F Paul Wilson - Novel 04 (13 page)

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll
let her cry.” He took a bite of his sub and started flipping through the
copy of Blue Blood he’d brought along.

If that was the way he wanted to
be, she’d do the same. She picked up The Star and opened it. She tried to
concentrate on the page-three continuation of the cover story on Sharon Stone
but gave up after reading the same paragraph half a dozen times.

The muffled sobs filled her brain.

“Damn it!” she said.
She stood and threw the paper across the table at Paulie. “And damn
you.” Paulie looked up at her and smiled but said nothing.

Poppy stomped out of the kitchen
and went straight to the master bedroom. She retrieved the Roseanne mask from
the couch and slipped it over her face.

But she hesitated at the door. A
crying kid. What was she like going to do with a frightened, crying kid? More
than Paulie, that was for sure, but that wasn’t saying much.

Oh, hell. Let’s get this over
with. She pushed the door open and poked her head inside.

The kid was lying on her back on
the bed, both hands tied to the bed frame above her head. The blindfold and gag
were in place, but her beret had fallen off and she’d kicked off the
blanket.

What skinny little legs she had.

And she was crying. This totally
sucked, frightening a little kid like this.

She stepped inside and closed the
door behind her. The crying stopped as the kid stiffened, listening. Better not
scare her anymore than she already is. Better say something.

“Don’t be
afraid…” Hell, she didn’t even know her name.
“It’s okay. You’re all right. No one’s gonna hurt
you.” Poppy moved closer until she was standing over her.

Even in the dim light of the
darkened room, Poppy could see tears glistening on the cheeks below the black
sleep mask they used as a blindfold.

“Listen, if you promise not
to yell, I’ll like take that gag out of your mouth. Is that a
deal?” The kid nodded.

“Promise not to yell,
now.” Another nod.

Poppy removed the gag.

“Where am I?” the kid
said, her voice wavering through a sob. “Who are you? Why am I tied up?
Where’s my daddy?”

“You’re going to be
staying here awhile.”

“I want my daddy. Why
isn’t he here?” Might as well lay it out for her: “He
doesn’t know where you are.”

She started crying again, the sobs
becoming progressively louder. More tears flooded from under the blindfold.

“I want to go home!”

“Remember our deal about not
yelling. I’ll have to put that gag back in if you yell.” The kid
bit her lower lip in an attempt to muffle her sobs. The sound was so pitiful,
it damn near tore Poppy’s heart out. She knelt beside the bed.

“Hey, look,” she said
softly. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. No
one’s going to hurt you. You’re just going to be visiting with us
for a few days.”

“I wuh-want my daddy!”

Poppy had to get her off that
subject. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Kuh-katie.”

“Kuh-katie, huh? I never
heard a name like Kuh-katie before.”

“No. Kay-tie.”

“Oh. Katie. I’ve heard
of that. That’s a cute name. Look, Katie… are you hungry?”

She shook her head.

“Have to go to the
bathroom?”

A nod. “Your voice sounds
funny.”

“That’s because
I’m wearing a mask.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want
you to see my face.”

“I can’t see
anything.”

“I know. But just in case the
blindfold slips. We’re like very careful about that here.” The kid
shrugged—either she didn’t understand or didn’t care.
She’d better care. It was important.

“Okay. Here’s how
we’re gonna work this. I’ll untie your hands and take you to the
bathroom. You go in there and like do your business; then knock when you want
to come out. Got it?” Another nod.

“Okay, then.” Poppy
began untying the cords around her wrists.

Bathroom detail was usually
Paulie’s job, mainly because up till now all their packages had been
totally guys. She’d never like actually done this, but she knew the
procedure. Paulie had a handcuff routine he used with the guys—in case
they got any wise ideas. Poppy didn’t think that would be necessary now.

“Here’s how this works,
Katie. Your blindfold comes off only in the bathroom. Once you’re
finished up in there, you put it back on and like knock on the door. I’ll
let you out then. You understand? You never take the blindfold off unless we
tell you to.”

“Why not?” Poppy was
taken aback by the question. No one had ever asked that before. Of course, all
the other packages knew the answer.

“Because I don’t want
you to see my face.”

“I thought you were wearing a
mask.” What is she? Poppy thought. A lawyer?

“I am. But I don’t want
you to see that, either.”

“Why not?”

“Because… because I
don’t, that’s why,” Poppy said as she undid the last knot.
“There. Now you can sit up.” She grabbed the kid’s shoulders
and pulled her up. Through the fabric of her blazer and her uniform. Poppy
could feel her bony little body trembling.

And she remembered feeling just
like that at times when some guy she’d been with suddenly turned mean and
began beating on her. She remembered that trapped, terrified feeling, with
nobody to turn to for help. Probably the worst feeling in the world… and
probably just what this kid was feeling.

She had a sudden urge to wrap her
arms around Katie, to hug her close and absorb those tremors. No way. Keep her
totally at arm’s length. No telling what a scared kid might try.

But a little reassurance
couldn’t hurt.

“Don’t be scared,
Katie. You’ll be fine. Think of this as a little vacation with some like
really weird relatives.” Yeah, Poppy thought: an
Appleton
vacation. She shuddered. “And after it’s over, you’ll be
going home.”

“I wanna go home now.”

“Not now. But soon,
okay?” An unhappy nod, then, “What’s your name?”
Another question that caught her by surprise. No package she’d baby-sat
before had asked that. But she had an answer.

“Jane,” Poppy said.
“Jane Doe. And I’m here with my husband John Doe.” She and
Paulie always called each other Jane and John when they were baby-sitting a
package. “You can call me Jane, okay?”

A nod. “Okay.”

“Good. Now, let’s get
you to that bathroom. Stand up and I’ll be behind you with my hands on
your shoulders. I’ll steer you right to it. Remember: Go inside, do your
business, and knock when you’re ready to come out.” Poppy guided
the kid to the john and closed her in.

“And remember,” she
said through the door. “Have that blindfold on when I let you out. Got
it?”

On the far side of the door she
heard the kid start to cry again. “I want my daddy!”

“Don’t worry, Katie.
You’ll get your daddy. You just have to be patient.” Shit, this was
a rotten thing to do to a kid.

And how come she never asked for
her mommy?

Snake situated himself in front of
a Dataphone 2000 in the lobby of the Hyatt this time. He had the instructions
for getting the package’s medicine all typed out and ready to upload from
his Thinkpad. But when he logged onto Eric Garter’s IDT account he was
startled to find e-mail waiting. Only one person that could be from.

He didn’t like this. The way
it was supposed to run was Snake telling Vanduyne what the situation was and
Vanduyne acknowledging it; then Snake telling Vanduyne what to do, and Vanduyne
agreeing, and so forth: Snake, Vanduyne… Snake, Vanduyne—none of
this ad lib bullshit with Vanduyne dropping him a line whenever he felt like
it.

Who does this guy think he is? He
speaks when he’s spoken to and that’s that.

Snake glanced around. Checking the
new e-mail was going to increase his time of exposure here, and that meant more
chances of something going wrong. But no one seemed to be paying any attention
to him. Quickly he downloaded the message. He angled his Thinkpad’s
screen away from the lobby and called up the file.

Sure enough, Vanduyne had sent
another message, now forwarded by the remailer. And it was an ultimatum! A
fucking ultimatum! Where did this guy get his balls?

Snake reined in his fury. Hell, the
guy was just doing what anybody would do: making sure Snake really had the
goods he said he was holding.

I’ve got the goods, pal; And
try to imagine how little I care if she likes Lucky Charms or whatever.
I’m in charge. Get used to that. And get used to something else real
quick: There’s no way in hell you’re going to talk to her.

What’s this guy thinking?
I’m going to drag a blindfolded kid out to a safe pay phone for a little
chat with her daddy? Right.

He popped his own message onto the
screen and added a couple of lines to the end; then he uploaded it to e-mail
and sent it off into the Internet.

He disconnected and hurried for the
exit. He was getting a bad feeling about this gig. First the epilepsy foul up,
and now the snatch wasn’t a day old and already this Vanduyne was
becoming a royal pain in the ass.

Any more trouble and Snake would
have to send the doc a persuader.

Finally!

John had been sneaking in and out
of the study all day, avoiding Nana, checking his e-mail, riding a roller
coaster from hell as he downloaded one message after another, only to find each
one was routine HHS business.

Why wasn’t Snake answering?
He had to get Katie her Tegretol—before tonight.

But now his heart began pounding as
he saw anon.nonet.uk in the heading… the anonymous remailer. All the
moisture left his mouth and collected in his palms as he began reading.

Phone
in a prescription for a couple weeks’ supply of your kid’s pills to
the CVS on 17th and K downtown in the District and it will be picked up. This
pickup is a good faith gesture on our part. Don’t try to fuck us up. Any
sign that the store is being watched, there will be no pickup and your kid will
suffer. Anyone follows me or stops me, she dies in minutes. As said before,
we’ve got nothing against you or the kid, but we’re not playing games.
Cooperate and you’ll have her back good as new.

As for
speaking to her, no can do. Too inconvenient. Don’t push us on this, Doc.
We’re not big in the patience department.

Trust
us and this will all work out fine.

Snake

Suddenly weak, John sat and stared
at the screen, reading it over and over. The phrases
your kid will suffer
and
she dies in minutes
kept popping out at him.

He felt his stomach heave. Fearing
he was going to be sick, he lurched out of his chair and rushed across the hall
to the bathroom. He hung over the toilet, gasping, but nothing came up.

Finally the nausea passed. As he
was bending over the sink, splashing water on his face, John heard a high
pitched cry. He straightened and heard it again. A wail this time… from
across the hall.

Oh, no. “Ma!” He rushed
back into his study and found her standing before his computer, her thin hands
locked in a white knuckled grip on the back of his chair as she stared at the
monitor. She swiveled her head toward him, her expression stricken, her eyes
wide, her skin ashen.

“Johnny…” Her
voice cracked and fell away. “Johnny, tell me this is a cruel
joke!”

His first impulse was to lie, but
what good was that? When Katie didn’t come home from school later… He
stepped to her side and put an arm around her, gently guiding her toward the couch.

“Here… sit down.”

“Oh, dear Lord, it’s
true, then! Someone’s kidnapped Katie! Why? Oh, Lord, why?”

“I don’t know,
Ma.” John explained all that had happened, and why he was afraid to call
in the FBI.

His mother seemed to get a grip on
herself as the story unfolded. She’d never been one for hysterics. She
asked all the questions he’d been asking himself over and over: Why
Katie? And what “service” did they want from him?

“But they are arranging to
get Katie her medicine,” she said. “I am thinking this is a good
sign, yes? It means she’s alive and they want to keep her so.”

Or they just want me to think
she’s alive, John thought, but he didn’t say it. They could pick up
the pills and simply dump them in the garbage.

“I want—I
need—more than a sign,” he said. “I’ve got to know,
Ma.”

She clutched his arm.
“Don’t make them angry, John. They may take it out on Katie.”

Yeah, they might—if
she’s still alive. He nodded. “I’ll be careful. I’ll be
polite. I’ll kiss their butts, but I’ve got to know.”

“John…” his
mother said slowly. “You don’t think this could be…
Mamie’s doing?”

He stared at her.
“Mamie?”

“Well, she is crazy, you
know.”

“She’s very
crazy.” John was intimately familiar with his ex-wife’s history of
bizarre behavior, but this was too wild even for her, and far beyond her scope.
And besides, Mamie was confined to
Georgia
,
in deep therapy. “But I guarantee you Mamie’s got nothing to do
with this.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

“First, call in that
prescription.” He called information, got the number of the CVS at K and
17th, and told them to have fifty Tegretol 1oo mg. chewables ready for Katie
Vanduyne ASAP. Since they’d never heard of him, he had to supply his
office address and phone number, plus his DEA number.