Greg Iles - 24 Hours

Will sat speechless, watching the cars whiz past. Once again Hickey had done the unexpected. Instead of setting up a ransom exchange, or simply telling Cheryl to dump him somewhere and go to the backup plan, he had figured a way to pin Will down while he made his escape.

“I can’t accept that, Joe. When would I get Abby back? How would I know you’d keep up your end?”

“You’ve just got to have faith, Doc. After I get the money, I’ll let your wife and kid go at a public place. Same place for both of them.”

“That won’t work, Joe. Look… I know you don’t just want the money, okay? You want to hurt me, and you want to do it through my family. I’ve got three hundred and fifty thousand dollars here. It’s yours. But I’ve got to be there when we make the trade. When I see Karen and Abby drive away in a car, I’ll give you the money. You can do what you want then. You can kill me. Just let them live. That’s all I ask.”

“Still trying to play hero, aren’t you? The big martyr. Well, forget it. It’s my way or the highway. Give Cheryl the money and tell her to drop you off at the Beau Rivage.”

“I’m not giving up the money until I see Abby.”

“You got no choice, son.”

The phone went dead in Will’s hand. He sat there in shock, all the frustration of the past twenty-four hours boiling like lye in his gut.

“What happened?” Cheryl asked. “What did he say?”

Will hammered the steering wheel with his fists. Cheryl tried to grab his arms, but he pounded the wheel until the horn cover popped off and hit the window.

“Stop!” Cheryl screamed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He explained Hickey’s last demand.

“I told you,” she said, sinking back in her seat. “Joey’s always three steps ahead. He doesn’t make mistakes.”

“He trusts you to bring him the money. That’s a mistake.”

“No,” she said with resignation. “He knows I might think about running. But when it comes right down to it, I haven’t got the nerve.”

Will grabbed her arm and squeezed it hard enough to hurt. “Is that the best you can do? Are you that beaten down?”

She jerked her arm away. “What about you, hot-shot? He’s got you beat five ways to Sunday.”

Will leaned back in the seat, his head and hands throbbing. “I could get somebody to sit in the suite and answer my phone,” he said, thinking aloud. “Pretend they’re me. One of my friends from the convention.”

“Joey wouldn’t buy that for two seconds. He knows things about you that you don’t even know. One trick question and it would be over.”

“The hotel phones, then. I could go back and smash the junction boxes with the car. They’re usually on the ground outside. A car wreck

… that’s out of my control.”

“Like that’s a coincidence? Get real. You’re screwed.”

Another plane roared overhead-an F-18 Hornet. As the thunder of its jet engine shook the car, an idea flashed into Will’s mind with the brilliance of a flare at midnight. Something so simple…

“What is it?” Cheryl asked. “What?”

He took out his wallet, removed a card from the bill compartment, and dialed a number on Cheryl’s cell phone.

“Beau Rivage Casino Resort,” said the hotel operator.

“Give me Mr. Geautreau, please. It’s an emergency.”

“May I ask the nature of the emergency?”

“Life and death, damn it! Get him to the phone!”

“Who are you calling?” Cheryl asked.

“This is Mr. Geautreau. May I help you?”

“This is Dr. Will Jennings, the keynote speaker at the medical convention. We spoke yesterday when I checked in.”

“Of course, Doctor. How may I help you?”

“You’ve had the FBI in this morning, right?”

Geautreau hesitated. “That’s right.”

“And they checked my room.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are there still FBI agents in the hotel?”

“The last one left a few minutes ago.”

“Listen, Geautreau. I don’t know what the FBI told you, but they were there because my daughter was kidnapped last night. She’s still missing. I’m not in the hotel now, but I need someone to think I am. One of the kidnappers. Starting in about fifteen minutes, he’s going to call my suite several times over the next few hours. I need all those calls forwarded to the cell phone I’m using now. Can you do that?”

“Doctor, this sounds like a matter for the FBI.”

Will had considered calling Zwick. The SAC could have an agent at the Beau Rivage in ten minutes to handle this, if Will would share his plan with the Bureau. But that would put him back under the control of the FBI, which was the last place he wanted to be.

“Can you technically do it?” he asked. “Just tell me that. Can you intercept the calls and patch them through?”

“Technically? Yes, we have that capability. But it’s not hotel policy to-”

“Forget hotel policy. Let’s talk about your personal policy. If you make sure those calls are forwarded to my cell phone for the next three hours-personally ensure it-I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.”

“Ten thousand…?”

He had the man’s attention. Geautreau was caught between perceived legal risk and flat-out greed.

“Doctor-”

“Let’s make it fifteen thousand. Fifteen grand for three hours’ work.”

There was a brief silence. Then the manager said, “Promises are easy to make.”

Will breathed a sigh of relief. All he had to do was set the hook.

“I’d need some security,” Geautreau said. “Earnest money.”

“Would a thousand dollars cover it?”

“I think that would be sufficient.”

“Connect me to Dr. Jackson Everett’s room. And stay on the phone after he hangs up.”

“As you say, Doctor.”

The phone rang five times. Will sweated every ring. Then he heard a click, followed by a crash.

“Son of a bitch,” said a ragged voice. “Have a little mercy on a guy.”

“Jack? Wake up.”

“Who is this? Crystal?”

Crystal? Everett’s wife was named Mary. “It’s Will Jennings, Jack. Wake up!”

“Will? What’s so important it can’t wait till a decent hour? I’ve got the hangover from hell.”

“I’ll tell you later. Right now I need to you go downstairs and write the hotel desk manager a check for a thousand dollars.”

“A thousand dollars? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t have time to explain. I just need you to do it. It’s life or death, Jack.”

“You’re bullshitting me, right? What is this?”

“Jack, for God’s sake, I need a thousand dollars at the front desk in five minutes. My life depends on it.”

“Your life…? You must have gone gambling last night after all. Did you get into one of those unofficial poker games with this guy?”

“Damn it, Jack!”

“Okay, okay. I’ll put it on my Visa.”

“That won’t work. It’s got be cash or a check. This is a personal thing with the desk manager. His name’s Geautreau.”

“This is a casino, Will. They’re dying to give people cash to lose at the tables. I’ll handle it. Let me get moving, brush my teeth-”

“Now, Jack! The guy’s waiting. His name’s Geautreau.

G-E-A-U-T-R-E-A-U.”

“Are you down at the desk now?”

“I’m a long way from that desk, buddy. This is life or death, no shit. Will you do it?”

“I’m on my way. But you owe me big-time.”

“Anything you want. Now hang up. Geautreau’s waiting for me.”

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ve got you covered on the money.”

The phone clicked.

“I heard,” said Geautreau.

“Fourteen thousand more where that came from. Write down the number of my cell phone. It’s six-oh-one, three-three-two, four-two-one-seven. Read that back to me.”