Taken (14 page)

“Temporary?”

“Yes. For today only, because I’ll never see you again after this. It can be another made-up name, you know, like your butler name.”

“I don’t think that is necessary.”

“Or it could be the name of some hero of yours. Or even of a chess piece that you like. Just something. Anything.”

He laughed that unhappy laugh again. “All right: Mantlè. You can call me that.”

“Mantlè?”

“Right. It’s Creole.”

I knew damn well it was Creole, and I knew what it meant. Albert had given himself a hortatory name: Liar.

Albert opened the ambulance door and slipped out. A minute later, I heard the driver’s-side door of the cab open; then the passenger side. Through the metal, I could hear Albert’s low voice, mixed with Dr. Reyes’s loud grunts. Then I heard the buttons of a securephone being pushed. They were making a call together. It only took me a few seconds to guess who must be on the other end.

My father.

Dr. Reyes growled at him to “follow the orders exactly.”

I couldn’t understand my father’s reply, but I could hear his voice. Faintly. And I could hear the fear in it.

I heard Albert tell him, “Check the weather alerts. Go over the flight plan in your head. No. No! You are not to file a flight plan. The instructions say that clearly. Officially, this flight is not happening. Understand?”

My father’s voice quavered as he answered, “Yes.”

“The drop spot is at the bass lake, on the south side. I’ll have the GTD with me. Watch for its signal so you’ll know where to drop the currency. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Be there at midnight. At twenty-four hundred hours. Not five minutes after; not one minute after. If you are late, the results could be tragic. Understand?”

And, one final time, I heard the frightened voice: “Yes.”

I knew that voice—distracted, half listening, like he always was with me. I prayed that he would concentrate on the instructions and follow them exactly.

Then I lay back again, to wait.

I found myself thinking about Patience:
She’s the most impatient person I know. She could never wait like this. She’d go crazy.

I thought about the third syllogism in our game. It’s called the Hypothetical Syllogism, and it’s the most complicated one. It requires two
If…then
statements, like this: “
If
my father does not concentrate,
then
he will not deliver the currency.
If
he does not deliver the currency,
then
I will get killed.”

To complete the syllogism, you combine the first and second, like this: “
If
my father does not concentrate,
then
I will get killed.”

At exactly 23:00, Albert opened the ambulance door. He stuck his thumb up. “All right. It’s all set.” He climbed back inside, closed the door, and sat on the bench. “Your father has his instructions; your ex-stepmother has hers.”

“Mickie? What is she doing?”

“Ms. Meyers is at your house in The Highlands. She will watch the transaction on a securescreen. We will watch her watching the transaction on our own vidscreen.”

“Will Victoria be there?”

Albert hesitated for just a second. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Will she be able to see me?”

“They will be able to see you.”

“So am I supposed to beg or plead or something?”

“No. That won’t be necessary. Everyone will be exactly where he or she is supposed to be; everyone will do exactly what he or she is supposed to do; and everything will go fine.”

He looked away. I wondered if he really believed all of that. He looked back and spoke to me kindly: “Listen. You’re a good girl, a good person. You always have been. This is just business. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“And we are going to take care of business in about one hour.”

“Okay. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

Albert nodded. He placed his pointer finger on the vidscreen clock: “Here’s the timeline: Your father has filed a flight plan from Miami to The Highlands for tonight. He will arrive at your house in The Highlands at twenty-three forty. He will walk around to the front door and ring the bell. He will pick up a trash bag filled with currency from Ms. Meyers. Then he will take off in his helicopter again and use his GTD tracker to locate me. I will be waiting at the assigned spot, holding the GTD itself.”

Anticipating my next question, he told me, “You will be waiting at a second spot with Dessi and Dr. Reyes. Your father will lower the trash bag on the wire rope of the helicopter. I will inspect its contents; then he will take off.

“Ten minutes later, you will be released unharmed with your vidscreen made fully operational. You may then use it to contact your father or your house or any police authority. They will come and get you, and your ordeal will be over.”

“Good. Let’s hope it all happens like that.”

He asked me pointedly, “Why wouldn’t it?”

I didn’t like his tone, so I sat quietly for a minute.

He broke the silence by saying, “By the way, there is some news from The Highlands, news that you should hear. Your classmate Whitney Rice was taken from a vacation resort in the Berry Islands. The family paid the ransom and she was returned, in one piece, within twenty-four hours. That’s what’s going to happen with you, too. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“This is the endgame now.” Albert got up and opened the back door. He looked left and right. He made a low whistling sound.

I heard footsteps, and then Dessi appeared in the frame of the doorway. “What is it, Monnonk?”

“I need you to sit with her.”

“Sure.” Dessi climbed in and resumed his position on the bench. He didn’t look my way.

I finally said to him, “Monnonk? That’s Albert’s real name?”

Dessi continued to avoid my eyes. “No. It’s Creole. It’s a shortened form of the French
mon oncle,
‘my uncle.’”

“Okay. What does he call you?”

“Neve. It means ‘nephew.’”

I thought about that, and I had another revelation.

How could I have been so stupid?

I asked him, “So if he’s Monnonk…how many kidnappers are there, exactly?”

“Three,” he admitted.

I was flabbergasted. “What? Three? How can that be? Who…who is sitting in the front cab?”

“Nobody.”

“Who is sitting at the other end of the two-way?”

“Nobody.”

My mind went spinning back through my ordeal, from the beginning. “You! You were Dr. Lanyon. I figured that out.”

“That’s right.” Dessi re-created his bit of dialogue for me in pseudo-Indian: “This will keep her hydrated on the ride.”

“But the—”

“I can’t answer any more questions. I shouldn’t have answered those.”

“Why? Because everything’s on a need-to-know basis?”

“Exactly.”

“Why?”

“So that the plan can proceed smoothly; so that no one gets hurt by doing anything foolish. We’re all in this together now.”

“No. I’m not in this with you! You forced this on me, and my family, and everyone who knows me.”

Dessi stood up. “This is not a good use of our time. You can’t afford to get upset right now. I think we need to just sit quietly. Or we could play chess. I have a set nearby.”

“No.”

“No, you don’t play?”

“I’m not playing a game with you! Are you out of your mind?”

Dessi held up his white palms. “Fine. We can watch some vidscreen.” Without waiting for my consent, he leaned over and pulled up the Justice Channel.

I just sat there, reeling from the latest revelation and from the shock of my own stupidity.

I stared at the screen absently. The Justice Channel was broadcasting something called
Speakers’ Corner.
We watched a man sitting on a wooden chair against a gray stone wall. He started reading from a legal pad in a low, quavering voice. He apologized to his family and to the families of his victims.

After a few minutes of that, Albert opened the door. He stood there for about fifteen seconds. Then he asked, “What are you watching?”

Dessi answered,
“Speakers’ Corner.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a reality show, for prisoners.”

“Prisoners?”

“Yeah. They get to make a final speech before they get the needle.”

Albert looked appalled. “Do you really think that’s appropriate to watch now?”

Dessi answered seriously, “Yes, I do. I think we should be totally aware of what we’re doing, and its consequences.”

Albert stared at the screen again. “So who is that guy?”

“A murderer, probably.”

“They’re going to show him getting executed?”

“No. They’re just showing his last speech before he goes into the death chamber. It’s like Speakers’ Corner in London. That was the last stop before the gallows, where the condemned had a chance to address the crowd.”

Albert watched for a few more seconds. Then he decided, “No, this is a bad idea. Shut it off now.”

Dessi hesitated, just for a second. Then he shut it off. But he protested: “Come on, Monnonk. We can’t just sit in here and stare at each other.”

“Why don’t you get the chessboard? Charity knows how to play.”

“She’s not interested.”

“Okay, then. You should rest. The both of you. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Albert closed the door. Dessi stood still for a moment with his back to me and his arms extended upward, pushing into the roof of the ambulance, making it bow out. Then he turned around. He was angry at Albert, but he took it out on me. He snarled, “Why do
you
need to rest? All you’ve been doing is lying there.”

I had taken enough crap off him. I snarled back, “Really? All you’ve been doing is sitting there.”

Dessi stood at the foot of the stretcher. His lip curled high. “Okay. I have a few things to say to you, little rich girl, if you’re up to it.”

“If I’m up to it? Things like what? Like you’re sorry for being a kidnapper? And a thief? And a liar?”

“That’s what you think, isn’t it? That
we
are the criminals?”

“Yeah. That’s what you are. What do you think?”

“That
you
are the criminals! That you have broken your word; broken the contract.”

“What contract is that? The one where, if you don’t get everything you want, you can start killing people?”

“No, like my mother will have a minimum of health care; like I will have a minimum of opportunity.”

“You have as much opportunity as I do!”

“You are rich and white. You have unlimited opportunities. I am poor and black. I have to chase after one of the opportunities set aside for the poor and black.”

“Oh? Okay. And how do you keep your end of the contract? By getting an education and learning a skill and getting a job? Like my father did? Like my mother did? Or by robbing the people who worked hard to get those things? You’re a…common thief. A
vòlè.
A lazy common thief!”

Our exchange ended right there because the ambulance door was thrown wide open. Albert climbed in and snapped at Dessi, “I can hear you two yelling from the outside! I thought I told you to rest.”

Dessi didn’t answer.

Albert looked from him to me. “It’s time to stop the nonsense. It’s time to get down to business. Let’s get this done.” He pointed at my vidscreen. “You’ll need to have that with you. Everybody will be watching a screen; everybody will be on a camera. There will be no surprises anywhere.”

Dessi moved up to the front cab. I supposed he was going to drive, like he had at the beginning of my kidnapping. Albert’s eyes followed him. Then we both heard the door to the passenger side slam. Dr. Reyes must have climbed in.

Albert sat on the fold-out bench. He turned the vidscreen toward himself and searched for something, muttering, “I’ve been checking the weather alerts. There are thunderstorms around, with high winds, so we need to get in position fast.”

Suddenly, with a lurch, the ambulance started moving. We drove for about five minutes, with Albert still staring at the screen. He finally said, “You’ll be able to watch what is happening at The Highlands.” He turned the screen toward me. “Look.”

I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. There was Victoria! She was sitting in our living room, right where she had sat on Christmas morning. She looked very pale except for the dark circles under her eyes. Mickie was sitting next to her, looking tense and angry.

I watched as the two of them stared into their own vidscreen. My red light was not yet on. Were they just staring at nothing, waiting? Neither moved for several minutes. Then, at exactly 23:40, the doorbell at our house rang.

Albert told me quietly, “This is all part of the instructions. So far, so good.”

Victoria stood up. She turned the vidscreen so that its camera could follow her actions. She crossed the marble foyer and opened the tall oak door, revealing a short figure.

It was my father.

He looked pale, terrified. He stood in the doorway, weaving slightly, like he might be drunk. His clothes looked disheveled; sweat was pouring off his face.

Victoria took two steps left, toward the garage, and pulled a black trash bag into camera view. She tipped it so that its contents became visible. I saw a great pile of currency notes—dollars, yuan, rupees, euros—probably the entire contents of our vault.

Victoria then sealed the top of the bag with a steel clamp that I recognized. It was from my father’s drone helicopter. It was used to raise and lower things on the wire pulley, the one that could rescue drowning kittens.

My father took one step inside, lifted the bag up, and started back out the door.

Victoria retrieved the vidscreen from the living room and hurried to follow him down the flagstone path. She caught up to him while he was fumbling with the gate latch.

Once through the gate, he turned left, walked the length of the front yard, and then turned left again, following our wrought-iron fence to the helipad where his Robinson Beta Five sat. The camera watched his every step as he lurched off into the night with the bag slung over his shoulder, like a Santa Claus without a suit.

Victoria zoomed in closer, and I watched my father reach the Robinson Beta Five, distinctive with its U of Miami logos. He loaded the bag into the back and struggled to attach it to the wire rope. Then he climbed into the pilot’s seat, started the motor, and rose jerkily into the air.