Ed McBain: King's Ransom

The plan, then, was beautiful.

And yet he was nervous.

He could not quell the persistent feeling that something would go wrong.

And yet he couldn’t figure what.

He was not, you see, a Bible-reading man.

He did not know that the meek shall inherit the earth.

* * * *

Studying the street map, Eddie Folsom said, “All right, you’re now approaching the Black Rock Span. There’s a toll booth there, and the toll is a quarter, Mr. King, twenty-five cents. Get the change out of your pocket now, and have it ready. Don’t hand the attendant a hundred-dollar bill or anything like that to attract attention. And don’t say anything to him. It won’t do you any good at all to have police following you. If there are any cops when it comes time to make the drop, we’ll call the whole thing off and kill the boy. Do you hear me, Mr. King?”

“ Yes, I hear you ,” Carella answered.

“Good,” Eddie said. “Go through the toll booth and onto the bridge. Let me know as you’re driving off the bridge, and I’ll tell you what you do next. It won’t help to say anything to the cop collecting the toll because you still don’t know where you’re going. Any tricks, and we will kill the boy.”

Listening to her husband, Kathy winced at the words.

Kill the boy.

Kill the boy.

My husband, she thought.

My fault.

* * * *

In the automobile, Steve Carella reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. He hastily opened it to where his shield was pinned to the leather. He unpinned the shield, took out his notebook, rapidly scribbled:

Call police headquarters. Tell them King contacted by radio transmission to car telephone. Try to get a fix. Hurry!

Detective Steve Carella

He pinned his shield to the note, took a quarter from his pocket, and motioned King to pull over to the booth accepting quarters from the window opposite the driver’s seat.

“ You at the booth yet, King ?” Eddie asked.

“Just approaching it,” Carella said.

“Have you got the change?”

“Yes, I’ve got a quarter.”

“Good. No funny stuff.”

The car slowed and pulled up alongside the toll booth. Carella handed the uniformed cop on duty a quarter, the note and his police shield. He nodded tersely at the cop as King pulled away and joined the steady stream of traffic moving across the bridge.

“You’re coming off the bridge now, is that right?” Eddie asked.

“ That’s right ,” Carella answered.

“Okay, bear to your left. I don’t want you going out to Calm’s Point. There’s a big sign reading Mid-Sands Highway. That’s the road I want you to take.”

Standing behind her husband, Kathy began to piece together a clear picture of what the markings on the street maps meant. The spot outlined with the red circle was obviously the Douglas King house, and the route marked in red was the route over which Eddie was leading him. The place marked “Farm” was, of course, the farmhouse, situated on Fairlane Road, about a half mile from Stanberry Road. And the spot marked with the blue star… ?

“Keep driving until you reach Exit Seventeen,” Eddie said. “Have you got that, King?”

“I’ve got it ,” Carella said.

The blue star confused Kathy because the red line went directly past it and then continued on out to the end of the peninsula, where it once again turned and headed back for the city. If the drop…

But of course.

The blue star indicated Sy’s hiding place. They would ask King to drop the money and then keep him driving, simply to get him away from the spot or to confuse any followers. Of course. Sy Barnard, then, was lying in wait at…

She studied the map more closely.

… Tantamount Road, just around the curve in Route 127.

“Eddie,” she said.

“Not now, for God’s sake!” he yelled, one hand cupped over the microphone.

“Eddie, let’s get out of this. Please. Please.”

“No!” he said. “Where are you now, King?” he asked into the microphone.

“Approaching Exit Fifteen,” Carella answered.

“ Let me know when you pass Sixteen ,” Eddie said.

“All right.” Carella covered the mouthpiece of the telephone.

“Where do you suppose he’s leading us?” King asked.

“I don’t know. Somewhere out on the peninsula.” He shook his head. “If we knew that, Mr. King…”

* * * *

Sy Barnard looked at his watch again.

It shouldn’t be long now. Come on, Eddie, he thought. Hurry them up. Get them over here with the gold. Let them make the drop, and let me pick it up, and let me get back to that farmhouse safely.

Come on. Please. Hurry up.

Sy didn’t realize it, but he was praying.

* * * *

What do you make of this, Harry?” the uniformed cop asked.

The cop in the adjoining toll booth handed a motorist his change and said, “What?”

“Lower that radio a minute, will you?”

“Sure.” He turned down the volume. “What is it?”

“Guy just handed me this. What do you make of it?”

Harry studied the shield and the note. “What do I make of it? You damn fool, this guy’s a bull! Get on the phone right away!”

“How do you know he’s legit?”

“Mister, you can’t buy shields like that in the five and ten!”

“Headquarters, Detective Snyder.”

“Listen, this is Patrolman Umberson, shield number 63-457, I’m in a toll booth on the Black Rock Span.”

“Yeah, what is it, Umberson?”

“A black Caddy just went through the toll stop. Guy handed me a badge and a note asking me to call Headquarters.”

“What kind of a badge?”

“Detective.”

“What’s the number on it?”

“Just a second.” There was a pause on the line. “Number 8712,” Umberson said.

“So what about it?”

“The note said to tell Headquarters that King was contacted by radio transmission to the car telephone. It said to try to get a fix. Does that make any sense to you?”

“King contacted by…” Detective Snyder shrugged. “I just came on duty.” he said. “It don’t mean nothing to me. I’ll check on that badge number, see if it’s legitimate tin. What was the guy’s name again?”

“King.”

“King, huh? Like the guy in that kidnaping over in Smoke—” Snyder started and then suddenly said, “Oh, my God!”

* * * *

“Call it off, Eddie,” Kathy said. “End it. We’ll take the boy and…”

“I’m not calling anything off!” Eddie snapped. “I have to do this, Kathy! I have to!”

“Please. If you love me, I’m asking you to…”

“ All right, we just passed Exit Sixteen,” Carella said.

“Fine. Turn off at Seventeen and drive four blocks north. Then double back until you hit the parkway entrance below this one. You’ll be heading in the opposite direction,” Eddie said. “Drive down one exit to Exit Fifteen. Let me know when you—”

“The boy is in a farmhouse on Fairlane Road, a half mile from Stanberry!” Kathy suddenly shouted into the open microphone.

“What the hell—” Eddie started, and he turned to face her, but he was too late, the lid had blown, the words were spouting from her mouth.

* * * *

“Sy Barnard is waiting in a car…”

“Kathy, stop it, are you crazy?”

“…on Tantamount Road, around the curve in 127.”

“Did you hear that?” Carella shouted.

“I heard it,” King said.

Carella slammed the receiver down onto the hook. “Head for Tantamount Road Route 127,” he said to King. “Straight ahead, turn off at Exit Twenty-two. Step on it. Never mind the speed limit.” He lifted the receiver from the hook again and waited for the operator.