Vanished (15 page)

No reason to tell him otherwise. "You had something to tell
me, Johnny?"

"Some kids came into the store looking for a place to chill.
So I gave 'em cupcakes. Day like today, everyone's family, right?
They were talking about this kid they saw, screaming at people
to get out of the Circle right before the bomb went off. The kid
bolted when he saw you coming."

"Did you get a description?"

Johnny took a scrap of paper from his apron pocket. "Glasses,
longish brown hair, skinny. Wore a Celtics shirt. Kids remembered that because, as they put it, only geekoids wear Celtics
shirts in the summer."

"Did they see where he went?"

"They followed him to the Tower. According to them, he's
still there. Out on the balcony with that big kid that goes by
the name of Cannon." Johnny checked his paper again. "The
fourteenth floor. Sixth balcony from the left side on the front
side of the building."

"Wow, talk about good surveillance. Thanks, Johnny."

"They wanted to know if there was a reward."

Logan opened his mouth, unsure how to respond.

Johnny waved him off. "No, no, Sergeant. I already told them
doing the right thing was their reward."

"Good. Thank you."

"I gotta get back to the store. I locked it tight, but times like these... " The baker paused on his way out the door.
"Sergeant?"

"Yeah?"

"We gonna be OK?"

Logan forced a smile. "Of course. We're OK now."

Johnny nodded and left.

Pappas started out the door after him. "I gotta get that kid."

"You can't go into the housing project by yourself," Logan
said. "I'm going with you."

"Good. I'll be right back." Pappas went out to his car, returned
a minute later with two M16 semiautomatics nestled in his good
arm. He held one out to Logan. "Know how to use this?"

"Yeah, but ... we're only going after a kid. Not to war."

"We are at war, Logan. Or haven't you figured that out yet?"

AYA COULDN'T FIND BEN ANYWHERE.

He had not only not gone into work early, he hadn't
shown up at all, according to Mr. Wakefield. Hearing
that, she had run home, terrified that Stone had gone there.
The house was blessedly empty-but that left her son still
missing.

The video arcade was dark and locked. A block over, she
ran into Ben's friend Derek. He hadn't seen Ben but thought
maybe he'd be at the Tower with the Sheffield kid. By the time
Kaya got there, her legs were wobbly from all the runningand from knowing that she was making it very easy for Stone
to catch up with her.

Many of the people milling about on the sidewalks or front
lawn of the Tower were patients of hers and knew Ben. No one
had seen him anywhere.

The whisper of panic in her stomach had become a shriekwhat if the bomb had gotten him or Stone had kidnapped him
or he had simply run away because he didn't want to move to
Framingham?

When she couldn't think of anywhere else to look, Kaya went
back to the University Avenue substation and pounded on the
door. When Jason Logan opened it, she leaped into his arms.

"Thank goodness," they said at the same time.

Behind the desk, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a
military bearing fumbled with the dispatch system. Definitely
not from the Flats, he reeked of authority.

"Jason, my son is missing," she said.

"Refresh my memory," Logan said. "How old is he?"

"Fifteen"

"First things first-there are no teenaged boys among the
injured."

"Thank You, Lord," she said.

Logan rubbed his face, strain showing in red circles under
his eyes. He was a tall man, sturdily built. Someone said he had
been a football star in high school. She pressed her hand to his
forehead. "How about you, Jason? Are you injured?"

"We've got people a lot more seriously hurt." Grimacing,
he leaned against his desk. Beads of sweat popped out across
his forehead.

"St. Vincent's and UMASS Medical are on DM, aren't they?"
Disaster mode status would bring all area medical personnel
in to the hospitals or out to the actual disaster site.

"We've had no response from Barcester Central. No fire
trucks, no ambulances, no DM instructions."

"Then who's treating the injured?"

"Agent Pappas and I did triage the best we could. I rounded
up some volunteers, but we have no one with real expertise."

Upon mention of his name, the man behind the desk looked
her way. "Stefan Pappas," he said. "Secret Service."

"Sorry. This is Kaya de los Santos. She runs the free medical
clinic."

"Used to." Kaya stepped back. "Secret Service? Is the president here?"

Logan took her through the account of Pappas's involvement
and how they had seen the bomb explode. Kaya took it in, her
heart thudding.

"Where are the injured?"

"Mostly scattered up near the blast site. We didn't want
to move them because we've been expecting the ambulances
to come."

She closed her eyes, willing it to be tomorrow when she would
wake up in her new condo and go to her new job, reviewing
medical exams for a big insurance company. Never again would
she have to look a confused teenager in the eye and tell her she
was pregnant or explain to some ex-user who had turned his
life around that his HIV was now full-blown AIDS.

Instinct took over, or maybe something more essential that
no lawsuit or bureaucratic nightmare could ever drive out of
her. "We need to get those people under shelter," she said.
"Someplace centrally located. Can we transport down to Rose
of Sharon?"

"We haven't found any car that will start. Besides, I went
down Spire, trying to drag responders, but..."

"But what?"

"I couldn't seem to get through the mist."

"
She squinted at him. "That's ridiculous."

"No. It's not." He ran his hand over his forehead, bristling
his black hair. "Sorry, Kaya. Didn't mean to snap at you."

I know you're not given to flights of fancy." Kaya clicked her
fingernails together, as if trying to fire up a plan. "OK, we'll get
the injured to Grace Church, then. That's where the neighborhood's civil defense supplies are, right?"

"What little we've got of 'em, yeah. I'm sorry, I should have
thought of that myself."

"You can't think of everything, Jason. I'll make a record of
who we've got and what we've done for them so I can give a
good report when we hand them over to the DM teams."

Logan's relief was obvious. "Thank you. By the way, I've
been telling people there's an informational meeting at the
church at two o'clock."

"I thought you didn't have any communication with-"

"We don't." He kneaded his temples. "I just had to tell people
something. So if they come by, just send them up to the sanctuary. I'm sure Pastor Rich won't mind."

"Sure. But before I get up there..." Kaya launched into the
tale of what had happened at the clinic.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through that." Logan leaned
against his desk, his right leg twitching.

"You're really hurt." Kaya glanced over at Pappas. "And I'm
hoping that's a dislocation and not a fracture."

"Good eye, ma'am," Pappas said. "Logan popped it back in
for me."

Kaya tried not to imagine the tissue damage. "And you,
Jason?"

"Back injury. I took some Tylenol, but look, you are so much
more important than I am right now. I'll get you protection in
case that maniac Stone comes looking for you. Is the baby OK?"

"She's locked up inside Donnelly's. She should be all right for
a couple of hours."

"OK, we'll take care of the situation at the clinic. And get
someone to look for your son. It's all going to work out."

She followed him into the basement. It was musty and dank,
with two cells on one wall and a refrigerator and a bangedup table against the other. A row of lockers abutted a grimy
washroom.

The gun safe was on the far side of the furnace. Logan dialed
in some numbers and opened it. "Here," he said, passing her
a bulletproof vest.

Kaya wrapped her arms about herself. She had witnessed
a murder, endured a bomb, seen her son go missing-but
somehow the vest unsettled her, as if it made everything so
horrifically official.

"This is serious, isn't it?" she whispered.

His gaze cut right through her. "Dead serious."

Kaya hugged him. "I'll pray for you, Jason. For all of us."

S LOGAN CLIMBED THE BASEMENT STAIRS, HE HAD TO
steady himself against the rail.

"You need to sit down," Kaya said.

"Not now." He and Pappas needed to get to the Tower, apprehend the kid who might give them a lead on the bombing.
"Kaya, you can write prescriptions, right?"

"Yeah, I'm certified."

"Chet Babin is balking at handing out pain meds and the
like. I don't blame him. He needs some assurance that our
volunteers aren't just out there partying."

"I'll get you something. I can tell from the way you're moving,
you're in terrific pain."

"I'm not talking about me."

"You'll function better with something more potent than
Tylenol."

"Yeah, maybe later. But for now, if you could get Chet to
dispense what the injured need."

Pappas had donned a bulletproof vest with a big ATF on the
back. Logan had forgotten the Secret Service reported to the
Bureau of Alcohol, Tobbaco, and Firearms.

Kaya helped Pappas get into the sling they found in the firstaid kit, while Logan slipped on his bike-uniform shirt and a
navy polo with BPD on the back. Unlike Pappas, he wore his
vest underneath. No reason to advertise where not to shoot, if
the kid in the Celtics shirt had a gun.

He gave Kaya the key to Grace Community Church. She
fingered it nervously.

"We'll get down to the clinic as soon as we can," Logan said.
"And we'll track down your son."

She forced a smile. "Thanks"

Shouldering various bags of equipment and supplies, the
three went outside. Logan blasted the air horn. Within seconds,
people crowded around. "Is there anyone here who's been a
cop? Or maybe in the military police?"

A young woman and a man in his sixties worked their way
to him. Logan took them aside one by one and grilled them
in hushed tones. He sent the man back with a thank-you and
brought the woman to Kaya. "This is Leah McKellan. She's done
two tours in Iraq as an officer."

"I understand you need someone to watch your back," Leah
said. "I have two marksmen medals, ma'am."

Kaya's face reflected his own thoughts-the pretty blonde
might be a lieutenant in the army, but she looked about twelve.
As he had with everything else since the bomb blew, Logan
had to make do with what they had, not worry about what
they needed.

He picked through his bag, brought out a Glock 17. "Can you
manage a 9-mil?"

Leah turned it over in her hands, checked the slide and the
magazine. "Yes, sir."

He turned to Kaya. "Pappas and I will secure the clinic, do
a couple other things down that way. Do you have a picture
of Ben?"

"I ... " Kaya patted her pockets. "No. But you picked him up
a couple nights back. The curfew sweep."

"I would have remembered a de los Santos. And I'd have
remembered talking to you"

"My neighbor had to pick him up because I was having my
exit interview with the council. And Ben's stuck with his father's name until he's eighteen. His full name is Benedict Murdoch.
He's about five six, weighs next to nothing. Brown hair, shaggy
because he hasn't had a cut since school let out. Glasses."

Logan shook his head. "Sorry, half the kids his age look like
that. What's he wearing today?"

"A sports tank top. One of those basketball things. Green."
Chills ran down his neck. "Celtics?"

"Yeah, that's it. It had a name on the back. Pierce maybe? Is
that a player on the Celtics?"

"Paul Pierce." Only geekoids wear Celtics shirts in the
summer.