F Paul Wilson - Novel 04

by Deep as the Marrow (v2. 1)

  Decker had to admire Razor’s grasp of all the practical problems facing his mini task force. He remembered the infighting between Justice and Treasury back in 1994 when someone took a few pot shots at the White House.

  The jockeying for control between the Secret Service, FBI, and ATF had been embarrassing. But with the chief laying out the chain of command at the outset. Decker was sure the operation would run smoothly.

  “When are you going in?”

  “This afternoon, right after I meet with your team.” He lowered his voice. “Get this done, Bob. Get it done by Tuesday. Because no matter what, that’s when I’m leaving for The Hague for the international drug conference.”

  Decker swallowed. He felt as if he’d been punched.

  “Three days, sir? That’s not much time. Can’t we—?”

  “It’s all I can give you. I love John. He’s the best friend I’ll ever have. And I love his daughter like my own. Hell, I’m her godfather. But I’m also the guy who occupies this office. As President I can’t be influenced by terror and blackmail, and I sure as hell won’t allow some slimy drug lord to dictate U.S. government policy. I’m leaving for The Hague Tuesday, and I want to step on Air Force One knowing that Katie Vanduyne is back with her father. Am I making myself clear. Bob?”

  “Perfectly, sir.”

  “Then let’s get moving.”

  Bob Decker’s intestines began to wind themselves into slow knots as he left the Oval Office and hurried down to W-16.

  Tuesday! How the hell was he going to get this done in three days?

  4

  “I’ve been talking practicalities, but let me get philosophical for a moment. Can we all agree that you own your own body? That seems to me to be the cornerstone of all human rights. If we can agree on that, then where does another person get the right to dictate what substances—food, liquids, whatever—you are allowed to put into your body? This is a completely personal decision on your part. And if one person has no right to so dictate, then neither do two… or ten or a hundred or a million or a hundred million. It’s still your body. I think taking drugs is very stupid, but I also think it is a human right.”

  Paulie turned down the radio volume. Had he just heard the kid giggling in the living room?

  He leaned his chair back and edged his head past the jamb of the kitchen door for a peek. Some kind of weird scene in there, what with Poppy in a Minnie Mouse mask and the kid with a fake bandage on her foot, and the two of them playing Chutes and Ladders on the couch.

  Paulie had retreated to the kitchen to get out of that damn Mickey Mouse mask he had to wear in front of the kid. Probably wasn’t all that necessary, seeing as the kid had already seen him as the limo driver, and he still wore the beard that would come off as soon as this was over, but why risk her getting a better look at him than absolutely necessary?

  Poppy glanced up and saw him. “Wanna play?” He couldn’t see her face through the Minnie mask, but something told him she was smiling.

  “Nah. Not unless you switch to poker.”

  “Hey, we might,” she said. “We just might do that. We’ll let you know.”

  He grinned and shook his head. Standing up to Mac yesterday had broken the ice between them. They were back to being a team again, and that felt good.

  He watched them for a little while longer. Poppy was a different person when she was with that kid. Softer, bouncier, happier than she ever was with him. So what am I? he thought. Jealous? Maybe. He wasn’t exactly crazy about the idea of sharing Poppy with anyone, even for a week. But how could he be jealous of a little kid?

  Besides, it was one of those girl things, the way two gals who just met somehow start sharing all these secrets about things one guy would never tell another even if he knew him for a million years.

  But this looked like more than that. This seemed to go pretty deep. Well, whatever it was, it would be over in a week or so when the kid went back to her folks.

  And suddenly Paulie had a bad feeling about what that scene might be like.

  He waved his arm in the doorway and gave a low whistle.

  When Poppy looked up, he said, “Can I see you a minute?”

  Poppy nodded behind her mask, then turned to the kid. “I’ll be right back. You stay here… and don’t move any of those pieces.”

  The kid giggled. “I won’t.”

  Poppy stepped into the kitchen and dropped into the seat across the table from him. She pulled off her mask and wiped her face. Her cheeks were flushed with heat.

  “Hot in there, ain’t it,” Paulie said.

  She nodded and smiled. “It’s worth it. What’d you want to see me about?”

  Paulie hesitated, not exactly sure how to say this. “It’s about you and the kid.”

  “She’s got a name, you know. You can call her Katie.”

  “I don’t want to call her Katie. I don’t want to know anything about her.”

  “Why not? She’s a sweet kid.”

  “I’m sure she is, Poppy. And you’re getting too close to her.”

  “What do you mean, too close?”

  Uh-oh. He could see her back getting up.

  “I mean—”

  “Look, Paulie, she’s a scared little girl. This has gotta be like the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. I’m trying to make it as pleasant as possible for her while she’s here. What’s wrong with that?”

  “You’re getting attached.”

  “So?”

  “Too attached. Like you’re her mother or something.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think she has a mother.”

  “That may be, but you can’t start thinking you can be her mother. You’re gonna have to say good-bye next week, or the week after at the latest.”

  She leaned back and her gaze shifted down toward the table top. “I know.”

  “And if you keep on like this, you’re gonna be hurting. Bad.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  Paulie didn’t believe that for a minute. He had visions of Poppy crying and hanging onto the kid and not wanting to let her go, not wanting to leave her alone at the drop-off point. The snatch itself was far and away the diciest part of these gigs, but returning the package wasn’t far behind. The last thing you needed was someone going all mushy and emotional at a critical moment. And on top of all that, he didn’t want to see Poppy all torn up when this was over.

  “I ain’t so sure about that.” He reached across and touched her hand. “I’m seeing someone with a broken heart when it comes time to wave bye-bye.”

  She looked up and smiled.

  “I’ll be all right. I just don’t want to see her scared, that’s all.” She stood and came around the table. She sat on his lap and kissed him on the mouth. “That’s for worrying about me.” Then she adjusted her Minnie Mouse mask and returned to the living room.

  Paulie watched her sit down with the kid and get back to their game. He had a sudden nightmare vision of Poppy doing something crazy after this was over, like finding out where the kid lives and driving by to get a look at her—“just to see how she’s doing… make sure she’s all right…” Paulie shuddered at the thought. That was death-wish behavior.

  And on the subject of death wishes, what if Mac walked in now? What if he popped through the door and saw his “package” unwrapped and playing a board game in the living room? He’d hit the ceiling.

  And if he ever found out the kid still had ten toes? Forget about it.

  Paulie had stood his ground yesterday, but he wondered how he’d do if Mac went berserk. Which was just what he’d do if he knew the chances they’d took to get some other kid’s toe to use as the persuader.

  If he ever does find out, Paulie thought uneasily, let’s just hope it’s long after this gig is over and done with.

  5

  Snake glanced around the lobby of the Sheraton.

  No one around with a line of sight to his laptop. He reread Vanduyne’s latest e-mail.

  It’s done.
Two capsules of chloramphenicol (250mg each) administered at 10 this morning. I’ve done my part. When do I get Katie back?

  Administered, ay? How professional sounding.

  And: When do I get Katie back? Never, dude.

  But he couldn’t tell Vanduyne that. Mac checked around again, still nobody near, so he pulled up his prewritten reply and made a few changes, but all in all, he’d been pretty much on the mark as to what he’d have to say.

  We’ve been over this before, but I guess you weren’t listening. So here it is again. How soon you get your kid back depends on how sick your buddy gets. The sicker, the better. If he’s back on his feet in a couple of days, you’ll have to do something else. In no case will your kid be released in less than two weeks.

  Let me lay this out for you so there’s no misunderstanding: We want this guy out of office. If we can’t get that, we want him sick for a long time. If that doesn’t work out, at the very least we want him to miss the drug summit.

  Simply put, if your pal makes it to the drug summit, you’ll never see the rest of your kid again.

  Snake smiled. He especially liked the part that went, the rest of your kid. That was driving the nail home.

  He uploaded it through the Eric Garter account to the remailer, then logged off. He unplugged and dialed up Salinas.

  “Hello.” Gold’s voice.

  Snake didn’t feel like speaking to Salinas, so why not let Gold play messenger boy.

  “Tell your boss the deed is done as of ten this morning. Now we wait.” He hung up and smiled.

  That felt good. He wanted to keep reminding Salinas that he wasn’t in complete control. Snake was not a hireling at his beck and call. Snake was an independent contractor.

  He felt the slim rectangle of the audio cassette in his jacket pocket that he’d made a point of keeping on him at all times. That little baby was what was going to help him remain independent—and on the right side of the grass.

  He walked out to the front of the hotel and watched the midday traffic on Connecticut Avenue. Light for a sunny Saturday. All the good suburbanites were probably home tending their gardens and fertilizing their lawns.

  So what do I do with the rest of the day? he wondered.

  Maybe take a cruise over to Falls Church, ostensibly to check on the package, but mainly to lean on Paulie a little. Because Paulie was a hireling… and he’d begun acting like an independent contractor. Snake was still pissed about yesterday. The goddamn nerve—telling him there’d be no more persuaders from this package. Who the hell did he think he was?

  Well… Snake had his pistol locked away in the Jeep. This might be a good time to wave it under Paulie’s nose. No shooting, no overt threats, just let them see it stuck in his belt, let them know it was there, loaded and ready.

  Time to reestablish the pecking order.

  Not that it would have any practical value in the long run—seeing as how Paulie and his babe didn’t have a long run—but simply as a matter of principle.

  6

  Mamie sat in her rented car and watched John’s house through the windshield. Yes, she was stiff and uncomfortable from the long vigil, but it would all be worth it to see her Katie again.

  Where is my daughter, John?

  She was puzzled. She’d watched the house all yesterday afternoon and hadn’t seen Katie come home from school. John must have sneaked her inside somehow.

  And no doubt Katie had been a willing participant in that sneaking. Always plotting, those two, always keeping secrets and not letting her in on them.

  You don’t deserve her, John. I have more right to her than you. You didn’t carry her inside you through nine months of sickness and bulging discomfort. You didn’t go through hours of screaming agony to deliver her into this world. You weren’t left with extra pounds and ugly red stretch marks. You didn’t have to stay home with her day after day and listen to her incessant crying.

  She’s mine. I earned her. You’ve no right to keep her from me. And if it weren’t for your crackpot “medical expert” cronies and that pet judge, Katie would be with me. Where she should be.

  You aren’t good for her, John. Always too easy on her. You can destroy a child with leniency. She needs me, John—now more than ever. I know you’ve probably turned Katie completely against me, but I can change that. All I need is—

  She ducked as she saw John’s car coming down the street. This was his second trip out today. Where had he gone? To see Katie? To bring her home?

  Cautiously she raised her head and watched him pull into the driveway.

  7

  John spotted the car as he was heading into the house. A brand new white Taurus. He thought he’d seen it parked near the corner when he left to bring Katie’s toe down to Bob Decker at the White House—a surreal trip, riding through downtown D.C. traffic with his daughter’s little toe packed in ice in the six-pack cooler next to him on the front seat. But he was almost beyond reacting at this point.

  Now he thought he saw the same white Taurus parked across the street. And at least one person in it. Maybe two. FBI? Secret Service? Or one of the kidnappers?

  Better not to know.

  Nana was waiting for him when he stepped inside. She stood in the hall in a tartan robe—Dad’s old robe— looking older and more disheveled than he’d ever seen her, with her fingertips pulling at her throat… pulling at her throat…

  “Has there been any word?” she said.

  John had debated whether or not to let her in on the fact that federal agencies were getting involved. He’d finally decided that she’d only worry more about the kidnappers’ threats against Katie if the feds were brought in. So, for the time being, he’d stick to the ransom story.

  “None yet, but I think I can have the money together by late this afternoon.”

  “Oh, thank God! And then Katie will be coming home?”

  “Soon after I deliver it. Or so I hope. I’ve been following their instructions to the letter, but they haven’t told me yet what to do with the money once I get it.”

  “So much money,” she said, her fingers digging deeper. “How will you ever pay it back?”

  He shrugged and said what he would have said if the kidnappers really had wanted only money. “I’m not going to worry about that right now. I’ll have plenty of time to figure that out after we get Katie back.”

  “Yes, yes,” she said. “Getting Katie back. That is what we must worry about.”

  “Why don’t you try some of your yoga,” he said. “Maybe it will relax you.”

  She shook her head. “No… no yoga. I can’t do yoga with Katie gone.” As she turned and shuffled toward the kitchen, John stepped into the living room and sneaked a peek through one of the front windows.

  The white Taurus still sat across the street.

  And suddenly he had to see who was in it. Not to speak to them, not to confront them or get their names; just to look.

  He hurried through the kitchen, past his mother with her cup of coffee, and out the rear door. He cut through a neighboring backyard, then dashed into the front and across the tree-lined street.

  There… he now was on the same side as the Taurus. He began walking toward it, approaching from the rear. As he neared he saw the National sticker on the bumper. A rental.

  Closer now… coming abreast of the rear door… the front door—passenger seat’s empty—now by the hood a quick glance over the shoulder to see—

  “Mamie!” Fury took him then. She could ruin everything! He ran around to the driver’s door and yanked it open. It took all his control to keep from dragging her out of the car and throttling her.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She cowered back, her hand to her mouth. “John! I—”

  “What? Tell me! What do you think you’re going to accomplish sitting out here?”

  “John… you’re out of control.”

  He wanted to say, You should know—you wrote the book on out of control, but he bit it back.
She was right. His whole life was out of control. He stepped back, took a deep breath.

  “Go away.”

  “I want to see my daughter. You won’t let me talk to her, so I thought if I waited here I might at least get a glimpse of her.”

  “She’s not your daughter anymore.”

  “She’ll always be my daughter! And I want to know what you’ve done with her?”

  “Done with her? What are you—?”

  “She didn’t come home from school yesterday. I was watching.”

  “Oh, no!” What was he going to do with this woman?

  She was going to ruin everything.

  “Oh, yes! Where are you hiding her? What have you done with my daughter?” John couldn’t answer that, couldn’t come up with another lie to cover everything. He stared at her for a few heartbeats, then went on the offensive.

  “You’re stalking her, aren’t you,” he said.

  Mamie’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “I should have guessed you’d do something like this. You’re going to try to kidnap her.” He pulled a pen and a slip of note paper from his breast pocket. “Well, you won’t get away with it.” He walked to the rear of the car and began writing.

  Mamie leaned out the open door and stared at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m going to call the FBI and give them this license plate number. I’m going to tell them that not only have you violated a standing court order to stay away from your daughter, but you’ve crossed state lines to stalk her and kidnap her. That makes it a federal matter.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “Why should I bluff? The court order is real; I’ve got witnesses that you’ve been lurking out here. And then all the Dr. Schuylers in the world won’t be able to keep you out of the slammer.”

  Her mouth twisted into a snarl. “You son of a bitch!” She slammed the door, started the car, and roared off.

  John looked down at his note paper. Why not do as he’d threatened? Give the number to Decker and maybe let him get the FBI on her. Scare her away. The situation was at a delicate juncture. The last thing they needed was a loose cannon like Mamie blundering into the middle of everything and maybe getting Katie killed. She’d already damn near killed Katie once. She wasn’t going to get a second chance.