Read The Spy Who Came for Christmas Online
Authors: David Morrell
Tags: #Crime, #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Suspense, #Espionage, #Organized Crime, #Russia
"Across from Cole's room?"
"Yes. At the end of a hallway that divides that part of the house." "How many outside doors do you have?"
Kagan noticed that Meredith's voice wavered as the logic behind his questions became impossible to ignore.
"Three. The front door, the side door here in the kitchen, and one through Ted's office. It leads to a back garden."
"What about an outside entrance to the basement?"
"There isn't a basement. Most Santa Fe houses are built on slabs."
Another thing not to worry about,
Kagan thought. "Attic?"
"Not with the flat roof."
"The door in Ted's office, is it wood or sliding glass?"
'Wood."
At least they can't break through easily,
Kagan thought. "Is it locked?"
"Yes. I checked it when I thought we were leaving the house to go to the party. Then I checked it again after Ted . . . left."
"What about the other doors?" Kagan went over and examined the one in the kitchen, confirming that it was secured.
"After Ted lost his temper, believe me, all the doors are locked."
Kagan took another wary look out the kitchen window.
"He wasn't always like this," Meredith said.
"How so?" Kagan encouraged her to keep talking in the hope that it would distract her.
"He knows he has a drinking problem. When we moved here from Los Angeles, he was determined to make a new start. In fact, that's why we came here. Last spring, he visited Santa Fe for a business conference. The night he returned, all
he could talk about were the mountains and the light and how the air's so clean you can see forever. He kept saying the state's called the 'Land of Enchantment.' I understood. We definitely needed some magic."
"So you moved here?" Kagan prompted her.
"Two months later, in June, we were living in this house. On the Fourth of July, I remember, there was a pancake breakfast on the Plaza, thousands of people enjoying themselves. We sat under the trees and watched musicians playing bluegrass songs on the bandstand. People were dancing, having a wonderful time. Ted looked at me with a big smile and said, 'It's Independence Day, I promise.'
"Twice a week, he went to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. We spent a lot of time as a family. We hiked in the ski basin. We drove across the valley to Los Alamos to see where they invented the atomic bomb. We explored the cliff ruins in Bandolier Canyon. Spanish Market, Indian Market, Fiesta. It was the best summer of my life.
"In September, Ted had some business pressures that stopped him from spending time with us. I didn't complain. The bills need to be paid. I did my part and got a job at one of the museums. At Thanksgiving, he brought home a bottle of wine. I must have looked upset because he said, 'Hey, it's not even red wine. It's
white.
It's nothing. I've been working seven days a week. What's a turkey dinner without a little white wine?'"
"And now, a month later . . ." Kagan said, letting his voice trail off.
"New location. Same old problems. I guess there's no such thing as a fresh start." After an awkward pause, Meredith
changed the topic. "The baby's asleep." She set the glass on the kitchen table and carried the child through the dark archway next to the refrigerator-freezer.
Kagan heard her groping around back there and wondered what she was doing. Something scraped on the floor. Meredith's shadow reappeared. He saw her backing into the kitchen, dragging a wicker hamper.
"This was in the laundry room. I put towels inside it," she said. "It's almost as good as a crib." She set the baby in the hamper and covered him with one of the towels.
"In the laundry room, is there space in a corner behind the washer and dryer?" Kagan asked. "With room enough for you to crouch?"
"Yes." Meredith sounded puzzled.
"If something happens, take the baby and hide there. The metal on the appliances might protect you."
"Protect me from ... ?"
Kagan turned toward the archway to the living room.
"Cole, are you listening?"
"Yes."
"Protect me from
bullets?"
Meredith asked.
"It's a bad idea for everyone to stay together," Kagan said. "That makes you all one target. Cole, if something happens, is there a place where you can hide?"
The boy was silent while he thought about it.
"There's a big television cabinet in here. I think I can squeeze into the space behind it." His voice was unsteady.
"If you're forced to do that, lie on the floor. You need to visualize what I want you to do. If you see it in your mind, if
you rehearse it in your imagination and understand what you need to do, you won't be confused when the time comes. If something happens--" "I'm not afraid." "Good."
"I was scared when my dad hit my mom, but
now ..."
"Yes? Now?" "I feel numb."
* * *
FROM HIS VANTAGE
point behind the fir tree, Andrei watched the man plod through the falling snow. His shoulders were hunched. His head was down.
Within moments, the man was close enough for Andrei to conclude that his first impression had been correct--he looked weary, as if the weight of the world were on him. He glanced up only once, just enough to get his bearings and angle left toward the fence and the gate.
"Sir."
Andrei stepped from the shadows and intercepted the man before the two of them could be seen from the house. "I'm a police officer."
"Police?" The man looked startled. He was thin, about six feet tall. His hands were crammed into his coat pockets. The
faint light reflecting off the snow made it difficult for Andrei to gauge the man's age any closer than midthirties. He had a mustache, an oval face, and a haggard expression. His breath smelled of whiskey, but not strongly. Any drinking he'd done had been a couple of hours earlier.
"What are the police doing here?" The man came out of his gloomy mood, straightening with concern.
"Do you live in that residence?" Andrei pointed.
"Yes, but--"
"What's your name, sir?"
"Brody. Ted Brody. What's this all about? What's going on?"
"There's been an incident in the neighborhood."
"Incident?"
"Do you know how many people are in your house, Mr. Brody?"
"My wife and son. Why do you . . . My God, has something happened to them?"
"Mr. Brody, please just answer my questions. How old is your son?"
"Twelve, but--"
"Describe the house for me. Draw a diagram in the snow."
"Diagram? I don't understand."
"The rooms. The windows. The outside doors. That's very important. Show me the location of every outside door."
"Jesus, are you telling me someone broke in?" Brody pushed past, heading for the gate.
Andrei clamped a strong hand on his shoulder and tugged him back down the lane.
"Stop that. ... I need to . . ." Brody struggled. "That
hurts.
Get your hand off me."
"Keep your voice down," Andrei warned. "You don't want to let him know we're out here."
"Him?"
Andrei hauled Brody farther back. "Don't raise your voice. We were chasing a fugitive. He entered your house before we could stop him."
"Then I need to get in there. I need to--"
Andrei stepped in front of him and grabbed both his shoulders. He spoke forcefully but at a low register, his face close to Brody's.
"Pay attention, Mr. Brody If you go inside, you'll only give the fugitive another hostage. Don't put your family at greater risk."
"But--"
Andrei cut him off. "The best thing you can do is help us. Do you have a cell phone? If not, I'll lend you mine."
"Cell phone? Why?"
"There's a chance the fugitive doesn't know we followed him. I want you to call your wife and try to learn what's happening in there, what room she and your son are in, any details that might help the SWAT team when it gets here." Even though Andrei knew the phone line wasn't working, he needed to find out if there was a cell phone in the house.
"SWAT team?" Brody moaned. "Why did I let this happen? What have I done? I should never have left my family."
"Calm down, Mr. Brody. I'll rehearse the phone conversation with you. We need to assume that the fugitive will be listening when your wife talks on the phone. I'll teach you to ask questions in a way that won't alarm him. We've got to know where he is in the--"
"Wait a second." Brody stared past Andrei.
"What's wrong?"
"Those men over there. Who are they?" Brody pointed toward the fir tree.