Ed McBain - King's Ransom

“Did you set it?”

“Yes. I set it.”

“Fine. Now the rest I’m going to say fast and only once, so get it all the first time. You are to leave the house at ten o’clock sharp, and you are to be carrying the money in a plain carton. You will go straight to the garage, and you will get into the black Cadillac with the license tag DK-74. That is the car you will use, Mr. King. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” King said.

“Hurry, hurry!” Byrnes whispered into his receiver.

“You will drive away from the house and away from Smoke Rise. You will be watched, Mr. King, so don’t attempt to take anyone in the car with you, and don’t allow the police to follow you. If you are followed, we will kill the boy right away. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, I do. I have it.”

“Have they got it yet?” Carella whispered to Byrnes.

“The damn fools are…”

“You will continue driving, Mr. King, until someone meets you with instructions. That’s all you have to know for now. Leave the house at ten sharp, alone, with the money. Goodbye, Mr.—”

“Wait!”

“Keep him talking,” Byrnes said. “They’ve got it traced to Central on Sands Spit!”

“What is it, Mr. King?”

“When do we get the boy back?”

“When we get the money, we’ll call again.”

“How… how do we know he’s still alive?”

“He’s still alive.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“No. Goodbye, Mr. King.”

“Wait! You…”

“He’s gone!” Carella said, ripping off the headset.

“Son of a bitch!” Byrnes said. Into the phone, he shouted, “He just hung up. How far have you… What? Oh. Oh, I see. Okay. Okay, thanks.” He hung up. “Didn’t matter a damn. He was using a dial phone. As soon as they traced it to Central, it got lost in the automatic equipment.” He turned to Carella. “What’d he say, Steve?”

“A lot. Want me to play it back?”

“Yes, go ahead. Nice work, Mr. King.”

“Thank you,” King said dully.

“His voice sounded different,” Carella said. “Didn’t you think so?”

“Yes,” King answered.

“I think we got a different customer this time,” Carella said. “Mind if I start the playback with the previous call, Pete? Just to check the voices?”

“No, go right ahead.”

Carella looked at his watch. “Eight-thirty-five. We’ve still got time,” he said, and he flipped the switch that reversed the tape.

* * * *

It was eight-thirty-three when Eddie Folsom came out of the telephone booth. The ride to the grocery store had taken longer than Sy had estimated, but there was still nothing to worry about. It would be a long, long time before ten o’clock rolled around.

Casually, he walked to the counter.

“Let me have a package of hot chocolate,” he said, “and a bottle of milk, and a box of those cookies there.”

* * * *

12

Kathy had begun pacing at eight-thirty. Now, at eight-forty-five, she wandered the room aimlessly, the window facing the front yard serving as the focal point of her ramblings. She would walk to the window, lift the shade and look out at the front yard, draw the shade again, pace, wander, light a cigarette, and then end up back at the window again.

“Where is he?” she asked. “Shouldn’t he be back by now?”

“He’ll be back,” Sy said. “Relax.” He paused. “He not only had to make the call, you know. He also had to do the daily marketing.”

“The boy…”

“The boy, the boy, the boy! I hear another word about the boy, I’m going to start a club for underprivileged kids! Man, am I sick to death of this job! I should have known better than to tie up with a jerk who runs out to buy milk!”

“He went out to make the call,” Kathy said. “Someone had to do it.”

“He’s also buying milk. And hot chocolate,” Sy said, using a falsetto on the words, giving them a mincing, oversweet quality.

“The boy is cold.” She glanced at Jeff where he lay huddled on the bed, Kathy’s coat around him, a blanket over that. “You’re lucky he hasn’t started crying.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t started crying,” Sy said. “That money is so damn close I can taste it.”

“Sy, when Eddie comes back—”

“What time is it?”

Kathy looked at her watch. “Eight-fifty. When he comes back, what are you going to do?”

“Nothing. Not until a little before ten.”

“And then what?”

“Stop worrying. Your milkman will return, and everything’ll come off all right, and we’ll be rich as hell. And you know why? Because Sy Barnard is handling this little shindig. If a small-time punk like Eddie was in charge—”

“He’s not a small-time punk!”

“No? Okay, he’s a big operator, okay? How’d you ever get involved with such a big operator, huh?”

“Oh, what do you care?”

Nervously, she walked to the dresser and opened her purse. Nervously, she began combing out her hair.

“I’m interested,” Sy said. “Really.”

“We just met, that’s all.”

“Where?”

“I don’t remember.”

“The Safecrackers’ Ball?”

“That’s not funny, Sy.”

“But you knew he was in the rackets?”

“Yes, I knew. It didn’t matter to me.” She paused. “Eddie is good.”

“Yeah, he’s a doll.”

“I’m not joking. Oh, why am I even talking to you!” She hurled the comb into her purse and then snapped it shut and walked to the window again.

“Didn’t I say he was a doll?”

“He’s in this because it’s the only thing he knows,” Kathy said. “But if he got away from it, if I helped him to get away from it, he’d be good. I know he would. I’d see to it.”

“Why’d you marry him?”

“I love him.”

“Warm for his form, huh?”

“When are you going to let me go?” Jeff said from the bed.

“Shut up, kid.”

“Aren’t you ever?”

“I said shut up. I had you up to here already!”

Kathy lifted the shade and scanned the yard again. Sighing, she turned away from the window.

“You worried about him?”

“Of course I am,” she said.

“What for? There’s other fish in the ocean. Bigger fish. Smarter fish.”

“He’s my husband.”

“Pull down the shade.”

“It’s morning. Why can’t… ?”

“I don’t want nobody peeping in here.”

“There isn’t a soul around for miles!”

“Pull it down!”

Kathy lowered the shade, walked to the dresser again, fished into her purse for a cigarette and, discovering she was out, snapped the bag shut angrily.

“Stop worrying,” Sy said. “Husbands are for the birds. All they are is a piece of legal paper and a gold circle. Who the hell ever takes husbands seriously?”

“I do,” Kathy said. “I love him.”

“Love is what they make up for teenagers. There ain’t no such animal.”

“You’re mistaken. You just don’t know.”

“I know more than you think, baby, and about a lot of things. I know, for example, that your darling boy is rotten clean through. There ain’t nothing you can do for him no more. It’s too late now.”

“It’s not too late. Once this is over…”

“Once this is over, there’ll be another job, and another one after that, and then another and another and another! Who the hell are you kidding? Yourself? I seen bums like Eddie in prisons all over this country. He’s rotten! He stinks! He’s me, for Pete’s sake! Do you think I’m such a prize?”

“I don’t want to listen.”

“Okay, don’t. The big reformer there. Gonna make a silk purse. Bullshit!’