The Daughter-in-Law (36 page)

The important thing was not to place the blame, but rather to get Pam back. And he had the money to buy her back, if only the damn telephone would ring.

SIXTY-SIX

T
HE KIDNAPPING
had been discovered only a few hours earlier. A messenger who didn’t ask for a signed receipt had delivered the videotape to Jack’s office. “Could you make sure that Mr. Donner gets this,” he had said to the receptionist. “And tell him to look at it right away. It’s important.” The woman had watched the messenger leave and then put the tape into her in-basket. It was over an hour before a mail clerk picked it up and delivered it to Jack’s executive secretary. He was on a conference call and had left word not to be disturbed. Later in the afternoon she brought the tape into his office. “You look at it,” Jack growled without even reading the label. “If it’s important, let me know.” The secretary was back in his office only a minute later, holding the cassette in trembling hands. “Mr. Donner. You have to look at this.”

He gestured impatiently to the corner of his desk.

“No,” the secretary said. “Now! It’s about your daughter.”

“Put it on,” he snapped. He followed her to the credenza and watched as electronic static illuminated the television screen. Pam suddenly appeared, looking straight out at her father.

She was sitting in a straight wooden chair in front of a blank beige wall. She wore jeans and a simple white blouse. Her feet were flat on the floor, one in a slip-on casual shoe, the other bare. Her hair was a bit disarranged and she had lost one of the buttons from her blouse. But these were just details, to be recognized as Jack ran the tape over and over again. What he noticed instantly was the look of terror in his daughter’s eyes.

“Daddy...”

Her voice was hardly a whisper.

“Louder!” a man’s voice snapped from off camera.

“Daddy!” This time she was shouting. Her eyes glanced to the right, and squinted a bit as she tried to read from a cue card. “I’m being held by people who mean me no harm. They haven’t hurt me,
I’m comfortable and I have food. All they want is to talk to Nicole. As soon as Nicole comes here, they’ll let me go. They say she owes them something and they have no other way of getting her attention.

“Don’t go to the police. That will only cause problems and put me in danger.” Pam stopped to lick her lips. Her eyes stayed on the cue card. “Don’t tell your security people because they might do something foolish. I’ll be fine as long as Nicole comes to meet them.

“Tell her she has to come alone. They’ll know if anyone is with her. She should call her ‘old friend.’ She’ll know who to call. Then she’ll get instructions on how to get to me.

“Tell her I really need her. Because if she doesn’t come, these people will just put me in a closet and leave. You might never find me.”

Pam turned to the other side of the screen and looked anxiously. “Was that okay ...” The camera cut off her words and the screen returned to static.

“Who brought this?” Jack demanded.

“It was on my desk,” the woman answered.

“Well find out how in Christ it got there. Then call my wife and tell her I need her here in the city right away. Tell her don’t get dressed, just come in whatever she’s wearing. And get Greg Lambert on the line ...”

She rushed off to do his bidding. Jack rewound the tape and started it again. He stood transfixed, watching his daughter deliver her message. She was frightened out of her wits. He could see it in her expression and hear it in the mechanical cadence of her speech. But she hadn’t been hurt. There were no bruises on her face. Her hands weren’t tied. All he noticed were the missing shoe and the button pulled off her blouse. Probably she had struggled when she realized what was happening to her. The button could have popped when she tried to pull out of someone’s grasp. The shoe could have been lost when she was pushed into a car. Probably she was under guard in a house somewhere. All they had done was sit her in a chair in front of a blank wall and aim a camcorder at her. Her captor was probably pointing at words on a writing pad. When she was finished they had probably locked her in a bedroom.

Still, she was in danger. There was no telling what a bunch of thugs might do if they thought she was a threat to them. “Don’t do
anything silly,” Jack said to the figure on the television screen. “Just sit tight and do what they say. I’ll come and get you ...”

His desk phone buzzed. “Greg Lambert, Mr. Donner.”

“Greg, that son of bitch from Nicole’s past has kidnapped my daughter.”

“Pam?”

“I just got a video. She seems to be okay, but the bastard is holding her and wants to exchange her for Nicole.”

“You think it’s Jimmy Farr?”

“I don’t know his fucking name! The gangster that Alexandra keeps trying to connect with Nicole.”

“Yeah, that’s Farr. He wants to trade Pam for Nicole?”

Jack was sputtering. “That’s what she says on the video. Nicole owes the prick something. So we’ve got to get him fast and find out how much he wants. Can you do that?”

“I’m on it,” Greg said. Then he added, “I’ll start with Nicole’s lawyer. He’s still got her money so he damn well ought to know where he can find her.”

Alexandra was on the line as soon as he hung up. He told her about the tape, assuring her that Pam looked fine and had not been hurt. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to get her back right away,” he promised his wife. “Then I’m going to find this fucker and break him and everything he owns.”

“He wants Nicole,” Alexandra said, reminding him of the information he had just given her. “Can we find Nicole?”

It was a loaded question. First, did Jack know where Nicole was? He had told his wife that she was gone, but had he really let her go without knowing where he could reach her? And second, if he did know where she was, would he put her in danger to save his daughter?

“Nicole is gone,” he repeated. “If she owes this guy something I’ll cover her debt. Then, when Pam is safe, I’ll destroy the bastard.”

SIXTY-SEVEN

N
ICOLE TOSSED
in her bed. It was 4:00 A.M. and she still hadn’t been able to get to sleep. It wasn’t the bed, or the rattling air conditioner. She was still arguing with herself, and she was losing the argument.

She had spent the entire drive up the thruway from New York thinking about Pam. She would be fine, she kept insisting. Once Jimmy knew that Nicole had escaped, he would have Pam released and would distance himself from the entire affair. Jimmy was no fool. He was probably not even close to where Pam was being held, and probably had at least two intermediaries between himself and the victim. Like Alexandra Donner, he knew all about deniability.

But she wasn’t convinced by her own reasoning. Any number of things could go wrong. The ones actually holding Pam could be unreliable. People who owed Jimmy a favor tended to be lowlifes. Those who took his money were often feeding a drug habit. It wasn’t as if she were being cared for in a convent.

Or the Donners might leap into action. Jack could turn his security army loose with orders to find Pam and get her back. They might shoot up a building and kick down the doors. It was easy to imagine some frightened dolt using Pam as a shield. And Alexandra could decide to face down the scum who had dared lay hands on her daughter. Nicole could picture her threatening to track down the kidnappers and see them in jail, just the kind of threat that would encourage them to bury the evidence.

She knew that she and Jimmy could solve the whole problem in a minute. “Jimmy, they’ve kicked me out. I’m not going to get anywhere near Sound Holdings. You can bellow and whine, or pull my hair if it makes you feel better. But it’s over. I’ve already been given my walking papers.”

Somewhere in his fit of rage, Jimmy would realize that Nicole certainly wasn’t leaving the Donner household empty-handed. “What did you get? And don’t lie to me because I can find out—”

“Five million dollars,” she could lie. “Three after the lawyers took their cut, and we sent a share to Uncle Sam.”

Jimmy would demand two million. There was no way he would ever take the short end of a deal. She would offer one, arguing that she had taken all the risks. They would settle on an even split.

She could have the money wired to one of his banks in the Caribbean, or even to the savings and loan that he kept in Staten Island. Then Pam would be set free and she would be on her way.

But, of course, it really wasn’t that simple. Suppose he already knew exactly how much money she had? He would try to clean her out. Or suppose he felt so betrayed that he wanted revenge more than he wanted money. She would take one hell of a beating. She might even end up in a landfill.

So what should she do? Pam wasn’t her problem, but then in another sense she was. She had no intention of hurting the girl, but wouldn’t she be just as guilty if she stood by idly while someone else hurt her? It was risky to go back and confront Jimmy Farr, but would she ever be able to forgive herself if something happened to Pam?

Alexandra was another problem. She had spent weeks trying to run Nicole into the ground because she had stolen her son. If she were responsible for something happening to Pam, Alexandra would chase her to the ends of the earth. What kind of life could she have with Alexandra’s detectives pounding at her heels?

Ben had told her that she was needed. The abductors had demanded her in exchange so she was the one most likely to be able to win Pam’s quick release. And Ben knew Nicole’s situation and why she had legitimate reasons to fear for her life. He would be up-to-date on where things stood. Maybe Pam had already been released and she was no longer important. Ben was someone she could talk to. She took her cell phone to the window and dialed his number.

There were several rings, and then the recording. “Leave your name and number ...” She hung up and then thought of Jack. She had promised never to contact him. The ink was hardly dry on the agreement. And yet who could have foreseen that she might suddenly become Pam’s best hope of staying alive? Nicole hesitated for an instant, and then dialed Jack’s office number.

He answered before she ever heard the telephone ringing. “Hello!” He was alone in his New York office in the middle of the night, answering his own phone. The situation had to be dire.

“Hello,” he repeated. “This is Jack Donner speaking on a secure line. Do you have a message for me?”

“Jack, it’s Nicole ...”

“Nicole? Thank God. Where are you?”

“On the road,” she answered. “Have you heard from Pam?”

“No, nothing! That’s what I’m waiting for.”

“Can I help, Jack? What should I do?”

He didn’t answer. She could hear his breathing so she knew he was still on the line. “Jack?”

“Do you know these people, Nicole?”

“I think so.”

“Would you be safe with them?”

“I’m not sure. I should be, but—”

He interrupted her. “I’ll go with you, Nicole. I’m not trading you. I’m not handing you over. If it’s money they want, I have enough for both you and Pam.”

“It will take me two hours to get there. Maybe three in traffic. Where should I meet you?”

“Do you have the key I sent you?” She said she did. “Then go to the town house and call me. I’ll be waiting right here until I get your call.”

She stayed by the window. Had she done the right thing? Or was she just playing into Jimmy Farr’s hand? Nicole could see the turnpike. She could be in Boston at the airport just as fast as she could be back in New York. She was so close. Did it make any sense for her to turn back? Did she have a choice?

SIXTY-EIGHT

“I
NEED
to talk with Jimmy Farr,” Greg Lambert said to the tuxedo-clad bouncer who was standing in his way.

“Who’s Jimmy Farr?” The man answered with a smirk. He flexed his shoulders and stretched his neck as a reminder of his size and girth.

“Your boss. The guy who owns this place,” Lambert said.

“Club Platinum is owned by a corporation.” His tone was polite and informative, but indicated that he had no idea what a corporation was.

“Jimmy came in here about an hour ago, and he hasn’t left,” Greg said. “So will you please tell ‘the corporation’ that we’re ready to make the exchange.”

“Are you with the police?”

“No, I’m Jimmy’s link to several million dollars. And I’m getting tired of being jerked around in the doorway. Could you just ask him if he’s ready to make the exchange? He’ll know what it’s about.”

The bouncer thought for a moment and then nodded. “Hey Eddie,” he said to the small button on his lapel. Then he pressed a finger to the receiver in his ear while he waited for a response. “Gentleman here wants to see Mr. Farr about some kind of exchange. You know anything about it?” He pressed harder against the receiver. “Yeah, okay.” He smiled at Greg. “They’ll see if they can find Mr. Farr. You can wait at the bar if you like.”

Club Platinum was an upscale topless dance hall that catered to the credit-card crowd. Admission was steep, the drinks were overpriced, and the average tip to a dancer was fifty dollars. The dancers were stunning, all aspiring models and showgirls who were making more money than successful models and showgirls. Even now, after midnight, the clientele included law partners, bond traders, fund managers, and successful stockbrokers, all with their best clients
and customers. A fire in the building would cause a global financial panic by morning.

The bartender, nearly as big as the front-door bouncer, was in a dress shirt and black tie. His grooming was impeccable. He served a tall drink on a cloth napkin, and set a silver bowl of cashews beside it. The place had illusions of being an Edwardian gentlemen’s club.

Greg waited, unable to ignore the near naked women who danced on strategically placed stages. Lighting effects made their movements even more provocative. At the service bar, there were three bartenders working furiously with three credit-card terminals. Lights were blinking as drinks were registered and credit-card accounts were sacked. Jimmy has himself a gold mine, Lambert thought.

A man eased up next to him, again in a tuxedo. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Farr has gone for the day. His assistant suggests you try tomorrow early in the evening.”