Cold Silence (A High Stakes Thriller) (25 page)

He nodded and put his glasses on quickly. Then, finding the remote control, he flipped the television on. She shook her head, turning her back to it. She gripped the colonel's sleeve. "Is it Ryan? Just tell me. I don't want to see."

Before he could answer, she heard the voice of Travis Landon.

"I have no comment. Please. This is a personal matter. For the sake of us all, leave us alone."

Cody focused on the image of Travis, in a gray suit, the top button of his shirt undone, his tie pulled loose, standing in front of his house. He was dressed exactly as he had been when he'd left her house less than a half hour before.

"You did an interview for CNN earlier. Isn't that right, Mr. Landon?" one reporter shouted.

He nodded and looked awkwardly at the camera.

"But you didn't tell them about the kidnapping."

"There was no—" Landon started.

"We have confirmation that a classmate of your son's has been kidnapped."

"Is it true that the boy's disappearance is linked to a website with your son's name?" another asked.

It looked as though the press had been waiting for him at his house when he arrived.

He raked his hand through his hair like a man who'd never dealt with the exasperation of the media's barrage. Yet he spoke to them.

"No," Cody whispered. "Don't."

"Mr. Landon, can you confirm that your son's classmate, R.J. O'Brien, was kidnapped from the private school he attends?"

Travis halted. It was like he was frozen.

"Move," Cody said. "Just leave."

The voices continued, a cacophony that seemed to surround Landon until he finally spoke. "Yes."

"Damn it." She could have killed him. He'd blown their silence. He'd sworn he'd be quiet, and he'd betrayed her.

In one corner of the screen, the banner read
LIVE, 10:00 o'clock news.
She focused on Travis's face as it disappeared into the background and a petite Asian woman appeared center screen.

"There has been no update on the case of the mistaken kidnapping of eight-year-old R.J. O'Brien from his exclusive private boys' school on Friday. Correspondent Grace Thompson reports from the home of the boy's mother, Cody O'Brien."

Cody flinched as she saw the image switch to the front of her own home. "Oh, God." She heard the bustle through the colonel's window, the same noises she heard on the TV as several reporters crowded around her front door.

"There appears to be no one currently available to comment at the home of Cody O'Brien, mother of the eight-year-old kidnapped accidentally in place of the son of Travis Landon, president and CEO of TecLan in Silicon Valley."

She watched an image appear in the corner of the screen. It sucked her breath away. As the picture grew, Cody felt herself shrivel. Inside the small, white-rimmed box was her driver's-license photo. "Jesus."

The colonel took her hand like a father and patted it without a word.

"According to sources, the kidnapper set up a website to announce his ransom. Details on what he's demanded are not yet available. Local police, however, have not offered any insight into the mistaken kidnapper's identity or the ransom he is requesting. They have been trying to reach Mrs. O'Brien, but according to the head officer, they have not been successful. This is Grace Thompson reporting." She gave a wide, toothy smile. "Back to you in the studio, Kyle."

Kyle's mouth moved, but Cody could no longer focus on the words. All she saw was her image in the corner of the screen like an hourglass counting down the seconds until Oskar Kirov arrived at the door. Cody thought about her phone ringing off the hook all day. Had it been the police wanting to talk to her?

She stared at the familiar features. They would know. Anyone would know. The hair color was different; she'd worn glasses and contacts to make her eyes look brown. She wore heavier makeup, her hair frizzy and curled, and she'd framed it around her face. All in an effort to hide her identity.

But it was there. It was all there. Maybe even more clearly than it would have been if she'd just left herself plain. The bad hair, the makeup, the glasses, they only drew extra attention to her. And beneath all of that fake exterior, Cody saw the very clear image of one petrified Megan Riggs.

She blinked hard, feeling the tears well up. She let them stream down her face. Her mind flashed back and forth from her own child to the image of his kidnapper as she tried to picture the man who had Ryan.

"We should call the police now," the colonel said.

She shook her head.

"It's all out now. They can help."

She thought about the kidnapper. He was organized. He'd shown no signs of panic. There was a decent chance that he'd release Ryan when he realized that he wasn't the one he wanted.

She shifted. But if there was police involvement now, media, he might panic. He might not release him.

What did he want? If he wanted ransom, he might still be able to get it with Ryan. If he wanted revenge, he wouldn't need Ryan. He'd let him go or he'd dispose of him. It was too clean, too cold to be an angry crime. Wasn't it? Too clinical.

"No police." She'd be better off taking a chance to reason with him herself.

She saw the photo of Ryan on the clean carpet with the clean wall. The glass in the corner, his clean hair. He'd washed, been fed. He wasn't being abused. She tried to focus on the details, but her mind kept slipping to another image.

A man standing red-faced in a court of law, threatening her life for his son's. Oskar Kirov would find out where she was and he would hunt her down.

She focused on the friendly face who reported the news of her son's disappearance.

She wondered if he had any idea how close he was to reporting the news of their deaths.

Chapter 24

Mei Ling was pretending to focus on the computer reports that were stacked in front of her. It was well after midnight and Jennifer had come into the office just minutes ago. Mei was surprised she'd come in at all, and it was the first time they'd seen each other since their fight and her talk with Andy Chang. Jennifer had not mentioned the event, so Mei kept her mouth shut. After she told Andy about the incident, he'd told her to disregard it. He wanted her to pretend that she knew nothing and act as she would normally. And that was what she would have done normally. She'd never bring up something like that, especially not to Jennifer.

But with the events of the last two days, Mei noticed more than ever how ill at ease Jennifer seemed in the office. Tonight even her clothes were disheveled, and there was a dull flatness to her hair that Mei had never seen before. She wore navy socks beneath her black pants and she carried a brown Coach bag despite her black shoes. It was as though she'd dressed in a terrible hurry or maybe in the dark.

Andy had told her that the medication in Jennifer's desk, Ativan, was prescribed for anxiety disorders, but Jennifer seemed more anxious than ever.

The phone rang and Jennifer answered it. Mei leaned into her report as she heard Jennifer's voice get momentarily louder. She could feel the other woman's gaze on her back, so she lifted her pencil and made a small mark on the page as though she were completely focused. Jennifer's voice lowered; then she was quiet.

Mei wanted to turn around, but instead she made another note, opened her drawer, pulled out a small paper flag, stuck it on the edge of the page, made a sound like she'd discovered something, and then turned to the next page.

She listened, but behind her Jennifer was absolutely silent. Mei had an eerie feeling that Jennifer was right behind her. Her stomach leaped, but when she turned around Jennifer was still on the phone, her back to Mei.

Mei scolded herself. Calm down. Just work. For a moment she'd imagined herself some sort of Lucy Liu, an Asian Charlie's Angel, and she was struck with how childishly she was behaving. She was giddy. She knew it was partly Andy. He even made her laugh. But the situation with Jennifer wasn't a joke or a game. And she was no Charlie's Angel. She was a desk agent, and clearly she wasn't cut out for much more.

"You're the best, you know," Jennifer said. A pause. "No, I'm on my way to get it now. Thanks for coming in so late to help."

Jennifer's chair scraped against the floor as she stood, and Mei flinched.

Mei looked up at her. The bruises on her left eye had started to fade to a pale green, and in the corner of her eye she could still see the color despite her makeup. Her eyes were accented with deep circles that were colored in a slightly different tone of neutral than the rest of her face. Still, despite a look of general exhaustion, Jennifer seemed genuinely relieved.

Mei shook her head and glanced at Jennifer's phone as though it might explain her partner's expression. "I was just working on these reports from the 282-CG case."

Jennifer nodded. "I've got a stack of those, too." She pointed to her desk although the surface was clean. "I just need to run to pick up a report. I'll be right back."

Mei nodded and turned back to her work as Jennifer left the room. Mei stood and waited ten seconds, then walked into the hallway and turned toward the ladies' room. When she was sure the hallway was clear, she turned back into the office and locked the door.

Jennifer's desk was clear except for a stack of old case files on a previous hacker they'd been tracking. Mei knew exactly what they were because she'd been using them while Jennifer was gone, and she'd been the one to put them back on her desk. The only other thing on the surface was a letter-size spiral notebook that was open. Jennifer's clean, block writing filled the page with notes from the case they were working on. But the date on them was almost two months ago. Mei scanned the page quickly and saw nothing of interest.

She crossed the room back to her own desk and lifted the phone to dial Andy's extension. He would be gone, of course, so she left a voice mail that simply said to call her. Then she opened the office door again and sat back at her desk. When her phone rang less than a minute later, she snatched it up.

"Mei Ling," she said, smiling. She felt foolish. She hadn't spoken with Andy since their meeting the day before, but she found herself walking through the halls with one eye out for him.

"Ling Mei," her mother's voice said in Cantonese.

Trying to mask her disappointment, she greeted her mother. "It's so late."

"Can't sleep. Your father, he snores."

Mei lifted her pencil to continue scanning the computer records while they talked. Her mother lamented over the price of pork at the market she went to, and how she could never make it as well as her aunt.

Mei made all the right conciliatory noises though she didn't say anything. That was usually how it was when her mother called. And her sisters, too, for that matter. Mei seemed to be the only one available to listen. Only right now, Mei wasn't available. She had a mountain of work to do.

Her other line rang through.

Her mother was telling her how a boy of one of her friends had cancer.

"I'm very sorry," Mei said. "I have to take another call."

"You're so busy, you can't talk to your own mother? Even at this hour?"

The line continued to blink. "Can you hang on just a minute?"

Her mother sighed.
"Hou a." It's fine,
she said, but Mei knew it wasn't.

Mei punched the hold button, then the second line, but the call was already gone. "Damn it," she muttered. She returned to her mother. "I'm sorry about Evie's baby boy," she said.

"Oh, you're back," her mother said in Cantonese. "I can't believe you put your own mother on hold. What important case are you working on? Somebody hatching in and stealing money from some bank?" She asked, saying the word
hatching
in English.

"Hacking, Mom."

"Whatever. What people put their money on the Intanet? Dumb. It's their own fault, I say."

Internet
, she thought without bothering to correct her again. She also didn't remind her mom that the small branch of their bank in Chinatown was also undoubtedly connected to the internet.

"So what is this special case?"

"It's not special, Mom. It's more of the same, but I need to go."