A Soldier's Revenge: A Will Cochrane Novel (31 page)

“Then change how things are done. If you think I’m trying to lure you and Kopa
ń
ski out here alone, just so I can hurt or kill you, you’re wrong. I’ve got bigger interests at heart. And the biggest of them are to ensure Tom is handed over to you and my innocence is proven. Make a damn decision.”

P
ainter drummed her fingers on the dashboard as she and Joe reached the outskirts of the city. “Shit!”

Kopa
ń
ski said, “He didn’t want to kill me and the other cop on the Amtrak. But we think he killed plenty of cops since.”

“We
think
?”

“Yeah. We
think
.”

“But you and I have kept an open mind.”

“That principle’s been tested to the limit.”

“I know!”

The detectives were consumed with their own thoughts for a few moments.

Kopa
ń
ski broke the silence. “I say we give Cochrane one more chance to prove his innocence.”

“I agree.”

Painter ordered the convoy to stand down but remain static in the area in case it was needed. There were objections from each unit’s commanders, but she overruled them.

She wondered if she and Joe were making the worst mistake of their careers.

T
wenty minutes later, I called her from another phone. “Have you made a decision?”

She told him she had. It would only be her and Kopa
ń
ski coming to the meeting.

I replied, “I’d like to believe you, but I still need to be cautious. I’m going to guide you to a place where any backup you may have will stand out a mile. If I spot that backup, you’ll never hear from me again. I’ll find other means to get Tom into your care.”

I gave her very precise instructions. I grabbed my bag. Looking at Tom, I said, “We need to get out of the car and go for a walk.”

Outside the car, I removed my jacket and placed it over Tom, its hem touching his toes.

I smiled. “The teddy bear I bought you was what told me you were alive. You were a clever boy to record the Russian man’s voice.”

Tom didn’t smile.

We walked for twenty minutes, for the most part me carrying Tom.

“This’ll do,” I said. “Now we just need to wait.”

We were on an escarpment of open fields. Three-quarters of a mile away there was a solitary farm track. The layout was near identical to the surroundings leading to Zhukov’s house. No trees, no other features. Just the track that probably led to another farmhouse, though it was not visible.

I called Painter and gave her further instructions. “Remember—I’ll know if you break your word.”

“A
re we doing the right thing, Joe?”

“Damned if I know the answer to that.” Kopa
ń
ski turned the car off 124 at precisely the place Cochrane had told him to exit. They were on a single farm track that went on for miles, according to the GPS. The fields on their right were flat, and those on their left rose to a small hill about three-quarters of a mile away. “You know that if Cochrane kills us, we’ll have a fancy full honors funeral. But all of East Coast law enforcement will rightly think we were dumb to stand the convoy down.”

“I know. Not sure that concern is high priority for me right now.”

“Me neither.”

Painter’s phone rang.

I
was watching the blue car through the zoom lens of Tap’s camera. It was about two miles off the 124. Nothing was behind or ahead of it. I conducted a 360-degree examination of our surroundings. The location allowed me superb visibility over miles of land, despite dark clouds hanging motionless in the sky. Thankfully, the rain had stopped.

When Painter answered my call, I said, “I’m assuming that’s you in the blue car.”

She replied that it was, asking where they should meet me and Tom.

“Nice try, Detective. Keep driving.” This time I kept the line open instead of hanging up.

The blue car continued onward.

I waited until it was directly opposite me. “Stop the car and get out.”

A male and female got out of the car. The female was in a black pantsuit and white blouse, her black hair pinned up. The tall male was in a suit. I recognized them both from the confrontation on the Amtrak.

I said to Painter, “Put your handguns on the roof of the car. Any backup weapons as well.”

Painter said, “No way.”

I said, “My handgun is in a pack on my back. If you put your weapons on the roof, Tom and I are going to walk to you. It will take us about fifteen minutes to reach your location. If things go wrong, you’ll have as much chance of reaching your guns as I will of unslinging my pack and reaching mine. But without the weapons in our hands, we stand a much better chance of having a constructive dialogue.”

Painter said she was putting her cell on mute while she discussed this with her colleague. I stayed on the line, watching Kopa
ń
ski shake his head and Painter raise her hands.

Both put their handguns on the roof of the car.

“Satisfied?” asked Painter when back on the call.

“Yes. And as we approach you, if you see a gun in my hand I will fully respect your decision to reach for yours.” I ended the call. “Come on, Tom. It’s time to get you home.” I placed the camera into my pack, ensuring a gun was on top.

I lifted Tom into my arms and walked quickly down the escarpment until we were on flat land. At this distance, Kopa
ń
ski and Painter were mere specks.

Fifteen minutes later, I could see them standing side by side. Their car was behind them, guns still on the roof.

They were two hundred yards away, motionless.

I kept walking, saying to Tom, “I’m sure these are good people. Everything’s going to be fine.”

One hundred yards.

I said, “We’ll sort everything out. I’m going to be in trouble for what I had to do to rescue you. But I think the police will understand it was all necessary.”

Fifty yards.

“No guns!” I called out to the detectives. “I’m keeping my word. We take this steady.”

Tom and I were now five yards in front of the detectives.

“Detectives: so nice to meet you.”

Painter and Kopa
ń
ski were silent, their guns six feet behind them.

I lowered Tom to the ground. To the detectives, I said, “I’m going to tell you what I’m guilty of and what I’m innocent of. I assaulted you and a uniformed police officer on the train. I badly hurt a large man in a diner in Lynchburg; he was trying to stop me leaving the establishment. I disarmed two police officers in the same city, and am guilty of causing damage to their vehicle. I am guilty of not handing myself in earlier. And I’m guilty of having to use maximum force to rescue Tom.” I gave them the location of Zhukov’s house, while placing my hands on Tom’s shoulders. “But I’m not guilty of kidnapping this young boy. Nor did I kill my sister, the Granges, or any other innocent people. I’ve been framed and I would like to tell you how I think it was done.”

I crouched beside Tom and said to him, “Go to these people. They’ll take you to Billy and Aunt Faye. Tell them who kidnapped you and that I had nothing to do with it.”

I stood.

Tom looked at me, a look of fear and disbelief in his eyes. His lips were trembling and tears were rolling down his cheeks.

“Go on, Tom. There’s nothing to worry about. I wouldn’t ask you to go with them if I thought they were unsafe. Isn’t that correct, Detectives?”

Kopa
ń
ski nodded.

And Painter held out her hand. “It’s okay, Tom. We
will
take you straight to your family.”

To my relief, Tom ran to them.

The boy then pointed at me. “He . . . Uncle Will . . . he kidna . . . he stole me. Put me in the house. He was there sometimes while they kept a hood on me.”

Shock sucker-punched me. “What are you talking about, Tom?”

“Your voice. I heard your voice. You were in the room with me. The man with the funny voice asked you questions. I heard you answer him.”

They must have made covert recordings of me speaking during the preceding months. And used elements of those recordings in ways that sounded natural in Tom’s prison. It was the only explanation. Tom would know if someone was trying to impersonate me.

Knowing that didn’t do anything to alleviate my shock. “That was part of the plan. The man who took you told me that he was going to release you unharmed this evening in the city. I didn’t believe him. I was wrong. He wanted you to tell the police what you’ve just told me. In their eyes, that would mean there was no doubt I was a kidnapper.”

Kopa
ń
ski took a step toward his gun.

But I was quicker and had my pack off my back and in front of me. “Don’t! Just don’t. Notice that I haven’t pulled out my weapon. Let’s keep it that way.”

The look in Tom’s eyes and the expressions on the detectives’ faces told me they didn’t believe I was innocent. “They used recordings of my voice. Maybe they got them at the Waldorf. More likely they got them many other places.”

Painter said, “With everything stacked against you, we can’t accept that possibility.”

Emotionally overwrought, I said to Tom, “Whatever
anyone
tells you about me, I want you to grow up remembering what I’m about to tell you. I didn’t do the things they say I did.” Using the words
grow up
made me realize that I was telling myself that I’d probably never see the twins again. Under other circumstances, that realization would have reduced me to tears. “I wanted to look after you and Billy after everything that happened to your mom and dad.” My eyes were burning. “Look after yourself, Tom. Work hard at school.” I asked the detectives, “Is Faye going to look after them? Is she strong enough?”

Kopa
ń
ski answered, “Yes, to both. She’ll cope just fine, and that’s the way we want it. We didn’t want the boys to go into . . .” He was about to say foster care, but held back finishing the sentence because of Tom.

I knew what the cop had been about to say. “Good. I’m no danger to the twins or Faye. I suspect you’ve got Billy and his aunt in protective custody, in case I go after them. Whatever you think I’ve done, nothing changes the fact that I’ve handed Tom over to you. Let him and his brother lead normal lives, live in Faye’s house, and attend their school. I would
never
interfere with that. Reassure me, please.”

Painter said, “You could go crazy again. You say now that you mean them no harm. That might change in a few months.”

I took a step closer. “Let me ask you this, Detective Painter—do I show any signs of being crazy or having temporarily recovered from a bout of lunacy?”

In a measured tone, she answered, “You’re not crazy.”

Kopa
ń
ski added, “I agree. You know exactly who you are and what you’re doing. But in the eyes of the law, that’ll get you fried rather than a life sentence in a secure hospital for nut jobs. You understand?”

“Fully.”

Kopa
ń
ski said, “The dice didn’t roll your way.”

“No, they didn’t.” I felt cold and focused as I started backing away. “Tom’s safety was my priority. But I also hoped bringing him to you would make you think I might be telling the truth. That’s been taken away from me as well. No doubt you’ll want to keep looking for me. Don’t bother. I’m going to vanish.” I kept backing off.

“We won’t stop until we get you.” Kopa
ń
ski took another step.

But Painter put her arm on his. “No, Joe. Too risky.”

My heart was broken as I said my last words to Tom. “Good-bye, little man. I love you and Billy. Please tell Billy I said that. I let both of you down. I’m so very sorry.”

One hundred yards away, I turned and sprinted off.

CHAPTER 29

I
t was late afternoon when Philip Knox received an SMS from Simon Tap’s cell phone.

WE NEED TO MEET THIS EVENING. POLICE HAVE FOUND TOM KOENIG, UNHARMED. SEARCH FOR COCHRANE CONTINUES, THOUGH POLICE BELIEVE TRACKING HIM IS NOW GOING TO BE INFINITELY TOUGHER. WE NEED A NEW STRATEGY. I HAVE AN IDEA, BUT NEED YOUR HELP.

T
he SMS gave details of where and when they should meet.

Since the huge police operation in Lynchburg, the media had maintained headline coverage of the Cochrane manhunt. But most of it was conjecture. They relied on police updates and live developments, but Cochrane had seemingly gone to ground after what had happened in Virginia. An hour ago, Knox had heard on CNN that the police were giving a press briefing in two hours about a new significant development. That would be about the rescue of Tom Koenig.

Tap was right. Monitoring Detective Painter’s phone had been useful, but had ultimately failed. He wondered what Tap’s idea was. He was extremely resourceful and never gave up. And he was the only person capable of going up against Cochrane.