Doug Allyn - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 131, No. 3 & 4. Whole No. 799 & 800, March/April 2008

“Or Knifer Consolidated Industries,” Lugar added, with the wisdom that had garnered him the fast track to promotion.

Knifer smiled, but grimly. He was a short man who seemed tall, with craggy gray eyebrows, piercing dark eyes, and a nose like a hatchet blade. Rose had fortunately inherited most of her mother’s good looks. Her mother had been discarded not long after Rose’s birth, when it was discovered that she could bear no more children. If you didn’t produce, you were of no lasting interest to Knifer. Lugar knew that.

“Remember,” Knifer said, from behind the half-acre marble surface of his desk, “the authorities must not be involved. If anything happened to Rose because we disobeyed the kidnappers’ instructions and contacted the police... well, I’d never be able to reimburse myself.”

“I have confidential connections not involving the police,” Lugar said. Though he looked like a thug, with his bull shoulders, bald head, and formidable slash of a mouth, he was smart and reasonably sophisticated. And not to be trusted, which was what Knifer liked about him. Lugar would sell out to the highest bidder, but that was Knifer. So Lugar could be controlled, which wasn’t exactly like trust, but close enough.

Lugar stood up from his chair, which was an impressive sight, because he was six and a half feet tall. “I’ll head a small, select team that knows how to keep a secret.”

“Imperative.”

“We’ll give the recording of the ransom call to our own laboratories. Our sound analysis should give us something to work on, and once we have that, the outcome isn’t in doubt. You’ll have your daughter Rose back, sir, and you won’t have paid a cent in ransom money.” He knew Knifer expected that outcome, but one out of two would be enough to preserve Lugar’s employment, if it was the right one.

“Keep it confidential,” Knifer said.

“Done,” Lugar said.

“It better be.”

“Another few days and we’ll be there,” Laker said, hoisting a shovelful of dirt.

“I gotta say,” Fink said, staying bent low so as not to bump his head on the tunnel roof, “this is working out better than I thought it would. The families are mulling it over, but there’s no sign they’ve contacted the authorities.”

“They’ll pay,” Laker said confidently. “Because they’re worth so much they won’t even miss the money.”

“The girls are okay, too,” Fink said. “They’re being very cooperative.”

“That Corrine’s a honey,” Laker said. “And some cook.”

“Andrepinino kind of likes her,” Fink said. He added, “Donna’s a beauty, doesn’t need to know how to cook.”

“And Rose—”

“Is never gonna be happy,” Fink said, interrupting.

“Never,” Laker agreed.

But in truth, he wasn’t so sure. Rose had been close to being happy when she beat him at checkers during his shift as guard at the lodge. Not like when it became apparent she was going to lose and she’d upset the board. What she did mostly was scribble with a pen in what she called her novel, a thick spiral notebook. Laker figured that was okay; it would keep her out of trouble. She was an English major, and whether she knew it or not, the notebook wasn’t going anyplace.

Fink dragged a sweaty forearm across his brow and adjusted the “Nixon’s the One” tie he had wrapped around his head to keep perspiration out of his eyes. “We’re gonna be under the vault in a few days, and we might need some kind of cutting torch to get through the steel floor.”

“We can afford to buy one,” Laker told him. “One way or the other, and maybe both ways, we’re about to get rich.”

“The ransom deadline’s past on all three of them,” Andrepinino said two days later when they were almost directly beneath the vault floor. “We’re not going to get rich that way. I hate to tell Corrine. She’s gonna be awfully disappointed.”

“All three of them will be,” Laker said.

“I think Rose kind of expected it,” Andrepinino said. “She’s sort of steely beneath the surface.”

“Not far beneath,” Laker said.

How Rose had acted was to withdraw, curl up, and scribble like mad in her notebook novel. Laker would have to read it someday, before it was burned.

“So what’re we gonna do now?” Andrepinino asked, putting down his shovel. He was wearing the Nixon tie for a headband. He kind of liked it and had bought it from Fink, who’d assured him it only needed dry cleaning and would be good for at least three or four more years. When this was over, he’d wear it for a souvenir. At least that had been the plan. “I mean, we threatened to kill them if the ransom wasn’t paid.”

“It’s awkward,” Laker admitted.

The three kidnap victims were well aware of the deadline being past; they’d helped with the ominous phone demands, pretending to plead for their lives. Andrepinino thought Corrine had really put her heart into it. Not just cute, but some little actress.

“Any ideas?” Andrepinino asked.

Laker peeled off his leather work gloves. “We better go out and buy that cutting torch.”

When they’d cleaned up and returned to the lodge, they found Fink and the hostages sitting around the living room watching TV news and sipping apple martinis. No one looked particularly in angst.

Laker sighed. “I guess we all know the ransom deadline is past,” he said solemnly.

“Forget about that,” Rose said, making a careless motion with her hand. “It’s not as if you’ve never broken a promise.”

Laker didn’t contradict her.

“This is the way it’s going to be,” Rose said. She motioned toward the easy chairs angled toward the sofa, then used the remote to switch off the TV. “Sit down.”

Laker and Andrepinino stared at her.

She took a sip of her martini and stared back.

Laker and Andrepinino sat.

“Look at you two,” Rose said from the sofa. “You’ve got dirt all over you, including your muddy thinking.”

“They figured out about the digging,” Fink explained from where he sat beside Donna. He might have been slightly drunk from the martinis.

Corrine said, “Duh!”

Andrepinino lowered his head. “I guess this isn’t working out the way we planned.”

“Don’t feel so bad,” Corrine said soothingly. She reached over and squeezed his hand.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Rose said. “Not yet, anyway.”

“They’ll think we killed you,” Andrepinino said. “They’ll never stop searching for us.”

“He’sh right,” Fink said, sloshing martini and resting his head on Donna’s shoulder.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourselves,” Rose said. “When we eventually turn up alive, the heat will be off. There might not be any ransom money, but we still have the bank.”

“I like the way you think,” Laker said.

“Are you nitwits under the vault yet?” Rose asked.

“Less than another day’s digging,” Laker said. “And we bought a torch to cut through the floor.”

“Hey! Initiative.”

“There’sh no need to be shmart,” Fink said.

“Good thing for you three there’s some truth to that.” Rose crossed her legs at the knees, not liking the way Laker was staring at them. “When we get the money from the bank, we split it six ways, then you guys go back to your insignificant lives, and the three of us will say the kidnap thing was all a girlish lark and return to our loving families. We’ll say we were in Belize or someplace like that.”

“What do you get out of it?” Laker asked. “You don’t need the money.”

“Not so. We’d all like to be financially independent of the people who wouldn’t pay ransom for our release. Can you blame us for that?”

Laker couldn’t. “What’ll happen to you when you go back?”