“What?”
I could feel my body begin to quake. “We make a swap. You don’t get the money until I get my daughter.”
“You’re not in any position to bargain.”
“I get my daughter,” I said, my words coming out slowly, dead weights. “You get your money.”
“It’s not going to work like that.”
“Yes,” I said, trying to force bravado into my voice. “This ends here and now. I don’t want you running away again and then coming back for more. So we make an exchange and end this.”
“Dr. Seidman?”
“I’m here.”
“I want you to listen to me carefully.”
The silence was too long, straining my nerves.
“If I hang up now, I won’t call back for another eighteen months.”
I closed my eyes and hung on.
“Think about the repercussions for a moment. Aren’t you wondering where your daughter has been? Aren’t you wondering what will become of her? If I hang up, you won’t know anything for another eighteen months.”
It felt like a steel belt was being tightened around my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I looked at Rachel. She stared back steadily, urging me to stay strong.
“How old would she be then, Dr. Seidman? I mean, if we keep her alive.”
“Please.”
“Are you ready to listen?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m just asking for assurances.”
“We sent you the hair samples.”
“I bring the money. You bring my daughter. You get the money when I see her.”
“Are you trying to dictate terms, Dr. Seidman?”
The robotic voice had a funny lilt now.
“I don’t care who you are,” I said. “I don’t care why you did any of this. I just want my daughter back.”
“Then you’ll make the drop exactly as I tell you.”
“No,” I said. “Not without assurances.”
“Dr. Seidman?”
“Yes.”
“Good-bye.”
And then the phone went dead.
Chapter 18
Sanity is athin string. Mine snapped.
No, I did not scream. Just the opposite. I grew impossibly calm. I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at it as if it’d just materialized there and I had no idea what it was.
“Marc?”
I looked at Rachel. “They hung up.”
“They’ll call back,” she said.
I shook my head. “They said not for another eighteen months.”
Rachel studied my face. “Marc?”
“Yes?”
“I need you to listen to me closely.”
I waited.
“You did the right thing here.”
“Thanks. Now I feel better.”
“I’ve had experience with this. If Tara is still alive and if they have any intention of giving her back, they’ll give on this issue. The only reason not to make this exchange is because they don’t want to—or can’t.”
Can’t. The tiny part of my brain that remained rational understood that. I reminded myself of my training. Compartmentalize. “So now what?”
“We get ready just as we planned before. I have enough equipment with me. We’ll wire you up. If they call back, we’ll be ready.”
I nodded dumbly. “Okay.”
“Meanwhile, is there anything else we can do here? Did you recognize the voice at all? Do you remember anything new about the man in flannel, about the van, anything?”
“No,” I said.
“On the phone, you mentioned finding a CD in your basement.”
“Yes.” I quickly told her the story about the disk and the label reading MVD. She took out a pad and jotted down notes.
“Do you have the disk with you?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “We’re in Newark now. We might as well see what we can learn from this MVD.”
Chapter 19
Lydia lifted theSig-Sauer P226 into the air.
“I don’t like how that went,” she said.
“You made the right move,” Heshy said. “We cut out now. This is over.”
She stared at the weapon. She wanted very much to pull the trigger.
“Lydia?”
“I heard you.”
“We were doing this because it was simple.”
“Simple?”
“Yes. We thought that it would be easy money.”
“Lots of money.”
“True,” he said.
“We can’t just walk away.”
Heshy saw the wetness in her eyes. This was not about the money. He knew that. “He’s tortured either way,” he said.
“I know.”
“Think about what you just did to him,” Heshy said. “If he never hears from us again, he will spend the rest of his life wondering, blaming himself.”
She smiled. “Are you trying to turn me on?”
Lydia moved onto Heshy’s lap, curled into him like a kitten. He wrapped his giant arms around her and for a moment, Lydia calmed. She felt safe and quiet. She closed her eyes. She loved the feeling. And she knew—as did he—that it would never last. That it would never be enough.
“Heshy?”
“Yes.”
“I want to get that money.”
“I know you do.”
“And then, I think, it would be best if he died.”
Heshy pulled her close. “Then that’s what will happen.”
Chapter 20
I don’t knowwhat I expected from the offices of Most Valuable Detection. A pebbled-glass door à la Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe maybe. A soiled building of faded brick. A walk-up, for sure. A buxom secretary with a bad dye job.
But the office of Most Valuable Detection had none of that. The building was shiny and bright, part of the “urban renewal” program of Newark. I keep hearing about Newark’s renaissance, but I don’t see it. Yes, there are several beautiful office buildings—like this one—and a stunning Performing Arts Center conveniently located so that those who can afford to attend (read: those who don’t live in Newark) can get to it without, well, driving through the city. But these sleek edifices are flowers among the weeds, scant stars in an otherwise black sky. They do not change the basic color. They do not blend or bleed. They remain removed. Their sterile beauty is not contagious.
We stepped off the elevator. I still held the bag with two million dollars in it. It felt weird in my hand. There were three headphone-clad receptionists behind a wall of glass. Their desk was high. We stated our names into an intercom. Rachel showed an ID that listed her as a retired FBI agent. We were buzzed in.