3 Lies (27 page)

His new phone came with internet access, and Clint used it to check on Avi’s flights. The flight from Tel Aviv had landed safely at JFK. His connection to Logan went wheels-up half an hour ago. Clint had less than an hour before he needed to leave for the airport.

Merlin slid the stack of case notes into the middle of the table. “How about I read off some names, a line or so about the case, see if anything stirs. Shall we give it a go?”

“A right fine idea.” Clint didn’t have any others.

“We’ve got
Armand v. U.S
. Let’s see. The gentleman in question appears to have purchased some drugs over his cell phone. The authorities believe the use of the cell phone constitutes facilitating a drug trafficker even though the drugs were for personal use. Instead of a misdemeanor, the old boy was charged with a felony.”

“Next.”

“
Cameron v. Montana
. The murder defendant believes that the deceased shouldn’t have the right to testify against him.” Merlin stuck a leg into the aisle.

“Who comes up with this stuff?”

“A chap named Ripley, I’d venture.”

“Let’s go through the ones that Todd’s team prepped.”

He shuffled through the pile and selected another. It measured half an inch thick. All of the cases they reviewed at the library were between three to eight pages under the staple.

“
Zeus Airlines v. Pastan, Rima, et al
.” He sifted into the stack. “Here we go. It seems the good doctor Yusef Pastan died in flight.”

Clint checked his watch. Still twenty-five minutes before he needed to leave for the airport.

“He was allergic to smoke and the flight attendants wouldn’t let him move further away from the smoking section. It has something to do with insurance, whether or not this gets labeled an accident.”

“Poor guy.”

Merlin put the case aside. “The cases involving individuals may not be your best bet. I mean the resources needed to nick nine people from around the country aren’t small. I’d concentrate on the ones that have organizational backing of some sort.”

A yawn meandered across Clint’s face. He caught it with his hand. “Sorry. You’re right. What else have you got?”

Merlin selected another from Todd’s group. “Here—
U. S. v. Hasan
has ties to Al Qaida.” He moved a finger down the page. “He tried to bring a bomb into the country from Canada so, he could take out an airport. When the customs agent questioned him, they got suspicious and found the bomb. Apparently there’s a law against carrying explosives when committing a felony.”

“Imagine that.”

“In this case, the felony was lying to a customs agent. The fellow thought that it should only count if the explosives are intended for use in the felony.”

“Seriously?”

“As if I could make this up.”

“Hang on to that one.”

“We have
U.S.
v. Nedal Electronics.
”

“I’ve heard of them.”

Merlin peered over his paper. “Even I’ve heard of them.” He returned his attention to the page. “Nedal Electronics is based in the U.S. but with Middle Eastern management. Ah. Nedal El-Rassi, the namesake. Okay. Here it is. The U.S. government takes exception to the encryption method used to move their data around. The encoding scheme is so good that they can’t break it.”

“Yep. Ours, too. I mean at CatSat. It’s got to be. If the government can break into our data transmissions anyone can.”

“The CIA came to Nedal for some information on a Muslim terrorist group out of Indonesia. Nedal gave them the information they wanted but not the raw data. The government is suing to get the key to the encryption, so they can see the raw data. They think Nedal is hiding other terrorist activity.”

“Interesting. But it’s an old argument. The lower court agreed with Nedal. What else have you got?”

“Let’s see. “ He looked over the paper. “This case looks like an individual. A tax evader with an Arabic name.”

Clint’s phone went off, tickling his hip. “Keep shoveling. I’ve got to take a call.” Caller ID indicated news: Morrison, the PI. Clint’s heart slapped like a bad piston. He pushed the green button. “Morrison. Any luck?”

“We found the white van, but we’re too late.”

Vonda cocked an ear to Maxine. “Your nephew is a justice on the United States Supreme Court?”

“Yes. Roe. Monroe Talbot. He’s my sister’s boy.” Maxine’s face bloomed. “We’re all so proud of him.”

“Small world. My former law partner is Justice John Haas. He’s a dear friend.”

Understanding struck Beth like a copperhead. This was about Abe. Chief Justice Abe Melinger, not Clint. The ransom letter she wrote was a sham. He probably never even got it. But if they didn’t want money—

Beth’s inhale wheezed. The heads of both women whipped around to look at her as if she needed resuscitation. She grasped Maxine’s wrist and shook it in tiny tremors. “My uncle. My uncle is Abe Melinger.”

The struggle to get out those few words tripped a coughing fit, racking her stomach muscles into a cramp. Vonda appeared with a cup of water. She sipped only enough to moisten her dry throat, inviting no excess liquid to weigh on her bladder. Vonda propped a pillow behind her. She eased back, but her muscles constricted, no longer trusting her judgment. Trying to relax only bought her more pain.

“What do they want with us?” Maxine said. She glanced at Emmy who stirred on the other cushion, a slim arm reached skyward. “And what about her?”

“It’s all too weird for coincidence. What was her last name?” Vonda dumped the excess water in the sink.

“Emmy Watters, is what she said, but her pronunciation is suspect.”

“There’s no one on the court with a name like that, but she could be a granddaughter.”

They tried to keep their voices down, but Emmy came over. “I want some cereal.” Maxine opened a tub of Honey Nut Cheerios and handed it to Emmy. “Thanks, Maxing.”

Beth watched the two. “Thanks for taking over with Emmy. She got attached to me, and I was afraid that if something happened to me—”

“Don’t talk like that.” Fear bathed Maxine’s grey-blue eyes.

Beth instantly regretted giving her another burden. Unlike Vonda, Maxine’s strength wasn’t generic. Her strength came from the situation, loading for a particular moment, like a single-shot pistol. To ask more from her wasn’t fair. “You’re right. Would you please hand me a blanket? I’m a little chilly.”

Relief spread across Maxine’s face. She reached to the other futon for a blanket.

But Beth wasn’t relieved. If these men abducted someone close to each member of the Supreme Court then they weren’t after money. They aimed to pervert justice. A new fear spawned in her belly. This pitted Abe’s obligation to his country, his integrity as a man, and his honor as a justice against his love for her. These men in the masks kept him captive without the use of locks.

Abe may have told her mother and stepfather the truth. But, not Clint. Never Clint. He existed outside their circle. He’d have to devise his own answers for her disappearance. A new wave of nausea rolled in.

“Get the trashcan.” Vonda scrambled toward it and grabbed it faster than Maxine. She slid it under Beth’s face. Beth coughed and tried to gather some composure.

“Emmy, dear. Please get Beth some water.”

“I will, Vonna.” Emmy got up and obeyed with a skip.

Vonda held back Beth’s hair. “Okay, I think we’ve all seen this situation under new light. Whoever these guys are, they want something from the Supreme Court. Probably a particular decision on a case.”

“I think you’re right.” Beth cycled a deep sigh. “The letters we wrote for ransom was just to keep us away from the truth.”

“The court would have told the FBI. They must be looking for us. Right?” Maxine lowered her voice when Emmy returned with the water. She scooted out of the way for Emmy to give the cup to Beth.

“Here, Beff.”

“Thanks, Emmy.” Beth took a small sip. She wanted to sleep. Fatigue now trumped fear.

“The court is an exceptional body. Think about it.” Vonda started to pace. “Nine people hold the key to matters of vital importance in this country, deciding right and wrong, justice or mercy, life or death. They can choose or ignore any case sent their way. Most they ignore.” She stepped over Emmy. “And if they want to decide a case, they don’t even have to hear arguments. They can read all the documents and issue their pronouncement. I don’t know about your nephew, or your uncle, but my old business partner, John, he wouldn’t take kindly to getting pushed around by thugs.”

“Roe, he’d call the FBI or whoever. He wouldn’t let them hold me hostage without trying to find me,” Maxine said.

“We don’t know if our theory is correct, but—” Beth didn’t get to finish.

“The court takes pride in its independence. If they told anyone about a threat of this type, even to help us, it might get out to the public. They may not be willing to take that risk especially if they thought it would undermine the public’s trust. We’re probably on our own.”

Fear returned to Maxine’s face.

“But we don’t know. Do we, Vonda?” Beth emphasized this for Maxine’s sake.

Vonda seemed to realize she’d taken it all too far. “No. No, of course not.”

“If it’s true, why’s it taking so long?” Maxine covered Emmy’s ears by smoothing down her hair. “They want a particular decision they tell the court to decide it. I mean, if the court wasn’t going to play along, we wouldn’t be needed anymore.”

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” said Beth. “If they state the case they want decided, that narrows the field of suspects considerably. They may be waiting for it to come up.”

“So what do we do?”

Beth tried to swing a leg over to the floor, but it didn’t respond as expected. “Can you help me up? I need to use the restroom.”

Beth watched Maxine put a hand around her ankle, but it felt like stabs from multiple needles. She lifted her pants, revealing a leg she barely recognized. Swelling reduced the taper at her ankle. Her baggy pink jeans were still roomy enough to fit her. Maxine and Vonda pulled her upright. Their faces needed no interpretation.

A band of women hostages. There were no guarantees the kidnappers planned to let them go home alive. The hope of release was another bar in their prison. They needed to take action. But what? Something. Anything. Beth had nothing left to lose. In her condition, even time treated her like the enemy.

Clint’s fingers dug into the seat cushion of the diner booth. He tried to keep his breathing in check. “What do you mean we’re ‘too late’?”

“We found the van abandoned on a back road. The plates are gone.”

His fear began to ease. “Is—is it empty?”

“Completely,” Morrison said. “These guys were pros. They wiped the van as clean as a jeweler’s loupe. They’re not coming back.”

“Are you sure it’s the right van?”

“It had the leftover glue on the back door shaped like Australia. And we popped the hood. Retrofitted with a V-8, just as you expected.”

The news split Clint’s emotions into relief and frustration. Beth wasn’t dead in the van, but he was also out of leads.

“Sorry.” Morrison breathed heavily into the receiver. “What do you want us to do?”

“Ask around. See if you can find anyone that saw it. Or the driver. Keep at it until you hear from me.”

“Will do.”

Clint stared at Merlin. “Morrison found the white van empty and abandoned.” He holstered his phone. “We’ve got nothing.”

“You’ve got a note that needs interpreting.”

Clint checked his watch. “Avi.”

“Who is due to land in twenty-odd minutes.” Merlin stacked the remaining case notes. “Shall we?”

~

Avi Kalush slogged out of the air terminal with a yawn and a suitcase. His demeanor brightened when he spied Clint waiting for him at the curb. He held out his hand. “Good to see you, Clint. It’s been a lousy couple of days.”

Clint smiled at Merlin. “Ditto. Avi Kalush, this is Merlin.”

“A pleasure.” Merlin shook his hand and then grabbed Avi’s bag. “You look knackered, mate. I’ll stow this for you.”

“Thanks. I am.”

Clint took the wheel, Merlin closed the trunk and climbed in the back. Avi stretched out in the front. Clint recapped the last four days as he drove out of the airport.

“So where is it?”

Clint handed the note to Avi.

Avi unfolded the paper. He examined both sides of the paper before settling in to read. His face offered no expression. “Todd was right. It’s no recipe for baba ganoush. These guys are twisted.”

“What does it say?”

“Maybe Merlin should be driving.”

“Read it.”

Avi gripped the page. “We have taken the woman as a random hostage of jihad.”

Clint’s stomach dropped.

“You will bow to our demands only when you suffer. Next time we may kill her. This time, we offer her back to you for the price of twenty million dollars. Is she not worth this sum? You may expect to hear from us.”

Silence held its breath.

Clint pulled onto I-90.

“Who’s it from?”

“It doesn’t specify a group if that’s what you mean. It only indicates there is a group, referring to a ‘we’ in the plural sense. Arabic also uses ‘we’ as a term of respect.”

“What else can you tell me?”

“Facts? Nothing.”

“Okay, impressions.”

“My opinion? Whoever wrote this took Arabic lessons. It doesn’t read as if Arabic was the writer’s first language.”

The similarities between the missing agents provided Doug all the comfort of a burgeoning abscess. Their physical descriptions aligned with black hair, dark eyes, dark skin, and full beards—of varying builds, but still the swarthiest of swarthy. Each hailed from the patch of land ten degrees north or south of the Tropic of Cancer, and ten degrees, either side, of the fortieth meridian east. Give or take a degree. Someone hand selected each man for this particular mission. Their profiles, however, sketched men that preferred solitary assignments. Each had earned reprimands for not-playing-nice with others.

The facts tumbled in Doug’s brain like fake snow in a globe. Someone assembled this set of ill-fitted men for a purpose. On limited assignment status, no two of the ten could work together for Company business, official or otherwise. It made no damn sense.