She heard a pounding above her. Her heart raced. More pounding, and then a blinding light was in her eyes. A wave of fresh air hit her face, making her painfully aware of how stifling hot her hell really was. Her blurry vision focused, and then her eyes widened with fear. The image had returned - the man in the cap and wraparound sunglasses who'd attacked her in the car.
Quiet, angel, Esteban said softly. He was seated on the floor and speaking down into the hole. No one is going to hurt you.
She'd never been so frightened in her life. Her teeth clenched the gag in her mouth. Her chest heaved with quick, panicky breaths. Please, she cried out with her eyes, don't hurt me!
If you'll promise not to scream, he said, I'll take off your gag. If you'll promise not to run, I'll take you out of your hole. Do you promise?
She nodded eagerly.
Esteban's mouth curled into a sinister smirk. I don't believe you.
Cindy whimpered pathetically.
Don't blame me, he said. Your boyfriend is to blame. Swyteck forced me to do this. I didn't want it to be this way. So many times I could have hurt you, had I wanted to. But I never did. And I won't hurt you so long as Jack Swyteck does what I tell him to do. You do believe me, don't you?
Cindy's eyes were still wide with horror. But she nodded.
Good, he replied. Now, I can't let you out of your little hiding place. But I'll make a deal with you. He displayed a syringe. This is secobarbital sodium. It's what made you sleep so deeply. I must have gotten the dosage right. But now I've got a problem. You see, I don't know how much of it is still in your system. Which means that I don't know how much to give you. If I give you too much, you're not gonna wake up. So promise me you'll lie real quiet, and we can skip the injection. Deal?
Cindy nodded once.
Smart girl. He stood up and put one of the loose floorboards back in place. At the sound of Cindy's muffled cry, he stopped and wagged his finger at her. Not another peep, he reminded her, like a loving parent telling a four-year-old she can't sleep with Mommy and Daddy tonight.
Cindy swallowed hard. Somehow she managed to stop crying.
Good girl. Now, don't you worry, I've already found better accommodations for us. You'll be out of there before long.
She quivered as she lay in the hole, hoping for a miracle as he reached for the other floorboard. Her world went dark as he laid it in place.
Night, angel, she heard him say through the wooden barrier.
Esteban got up off his knees and pulled off his cap and sunglasses. The humidity in the boarded-up house was nearly as sweltering above the floor as it was below. He was in a living room of bare wooden floors and water-stained walls. A few trespassing transients had left behind their aluminum cans, cardboard blankets, and cigarette butts. Esteban had brought only what he absolutely needed: a couple of lounge chairs, a fully stocked ice chest, his ham radio, and three battery-operated fans that pushed stale air around the room. He didn't dare open the boarded-up windows, for fear of being detected. But the chances of that were slim. The old house was so overgrown with tropical foliage that he'd practically needed a machete to reach the front door. And so far as he could tell from the police band on his radio, no one was searching for him.
What's this angel crap? Rebecca groused from across the room, startling him. She'd been standing in the doorway, listening.
He gave her a quick once-over. She was wearing very short blue-jean cutoffs, a loose tank top, no shoes, no bra, and no makeup. She had the deep suntan of a woman who worked nights, yet her skin didn't look all that healthy.
Something a whore like you wouldn't know anything about, he snarled.
Right, she said indignantly, then walked across the room to the ice chest and grabbed a Coke. If she's such an angel, then why you got her under the floorboards? Huh?
His expression went cold. She's alive, isn't she? And you know why she's alive?
Because she's no good to you dead.
No, he spat, because I've been watching her for months. Because I know she's not a slut like her girlfriend - or like you and all the other cock-suckers who dance on tables.
Rebecca leaned against the wall, shifting her weight nervously. She was afraid but tried not to show it. Listen, I don't know what your problem is. If anyone should be complaining, it's me. I said I'd make the phone call, and I did. I called the bitch. You paid me the six thousand dollars, and that's fine. But you didn't tell me I was going to have to come all the way to Key West with you to collect the rest of my stinking twenty-five grand. You didn't tell me we were going to have Sleeping Beauty in the back of the van. And you sure as hell didn't tell me we'd have to hole up in this dump, or in this other place you're bringing us to. So maybe I deserve a little more. Or maybe I walk out right now.
He glared at her. You'd do anything for money. Wouldn't you, Rebecca.
Oh, she said, and you're not doing this for the money.
I'm doing this for Raul! Because Raul was fucking innocent!
Beneath the floorboards, Cindy shuddered with fear. She could overhear everything, and the tone in the man's voice made her wish she was still unconscious.
Inwardly, Rebecca also trembled at his tone. Just cool your jets, she said, feeling a lump rising in her throat. I just want my fair share, all right?
Esteban stepped toward her slowly, looking as though he were deliberating. He reached into his pocket. You'll get your share, he assured. But you gotta earn it. Here, he said as he crumpled up a twenty and threw it at her. He stopped a foot away from her and stared into her eyes. Here's twenty bucks, bitch. Do it.
Rebecca stepped back in fear, her back to the wall. Do yourself.
He slapped her across the face. Do me.
She tried to slide away, but he grabbed her by the wrist and squeezed hard. Do it.
She was about to scream, but was silenced by the look in his eyes. She had been in bad situations before. Men who pulled knives on her. Men who urinated on her. She was street-wise enough to sense whether a scream would make him stop or make him snap. This time, she didn't dare scream.
Rebecca lowered herself onto her knees, her hands shaking as she unzipped his pants. His head rolled back and he moaned with pleasure. She worked fast and furiously to finish the job as quickly as she could. Quickies were her trade, with hundreds or maybe even thousands of them under her belt. But she didn't swallow for any of her customers, for fear of the deadly virus. She heard Esteban groan, signaling that he was near. She prepared to pull away, but this time the routine was different. She felt his hand clasp the back of her neck, pressing her head down further, forcing her to take in much more than she could. His groaning grew louder. She gagged. He was in so deep she was unable to breathe. She tried to back off, but he forced even harder. She needed out. So she bit him.
Esteban smacked her across the head, knocking her to the floor. Watch the fucking teeth!
Rebecca gasped for air, looking up in fear. I couldn't breathe!
He grabbed her by the hair, jerking her head back. That's the least of your problems, he said, his eyes two vacuous pools.
Beneath the floor, Cindy began to shake uncontrollably. She closed her eyes tightly to shut off the tears, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shut her ears.
I got plans for you, Rebecca, Cindy heard him say - and the laugh that followed chilled her to the bone.
Chapter
50
Kimmell, Jack, and Harry spent the rest of that Saturday going over everything - main plans, backup plans, contingency backup plans. Each plan revolved around the same basic triangle. Jack and his father would be out in the field, following the kidnapper's instructions. Kimmell would remain in the hotel suite, a kind of central command station operator who could be reached by phone or beeper in case of emergency.
By 10:00 P. M. they'd about reached the point of information overload. They ordered room service and ate dinner in total silence, save for an occasional happy scream or blast of fireworks from the burgeoning Halloween crowd on nearby Duval Street. The increasing level of noise was a steady reminder that the midnight phone call was just two hours away.
When he finished eating, Kimmell tossed his napkin to his plate and rose from the table. On average, he smoked two, maybe three cigarettes an entire year. Already tonight he'd exceeded his annual quota. He grabbed the ashtray and retreated to the adjoining room to take another look at the photographs and notes sent by the kidnapper, as if by absorbing all available information he could get into his mind.
Jack and Harry sat across from each other at the dining table. The governor watched as Jack picked at his food.
I'm sorry, Jack, he said sincerely.
Jack wasn't sure what he meant. We both are. I just pray we get Cindy back. Then there'll be nothing for anyone to be sorry about.
I pray we get her back, too. No question - that's the most important thing. But there's something else I'm sorry about, he said with a pained expression. It has to do with pushing a kid too hard when he was already doing his best - and then pushing him away when his best wasn't good enough. I mean, hell, Jack, sometimes I look back on it and think that if you'd been Michelangelo, I probably would have walked into the Sistine Chapel and said something like, Okay, son, now what about the walls?' He smiled briefly, then turned serious again. I guess when your mother died I just wanted you to be perfect. That's no excuse, though. I'm truly sorry for the pain I've caused you. I've been sorry for a long time. And it's time I told you.
Jack struggled for the right words. You know - his voice quivered with emotion - in the last two days, the only thing I've been able to think about besides the kidnapping is how to thank you for what you did at the trial.
You can thank me by accepting my apology, Harry said with a warm smile.
Jack's heart swelled. Of course he'd accept it; he felt like he should be the one to apologize. So he expressed it another way. You're gonna love Cindy when you get to know her.
The governor's eyes were suddenly moist. I know I will.
Hey, said Kimmell as he entered the room, time to get dressed.
Jack and his father looked at each other with confidence. There was strength in unity. Let's do it, said Jack. The governor gave a quick nod of agreement, and they marched off to the adjoining room, where Kimmell helped them get ready. Both wore dark clothing, in case they had to hide. Sneakers, in case they had to run. And both wore the Kevlar vests Kimmell had brought them, in case they couldn't hide or run fast enough.
What's that? Jack asked as Kimmell wired a battery to his vest.
It's a tracking device, he answered. The transmitter sends out a one-watt signal. It's on intermittent-duty cycle, so it'll be easy for me to recognize your signal - and the battery will last longer, too, just in case this takes longer than we think. Any time I need a location on you, I can do it in an instant from my audio-visual indicator here in the room.
Kimmell went ahead and rigged the antenna and was tucking the pistol into Jack's holster when the portable phone rang.
It was exactly midnight.
Jack took a deep breath, then reached for the phone. Kimmell stopped him.
Be cooperative, Kimmell reminded him, but insist on hearing Cindy's voice.
He nodded, then switched on the receiver. Hello, he answered.
Ready to trick or treat, Swyteck?
Be cooperative, Jack reminded himself. We've got the money. Tell us how you want to do the exchange.
Ah, the exchange, Esteban said wistfully. You know, no kidnapper in the history of the world has ever really figured out the problem of the exchange. It's that one moment where so many things can go wrong. And if just one little thing goes wrong, then everything goes wrong. Do you understand me, Swyteck?
Yes.
Good. Here's the plan. I'm splitting you up. Your father will deliver the money to me in a public place. You'll pick up the girl in a private place. Brilliant, isn't it?
What do you want us to do?
Tell your father to take the money to Warehouse E off Mallory Square and wait outside by the pay phone. When I'm ready for the money, I'll come by in costume. Believe me, he'll recognize me.
What about Cindy? How do I get her?
When we hang up, take the portable phone with you and start walking south on Simonton Street away from your hotel. Just keep walking until I call you. I'll direct you right to her. And so long as your father hands over the money, I'll direct you to her in time.
What do you mean in time? Jack asked.
What do you think I mean?
I need to speak to Cindy, he said firmly. I need to know that she's all right.
The line went silent. Ten long seconds passed. Then twenty. Jack thought maybe he had hung up. But he hadn't.
Ja - ack, Cindy's voice cracked.
Cindy!
Please, Jack. Just do what he says.
That's all, said Esteban. If you want to hear more, you gotta play by my rules. No games, no cops, nobody gets hurt. Start walking, Swyteck. The line went dead.