“No. He escaped.”
“Did someone see him? Is that how you know it was Mace?”
“Only one man. And that man did not get a good look at him. Not a good enough look to identify him.”
“Then how do you know it was Mace?” Leeny asked, her hands covering her mouth.
“People in Sugar Grove recognized his photograph.”
“So he knows what is going on.” Her voice shook.
“I’d say there is a very good chance he has pieced this thing together. All he would have to do is read the paper and think a little. We waited too long to kill him.”
Leeny’s breathing became short. “We have to find him.”
“Of course we do,” Webster whispered angrily. “And we are looking everywhere. But he was smart. He withdrew almost twenty thousand dollars in cash from his Chemical savings account before he left New York. He hasn’t used a credit card, so we can’t locate him.”
“Get the girl.” Leeny’s voice was an eerie monotone. Somehow she knew that the answer lay with Rachel.
Webster’s eyes flashed to Leeny’s. “You mean Rachel Sommers?”
Leeny nodded. “She’ll know where he is. She’ll probably know a whole lot more as well.”
Webster shook his head. “We’ve been looking for her. She’s nowhere. Columbia canceled classes, and she’s vanished.”
“Where is she from?”
“She lists no home address with Columbia except the apartment, and we’ve checked out every other Sommers in New York. No luck.”
“God.” Leeny swallowed hard and clasped her hands before her tightly so they would not shake.
Webster picked up the telephone and began to punch out a number. “Go back to your office, Ms. Hunt.” His voice was still calm. “Continue to take the investor calls. Keep me informed of each person with whom you speak and any offers you receive.”
Leeny rose unsteadily from the sofa and became dizzy. She steadied herself against the end table. Mace was out there somewhere, like a virus in a computer, waiting, biding his time. When the moment was right, he would strike, destroying all of them. She could feel it. They had to find him.
She stumbled toward the door. She needed to get back to her office quickly. She needed the pills.
* * *
—
“Commander?”
Mcyntire glanced up from the papers spread out across the top of the desk. “Yes, Captain Ellet?”
“They let another hostage go.”
“And?” Mcyntire was curt. The pressure was already weighing heavily on him.
Ellet moved to the desk and laid the envelope down in front of the commander.
“What does this one say?” But Mcyntire already knew. It was simply a question of how much time he was being given.
“It says we have seventy-two hours to comply with their demands.”
The commander groaned heavily and turned to look out of the farmhouse’s den window at the cooling towers. “Okay. Call Ferris and let him know. Becker needs to be made aware of this as quickly as possible.”
* * *
—
Roger Hamilton, senior vice-president of Maryland Mutual Life and chief investment officer of its thirty-two-billion-dollar mortgage portfolio, stared blankly at the television positioned in one corner of his ornate office. From his chair he had a beautiful view of the Capitol, one he generally admired several times a day. But this morning he had no interest. His focus was on the television and the situation at Nyack.
He watched the screen as if in a trance. The CNN correspondent was interviewing another physics expert, this time the retired chief of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. The man confirmed that in fact the radiation fallout could easily render Manhattan uninhabitable. Worthless, in Hamilton’s terms.
Hamilton glanced away from the screen toward the telephone on his massive desk. He had not tried to call Mace McLain yet. He had somehow convinced himself that all this was simply a bad dream or some horrible mistake. That either the government or the terrorists would quickly back down, that a settlement would be reached. And life would return to normal in New York City, in the country’s most significant real estate market.
Suddenly the CNN anchor interrupted the interview. “We have, yes…” He paused, pressing the piece farther into his ear. “Yes, confirmed now. The terrorists have imposed a deadline. Seventy-two hours. If their demands are not met at that point, they will detonate the bombs they have positioned around the two nuclear cores at Nyack.”
Hamilton shook involuntarily at this new piece of information. His career would be over. As soon as those bombs were detonated. If the unthinkable actually happened, billions of dollars of his mortgages would become worthless in a split second. The buildings would still stand, but they would be devoid of tenants and therefore devoid of cash flow—into eternity. At least his eternity.
He did not want to make the call, but there seemed to be no choice now. “Mace McLain, please.” Hamilton fiddled with a matchbook as he listened to the secretary answer his call.
“He’s not in today. I’m sorry,” she said.
“Oh.” Perhaps Mace had already opted to get out of the city. Perhaps Broadway Ventures wasn’t as big and bad a vulture as he had hoped.
“Ms. Hunt is taking all his calls,” the woman continued.
There was good and bad news to that revelation. At least the fund was still in business. But that someone taking calls was Ms. Hunt, and he hadn’t been particularly friendly to her when she had visited with Mace. He hoped she had forgotten.
“I could transfer you if you like.” The secretary’s voice was strained.
“Yes, fine.” Hamilton could hear the consternation in her voice. He could only imagine what it must be like to be living within range of the radiation’s tentacles. If the bombs went off, he wouldn’t have a career, but he’d have his life and his home.
The line clicked several times as the secretary performed the transfer. Hamilton rifled through his Rolodex while he waited. Walker Pryce, Walker Pryce. There it was. Kathleen Hunt.
The phone began to ring. An incredible choice the people of New York faced. Leave and possibly have your home looted for perhaps no reason if the terrorists didn’t detonate the bombs. Or wait it out, take the chance, and face death. Because if the bombs exploded without warning, experts were predicting that it would take less than three hours for the radiation to reach the city. And there was no way that many millions of people were going to get out of New York in three hours. Manhattan was an island, for God’s sake. Christ, they’d be swimming across the Hudson. Even if they got out, they wouldn’t be able to return for years.
The meltdown of a nuclear power plant core had occurred several times in eastern Europe and in the old Soviet Union, and Hamilton had heard how devastating the results were on population and property. Those accidents, except for Chernobyl, had been kept quiet, but he had friends in those countries who had relayed what had happened. The fallout from those facilities had been small and quickly controlled, but the situation in New York City would be magnified many times if the terrorists lost their cool. “Answer, please,” he yelled into the phone’s mouthpiece, suddenly panicked. His prayers were answered immediately.
“Hello, this is Kathleen Hunt.”
A wave of relief washed over him. “Ms. Hunt, this is Roger Hamilton at Maryland Mutual Life.” He summoned his friendliest voice, which still conveyed a hint of arrogance. Even he could hear it. “I trust you remember me.”
“I remember.” Leeny’s voice was cold. Despite the strain she felt over the news that Mace wasn’t dead, she managed a smile. She was truly going to enjoy this call.
Hamilton heard the harsh edge to her tone. So she hadn’t forgotten. Well, the hell with her. She still needed to respect him and the powerful position he held, the massive amount of money he co
ntrolled. “I just wanted to say that I enjoyed meeting you, Kathleen, and—”
“You are calling to see if we are still open for business, aren’t you?” Leeny cut him off.
“Well—”
“Am I right?” she snapped.
“Yes.” Hamilton’s voice dropped almost to a whisper. His career was imploding, and she didn’t care. He swallowed. It was time to grovel. These were uncharted waters, and he needed to do whatever it took to unload the bonds.
“You’ll be relieved to know that we are still open. As a result, as I’m sure you can imagine, I’m receiving lots of calls. So my time is limited.” She paused. She heard his heavy breathing on the other end of the line. He was sweating this out in a big way. It was wonderful. She could not help smiling again. Her next words were going to make him disintegrate. “I’ll be generous and give you twenty cents on the dollar for your bonds, Roger. I’ll give you two hundred million dollars for a billion dollars’ face value of your bonds. There isn’t any reason for me even to bother doing specific credit analysis on each property. I’m just going to give you one blanket offer.”
“What? But that’s ridiculous. It’s insane,” he stammered.
“Maybe, but that’s the way life is in New York City at this point.”
“I can’t agree to twenty cents on the dollar. I was thinking more along the lines of ninety-six to ninety-seven cents on the dollar.” Hamilton’s eyes flashed around his office. Twenty cents on the dollar. That translated into an eight-hundred-million-dollar loss. He felt the perspiration bubbling from his palms onto the receiver.
“Clearly we are too far apart on price even to begin a discussion of the purchase of your bonds by Broadway Ventures. If you don’t like my bid, I suggest you call other real estate buyers. If you can find any at this point. Or you can call me back when you are prepared to discuss your position more rationally. Thank you, Roger.” She laid the phone back in its cradle gently and smiled. A thrill surged through her. The power she held was awesome—and intoxicating.
“Damn it!” Hamilton roared as he heard the line click in his ear. He slammed the phone down. “Damn it!” He screamed the word the second time. He knew there were no other buyers out there. Kathleen Hunt was the only game in town.
Leeny smiled at the phone, satisfied with her performance. She might as well have impaled him with a hunting knife. He was ruing the day he had been rude to her, ruing the day he had met her. Suddenly the phone rang again. Hamilton again already? “Hello.”
There was nothing but silence at the other end of the phone.
“Hello,” she said, loudly this time.
“Leeny?” A timid voice seeped through the line.
“Yes.”
“It’s John Schuler.”
Leeny’s eyes narrowed. “John, how are you? It’s been so long since we’ve talked.” She made her voice soft and approachable.
Schuler coughed nervously. “I’m fine.” He had not expected so friendly a greeting. “In light of the circumstances.” The experts were saying that the fallout from Nyack could reach Greenwich if the bombs exploded, that it was possible. But it would take much longer to reach Greenwich than it would to reach New York. And the effects would be much weaker. So he had left the bank immediately upon hearing the news of the attack, letting the more junior Turks risk their fool lives to keep the bank open. From Greenwich he could jump in the BMW and have enough of a head start to outrace any of the explosion’s effects. In New York he was a dead man.
“I know.” Leeny made her voice sound pathetic and scared. “I’m so frightened.”
“But why don’t you get out of there, for God’s sake?” he asked.
“I’m going to. I just need to finish a few things, and then I’m leaving.”
Schuler was relieved. It sounded as if Broadway Ventures was shutting down, at least temporarily. “So you and Mace and Webster aren’t planning to speculate on what’s happening, are you? You aren’t going to buy anything, right?” He asked the question tentatively.
“Of course not,” she lied.
“And you haven’t already bought anything, have you?”
“No.”
“Good.” His voice was suddenly full strength. His billion dollars were safe.
“John?” Leeny made her voice extremely meek.
“Yes?”
“I really am scared. It’s funny. I couldn’t help thinking of you when I heard about the attack on the plant. I wanted to know you were all right.” She hesitated. “John, I want to see you. Even if it’s only for a few minutes. Even if it’s only to have you hold me. I need to see you.”
Schuler smiled. Mace certainly had his signals crossed about Leeny. Clearly she had loved what he had given her that night at the Inter-Continental. His self-satisfied smile became broader. So he hadn’t lost his ability to overpower a woman with his lovemaking skills. He remembered how he had pulled her onto the floor, onto her knees, by the fistful of long golden hair. Immediately he felt the familiar throb in his pants. Sometimes you just had to be physical with a woman. “When were you thinking about?”
“Tonight.”
“I’m not coming back into the city,” he warned her.
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” she responded softly. “Why don’t we meet at the Stamford Marriott? That’s only about twenty minutes from Greenwich, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” This certainly was turning out to be a fortunate phone call. “What time?”
“Around ten. I’ll have a room. Just call me when you get there.”
“Fine. I’ll see you then.” Schuler smiled as he put down the phone.
Leeny hung up the phone, and the sweet smile that had played over her face during their conversation disappeared. But she had no time to think about Schuler. The phone rang again.
“Hello,” she said softly, thinking it might be the little banker again.
“Ms. Hunt?”
She rolled her eyes. It was Hamilton calling back again already.
“It’s Roger Hamilton.”
The stodginess was completely gone from his tone. “Yes?”
“How about ninety cents on the dollar?”
“No.” Her voice was suddenly steel tough. “Thirty cents. That’s my final offer.” She slammed the phone down.
Hamilton dropped the receiver and slowly allowed his head to fall to the blotter covering the desktop. His life was balanced on the razor’s edge, in the hands of terrorists two hundred miles away. How had it ever come to this?
31
“Hello,” the familiar soft voice answered.
Relief surged through Mace’s body. “Rachel!”
“Mace?”
“Yes.”
“Mace, my God, I’m so glad to hear your voice.” It was Rachel’s turn to feel relieved.
From behind the curtain of his fourth-floor room Mace looked out over the brick courtyard of the Washington, D.C., Four Seasons Hotel, the room Slade had directed him to check into. It had been more than twenty-four hours, and still no word from Slade. “I would have called earlier, but I couldn’t remember your stepfather’s last name until now.”
“Oh.” She hesitated. “I’ve been so worried about you.” Her voice was hoarse, showing her concern. “I called your office, but the secretary kept saying you weren’t in. I called your apartment, but there was no answer there either.”
“I’ve been away,” he said quickly.
“I’m so glad you called. My stepfather was going to stick it out here no matter what happens. He doesn’t think terrorists ought to be able to scare you out of your home. But Mom convinced him to go. And I’m going with them. I think it’s the right thing to do. Especially given the deadline.”
For a moment Mace did not answer.
“Mace?”
“Yes.”
“Is everything all r
ight? Where are you?”
“In Washington,” he answered.
“What are you doing there?”
“Rachel, you remember that material you gave me?”
“About Leeny Hunt?” Her voice was suddenly unsteady.
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
“Well, you definitely uncovered something.”
“What are you talking about?” She was frightened now.
“I’ll spare you the details, but I don’t think you need to worry about bombs going off at Nyack.”
“What?” she screamed.
Mace hesitated. “Broadway Ventures has been funding a training center in West Virginia, a terrorist training center.”
Rachel caught her breath.
“I traced some money out of the Chase Broadway Ventures account down to a little town named Sugar Grove and then found the actual site. And I almost didn’t live to tell you about it. I haven’t been back to the office since. For obvious reasons.”
“This is incredible.” Her voice was hushed.
“It gets better. I think the West Virginia people are involved with the Nyack situation. I think they were the ones that took the plant over. That’s why I don’t really think the bombs will go off. If there really are any bombs at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it. Broadway Ventures was funding these people in West Virginia, a vulture fund financing a terrorist group. And Broadway Ventures was to invest in Manhattan real estate and Big Board equities, the exact securities that would be most affected by the Nyack takeover. Real estate for obvious reasons. Stocks because so many Fortune Five Hundred companies are headquartered and have significant operations in or near the New York metropolitan area.”
“I can’t believe it.” But she saw the motive and the connection immediately. “It’s perfect.”
“Yes, it is. It has Lewis Webster written all over it. It was his way to save the partnership.”
“But if what you say is accurate and he is involved, he has run a terrible risk. He could easily be exposed if something went wrong. Why would he do that? He’s wealthy, isn’t he?” Rachel asked.
The Vulture Fund Page 33
