Welch, D [Shadow People 02] Shadow Spies Page 12

  If these people had a plan he would follow it. If he thought that it was a bad idea, he wouldn’t. But he knew if he came right out and said so, they’d try to prevent him from acting.

  “I can't promise you that I'll follow you blindly, Agent. I will do anything, including sacrificing my life, to return my wife back to me and her family, alive and unhurt. If you can promise that, I will do anything you say. If you can't, I'll keep my options open.”

  “Our methods are very successful, Mister Fox. We've handled hundreds of kidnapping cases and usually we are able to prevent loss of life. But we can't promise anything.”

  “Good then we both know where we stand,” Paris said.

  Sanders looked annoyed but continued. “We need something to separate the hoaxes from the real kidnappers. Something only you and your wife would know.”

  “That’s easy. Ask them to have my wife explain what the deer in the forest means. I'll know.”

  “What does it mean, Mister Fox?” Sanders said.

  “The deer led us to a secluded spot by Lake Cumberland in Kentucky. That's where we first met.”

  Sanders nodded.

  “Understand, Mister Fox, this kind of tragedy brings lunatics out of the woodwork and sometimes it's hard to separate the real kidnappers from the noise. From the evidence, we think that these perpetrators are organized, so their communication methods may be more sophisticated. When and if they try to contact you, we can use that to locate them. All of the suite phones are tapped, as are the cell phones of every person in your party. You may be fielding many phone calls today and may receive ransom notes.

  “Fortunately, all of the phones are private numbers. So to call the suite or your cell phone, they’ll have to obtain the information from your wife. That’ll mean that she’s still alive. We’ll need to use your knowledge to weed them out. Do you understand?”

  “Perfectly,” Paris said.

  “Get showered and dressed, Mister Fox. We have a long day ahead.”

  June and Tom had arranged for a commercial flight back to Kentucky and left for the airport by midday. Dan and Roxanne rode to the police station to hunt for any information the police had found. The suite was quiet as Paris, Alex, Caesar and the two FBI Agents waited for a phone call or a note.

  Noon passed and still nothing. More time passed. A little after noon, the suite phone rang.

  As prearranged, Eric waited for four rings of the phone to answer it. His voice was calm as he answered and listened. He informed the caller to wait while he asked Mister Fox if he would take the call.

  Eric put the call on hold and nodded to Sanders and Paris. Paris and the Agent walked out to the pool area and sat in one of the chairs. Eric followed them. He looked at Agent Saunders who waited for Spooner. At Spooner’s nod, he removed the hold on the phone.

  “Sir there's a rather rude gentleman on the line who says he must talk to you,” he said, in a loud voice.

  “Very well, Eric,” Paris replied in equally loud voice. “I'll take the call.” By this time almost five minutes had passed. Agent Sanders, who was listening on an ear bud, nodded to Paris.

  “Paris Fox speaking.”

  “You're fucking with me asshole. People don't fuck with me.” Paris waited. The man sounded nervous. “You hear me asshole?”

  Paris finally spoke. “I hear you. What do you want?”

  “That's better. I got your wife and I'm going to kill her unless you do exactly what I say.”

  “Let me speak to my wife,” Paris said.

  “You don't tell me what to do asshole. I tell you!”

  “Let me speak to my wife.” Paris interrupted.

  “I'll let you speak to her when I get –”

  “You have one more minute to let me speak to my wife. If you do, I'll know she's alive and then we'll negotiate. If you don't, I’ll assume that you killed her. I'll find you and I'll kill you and anyone with you slowly. Put my wife on the phone.”

  The line went dead.

  “That last comment was unnecessary Mister Fox,” Agent Sanders said. “What if we hadn't traced the call?”

  “The guy was getting on my nerves,” Paris said.

  “I know this is hard, but you have to maintain your composure. You must get the person to make concessions. That will lead to mistakes on his part and we can find him and your wife. Wait.”

  He held up a hand and concentrated on his ear bud. “They arrested him here, in the Resort,” Sanders said. “He was using a hotel phone. –Stupid move. He's not likely to be our kidnapper, but you never know. I'm going down to interrogate him. Agent Spooner will stay here.”

  They all waited in the living room for word of the results of the arrest and interrogation. After a while, Agent Sanders returned to report that caller had been a hotel employee who knew the suite's private number. The man was destined to spend a lot of time in prison for extortion and interfering with a federal investigation.

  Dan and Roxanne returned to the suite without having learned anything new and joined the group in the living room to wait for a call. The tension in the suite was starting to become something Paris could feel. All of the suite's staff moved around without making any sounds, as though afraid to disturb a ticking bomb.

  Paris' anxiety level was at an all-time high. The adrenalin rush of the afternoon confrontation with the false kidnapper had taken a good deal of his reserves.

  Even the FBI agents were starting to show signs of strain. No one had much to say. It was later in the evening that the second attempt to contact them occurred.

  Paris gazed, without actually seeing, at the huge window at the rear of the living room as he sipped a fresh bottle of beer. Abruptly, his blank mind was startled into awareness at the sound of Spooner’s voice.

  “Someone just delivered a package addressed to Mister Fox to the front desk. They're taking the courier into custody. This could be the real attempt at contact. They're bringing it up to the suite.”

  Sanders drew out several pairs of surgical gloves from his briefcase. He handed a pair each to Paris and Spooner. “Put these on. We'll need to handle the package and the fewer fingerprints, the better.”

  Paris slipped the gloves onto his hands and flexed them to settle them in place. He could hardly breathe. He felt faint. He had to sit down. Everyone in the room looked at him.

  “Take deep breaths, Paris, and shake it off,” Alex said. “You need to be up for this.”

  He knew she was right, but his body betrayed him. He had to be alert and ready to respond quickly, but he didn't know where he could find the strength.

  He collapsed in a living room chair and started calming exercises. Breathing deeply, he tried to relax the tension from his body.

  Agent Sanders stared at him with a worried expression. “Don't lose it now, Paris, we need you.”

  It was the first time that Sanders had called him by his first name. Somehow, that steadied him.

  “What's your first name, Agent Sanders?” Paris asked.

  “Harvey.”

  “Okay, Harv. Let's get this started.”

  Moments later, the elevator doors opened and another agent came into the suite, holding a plastic bag with a manila envelope inside. He handed it to Sanders.

  Sanders removed the envelope from the bag and opened it. He slid the contents of the package onto one of the coffee tables. It was a cell phone, one of the cheap, prepaid phones that anyone could buy at any convenience store.

  He stared at it. “What do you think Spooner?” Sanders said.

  “Smart, maybe too smart – make's me uneasy. These people know too much. We can find where the phone came from, but I doubt if anyone will answer it, if we take that long.”

  Sanders examined the envelope. He looked inside and withdrew a sheet of paper. On the paper, someone had glued letters cut from what appeared to be several different sources. The letters spelled out a message.

  PHONE ADDRESS BOOK. CALL FIRST NUMBER

  Sanders handed the cell phone t
o Spooner. He opened it and turned it on. He accessed the address book and scrutinized the display. “Three numbers,” he said, and copied them into a notepad. “The second of them we already have locked down. It's Missus Fox's cell phone number. I'll get started on the other two.”

  Sanders looked at Paris. “You know what this means, Paris. It's real. They've just been waiting until you were ready to fall apart. You can't give them that edge. They'll take advantage of it and get you to agree to anything they ask.”

  Paris felt numb. The knowledge that one of the phone numbers was Elizabeth’s made his heart race.

  He didn't know what they’d demand, or how he’d react. The uncertainty was enough to threaten his sanity. He had to somehow find the resolve to confront it and set the kidnappers at a disadvantage. “I know Harv. Let's just make the damn phone call.”

  “Wait,” Spooner said. “Give me about fifteen minutes. I need to locate the other numbers. They're working on it.”

  Time seemed to stop. Paris' tension soared again. If they didn't call soon he would be at the kidnapper's mercy.

  Sanders stared at him. “Get it done faster, Spooner, we need to make the call. We don't have much more time.”

  “We’re good, try to make them stay on the line at least three minutes.”

  Sanders handed Paris the cell phone. Paris took it and stared at the tiny screen. The phone numbers displayed on the address book had speed dial numbers next to them. He pressed the keys for the first number listed and set the phone to speaker mode.

  After the first ring, the phone connected and an unfamiliar voice issued from the speaker. “Call the second number and then call the third.” The line disconnected. The second number was Elizabeth's.

  Paris hesitated. He glanced at Harvey.

  “Get anything Spooner?” he said.

  “No, too short. Maybe we'll get a lead from the purchase site. Go ahead and make the second call.”

  Paris speed dialed Elizabeth's number. Again the call was answered on the first ring. A male voice came from the speaker. “You have one minute, no more.” Then Elizabeth’s voice penetrated his brain.

  “Paris are you there?” The sound of her voice caused his mind to shut down. His mouth was paralyzed, he couldn't speak. He just wanted to hear her voice again.

  “Paris?” His mind spun in multiple directions, looking for something, anything that could possibly give them an edge over the people who held her.

  “Paris!” Her voice grew panicky.

  “I'm here baby, have they hurt you?”

  “They haven't hurt me. The man told me to tell you to call the third number, whatever that means, and to not put it on speaker phone. I'm not allowed to say much more.”

  “Where are you?” Paris said.

  “I don't know. They put a hood on me whenever they come near me. They say it's for my own protection. Where ever I am, it's dirty and dark.”

  Paris' mind was clearing. Just the sound of her voice seemed to lift the crush of his runaway emotions. It had a calming effect. But how to tip the odds in their favor? “I'll get you out of this honey I promise. Whatever it takes. How is the baby?”

  Elizabeth voice hesitated. “The baby is fine.”

  “Use Alex's exercises, we don't want anything to happen to the baby.”

  “I –I'll try. Whatever happens; remember that I love you Paris and I always will.” The words caused renewed pain. He forced his emotions down.

  “I love you Beth, much more than my life. We'll get through this and go home. I promise you. Just a little while longer.” The connection abruptly ceased.

  Paris sighed and huddled in the living room chair. He directed his vision to Agent Sanders. “You heard?” Sanders nodded.

  “Do I –or Don't I –use the speaker phone?” Paris said.

  “How about it, Spooner, Do we have a link to that number?” Sanders said.

  “Yes, we'll have a recording. It's possible that the person on the other end of the line would be able to recognize the difference. They may hang up and if they do, we'll have to go through this all over again. They might not be so patient next time. Make the call with the speaker phone off.”

  Paris dialed the third number.

  At the first ring, a voice answered. “Satisfied, Mister Fox?”

  “How much money do you want, and where do we make the exchange?” Paris said.

  “No negotiations over the phone, Mister Fox. –Face to face. A public place.” He gave Paris the location of a strip club in downtown Las Vegas.

  “If we see FBI or police surveillance, I won't show. –Do not wear a wire. I'll know and I won't negotiate.”

  “Who am I speaking to?” Paris said.

  He just laughed. “It's a shadowy world we live in. Mister Fox. Shadows everywhere. Oh yes, we'll be using infrared viewers. Do you understand?”

  At the word 'shadow' Paris' blood seemed to drain from his head and he felt dizzy. “I understand. How do I find you?”

  “Be there at nine PM. Sit at the bar. If everything is as I’ve directed, I'll find you.”

  The phone disconnected.

  “Well?” Sanders said.

  “Give me a minute, Harvey. I...That was hard.” Paris buried his face in his hands and bowed toward the floor.

  He needed the time to think, not to mention getting blood flowing back to his brain. Was this a Shadow power play? Was one of the Houses involved? No, if it had been a Shadow, he wouldn't have mentioned the viewer. He wouldn't have needed it. It had to be some organization that knew about the Shadows. But what did they want? Money? Maybe to keep them silent? But why kidnap Beth? How could he prepare for this meeting? Who could he get to help? If the kidnapper could identify him on sight, they could spot Caesar or Dan.

  He thought about Roxanne. They could ID her, also. Who could he get to help other than the Vegas House? Then he thought about Kitty.

  “Okay, Harvey. They want me to come alone. They’ll be checking for a wire and they seem confident about finding one. They’ll also be looking for FBI surveillance. If they spot you, we'll have to do this all over again. The man on the phone wouldn't give me any idea of how much money they wanted. He said he’ll negotiate with me at the meeting. I suppose he'll tell me then.”

  “We can't let you go without backup, Paris,” Sanders said.

  “I imagine you have a complete report on me Harv. If you do, you should know that I am not a fool. I can take care of myself. I won't let them corner me. I'm going. You can't stop me.”

  Sanders ignored him. “It's completely against procedures, Paris. We’ll find another way.”

  “Procedures are for normal kidnappings,” Paris said. “This group is a notch higher than professionals. They've planned everything to minimize their risk and box us into a corner. I have an idea as to how to use that planning against them, but I need you to cooperate. I need to meet with this guy, and I can't if you interfere.”

  Spooner took that moment to speak. “We've got another problem. The conversation wasn't recorded. It looks like they were able to scramble the last phone call. All we got was noise. At least we heard this side of the call. The call to Missus Fox was clear, so that means they somehow triggered the scrambler on the other phone. That takes sophisticated technology. The phone Paris called out with must be modified, but I don't know how. We'll find out.”

  Sanders didn't say anything for a moment. Finally he shrugged. “What's your idea Paris?”

  Chapter 10

  Elizabeth

  Elizabeth wore a dark hood. The man who’d led her here abruptly wrenched her cell phone from her hand in the middle of the call. She heard the sound of cracking plastic and what she imagined was the clatter of the pieces hitting the ground. Her heart sank, as her only link to Paris was destroyed and cast away.

  Turning her around, her captor led her back the way they’d come.

  She felt her feet, still shod in the bathroom slippers, encounter obstructions along the way. Here, the clatter of an alumin
um can; the sound distinctive. There, a patch of sand, sliding over the tops of her slippers. Other times the sounds of broken glass; an occasional stone, and bare uneven chunks of concrete.

  As he led her, they occasionally veered around unseen obstacles that she could almost sense.

  Desperate, she needed to think, but anxiety clouded her judgment. She’d never been more frightened in her life and unable to control it. As the man guided her back to the place they kept her, she struggled to subdue her panic.

  During the frequent times in the privacy of their bedroom, she’d explored the mind and thoughts of the complex man who was her soul-mate and now, husband and she had gleaned some understanding of how he’d managed to function in Iraq. She knew he’d been faced with mind numbing terror and had somehow found the courage to suppress it, to act as a leader.

  Surely she could do the same, couldn't she?

  What had Paris said? Something about exercises. What exercises? The only exercises that she and Alex had engaged in were an abortive attempt to teach her some martial arts techniques.

  Surely Paris wasn’t implying she should try to use some half-learned moves against her captors, was he? Although Alex had told her she was getting good at some of them, she didn’t feel at all confident.

  What’d Alex called it? Oh yes, Akido. Something about a passive form of martial arts, a form in which you used the opponent’s strength against them. She knew that she’d never be able to oppose her captors, they were all bigger and stronger, but if she had the opportunity, she could try to use their power against them.

  The trip back to the site of her confinement seemed to take a long time. She’d been carried in a stretcher on the way into her prison, but now she encountered a number of impediments along the way back and she was forced to crouch and crabwalk on a number of occasions. Where were they? Where in Las Vegas hid a place even remotely like this? She could sense it was dark. How was her guide able to see where to go?

  Finally she heard the screeching sound of the door to her cell being opened and she had to step up to reach the room. She felt that there was only the one man escorting her. Their organization seemed to be short-handed.