Danielle Steel - Vanished

And for the next two days, Marielle didn't hear from anyone. Malcolm went down to Washington to see the German ambassador and Brigitte went with him. Tom Armour had his hands full with polishing up his closing arguments and keeping Charles calm. He was a nervous wreck about what was going on, when Tom told him at least some of Louie's story. If he'd known all of it, Tom knew he'd have gone completely crazy. But he knew Louie had planted the bear and the pajamas. What he didn't know was that Louie might not be willing to testify, if the FBI wouldn't promise him amnesty and protection.

“But that proves I'm innocent,” he almost shouted at Tom.

“I know. But the guy has to be willing to come forward.”

“What's his name?” As though it mattered, but Tom Armour smiled.

“Louie the Lover.”

“Great. Just the kind of guy I need in my corner.”

“Listen, my friend, if he planted those pajamas and is willing to testify to that fact in court, he's exactly who you need in your corner.”

“How the hell did you find him?” Hope was beginning to dawn but he knew he wasn't out of the woods yet. A lot of things were going to have to happen right before he could be acquitted, and if Louie the Lips, or whatever his name was, disappeared, Charles was as good as dead, and he knew it.

“Actually, I got a hot tip in the middle of the night, from a friend of yours, or an admirer anyway.”

“Who's that?” Charles looked intrigued.

“Beatrice Ritter,” Tom said noncommittally.

“She's quite a girl, isn't she? Lots of spirit,” and then Charles looked pensive. “Sometimes she reminds me of Marielle when she was young. She was such a fireball then, so full of life and fun and mischief. I guess life kicked it out of her after that.” He looked sad. “Or maybe I did.” She was so serious now, so beautiful and kind, and so quiet. And yet there was a side of her that wanted to laugh and have a good time, and be happy again. Tom Armour could see it when he talked to her. “Do you think she'll ever recover from all this?” He asked Tom as though he knew her, but Charles had come to recognize that his attorney had a good instinct for people.

“I think she will. I don't think she'll ever be the carefree young girl of her youth that you describe, but few people are by the time they reach thirty. She'll get over it, but it'll still be there. She'll go on, because she's strong.” But he sighed then, she deserved a lot better than she'd gotten.

“How come you're so happy most of the time?” Charles teased him. They had become friends in the last four months, Charles respected Tom, and Tom liked him.

“Just stupid, I guess.” But he had had his share of tragedy too. He had told Charles early on, when Charles had told him about Andre. Tom had lost his wife and baby daughter ten years before in a car accident, right after he finished law school. Oddly enough, it was the same year Charles had lost Andre. And he had never remarried either. But he was crazy about his work, and he figured one day he would, when he had time …when he wasn't defending lunatics like Charles Delauney …when he felt brave enough to love someone again …but for Tom Armour, that time hadn't come yet.

Tom had a hell of a time keeping Charles distracted for two days and Charles kept asking Tom if there was any news from John Taylor. But there wasn't. Tom was anxious to hear from him himself, and he had only dared to call once, and was lucky enough to find him in the office. And Taylor sounded exhausted.

“Hell man, do you know what it's like to tear apart sixteen ships? We've torn up the whole fucking port, what do you mean ‘Hurry up’?” And they had asked for the same cooperation from the Port Authority in New Jersey, but it was easier for them. All they had in port at the moment were tankers. But Manhattan was a snakepit, and all the foreign ships were furious to be searched, until they heard what it was about, then they were a little more willing to cooperate, but not much. The news of Teddy's kidnapping was old, and in spite of the trial, people had already begun to forget, and stop caring. And the inconvenience of a major search, with all it involved, was monumental. They had even checked out the Europa, which Malcolm was sailing on later, but it was clean. And the Germans had been highly annoyed to have their ship searched.

“I told you. I'll call you if we get anything. I haven't been in my office since last night, and I only came in to take a shower because I couldn't stand myself anymore. You got any complaints, Mr. Armour?” Taylor was sharp, but Tom knew he didn't mean any harm, he was just tired.

“No complaints, just a nervous client.”

“Tell him to keep his pants on. We're doing our best. And will you do me a favor?” He hesitated and then decided to ask him.

“Sure. Shoot. What is it? Call Louie the Lover?” He smiled and Taylor laughed.

“No. Marielle Patterson. She must be a wreck, wondering what's going on. I didn't tell her about Louie getting fifty grand to plant the pajamas. I just told her we had a new lead. I didn't want to get her excited.”

“Sure. What'll I tell her?”

“I don't know …” Taylor hesitated, and Tom found himself wondering what his interest in her was, but he told himself he was too suspicious about everything, he was turning into a real bastard. “Just make sure she's all right. Patterson's giving her such a hard time. He's divorcing her, you know.”

“Swell guy.” Tom was disgusted, but not surprised to hear it.

“That's what I said. He doesn't know how lucky he is. But I think he's going to get what he deserves with little Miss Krautland. Underneath all that blond hair, she looks like one tough cookie.”

“May I quote you, Special Agent Taylor?” Tom laughed, and Taylor chuckled tiredly in answer.

“Anytime, Counsellor.”

“You've got to admit, the little kraut looked cute on the stand though.” They both laughed and Taylor went back to work reorganizing his agents. They had already torn apart twelve ships and they had four to go before the next morning.

Tom managed to call Marielle, as he'd promised Taylor.

“Is there something particular going on, Mr. Armour?”

Marielle sounded really worried. “I keep thinking they've had some kind of information about …about …” She was afraid to say it. “I keep worrying that they're going to find Teddy's body. I guess we should know if … I don't know which is worse, not knowing, or finally knowing that it's over.” Either one sounded pretty awful to Tom. He still remembered finding out about his wife and the baby. It had been beyond bearing. But this had dragged out for so long, maybe it would be a relief to finally know if he was gone, instead of just having him disappear into thin air, and never know. It had taken them two months to find the Lindbergh baby.

“I hope we'll have good news for you soon.”

“Do you know what it is they're doing?”

He didn't want to tell her they were turning the port upside down, looking for Teddy. “I think they're just looking into some final evidence before we close. It'll all be over tomorrow.”

“How's Charles taking it?”

“Actually …” Tom leaned back in his desk chair and smiled. She had a nice voice, and he liked talking to her. He liked everything he'd seen of her during the trial, but he hadn't let himself think about her before, except in relation to his client. “Actually, he's driving me crazy, to tell you the truth.”

“That sounds like Charles.' And then she grew serious again. “Is he very worried?”

“As worried as he should be. This new evidence may be of some help to him though. We're hoping so anyway. The FBI is checking it out for us. We'll let you know if we hear anything at all.”