Ransom (32 page)

Fernanda knew none of the complicated details. All she knew was the name of the Bahamian bank where she was supposed to wire a hundred million dollars within two days, and she had nothing to send. She was counting on the police and FBI to find Sam before they reached the deadline, and she was ever more panicked that they wouldn't find him in time. Hope was dwindling by the hour.

“It's going to take me longer than that to access the money,” Fernanda said to Peter during the call, trying not to let panic creep into her voice, but it was there anyway. She was fighting for Sam's life. And despite all their efforts and impressive technology and manpower, thus far neither the FBI nor the police had helped. Or at least they had gotten no results.

“Time is running out,” Peter said firmly. “My associates aren't willing to wait,” he said, trying to convey his own desperation. She had to do something. Every day, Waters and the others were talking about killing Sam. It mattered nothing to them. In fact, if they didn't get their money, they thought it a suitable revenge. The boy meant less to them than a bottle of tequila or a pair of shoes.

They didn't even care that Sam had seen them and could identify them. The unholy threesome were planning to disappear into the wilds of South America forever. They had illegal passports waiting for them just north of the Mexican border. All they had to do was get there, pick them up, disappear, and live like kings for the rest of their days. But she had to pay the ransom first. And hour by hour, day by day, Peter came to understand that Sam had told the truth. She had nothing to wire into the Bahamian account. Peter had no idea what she was going to do. Nor did Fernanda. He would have liked to ask her, but he could only assume someone was telling her what to do.

Jack had already told her that the biggest loan he could get for her, against the house, was an additional mortgage for seven hundred thousand dollars, which she couldn't support the payments on anyway. And not knowing the circumstances, or even if they had, the bank told her they couldn't approve it or give her the money for thirty days. Waters and his friends wanted it in two.

She had nothing to work with, nor did Ted, Rick, and an army of FBI agents, who swore they were leaving no stone unturned, but to Fernanda, they seemed no closer to finding Sam than on the day he was taken. And Peter felt that too.

“She's playing games,” Waters said in a fury after the call ended. And at her end, Fernanda was in tears.

“A hundred million dollars isn't easy to come up with,” Peter said, feeling agonized for her. He could only imagine the degree of pressure this was putting on her. “Her husband's estate is in probate, she has to come up with death taxes on his estate, and his executors may not be able to release it to her as fast as we want.”

Peter was trying to buy her time, but he was afraid to tell them he now firmly believed she didn't have it, for fear they would fly into a rage and kill Sam on the spot. For Peter, it was a fine line to walk. And for Fernanda too.

“We're not waiting,” Waters said darkly. “If she doesn't wire it in two days, the kid is dead, and we're out of here. We can't sit here forever, waiting for the cops to show up.” He was in a black mood after the call, said she was dicking them around, and he had a temper tantrum when he discovered they were out of both tequila and beer, and he said he was sick of their food, and the others agreed.

In San Francisco, Fernanda had been sitting in her room all day, every day, crying, terrified that they were going to kill Sam, or already had. And Will was moving around the house like a ghost. He hung out with the men in the kitchen, but wherever you went, and whoever you talked to, the tension was intolerable. And whenever Ashley called, Fernanda kept up the charade that everything was fine. She still didn't know that Sam was gone, and Fernanda didn't want her to. It would just have made things worse to have her hysterical too.

“They're going to kill me, aren't they?” Sam said to Peter with sad eyes, after they had called his mother. He had heard the men talking, and they were angry it was taking so long.

“I promised you I wouldn't let that happen,” Peter whispered when he stopped in the back room to check on him after the call to Fernanda. But even Sam knew it was a promise he couldn't keep. And if he did, they'd kill Peter too.

When Peter walked back into the living room, they were all particularly unhappy about the lack of beer, as well as the delay in her coming up with the ransom. Finally, Peter offered to go into town for them and buy some. He had the kind of looks that never drew attention. He was just a nice guy visiting the lake on a vacation, probably with his kids. They nominated him to make a beer run, and told him to bring back some tequila and Chinese food too. They were sick of their own cooking, and so was he.

Peter drove into town and past it on the fateful beer run. He drove through three more towns, thinking about what he was going to do. There was no question. Sam was right. They were running out of time. And from all he knew now, the ransom was a lost cause. The only decision left was whether to let them kill Sam or not. And just as he had risked his life in this to save his own children, he knew now what he had to do for Sam.

He pulled over in the van, near a campsite, and picked up his cell phone. The one thing he knew was that he wasn't going back to Pelican Bay again. There was a momentary temptation to just keep driving, but if he did, when he didn't go back, they would kill Sam for sure.

He dialed the number and waited, and as she always did, Fernanda picked it up on the first ring. His voice was polite, and he told her Sam was fine, and then he asked to speak to one of the policemen with her. She hesitated for a moment, looked at Ted, and said there were no policemen with her.

“It's all right,” Peter said, sounding tired. It was over for him and he knew it, and he no longer cared. The only thing that mattered to him now was Sam. He realized as he spoke to her that he was doing it for her. “I assume there's someone on the line,” he said calmly. “Mrs. Barnes, let me speak to one of the men.” She looked at Ted with anguished eyes and handed him the phone. She had no idea what this meant.

“This is Detective Lee,” Ted said tersely.

“You have less than forty-eight hours to get him out of there. There are four men, including me,” Peter said, offering them not only information but his alliance. He knew he had to. For his own sake, as much as hers and Sam's. It was all he could do for them.

“Morgan, is that you?” It was the only one it could be. Ted knew he was talking to him. Peter didn't confirm or deny it. He had more important things to do. He gave Ted the address of the house in Tahoe, and described the layout of the house to him.

“Right now, they're keeping the boy in the back room. I'll do what I can to help you, but they may kill me too.”

Ted asked him a question then, and desperately wanted an answer. The call was being recorded, like the others, asking for the ransom. “Is Phillip Addison behind this?”

Peter hesitated and then answered, “Yes, he is.” It was all over for him then. He knew that wherever he went, Addison would find him and kill him. But Waters and the others would probably do it for him long before that.

“I won't forget this,” Ted said, and meant it, as Fernanda watched, not daring to take her eyes off him. She knew something was happening, and she wasn't sure yet what it was, if it was bad or good.

“That's not why I'm doing this,” Peter said sadly. “I'm doing it for Sam … and for her… tell her I'm sorry.” And with that, he hung up, tossed the cell phone onto the seat beside him, and took off for the store, where he bought enough beer and tequila to keep them drunk forever. And when he walked into the house, he was carrying four bags of Chinese food, and he was smiling. He had a sudden feeling of freedom. And for once in his life, he had done the right thing.

“What the fuck took you so long?” Stark asked him, but he mellowed as soon as he saw the food and beer, and three bottles of good tequila.

“They took a goddamn hour to give me the food,” Peter complained, and then went to check on Sam. He was asleep in his room. Peter stood staring at him for a long moment, and then turned and walked out of the room. He had no idea when they'd come. He just hoped it would be soon.

Chapter 18

“What happened?”
Fernanda asked Ted, looking panicked, as soon as Peter Morgan ended the call.

Ted looked at her and nearly cried. “They're in Tahoe. Morgan told us where they are.” It was the break they needed. The only hope they had.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Why did he do that?”

“He said he was doing it for Sam and for you. He said to tell you he was sorry.” She nodded, wondering what had made him change his mind. But whatever it was, she was grateful he had. He had saved her son's life. Or tried to at least.

Everything moved into high gear then. Ted made what seemed like a thousand calls. He called the captain, Rick Holmquist, and the heads of three SWAT teams. He called the police chief and sheriff in Tahoe, and told them not to move in. They agreed to defer to both the FBI and an SFPD SWAT team. Everything had to be executed with the precision of open heart surgery, and Ted told her they would be ready to move to Tahoe by the following afternoon. She thanked him and went to tell Will, who burst into tears.

Ted was back on the phone with a dozen people the next morning when she got up, and Will had just finished his breakfast by the time Ted was ready to leave. Ted told her there were twenty-five men already on their way to Tahoe. The FBI was sending an eight-man commando team, eight more for the command post, and there were another eight on the SWAT team, in addition to Rick and himself. And there would be another twenty or so local law enforcement officers joining the task force once they got there. Rick was taking his best men from the city, marksmen, sharpshooters, and sending a plane with two pilots. Ted had chosen their best SWAT team, and he was sending the hostage negotiator with them. He was still planning to leave four men with her and Will.

“Take me with you,” she said to him, looking desperate. “I want to be there too.” He hesitated, not sure it was the right thing to do. A lot could happen, and a lot could go wrong with that many men involved. It was going to be a delicate business getting the boy out of the house, even with Morgan's help. Sam could even be killed by the police when they broke in on the others. The likelihood of not being able to get Sam out alive under these circumstances was great. And if the worst happened, he didn't want the boy's mother there. “Please,” she said with tears rolling down her cheeks. And even though he knew better, Ted was unable to resist.

She didn't tell Will where she was going. She ran upstairs and got a pair of hiking boots and a sweater, and she told Will she was going out with Ted. She didn't say where. She told him to stay inside with the men. Before he could object, she had run out the front door, and a moment later, she sped away with Ted. He had called Rick Holmquist, and he was driving up himself with four additional special agents and the commando team. There were going to be enough men in Tahoe to start their own police force. The captain had told Ted to keep him informed, and Ted had said he would.

Fernanda was silent as they rolled across the Bay Bridge. They had driven another half-hour before Ted finally spoke to her. He still had qualms about having let her come along, but it was too late to change his mind. And as they drove north, she started to relax and so did he. They talked about some of the things Father Wallis had said. She was trying to do what he had suggested, and to believe that Sam was in God's hands. Ted told her that what had turned it around for them was Morgan's call.

“Why do you suppose he did that?” Fernanda asked, looking puzzled. The fact that he had said he was doing it for her made no sense to her, or Ted.

“People do funny things sometimes,” Ted said quietly. “When you least expect them to.” He had seen it before. “Maybe he doesn't care about the money after all. If they catch on, they'll kill him for sure.” And if they didn't, they were going to have to put him in the witness relocation and protection program when he got out. If they sent him to prison, he was as good as dead. But he might be anyway if the others caught on.

“You haven't been home all week,” Fernanda commented as they drove past Sacramento.

Ted looked at her and smiled. “You sound like my wife.”

“This must be hard on her,” Fernanda said sympathetically, and he didn't comment for a long time. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I was just thinking, it must be hard on a marriage.”

He nodded. “It is. Or it was a long time ago. We're used to it now. We've been married since we were kids. I've known Shirley since we were fourteen.”

“That's a long time,” Fernanda said with a smile. “I was twenty-two when I married Allan. We were married for seventeen years.”

He nodded. Talking about their lives and respective spouses helped to pass the time. They almost felt like old friends now as they drove along. They had spent a lot of time together, in tough circumstances, in the past week. It had been incredibly hard on her.

“It must have been rough on you when… when your husband died,” Ted said sympathetically.

“It was. It's been hard on the kids, especially Will. I think he feels his father let us down.” It was going to be yet another blow when she sold the house.

“Boys that age need a man around.” As Ted said it, he was thinking of his own. He hadn't been around a lot either when his sons were Will's age. It was one of his biggest regrets about his life. “I was never home when my kids were young. It's the price you pay for this kind of work. One of them.”

“They had their mom,” she said gently, trying to make him feel better about it, but she could see it weighed on him.

“That's not enough,” he said sternly, and then looked apologetically at her. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounds.”

“Yes, you did. Maybe you're right. I'm doing the best I can, but most of the time I feel like it's not enough. Allan didn't give me much choice in the matter. He made his mind up on his own.”