James Grippando - The Abduction

It took only a few minutes to deliver the news. Tanya had listened without interruption, without making a sound.

“Tanya?” she asked after several seconds of silence. “Are you okay?”

Tanya sat alone on the edge of her bed, staring at the photograph of Kristen on the nightstand. She blinked repeatedly, as if returning from a hypnotic state. The last thing she had expected to hear was that Allison Leahy’s husband was behind the kidnapping. “What am I supposed to say?”

“I know this can’t be much of a comfort, but I was probably even more surprised than you were.”

Her mouth quivered. “I guess I should respect you for telling me. But I’m not sure what I’m feeling.”

“You have every right to hate me,” said Allison.

“No. I don’t hate you. That would be like hating my mother because she’s married to my father.”

Her voice suddenly tightened. “Oh, my God. My father.”

“What about him?”

“I honestly thought he or one of his cronies was responsible for the kidnapping. The other night, I told him that if Kristen wasn’t back by the time the polls open, I’d go on television and tell people exactly what I thought.”

“Hopefully, she will be back by then.”

“But he’s going to screw everything up. He’s scrambling, trying to get her back. My mother just told me he’s planning to go on television tonight to say he’ll pay the ransom. If the kidnappers hear that, who knows what they’ll do?”

Allison was calm but firm. “You have to stop him. For the next few hours, no one should say anything publicly about the kidnapping. Especially not anything about a ransom.”

“How do you expect me to get my father to shut up?”

“There must be something you can do.”

The response was slow in coming, but Allison could almost feel the energy flowing on the other end of the line.

“I can think of only one thing,” said Tanya.

“What?”

“That’s between me and my father.”

Allison paused, but after the pain Peter had caused her, she was in no position to second-guess. “Good luck, Tanya,” she said sincerely.

“Thank you,” she replied, then hung up the phone.

Tanya dug an address book from her purse, opened it to the right page, and laid it on the bedspread beside her. She opened the nightstand drawer. Loose change and costume jewelry were arranged neatly in little plastic organizers. A metal strongbox was in the back. She lifted one of the plastic organizers, exposing the key. She unlocked the strongbox. Inside was a Dictaphone. She removed it, closed the box and the drawer, then laid the Dictaphone on the nightstand beside the phone.

She checked the number in the address book one more time. She drew a deep breath, then dialed the number. On the third ring, she got an answer.

“Mr. LaBelle, please.” She winced at the response, then said, “I don’t care what he’s doing. Tell him it’s Tanya Howe, and he has one minute to get on the line. Or he loses the election.”

She waited, checking her watch. In twenty seconds, LaBelle was on the line with his mouth in high gear.

“Tanya, I’m well aware that we’re closing in on your deadline. Your father is doing everything possible to get Kristen back safely by tomorrow morning. In thirty minutes he’s calling a press conference to announce that he will pay the ransom. A million dollars. What more can he do?”

“All I want is for my father to shut his mouth. He is to say nothing of Kristen or the kidnapping unless I say so. That also means no attacks against Allison Leahy for the way she is handling this.”

“That’s not possible, Tanya. You see, you don’t run your father’s campaign. I do.”

She reached for the Dictaphone. “I have something here I’d like you to listen to, Mr. LaBelle. Remember that little meeting we had in the hot tub back in Nashville?” She held the Dictaphone closer to the telephone, then hit the PLAY button.

Tanya’s recorded voice was first: “Don’t you dare threaten my daughter.” LaBelle’s sharp reply followed: “I’m not. I’m threatening you .”

Tanya switched off the recording and came back on the phone. “The whole conversation is on tape. I’ve kept it in a safe place for an occasion like this, just in case I ever needed to bust your ass. Would you like me to send this over to the networks?”

“That’s a fake,” he barked. “You spliced it together.”

“It’s completely genuine. I recorded it myself, word for word.”

“That’s impossible. You were in the hot tub. You were underwater.”

“But my robe was laying right on the floor next to me, and the Dictaphone was tucked into the pocket. Maybe if you hadn’t been so busy ogling my body you would have been more alert.”

His tone turned more conciliatory. “Tanya, please. You may think you’re hurting me. But it’s bigger than that. The real person you’re hurting is your father. Not just your father, but your mother, too. You’re hurting your whole family.”

She smiled thinly. “I’m not threatening my family, Mr. LaBelle. I’m threatening you .”

The line was silent.

Tanya said, “I will expect no further comment from the general until I give you the approval. So cancel that press conference. Do we understand each other, Mr. LaBelle?”

“Yes,” he grunted. “Perfectly.”

“Good,” she said smugly, then hung up the phone.

Tony Delgado parked the Capitol City Carpet Cleaners van behind the hotel, at the service and delivery entrance. He stepped out and pulled on a pair of green coveralls. He pulled the painter’s cap down tightly, almost to his eyes. He cinched up the particle mask worn by workers who were in danger of breathing dangerous chemicals, then carried a bucket in each hand to the hotel entrance and rang the buzzer.

A security guard came to the door. He was dressed like a police officer, but Delgado noted he had no weapon. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Carpet cleaners. We’re supposed to clean the second floor.”

“Tonight?”

“That’s right.”

“Nobody said anything to me about this.”

“Got a work order right here.” He handed him a convincing phony.

The guard studied it, his face scrunched with skepticism. “This seems strange. Hold on a second, okay? Let me check with the night manager.”

“No problem. But hey, buddy. Could you give me a hand here first? One of my buckets of cleaning solvent is leaking all over the back of my truck. I need to push some things around and get it out of there before it ruins everything.”

The guard paused.

Delgado flashed a rolled-up twenty. “It’ll just take a second.”

The guard cracked his gum, taking the money. “Yeah, sure. I can help you out.”

Delgado smiled with his eyes, talking as he led the guard to the van and unlocked the rear doors. “I guess I must have made a turn a little too fast or something. Knocked the damn bucket right over.” He opened the door. “See it over there?” he said, pointing.

The guard leaned forward. Delgado snatched a pipe from his pocket and crushed the back of the guard’s skull. His body landed with a thud, half inside the van, half out.

Kristen stirred inside the trunk.

“Quiet, girl,” he said.

He shoved a half-dozen buckets forward, clearing space. He snatched the guard’s walkie-talkie and key ring, then stuffed the body inside. With one foot on the bumper he reached atop the van and removed the dolly. In seconds, he loaded the trunk onto the dolly and pushed it up the loading ramp.

He checked his hat and mask once more, then inserted the guard’s key and entered the building. The freight elevator was just inside. He hit the CALL button and wheeled in his cargo. With a confident flick of the wrist he punched the button for the second floor.