding out the location of the drop. Now, Jamie. You said he said that Phoebe would be returned in the next twenty-four hours. You’re sure about that?’

  ‘That’s what he said.’

  ‘That at least gives us a time frame,’ said Gardner. ‘He will ring, therefore, some time between seven this evening and ten in the morning. I suspect it will be this evening. He may want the cover of darkness. Either way, I will not leave your house from now on. I’ll be joined by another police officer and we will spend the night, if necessary, in your front room. If that’s okay with you, Mr and Ms Delaware?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Mum.

  ‘Obviously we want to protect your money, but we also want to ensure that we are in place when the call comes through. To that end, Jamie, I need you to stay here as well. I take it that’s not a problem.’

  I looked at my watch. It was a quarter past three.

  ‘I have to go out soon for an hour but I’ll be back by five at the latest.’

  Gardner screwed up his face.

  ‘Is it important?’ he said. ‘He may ring earlier and I don’t want you to take the call while you are by yourself. I want it on speakerphone.’ He held up a hand. ‘I know what he said about no one else speaking and that’s fine. No one else will. But I need to hear exactly what he wants and when he wants it, so that we can put plans into effect.’

  ‘What plans?’ asked Mum.

  Gardner frowned and glanced at Moss. He was weighing things up.

  ‘Look, Ms Delaware. I understand your priorities. You just want Phoebe back unharmed and it might seem to you that the best way to achieve that is simply to do everything this person wants, without question.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dad. ‘That’s exactly how it seems to us.’

  ‘We see things differently. It’s our experience that if we get the chance to apprehend this person we need to take it immediately. I hate to say this to you, but it’s best to be brutally honest. Most kidnappers are greedy. They say they just want a one-off payment, but when that goes through without a hitch, they think, Hey, that was easy. Why not go for some more? And that only prolongs the agony and increases the danger for your daughter.’

  ‘And you think he might harm Phoebe anyway?’ Mum asked.

  At least it was out there. Gardner paused and then nodded. ‘I can’t lie to you, Ms Delaware. That is a possibility. Phoebe can presumably identify this man and . . .’ He shrugged, left the rest unsaid. ‘So it’s even more important that you let us handle this in our own way. We will call on specialist people. They are very good at what they do. Professionals. Once we know where the money is to be delivered, they’ll move into place. No one will know they’re there. And when they move in, it’s all over in seconds. Trust me, it’s far and away the safest way to get your daughter back unharmed.’

  There was silence. I could imagine what was running through everyone’s heads. We’d all seen the movies. The guys with acronyms on their backs and steel in their spines. High technology, shadowy figures, overwhelming force applied in a few explosive seconds. Game over. The child returned to the family embrace. Good guys win. Maybe Gardner wanted those images in our heads. He certainly wanted us to bend to his will. Another practitioner of game theory.

  ‘What if he’s already harmed her?’ asked Summerlee. ‘Before the money gets there?’

  Gardner shrugged. ‘All the more reason to bring him down, I would have thought.’

  There was another silence while we absorbed this.

  ‘You’re the professionals,’ said Mum, finally. ‘Of course we will follow your advice.’

  ‘Good,’ said Gardner. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a number of calls to make. Detective Moss is also following up the leads from the video and from the eye witness reports. We are making good progress in some of those areas.’

  Moss took over.

  ‘We have a number of leads on the green Commodore. Same with the clothing that Phoebe was wearing in that video. There are officers pursuing those leads as we speak . . .’

  I zoned out. One of the few advantages of watching television drama was that I recognised when busywork was masquerading as constructive work. Within twenty-four hours the game would be over, one way or another. Green Commodores appeared, to me at least, supremely irrelevant. I excused myself and slipped out of the house. I was grateful Gardner hadn’t pushed his plea that I stay put – I think the flood of questions had distracted him. When I left, he was transferring piles of money from the canvas bags into the backpack, his mobile phone pressed up against his ear. Under other circumstances I would have been fascinated at the sight of so much cash. Now, the fat wads of notes seemed as irrelevant as Commodores.

  Once I was out of the house, a reporter opened a car door and approached me, but I held up a hand and, to my surprise, he let me walk away. It might have had something to do with the policeman outside our front door who took a few steps towards him. I crossed the road and headed to the local park. Only when I was out of sight did I take my phone out and ring.

  ‘Dixon.’
He clearly didn’t waste energy on unnecessary greetings.

  ‘It’s me, Jamie. Jamie Delaware.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘How you doing, son? Any news?’

  ‘I’d like to take you up on your offer to talk, if that’s okay.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Now.’

  I could hear him sucking his teeth. It was a vaguely sinister hiss down the line.

  ‘Tell me where you are and I’ll meet you.’

  I gave him directions and he said he would be there in half an hour. I sat on a bench and waited. There was a small lake at the centre of the park and a few ducks wandered around my feet, hoping for bread. I wished I’d brought some. The sky was flawless. It was a beautiful day.

  Dixon shambled along a footpath and raised a hand when he saw me. He was wearing a greatcoat and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week. If this was an image he was cultivating, I wondered what that said about the man.

  He plopped himself down next to me with a sigh, as if the act of sitting was wearisome. He took a pack of cigarettes from the side pocket of his coat and lit one.

  ‘What’s the development?’ he asked.

  I told him. Again, I left out the part about the kidnapper’s next call and the advice not to let the police listen in. Naturally, I also said nothing about what lay concealed under my bedroom pillow. Dixon leaned forward in his seat as I spoke, his forearms resting on his thighs, examining the state of his shoes. He didn’t say anything until I’d finished.

  ‘Sounds like it’s all coming to a head,’ he said.

  ‘Yes. One way or another, this should be over soon,’ I replied.

  ‘So what do you want my advice on?’

  ‘Inspector Gardner was really convincing about setting a trap for the kidnapper.’

  ‘And you’re not convinced. You think it might be an idea to go it alone.’

  I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised. Dixon was sharp. I guess you couldn’t be a cop for so long and not develop an instinct about what’s going through someone’s head.

  ‘I’d have to be dumb to think that, wouldn’t I?’ I said. ‘I mean, you guys are the professionals.’

  Dixon dropped his cigarette end between his feet and carefully ground it beneath a heel. He sucked his teeth for a while, but remained silent. I did the same.

  ‘This is not a call I can make, Jamie,’ he said eventually. ‘You have to understand that. My advice must always be to follow police advice. But bear with me for a second, while I go through what I believe are your thought processes.’ He lit another cigarette. ‘You think the idea of a police trap is very seductive. Getting your sister back and bringing the bad guy to justice. That’s a vision you find . . . attractive. But there are other images as well. What if it all goes wrong? What if the trap itself brings harm on your sister? Under those circumstances, maybe it would be better to hand over the money and let the bad guy get away. It’s only money, right? Whereas your sister is precious. Am I wide of the mark so far?’

  I shrugged. ‘Go on.’

  ‘But what eats away at you is the thought that either course of action could result in disaster, and then you have nowhere to hide. If the police operation goes wrong and your sister is harmed, then obviously you made the wrong choice. Then again, if you hand over the cash and that goes wrong, then obviously you should have let the professionals deal with it. It’s a classic lose–lose situation and you will never forgive yourself.’

  He stopped for a moment as a jogger went by.

  ‘I understand and I sympathise, Jamie,’ he continued. ‘I really do. But that very dilemma is also my dilemma. I can’t give you advice because I couldn’t live with myself if it was wrong. And no one can know how this thing will pan out. So, I repeat. Stick with police procedures.’

  He didn’t finish the thought, but he didn’t have to. If Phoebe dies, at least you will be able to share the guilt. Go it alone and it’s all on your shoulders.

  ‘What would you do in my situation?’ I asked.

  He stood and put a hand on my shoulder.

  ‘I’m not in your situation, son. And if there is a good lord, I thank him for that . . .’

  My phone rang. I glanced at the screen. Caller unknown. I took a step away from Dixon and slid my thumb across the icon.

  ‘Surprise, Jamie.’ The mechanical voice. Instantly, my heart rate accelerated and a film of sweat broke out on my forehead. ‘I said I would ring at six, but sometimes it’s good to disappoint expectations. Are you alone, Jamie?’

  Dixon must have known who was on the line by the expression on my face. He was mouthing Is that him? at me and pressing an imaginary button, presumably a plea to put the conversation on speakerphone. I turned my back.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  A long pause.

  ‘Do not use speakerphone, Jamie. Trust me, I will be able to tell. Now, I will talk and you will listen with no interruptions. Firstly, let me disillusion you about a few things brought up in the media. The police will not track me through green Commodores or children’s clothing. I have never owned a Commodore, green or otherwise. The clothes for Phoebe were purchased at a charity shop a number of months ago. They cannot be traced. Secondly, you will have received advice from Inspector Gardner, a good man but one who cannot conceive of doing anything that’s not straight from the manual. He will want to take charge of the exchange. He wants officers staking out the rendezvous point, ready to take me down. I imagine he has been very persuasive on this point. But think about this, Jamie. I will know if you have company. And if that’s the case, you will not see your sister again.’

  I sat down on the bench before my legs gave out, bent my head. Dixon’s cigarette butt was in my direct line of sight and I focused on it. The voice continued.

  ‘But here’s the positive. You worry I will harm Phoebe regardless of what happens. That I would . . . eliminate incriminating evidence. Believe me. Once I receive the cash, Phoebe will be released. I will not ask for more money. I do not need it. And as for your sister identifying me in court, I will be out of the country within an hour of receiving the money. I will not return to Australia and it would not be in my interests to provoke an international murder manhunt.’

  I stood and walked to the edge of the lake. My legs were numb and my feet tingled with pins and needles. I was dimly aware of Dixon in my peripheral vision. He had stopped gesticulating.

  ‘We are approaching the endgame, Jamie,’ the voice continued, ‘and we can both come out winners. It all depends on the choices you make. Now, listen carefully and do not write anything down. Here is what I want you to do with the money . . .’

  I listened carefully and I didn’t write anything down. The phone went dead. I stood for a few moments, watching the ducks as they sailed peacefully over the lake. I guess I must have appeared like them – at peace on the surface, but underneath it was all churning movement.

  Dixon appeared at my side. He’d lit another cigarette. For a moment we watched the ducks together, thin trails of smoke drifting across my vision.

  ‘Anything you want to tell me, son?’ he asked finally.

  I shook my head and put the phone back into my pocket.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘But I think I need to talk to Gardner.’ I put out my hand and Dixon regarded it for a moment, his moustache writhing as he sucked at his teeth. Then he gripped it and we shook.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘You’ve been a great help and I appreciate it.’

  He held onto my hand for a few more seconds. ‘Police procedure, Jamie,’ he said. ‘Remember that.’

  I nodded, turned and headed towards home.

  The endgame was approaching and I had to make my move.

  CHAPTER 24

  The adrenaline that had kicked in at Phoebe’s school had returned, and in some curious way I was relieved. The kidnapper was always one step ahead. And that made my decision easier. I even found myself believing him when he said he had no interest in harming Phoebe.
There was something authoritative, not in his tone, because there wasn’t one, but in the logic of his words.

  I knew what I had to do.

  Gardner was not pleased at my prolonged absence. Neither was Mum. Luckily for me, both were heavily engaged in planning. Well, Gardner was, and Mum was following one side of the conversation as he spoke to people on his phone. Another cop had turned up. He was a huge guy, obviously chosen for his bulk rather than his conversational skills, since he didn’t say a word. He just nodded at me when I came in. Gardner covered the mouthpiece of his phone and glanced over.

  ‘Has the call come through?’ he asked. I could tell he really wanted to say, where the hell have you been?

  I shook my head and he returned to his phone conversation. I went into the kitchen. Summerlee sat at the table, looking like hell. Even so, without makeup she still managed to look years younger. She raised her head at my entrance.

  ‘I need your help, Summer,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘In fifteen minutes I want you to get those cops, and Mum and Dad, into the kitchen and keep them here for five minutes, tops. That’s it. Close the door when they’re in.’

  ‘Dad’s having a lie down.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In their bedroom, I guess.’

  I nodded. ‘Okay. Just whoever’s down here, then.’

  ‘And how am I going to get them into the kitchen?’

  ‘I dunno. Make them a sandwich or something.’

  She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘C’mon, Summer. Throw a screaming fit. Use your imagination.’

  She looked at her watch. ‘Fifteen minutes?’ I nodded again.

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  I went straight to my bedroom and got the remaining backpack from under the bed. I stuffed it with what was left of my printer paper, but I only had a ream of that. So I added maths text books. Fortunately I had plenty of those, and they were heavy as hell. The shapes were all wrong, but I was banking on no one examining it too carefully. All I needed was around twenty kilos in weight. I picked up the backpack. It felt heavy enough, like a suitcase being checked in on holiday. It would have to do.