by Dave Balcom
My comment stunned Ed. “Holy shit! That would make it one of our neighbors; I can’t even begin to believe that.”
“Not necessarily, it’s too soon to even think like that,” I soothed him. “Let’s go talk with Archie.”
“I love that idea, guys. I really do,” the agent said to us from behind Ed’s desk. “But let’s not do anything until we’ve had a briefing with the guys in Quantico. I called Andy; she’s back in town at the Inn. She told me that they had expected to set up a briefing on the phone here after five. She said she was going to be here at five...
“The smart play is to keep thinking, but we don’t want to act until we hear from the owls in D.C.”
Ed started to say something, but Archie put up his hand in the stop sign, “I know. I know. The waiting is a bitch, but going off on the wrong track could be far worse. Here’s where the training comes into play. Now, we keep thinking; we hold the doing until after.”
We both accepted his position and went to the chairs in front of the unlit fireplace, and then just stared at it.
Chapter 35
The good news was that the kidnappers were giving us hope that Jan was still alive; the bad news? Well, at that time I was really focusing my thoughts on the good news.
The briefing with the wizards in Quantico was enlightening if not uplifting.
“Doctor Phillips,” Andy said after the team back east had finished its preliminary considerations, “What we’re really hoping for here is some idea of avenues to pursue to find the person or people behind this.”
The guy in the Google-phone image on Rita’s computer looked to be about 60 with snow white hair and a bulging waistline under his white lab jacket. I had the feeling that his eyes would be sparkling and his cheeks rosy in real life, but the picture quality wasn’t all that good.
“That’s very difficult as you might guess,” Phillips said through pursed lips. “We know this is not the work of one man alone; Mr. Stanton saw two people dressed as medical technicians with the gurney in the airport. But we can deduce that if it’s just those two, they are located in Elliotsville – how else could they hand-deliver the notes?
“But I think it’s safer to consider that there are more than three people involved here. There is also the man Mr. and Mrs. Stanton encountered in St. Louis and Syracuse on their way to San Diego.
“As to the incident in San Diego, we have no reason to connect those people with this kidnapping, but I’m assured they are all three under constant surveillance.”
He paused to take a sip of water, holding his hand up to indicate he wasn’t through.
“So, let’s consider for a moment that we are up against a group. From the way they are operating, they are obviously highly motivated and organized. They are also very quick to adapt to our involvement.”
He was nodding, as if he was satisfied with his response.
“So how does that help us with anything?” Ed blurted. “How do we even begin to figure out who is behind this or what we should do?”
The fat guy on the screen seemed to be taken aback for a second. “We wait for direction from them, of course. What else could you do? They have Mrs. Stanton. They’re threatening your seven grandchildren. They gave you directions and you didn’t follow them. They reacted, but have they given you further direction?”
“No,” Richards said calmly, trying to settle Ed down a bit; “No, they haven’t. But you’re sure they’re going to, right?”
“They have to. Don’t you see? If profit is the real motive, then they have to tell you how to pay off; if torture is their real aim, then they have to give you instructions with which you cannot comply... twisting the knife so to speak.”
Richards retook control of the conversation. “So what do you suggest?”
“If they want a name, give them one. Give them a name that we can protect. If it’s the right name, that will provide us with a focus to our investigation; if it’s the wrong name, we can guard the child and nab them if and when they make a move.”
We sat in silence for a good five minutes. Phillips waited patiently as we processed, finally Rita spoke up, “We can only do that if we confide with the child’s parents first. They’d have to be let into the circle...” Her voice kind of faded away.
Ed picked up the thread. “I think we should get everyone together and let them know what’s going on. If confronted, and if one of them is involved, it’d probably put the whole deal to rest, wouldn’t it?”
Phillips looked as if he was considering that for a few seconds before he answered, “I’m not sure just how far our adversary is willing to go to extract what he or they consider a satisfactory outcome. Would he bomb such a gathering and kill everyone involved? That may well be enough for a person whose motive is greed sparked by jealousy...”
“If I can’t have it, nobody gets it?” Richards said quietly.
“Exactly,” Phillips said. “Or, if it is simply jealousy and hate that drive this action, then I could see a systematic, gut wrenching trail of kidnappings and murders for years to come. In the long run, the note writer is correct. Nobody can live a normal life and be protected forever.”
“Have you ever seen this before?” I asked.
“Not while it was happening,” he said with a shake of his head. “Only after the family had split all the money with the culprits did we even learn about it. I interviewed the surviving parent. Her husband had shot himself because after the payments were made the oldest of the threatened children had been abducted and never heard from again...”
“We’ll wait,” Ed said finally. “I’ve got a bullet or two, but I’m not planning on using any of them on me.”
Phillips signed off with the gratitude of our assembly. With the computer turned off, we all stretched and then wandered to the porch in quiet contemplation.
Rita came out with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of iced tea. Ed was right behind her with a bottle of Pinch, glasses and an ice bucket.
They set the refreshments on a buffet-like wicker bench across the porch from our chairs without a word.
Andy went for the tea. Richards and I waited as Ed poured Scotch over ice and handed one to each of us.
We sat wordlessly, sipping our drinks for about half an hour. I got up, stretched, and put my empty glass on the tray. “I think I’m going to bed. I can wait there.”
Andy started to get up, “I’ll drive you.”
“No,” I stopped her. “I’m going to walk. I’ll see you guys in the morning; call me if anything comes up before that.”
Ed got up and followed me through the kitchen. “Jim?”
I turned to him, and he went on, “What about the trail cameras? I think we should set them, at least one on the porch.”
“Come on; let’s do the porch. You can do the others after everyone has gone and to bed.”
After the camera was in place, centered on the mailbox, I headed up the street at a 15-minute per mile pace. I glanced back and saw Ed with his hands in his pockets watching me go.
Chapter 36
I was cooling down with my stretches in the yard behind the Inn’s main building on Saturday morning, the second day since Jan’s kidnapping, when Andrea came out for her morning run. “Just getting ready?” she spoke from across the lawn.
“Just finished,” I said. “Follow that street for a block, turn left at the river, and you’ll see a great trail heading upstream; there are exercise stations every half mile or so. The whole circle from here and back is just less than five miles.”
“Perfect,” she said, and with a wave, she was off. Her stride looked relaxed and efficient.
I walked into the Inn, stopped at the breakfast room and filled a cup with coffee, picked up a St. Louis paper and headed for my room. Showered and shaved, I went down to breakfast and found myself in the company of a bunch of men who were installing fiber optics to extend society’s reach into the nether regions of Missouri.
They were chatting; joking among themsel
ves the way men with common purpose and who have been together a while often do. I felt a twinge of jealousy for the camaraderie. I had to choke back a sudden, selfish thought – “how can you joke around, don’t you know Jan’s in danger?” It flashed me back to the day of my mother’s funeral. I couldn’t understand the kids playing basketball in their driveways as we drove to the funeral home... “Didn’t they know how sad that day was?” I repeated that thought over and over then, and now here I was, no longer a child, and that same self-centered thought bore into my being.
I knew right then that waiting for something to happen wasn’t going to work for me.
Back in my room, I checked the clock, did the two hour math and figured Chief Sawyer would be an early riser. Using the card he’d given me, I made the call to his cell, and he picked it up immediately.
“Sawyer,” he said.
“Aaron? This is Jim Stanton.”
I heard him check his center. Really, I felt like I could hear him collect himself in a t’ai chi way. “Of course it is. I heard about your lady; what can I do for you?”
“I hear that it’s business as usual out there for Alvin and his boys. You part of that surveillance?”
“Naw, that’s the Feds. Locals just mop up after they foul the water.”
“We’re being told we’re in waiting mode here. I’m just wondering if I shouldn’t be doing something constructive rather than practicing my forms in the gray light of dawn.”
“Whatcha got in mind?”
“I don’t really know, but there must be some way I can determine absolutely if Alvin and his goons are part of this or not.”
“You could ask him.”
“He’d probably lie even if the truth was better for him.”
“Not if you asked it in the right way.”
“You have thoughts?”
“Can you make a flight?”
“I can.”
“Call me with an ETA. I’ve got nothing better to do or anything that wouldn’t be a worse way.”
Chapter 37
I arrived in San Diego at 3 p.m. their time with no baggage. Sawyer was waiting for me at the gate, and with nods to TSA officials and other officers, he lead us out of the airport and into his car in a matter of seconds.
“What you got in mind?” I asked as he pulled away from the “Police-only” parking spot.
“I think I have a pretty good idea where Alvin will be right about now. I think, if we ask in an appropriate manner, he’ll take a little ride with us out into the desert. We can chat out there without too many interruptions.”
Ten minutes later he parked his Cadillac coupe on a side street off 10th Avenue near Balboa Park. “Wait right here.”
He got out, tossed his sports coat into the back seat, and rolled up his sleeves as he walked around a corner. He was gone for nearly half an hour, and as I was starting to wonder if I should have gone with him, he came back around the corner, laughing and careening with his right arm over Cartwright’s shoulder and his left hand holding a ball of Cartwright’s shirt tightly, holding him up.
I jumped out of the car, pulled the passenger’s seat forward just in time for Sawyer to dump his new-found friend in a heap in the back seat. Sawyer was clearly short of breath, but I heard him whisper, “You better get back there with him, Jim; he’s not really out, and I don’t want him getting restless while we drive.”
I climbed back there, and arranged our guest as best I could behind Aaron, and then made myself as comfortable as possible with my left arm over the backrest behind Alvin whose head was leaning on me. “What did you hit him with?”
Sawyer ignored my question, “We’re going to drive surface streets east until we get out by the Sweetwater Reservoir. Just keep him sitting upright, and act like you’re having a great time with a good friend. I don’t want one of my right-thinking brethren on a motorcycle to see anything that gives him pause.”
Traffic on the streets was busy, but nothing like I had always heard about. Then we went under I-5 and I saw the lanes were jammed and traffic wasn’t moving at all. “Tough part of the commute,” Sawyer said to the review mirror.
Minutes later we were escaping the turmoil of urban life, and twenty minutes later we were on a two-track desert trail with the reservoir a blue backdrop. Sawyer pulled the car over, and got out.
“Come here, Alvin,” he said in a chatty tone. “I want to show you something.”
I felt Cartwright tense, preparing to spring and realized he’d been playing possum all the way out here. My right hand felt for and found a pressure point on the inside of his right elbow.
“Ooooow!” He screeched. I knew his whole arm would be numb and worthless to him for a minute or so. I pushed and he climbed out to the waiting Sawyer who “helped” him out of the car, pushed him up against the vehicle and stood with his left hand propping the man up.
“We have some questions, Alvin,” he said quietly. “We’re in a hurry, and we need you to tell us only the truth. If you do that, you get to go home tonight.”
“I don’t know nothin’,” he said, rubbing his right arm just above the elbow. “You’re a cop, right? You can’t do this kinda stuff.”
“What kinda stuff is that?”
“Rough stuff like this. You gotta work inside the law...” He was whining; I half expected to hear him sob as I climbed out on the other side of the car.
I walked around the back and looked at him. His long hair was hanging over his forehead and over his usually piercing black eyes. His beautiful coat was ripped slightly on the left shoulder, and his shirt had come free from his belt in front, the tail hanging down over his rumpled pants. His shoes were already covered with desert dust. He didn’t inspire the “tout” look that I remembered from our first encounter.
“That’s just it, Alvin; I’m not a cop anymore. I retired just yesterday. I spent the past thirty years watchin’ assholes like you walk around like king shits in the knowledge that no matter how awful you were, we had to play by the rules... now, I’m playin’ by your rules, Alvin, so let’s play.”
“Whatcha want?”
“My friend here has a beautiful wife. Did you see her when he was in town last weekend? You remember him?”
“Some kinda badass; hurt Sonny and Gordo.
“That’s him all right; did you catch a look at his bride?”
He shook his head. “No. We were going to sit around and watch him, and then he showed up from a run or something, so we just talked with him... I didn’t know Sonny was going to try to rough him up or anything. That wasn’t part of the deal, you know?”
“No, Alvin; that’s the point, we don’t know. Like we don’t know who asked you to talk with my friend here. Was that your idea?”
He shook his head. “I got a request. You know I can’t tell you who made that request, right?”
Sawyer reached over and tilted Alvin’s chin up so they were looking eye-to-eye. “Alvin, I’m only going to say this one more time. I don’t know anything except what you’re going to tell me. If you want to walk, ever again, you know? Then you’re going to simply tell me whatever I ask. Look at me Alvin; do I look like a cop? Do I look like I’m here to protect and serve you?
“Alvin, do I look like I’m kidding or bluffing?
“Or, Alvin, do I look like a guy who’s willing to cut your balls off to get the answers I need?”
Alvin got the message, and we had a nice, quiet conversation. At the end I was sitting on the trunk of the car, Sawyer was leaning against it, and Alvin was pacing back and forth, explaining exactly who had called him and asked him to try and get me to back off on my interview with Peter Sweet.
“That’s it, guys. I don’t know anything more. Really. The guy who made the request is not known to me, but the guy who called me was in L.A. and told me his friend from St. Louis was concerned that his financial interest in a certain man required that we intervene if we could.
“I certainly wasn’t involved in or even aware of a kidnapp
ing in St. Louis. That’s just not who I am, and Sawyer, you know that I don’t do rough stuff.”
“No, you’re a gentleman hood, that’s who you are.”
“I try to be. But I’ll be a dead gentleman hood if you guys blab about this conversation.”
Sawyer ignored him and looked at me. “Anything else?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Well, let’s get you on your way.” He went to the front door of the car and I headed for the passenger seat. At the door, he popped the trunk, and walked back there. I saw Cartwright cringing away from him, “No! You’re not going to put me in that trunk!”
“Get real, Alvin,” Sawyer said as he opened the lid. I heard him wrestling around and the sound of ice before he straightened up and slammed the trunk closed. “Here.”
He handed a bottle of water to Cartwright, and then walked back to the driver’s door and handed a bottle to me. He straightened up and pointed west. “Walk down that trail about three miles, and you’ll come to a paved road, take a right and walk another mile or so and you’ll come to a scenic turnout overlooking the reservoir... should be able to get a ride there. I’ll leave your cell phone under a picnic table in case you need to call for a ride.”
“You’re making me walk?”
“And giving you water. You can think about how bad this could have gone for you and be thankful or you can plot your revenge against me. You know, life is just a matter of decisions; I’m sure you’ll come to the right one after this walk.”
He got into the car, and we drove away. I looked back and saw Cartwright taking a long pull on his water.
“You gonna get any blow back on this?” I asked.
“Nope, I don’t think so. I’ll have you on a plane home before he gets to his phone; and I really did retire. Sunday was my last day. I’ve got a place in Mexico; I’m leaving town tonight and I don’t plan on coming back.”
“Really?”
“Yep. I’m going to live Zorro’s dream.”
