Jeff Abbott - Panic

‘It’ll all be fine as soon as we’re together.’

‘Dad… is it all true? What I found out about you and Mom, about the Deeps? Because I don’t understand…’

‘You have been very sheltered, Evan, and you are about to do more harm, ever, than good if you expose us. Do what Jargo says. We’ll have lots of time, and I can make you understand.’

‘Why aren’t you Arthur Smithson anymore?’

A pause. ‘You don’t know what your mother and I did for you. You have no conception of the sacrifices we made. You’ve never made a difficult choice. You have no idea.’ Then Mitchell’s words came in a rush, as though his time ran short: ‘You remember when I gave you all the Graham Greene novels, and I told you the most important line in all of them was “if one loved, one feared”? It’s true, one hundred percent true. I was afraid you wouldn’t have a good life, and I wanted a good life for you. The best life. You are everything to me. I love you, Evan.’

‘I remember. Dad, I love you, too.’ No matter what he had done. Evan remembered his father giving him a bunch of Greene novels his senior year in high school for Christmas, but he didn’t understand the quote. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Dad was alive and he was getting him back.

‘Listen closely.’ His father’s voice was gone, replaced by Dezz’s. ‘I’m in charge of you, now. Where are you?’

‘Just tell me where I’m supposed to be to exchange Khan’s computer for my father.’

‘Miami. Tomorrow morning.’

‘I can’t get to Miami that fast. Tomorrow night.’

‘We’ll arrange tickets for you,’ Dezz said. ‘We don’t want the CIA scooping you back up.’

‘I’ll handle my own travel. I’ll call you from Miami. I’m picking the time and place for our exchange.’

‘All right.’ Dezz gave a giggle. ‘Don’t run away from me this time. Now that we’ll all be like family.’ And he hung up.

Like family. Evan didn’t like the dig in Dezz’s tone, and he thought of the faded pictures of the two boys in Goinsville, their similar smiles and squints. Seeing now what he didn’t want to see then, the possibility that the connection between his father – a man he loved and admired – and Jargo, a brutal and vicious killer, could be a thread of blood.

Evan had decided to play dumb, to let Jargo think he would blindly rush to save his father, but now he felt dense. Graham Greene quotes that had burned up the precious time talking with his father. Digs from Dezz. It didn’t make sense.

Evan erased the downloaded movie from the PC and walked back to his room. He sprawled on his bed and stared at Khan’s laptop, still hiding its secrets like a willful child.

If he walked this laptop back to Jargo for his father, he’d get his dad back, he hoped, but Jargo would not be stopped. No. Unacceptable. So he had to do both. Get his father back and bring Jargo down, with no room for error.

He sat and considered the tools at his disposal, the ways tomorrow might play out.

It was a matter, he decided, of simply being the best storyteller. He needed to outdo a veritable king of lies. His first prop was this uncooperative laptop. It was time for sleight of hand.

S he picked up the phone on the third ring. ‘Hello?’

‘Hello, Kathleen.’

A moment of stunned silence. ‘Evan?’

‘Yeah, it’s me.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes. I saw you talking about me on CNN last weekend. I appreciate the kind words.’

‘Evan, where are you, what happened? My God, I’ve been worried sick about you.’

He wanted to believe it was true, his former girlfriend fretting over him, and he knew his request would put her to the test.

‘I can’t tell you what’s happened or where I am. I need your help. I may be putting you in danger by asking. If you hang up now, I won’t blame you.’

Silence. Then she said, ‘What kind of danger?’

‘Not so much to you, but to whomever you can get to help me.’

‘Spit it out, Evan.’ She always had a brutal directness.

‘A dangerous group of people want me dead. They killed my mom, kidnapped my dad, they’re looking for me. I have one of their computers and I need access to it. But it’s encrypted.’

‘This is a joke, right?’

‘My mom’s dead, do you think I’m joking?’

Four beats of silence. Her voice lowered. ‘No, I don’t think you are.’

‘Help me, Kath.’

‘My God, Evan, listen, go to the police.’

‘They’ll kill my dad if I do. Please, Kathleen.’

‘How could I help you?’

‘Because you produced Hackerama with Bill.’ Bill was the guy she’d left Evan for, a film-maker from New York Evan actually thought was a cool guy. He’d beaten Evan out for the Oscar with his film about the culture of computer hackers.

‘Yes,’ she said after a moment’s hesitation.

‘I need a contact in England. Smart and discreet, who won’t go straight to the police, and is an encryption expert. I can pay them well. You, too.’

She let a beat pass. ‘Evan. I’m not taking your money and I can’t help you commit a crime.’

‘It’s to save my dad, to save myself.’

He heard Kathleen fidget.

‘If you’ve been watching the news, you might have heard about a bombing in London today. That was this group, trying to kill me.’

‘You sound crazy right now, to be honest.’

‘I’ve been on the run for days. Hiding. My life is literally in your hands, Kathleen. I need help. I can’t stop these people, I can’t expose them in any way that the police will believe, without this evidence.’

‘Assuming that you’re telling the truth, you’re asking me to call a friend and put him or her in great danger.’

‘Yes. That’s true. You should warn them. Be honest with them so they know what they’re facing. But I’m paying. These guys always need money, right?’

‘Doesn’t sound like a good idea,’ she said, ‘for anyone but you.’

Dead end. He couldn’t blame her. ‘I understand. I wouldn’t want an innocent hurt either. Thanks for being willing to talk to me. And thanks for defending me on CNN. It meant a lot to me.’

‘Evan.’

He waited.

Finally she said, ‘I’ll find someone to help you. How can I reach you?’

‘It’s better for you if I just call you back. The less you know, the better.’

‘I’m so sorry about your mom. She was a terrific woman. And your dad…’

‘Thank you.’

‘Call me back in an hour.’

‘Okay.’ He hung up. He wondered if she would call the police straightaway. He called Kathleen Torrance back in precisely an hour, using the hotel phone. Khan’s cell phone was strictly for talking with Jargo.

‘Evan. A hacker gave me the name of a friend of his in London. I called the friend. His hacker name is Razur. He doesn’t want you to know his real name. He said he’d meet you tonight at this cafe. You got a pen?’ She gave him an address in Soho.

‘Thank you, Kathleen. God bless you.’

‘I beg you. Let the police handle this.’

‘I would if I could. It’s complicated.’

‘Will you call me back? Let me know you’re all right?’

‘When I can. Be well, Kathleen. Thanks.’ He hung up.

He went downstairs, asked the desk clerk for directions to the cafe Razur had suggested. He got back in Khan’s car, steeled himself for driving on the opposite side of the road, and headed out into the chilling, cutting rain.

‘Y ou were very persuasive, Mitchell,’ Jargo said. ‘I’m proud of you. That was a difficult conversation.’

‘I don’t want him hurt.’ Mitchell Casher closed his eyes.

‘None of us want Evan hurt.’ Jargo set coffee down in front of Mitchell. ‘I hate to criticize, but you should have told him about us long ago.’