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

“I’ll sweet-talk my way out of any trouble,” Donna said.

“I’ll tell off my father, then spin on my heel and walk out,” Rose said.

Corrine said, “I’m sure I’ll be grounded for at least a week.”

“Ugh!” Donna said.

Laker thought this would probably work.

Lugar had called the meeting with the security chiefs of the other two companies involved in the ransom demands, that of Donna’s father, Rapacious Conglom, and of Corrine’s father, Eminent Domain, Inc. They were in the offices of Knifer Consolidated on the fortieth floor of the Knifer Building, all seated at one end of a long conference table of polished inlaid woods.

The other two security chiefs listened carefully to what Lugar had to say. He began with: “The time has come for us to join forces.”

“Which means sharing information,” Vasteen of Rapacious said. He was an impeccably groomed man the size of a Humvee. His bulk, along with his scarred face and dark scowl, made his expensive chalk-stripe suit look like tailored prison garb. He glanced around. “Agreed?”

“That’s why I called the meeting,” Lugar said. “The kidnappers didn’t get what they asked for, but they might try again. There’s a chance they haven’t killed the abductees yet; they’re still potentially valuable. But whether the abductees are alive or dead, we have to find the kidnappers, or our own life expectancies will be shortened.”

Smith of Eminent, a smallish man, also well tailored, nodded his bald head in agreement. He had strangely reptilian features, perhaps because of his protruding brown eyes, which were without lashes or brows. They blinked infrequently, but when they did, it seemed an event. “We share. And when we act, we act together.”

“That only makes sense,” Lugar said.

No one disagreed, though no one here trusted anyone else. What bonded them was their mutual interest, and the certainty that any one of them would kill any other if double-crossed. They were comfortable with the arrangement; it worked for countries.

Since the pooling of resources was his idea, Lugar spilled what he’d learned first. It wasn’t much.

Smith followed, then Vasteen.

When all three men were finished talking, they sat silently. It seemed they hadn’t made any progress, but they couldn’t be sure. Not yet. They sat for several moments, mulling over what they’d just heard, before Vasteen looked at Smith. “You said one of your men talked to a student at Pierpont who mentioned giving Corinne a lift one day to a tie shop.”

Smith nodded. “It wasn’t either of the other two abductees.”

“But a tie shop,” Lugar said. “What’s a college girl doing at a tie shop?”

Smith shrugged. “Buying a tie for her boyfriend?”

“Or maybe her father,” Lugar said. All three men laughed.

“Why I ask about it,” Vasteen said, “is one of my people tracking whoever the abductee talked with during the past several months traced one of her phone conversations to Sarasota, Florida. A retired guy in his seventies.”

“What might they have been talking about?” Lugar asked.

“I don’t know,” Vasteen said, “but we checked him out, and what I remember about him is that he recently moved south after selling his jewelry store to someone who wanted to open a tie shop.”

The three security chiefs looked at each other silently. Then they smiled and absently fingered their silk tie knots, which suddenly didn’t seem so tight.

The captors and captives, or six co-conspirators, had a blueberry pancake and bacon breakfast at the lodge, then drove into the city in the SUV.

It was time to go to work.

The acetylene torch was in the back of the SUV, where it would stay until the last of the digging was done, which, Laker estimated, would be early this evening. By tomorrow, they should all be rich. Well, some of them richer, and in an independent if illegal way.

After parking the vehicle behind the tie shop, they walked around front and went inside.

The place was hot, musty, and confining, almost as much so as the tunnel itself. Laker led the way into the back room and down into the tunnel. He was followed by Andrepinino, the three women, and then Fink. Five feet in, Laker switched on the string of lights.

Rose liked what she saw. The tunnel was ninety percent finished, and had been made higher and widened.

Suddenly Andrepinino stopped in front of her. The whole chain of co-conspirators stopped.

“What’s going on?” Rose asked, getting a sinking feeling. Her father. She just knew it. He wasn’t often outwitted.

“The tools,” Laker said. “We left them lined up here, and they’re gone.”

“Come the rest of the way in,” a deep voice said. “We’ve gathered up your toys and put them all in one place. You’re finished playing with them.”

Laker’s mind began to whirl, trying to get hold of and assess what was happening. Not having much luck. Nothing to do but continue his hunched-over walk toward the area beneath the vault. Behind him, the rest of the train began to move.

Two large men were waiting for them, guns drawn. Laker knew at a glance they weren’t cops. They were in suit pants and expensive shoes, ties loosened, shirt sleeves rolled so they weren’t so warm. One of them had on a Rolex, the other a big diamond ring. Behind them the shovels and pickaxes were stacked in a neat pile.

Fink wasn’t last in. He was followed by another man in dress slacks with his sleeves rolled up, and carrying a handgun. This one was smaller than the other two, but somehow just as dangerous looking.

Laker was certain these weren’t the dads. They all looked like well-dressed thugs.

“Rose Knifer,” said one of the big ones, who had eyes like ice, “I work for your father.” Rose knew he was telling the truth; she’d seen him once before, remembered those eyes, thought his name was Lugar.

“You three guys,” said the small one, who had a head like a snake’s, “get over there in a bunch so we can keep an eye on you.” He gave Fink a shove. “And stay away from these girls.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Donna said.

“Back off!” Fink said when he was given a second shove.

Laker raised a hand. “Don’t say anything. These aren’t cops.”

“We’re security, punk,” said one of the big ones, waving his gun at Laker as a signal to move. “Get with the other two losers.”

The big one with the icy eyes smiled. “The cops aren’t coming. Remember, you insisted the authorities not be involved. We’re going to deliver you to our employers. The next time you meet the police, it’ll be in some country you never heard of, and they won’t be gentle.”

“Thank God you’re here,” Rose said.

Everyone looked at her. She stepped over and gave the surprised Ice-eyes a hug. Then she moved back along the tunnel, toward the tie shop.

“Where you going?” asked Little-and-dangerous. But he didn’t aim his gun her way.

“To phone my father and tell him I’m safe. My cell phone won’t work in this tunnel.”

“Ro — Miss Knifer,” Ice-eyes said. “You don’t need—”

“You mean you’re forbidding me to phone my father?” She fixed her own glassy stare on him, one that matched his and then some. Her eyes were so like her father’s. “What would he think if I was only trading one set of captors and bullies for another?”

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “Go ahead and phone. Then come right back here.”

She continued to stare.

“Please,” he added. He glanced at his two companions. “It won’t hurt anything; we’re going to phone them anyway.”

“I like doing it in our own good time,” said Little-and-dangerous.

“It doesn’t matter,” said the other big man. “We’ve got what we want.”