Peter Abrahams - Crying Wolf

“Click,” Izzie said again, now looking up at her father. She’d done beautifully. Nat’s premonition had probably been false; certainly false, he would have thought, except for one thing: there was no briefcase.

Silence in Grace and Izzie’s room.

Andy sighed. He rose, slowly, as though his legs were tired, and went to the phone on Grace’s desk. “The call came on this phone?” he said.

“Yes.”

“About what time, Iz?”

“Exactly?”

“As close as you can’ll be all right.”

“I didn’t check. Around five-thirty this morning.”

“Give or take how much?”

“Ten minutes either way.”

“Could it be more?”

“I guess.”

“How much more?”

“I don’t know. Five minutes, ten, fifteen. It was pretty upsetting.”

“I understand,” Andy said. “So give or take a half hour, either side?”

“I guess.”

“Maybe a little more?”

“Maybe.”

“But not, say, ten hours.”

“Ten hours? What are you talking about?”

Andy turned to Nat. “And where were you at that time, Nat? When the call came.”

“In my room.”

“Which is?”

“In Plessey. Across the quad.”

Andy went to the window. “Mind pointing it out?”

Nat pointed to Plessey Hall.

Andy shook his head. “All so picturesque,” he said. “I can’t get over it. The call didn’t come on your phone, by any chance?”

He was still gazing out the window; Nat wasn’t sure for a second if the question was directed at him.

“Mine?”

“Yours,” said Andy.

“No, sir.”

Andy turned to Mr. Zorn. “That it, Mr. Zorn?”

“Other than asking Izzie if there’s anything she’d like to change, yes, that’s it.”

“Change?” said Izzie. “About what?”

“Your story,” said Mr. Zorn.

“I’m not getting this,” Izzie said.

“No?” said Mr. Zorn. “For one thing, there haven’t been any calls, in or out, on this phone since… when, Andy?”

“Seven thirty-three P.M. yesterday. Incoming from room nine in this same dorm. Something about the arrival of a pizza, according to the student who made the call. The next one, the only other one, was Izzie’s call home this morning.”

“Second,” said Mr. Zorn, “Andy made a phone call of his own on our way up here.”

“Spoke to Nat’s mom, out in Colorado,” Andy said. “A very nice woman. She explained all about her unfortunate new circumstances, and their implications. I felt bad.”

“Third,” said Mr. Zorn, “I know your sister.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Izzie shifted down the bed, away from him.

“I know people, Izzie.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I know all I need to know. I did a billion-dollar deal last year-meaning I made a billion-dollar decision-on less information, less essential information, than this. So if you’ll just tell me where Grace is, we’ll get back to work.”

“Have you all gone crazy?” Izzie said. Nat knew they hadn’t. It was over, just like that, the whole plan blown apart effortlessly, as though they’d posted it on the Web by mistake. Nat tried to catch Izzie’s eye, get her to stop. Izzie didn’t look at him.

“She probably has a suite at the Inverness Inn,” said Mr. Zorn.

“Want me to check?” Andy said.

“It really doesn’t matter. She’ll turn up.”

Izzie rose, stood over her father, getting it at last. “You’re not paying?”

“Why pay ransom when there’s no kidnapping?” said Mr. Zorn. “Make any sense to you, Nat?”

“No, sir.” He hated letting Izzie down, but that was the answer. He also hated the way Mr. Zorn was watching him, without anger, without hostility, without scorn, but still punishing. He’d been a guest in this man’s house.

“I take that as a confirmation,” said Mr. Zorn.

“Yes,” said Nat.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Zorn. He rose too. Now they were all on their feet; the room seemed small. “It’s beautiful here, Andy, as you say. The thing to remember, though, is it’s just a big playpen. Won’t do to get too caught up with people like Leo. It might interest you to know, Nat, that I never hire people from this kind of place. I harvest from the top five percent of the state schools every year.” He checked his watch. “Anything else, Andy?”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Zorn.”

Mr. Zorn faced Izzie. “I’m not blaming you, angel. I know what’s going on.”

Izzie was white. “You’re abandoning her? She’s not worth one little million out of that last billion?”

“Izzie, the game’s over.”

“What if… what if it was… me, instead of Grace?”

“You’re not making sense, Izzie.”

Izzie laughed, a strange laugh of real amusement. “You don’t know anything.”

Mr. Zorn gave her a careful look. “Maybe you should have gone to separate schools,” he said. “To escape her influence.”

“Influence?” said Izzie. “You think I don’t know whose bidding you’re doing?”

“Who would that be?”

“Your present wife, of course.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong. She wanted me to hand the money over, on the assumption it was going to Nat.” Mr. Zorn turned to him. “She liked you. But it doesn’t work that way, Nat-might as well learn now.” He paused, looked Nat in the eye. Nat met his gaze; it took just about all the willpower he had. “I can relieve your mind on two things,” Mr. Zorn said. “First, we didn’t tell your mother what was happening, and have no intention of doing so. Second, there will be no legal consequences-as long as you do what I’m sure you knew was the right thing from the beginning.”

“Which is to go on home,” said Andy. “Plus no hard feelings, right, Mr. Zorn? You said to remind you.”

“Of course not,” said Mr. Zorn. “No hard feelings, no recriminations, no threats. I never threaten people.”

The nature of the threat-his mother and the law-was clear.

“They’re at the age for adolescent pranks,” Andy said.

“Good point,” said Mr. Zorn. “Imagine if they’d been funneling-is that what they call it, Andy?”

“ ’Fraid so.”

“Funneling quarts of vodka or something.” Mr. Zorn shivered.

“Every parent’s nightmare,” said Andy.

“So we dodged one this time. Let’s think of it that way. Have Grace get in touch when she cools down.”

Nat and Izzie stood by the window, watching Mr. Zorn and Andy Ling walk across the quad. Andy said something that made Mr. Zorn laugh; a big breath cloud rose above him.

“We ended up looking like idiots anyway,” Nat said. He felt worse than an idiot, embarrassed and ashamed; but deep inside he agreed: We dodged one this time.

“Speak for yourself,” said Izzie.

He looked at her in surprise.

“Sorry,” she said; came to him, wrapped her arms around him, shivered, just as her father had done. Mr. Zorn and Andy disappeared from view. “There is a positive side,” Izzie said after a moment or two. Was she, too, aware that they had dodged one this time? Izzie surprised him again. “It’s not often,” she said, “you get the chance to find out what someone really thinks about you.”

“He likes you,” Nat said. “He loves you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“It couldn’t have been clearer,” Nat said. “If he’s got problems, they’re with Grace.”

Izzie’s grip on him tightened. Outside snow was falling harder.

“We’d better go tell her,” Nat said.

“What’s the rush?” Izzie said, her mouth close to his ear; the sound sent one of those odd nerve reactions down his neck and spine. He knew what Izzie was thinking: Grace would say they’d blown it.