John Locke - Wish List

“Why not? My line’s secure.”

“So is ours. But Victor hasn’t authorized me to tell you.”

“Victor?” I said. “Hello?”

“He’s not here.”

“He left the room? I didn’t hear his wheelchair.”

“It’s a brand new one. Completely silent.”

“Does he ever creep up on you?”

“All the time. Scares the shit out of me.”

“What’s he doing right now?”

“Meeting with our computer programmer.”

“Can you interrupt him?”

“Not a good idea.”

“Fair enough. I’ll ask him when I see him. In the meantime, tell me about Buddy, starting with where he is right now.”

“Arizona.”

“Jinny’s in Indiana,” I said, letting him know I’ll be more specific when he is.

“He’s in a ranch house that borders twenty thousand acres of private land,” Hugo said.

“Why?”

“He’s a participant in a hunting game.”

“Against his will?”

“I’d say so.”

“What’s the game?”

“They call it ��Run, Son!’”

“Never heard of it.”

“There are a dozen hunters with rifles, and Buddy and forty-nine other Wish List alumni are prey. They’ll have a two-hour head start, but they won’t escape.”

“Why’s that?”

“They’ve had monitoring devices planted in their backs, next to their spines, where they can’t reach them.”

“What if Buddy gets one of the other participants to dig it out?”

“It’ll explode, rendering him paralyzed.”

“Like Victor.”

“Except that Victor won’t be lying on the desert floor, helpless, when the hunters come.”

“Tell me the rest of it.”

“There’s a point system. As prey, Buddy’s worth seventy points to the hunter that bags him. The younger, stronger, faster targets are worth up to 250 points. When the last kill is made, the points are totaled and the winners receive valuable prizes.”

“How do you verify the points?”

“The hunters dig the devices out of their backs.”

“Each device is labeled with the points?”

“Correct.”

“You think Buddy’s head will wind up mounted on someone’s wall?”

“I think we’ll bury him with the others deep in the desert after the point count, unless you return Jinny to us. Where is she?”

“I left her chained to a tree in the woods.”

“Her health won’t permit it. You’ve got to get her to us immediately.”

“I can do that. Provided you spare Buddy’s life.”

“Buddy’s worth squat. There’s got to be a catch.”

“I also want you to leave his wife alone. Forever.”

“Will that do it?”

“Nearly.”

“What else?”

“They get to keep the million dollars.”

“Done.”

Chapter 12

When Jinny Kidwell and Harrison Ford heard me coming they broke into excited stage whispers. Poor things, that’s all the vocal power they had left. Had I been searching a hundred yards away instead of knowing their exact location, I would have missed them.

As I made my way through the underbrush, their pleas became more urgent. But upon seeing me, they grew silent.

Jinny didn’t look as frail as I expected, but she was pissed. She unleashed a torrent of curses at me like none I’d ever heard from a woman. And I’ve known some tough women! But curses are more effective with volume, and Jinny’s invectives, though scathing, came across as comical.

I tried not to smile. She caught me and began another round.

“Relax, Jinny,” I said. “You’re about to be saved.”

Calling over my shoulder, I said, “You too, Harrison. Hang on. I’ll be there in a minute. You’ll be back with your wife before you know it.”

Jinny's steel wrist band was secured to a length of chain that wound around the tree. When I circled the tree to remove the chain I noticed something on the ground.

“Is that yours?”

She turned to look at me and followed my stare. Then she stopped cursing and lowered her head, embarrassed.

“I’ll be damned,” I said, grinning.

“A gentleman would pretend not to notice my droppings,” she whispered. Then she grew angry again and whisper-shouted, “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“I was just trying to calculate what that might be worth on eBay, if I could get it documented.”

It took her a moment to process my words. Then she whispered, “ What? ”

“Scarlett Johansson blew her nose into a handkerchief and sold it for fifty-three hundred dollars. The same buyer paid twenty-eight thousand for a half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich.”

“That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting!”

“I suppose I could get one of those DNA testing labs to authenticate it. They might certify it came from you.”

“You’re joking! ”

I was joking. But not about the value of Jinny Kidwell’s scat in today’s celebrity-crazed society. I had no doubt that her droppings would fetch a hundred grand, if marketed properly.

Really, I’m kidding. I mean, about actually doing it.

Later, in the car heading south, after two hours of angry silence and a couple of hot teas with honey and lemon, Jinny’s voice was on the mend. She was hoarse, but I could understand her.

“Did you even stop to think about us?”

“What do you mean?”

“If something had happened to you, we would have died out there.”

“I told someone where you were.”

“You did?”

“Not the exact location, but yes, in general.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, really. I told my girlfriend.”

She appeared, not surprised, but stunned. “You’ve got a girlfriend?”

“I do.”

“For real?”

“Of course.”

“What’s her name?”

“Rachel.”

Jinny shook her head, sadly.

“What’s the matter?” I said.

“She’d have to be insane.”

Chapter 13

I continued driving south, through Nashville, and eventually dropped Jinny and me off at a private airstrip near Franklin, Tennessee. Before boarding our charter jet, I untied Harrison, returned his car keys, and gave him a generous tip, along with a warning that I was counting on his complete discretion. Jinny showed her sweet side by giving him a long hug and thanking him for helping her get through their ordeal. Then Jinny and I climbed in the Hawker 400 XP and flew to the remote landing strip near Great Bend, Kansas, where the exchange would be made. Hugo and I were in constant contact during the flight, and he caught me up to speed on everything that had happened in Buddy’s miserable life since filling out the form on WishList.bz.

Upon landing, I told Jinny and the pilots to remain onboard and visible. Then I walked, as instructed, to the fourth hangar, and knocked on the door.

“Face the wall while I pat you down,” said one of Victor’s huge, well-muscled goons.

I looked at Hugo and said, “Is this really necessary?”

He shrugged. “Sorry. Try to take it as a compliment.”

I endured it.

“He’s clean,” the goon said.

“I can guarantee you, he’s armed.” Hugo said.

The goon looked down at Hugo with scorn. “You tellin’ me my job, little man?”

“Maybe you two should get a room,” I said.

“Maybe I should stuff my foot up your ass!”

“You’ll have to buy me dinner first.”

“Where’s the weapon?” Hugo said.

I pointed to the watch on my left wrist.

Hugo nodded.

“The fuck is that?” said the goon.

“Wireless detonator.”

“Bullshit,” he said. “You haven’t had time to wire this place.”

Hugo shook his head. “The plane, stupid.”

“Why would he blow up the—oh. Shit! ”