FACETS (JAKE SCARNE THRILLERS Book 6) (5 page)

They sat opposite each other.

“It’s been a while, Vinnie,” Seath said.

“Yeah,” Anastasia said, “I heard you put in your papers. Didn’t know you came East.”

“Well, now that we’re done with old home week, Ms. Dallas,” Scarne said, “perhaps you can tell me what you wanted to see me about.”

Maura Dallas took in some air.

“I want you to find my daughter.”

“Your daughter?”

“Yes. She’s been kidnapped.”

CHAPTER
5
– NO COPS

Scarne looked at Sealth, who shrugged. He turned back to Maura Dallas.

“When did this happen?”

“Three weeks ago today.”

Scarne was stunned.

“Three weeks? I haven’t seen anything about it.”

Again he looked at Sealth.

“Noah?”

“News to me, Jake.”

“No one outside my immediate circle, and now you, knows anything about it,” Dallas said. “I was contacted by the kidnapper directly, with a video sent to my iPhone. In it, my daughter is sitting in a chair. She speaks, apparently reading from something held off camera. She says he will kill her if I go to the police.”

“Kidnappers always threaten that,” Sealth said. “I think there must be a playbook somewhere. But it is never smart to leave the police out of it. And certainly not for three goddamn weeks!”

“It is not in our nature to involve the police in our affairs,” Maura Dallas said. “We prefer to handle our own problems.”

“I have to ask, Ms. Dallas,” Scarne said. “How do you know your daughter is still alive?”

If the question bothered her, she didn’t show it. 

“The first video came the day after Alana did not show up in San Francisco for her Easter vacation. I was told to await further instructions. Two days later I got another one. She is in the same chair and repeats basically the same thing.”

Scarne took a deep breath.

“How do you know you are not just watching the same video, made earlier?”

The implication was clear.

“In the second video, Alana is sitting next to a large television,” Maura Dallas said. “It is tuned to a national morning show, where the host announces the date before beginning with the news. It is always 7 AM, but the date changes. Alana speaks in a monotone, but each statement is slightly different in inflection. She is wearing what looks to be pajamas, but in one video they are a different color. In the first one she looked tired and there might have been a small bruise on her mouth.” Her voice grew tense. “But I can’t be sure. The videos are not the best quality and the light is dim. But her color is better and she looks groomed. Her hair is combed and there is no bruising.”

“The quality varies because we’re almost certain that the videos are recorded and sent on different smart phones,” Anastasia interjected. “The first one was obviously Alana’s, because her name was attached to the call. Couldn’t track it because it was immediately turned off. Probably destroyed. The other calls with the videos probably came from burners because we couldn’t trace them. Also probably destroyed after each use.” 

“The 7 AM is Eastern time?”

“Yes.”

“And the show is live?”

“Yes.”

Scarne looked back to Maura Dallas.

“Is that why you came to us? You believe your daughter is being held somewhere in the East?”

“That’s one of the reasons,” she said.

“The Eastern time zone takes in, what, 19 or 20 states and part of Canada,” Sealth pointed out. “She could be anywhere.”

“The girl was going to school here in New York City,” Anastasia said. “Barnard College. The first video came so quickly it is logical to think that she is still in the New York area. The kidnapper pans the camera around the room to show where she is being held. There is nothing that would distinguish the room or make it identifiable. A metal-framed bed, a chest of drawers, the TV on a stand. Bare floor. No windows. Light comes from lamps. I doubt that he has moved her to another location with exactly the same furniture and all the rest.”         

“How was she taken?”

“We don’t know,” Dallas said.

“Are you sure when she was kidnapped? Might she have been taken earlier?’

“She texted me just before she left her apartment in the city to tell me her flight was scheduled to leave on time,” Anastasia said. “I was going to pick her up at the airport. She never showed. I thought she might have missed the flight, so I texted, then called her. Her phone was off. I checked with the airline. She never boarded her original flight at JFK. She was not booked on a later flight. I thought she might have been in an accident on the way to JFK. I had some people we know in the East look into that. Reliable people. That kind of thing takes time, but they said that at first glance there was nothing major reported. I called her building. The guy at the front desk had just come on duty, so he wouldn’t have seen her leave. I got him to check her room. He sent up a security guy. No one was there. He said the place was basically deserted for Spring Break. I told him to check with the guy on duty before he came in. Said he wasn’t sure how to reach him. I promised him a hundred bucks for the effort. Called me back and said the guy thought he might have seen her leave with luggage around 3 PM, but couldn’t be sure. Kids were leaving all day in droves.”

“How was she getting to the airport?”

“I assumed car service or a cab. First thing we checked. No one picked her up.”

“What about Uber?”

“Drew a blank on them, too.”

“Could have been a gypsy. Or she caught a ride with a friend.”

Scarne got up to pour himself more coffee. He added some cream and sugar and then refilled his cup. He took a sip. It wasn’t right. He added more coffee. Still wasn’t right. He sighed and sat down.

“You should always put the coffee in first,” Anastasia said. “Otherwise it don’t taste as good.”

Scarne nodded to him.

“In my experience, kidnappers fall into two main categories,” Sealth said. “The perverts and the professionals. This may be hard to hear, but if your daughter was taken by a Ted Bundy, there isn’t much hope. I’m being blunt because I think you can take it, Ms. Dallas. You have to hope that whoever took her is in it for the money.”

“I was told to await further developments. That would seem to imply a ransom demand.”

“Which should have come in the second video,” Sealth said. “I don’t like the way this is going. It’s as if he is torturing you.”

“So, it could be a pervert,” Anastasia said.

“I just don’t know. But pervert or pro, you stood a better chance going to the cops right away.”   

“You said that,” Maura Dallas snapped. “I don’t need to hear it again.”

“All right,” Scarne said. “Let’s move on. We’ll assume that you will get a ransom demand. That means that whoever took Alana knows you have the resources to pay it. How many people know you are her mother? Or, rather, what you do.”

“Outside the family and certain business acquaintances, very few. Certainly no one at Barnard. That’s why I sent Alana to the East Coast. She is brilliant and could have gone to any Ivy. I wanted to give her some room. In Alana’s case, that room meant 3,000 miles from San Francisco and my associates. She comes home holidays and the like.”   

“Are you close to your daughter?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Perhaps she was not discreet.”

Maura Dallas hesitated.

“No. We’re not particularly close. She is a headstrong girl.”

“Well, that’s honest, at least.”

“Alana has no illusions about me. She would not have bragged about being my daughter.”

“She disapproves of what you do.”

“Quite the opposite. I think she is fascinated by it. I had hopes that she would follow me in the business. But she and I are like oil and water. I’m sure she resents how little time I’ve spent with her. I am not the best mother in the world.”

“Kids her age often are at odds with their parents. They usually get over it.”

“If she lives long enough.”

Maura Dallas said it so dispassionately that Scarne was momentarily shocked. Then he remembered who she was. He’d always suspected that women were tougher than men when it came to matters of the heart or family. And a woman who ran a criminal empire would be even tougher. At least in the face she showed to outsiders.

“Where is her father in all of this?”

“There is no father.”

Scarne looked at Sealth.

“What I mean to say,” Maura explained, “is that I am a single mother. I got myself pregnant in law school and decided to keep the baby. The man never knew I was pregnant and would have no way of knowing I had a child.”

“Did your daughter ever try to find him?”

Maura Dallas’s smile held no mirth.

“I did not want Alana looking for him. When she was old enough to understand, I told her that her father was an anonymous sperm donor. She thinks she came out of a test tube. Her hair is blond and her skin is fairer than mine. The story made sense to her.”

“What year is she in?”

“Junior. Dean’s List at Barnard.”

There was obvious pride in the statement.

“Where was she living?”

“An apartment on Riverside Drive she shared with two other girls, a few blocks from the campus.”

“What do her roommates say?”

“They don’t even know she is missing. Both left on Easter break before she did. Last they saw of Alana she was still in the apartment. She was due to catch a plane the next day.”

“But they know she’s missing now.”

“No. They think she is still in California. We called them and said Alana came down with mono while she was home and was recovering. That’s what we told the school, too.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No.”

Scarne looked surprised.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. At least no one serious. Don’t get me wrong. Alana is very beautiful, and was quite popular in high school, and I presume here. I’m sure she had her flings. We’re not close but I spoke to her about sex. I was candid with her about my own sex life when I was her age, and she knows that I am still active in that regard. It’s nothing that would embarrass either of us. If she had someone special, she would have told me. Or Vincent.”

“Vincent?”

“They don’t keep anything from each other. He’s like an uncle to her.”

Scarne looked over at “Uncle” Vincent, one of the nation’s most-accomplished assassins.

Anastasia shook his head.

“No boyfriend.” 

Scarne got up and poured himself more coffee, the way Anastasia suggested. He looked at the others and held the pot up. They all declined. He tasted the coffee. It was indeed better.

“I don’t think it was a coincidence that your daughter was taken during a school break. Whoever took her was probably counting on her not being missed for at least a week, other than by you, of course. And that would mean he, or they, knew she planned to go home.”

“Why do you say that?” Anastasia asked.

“Because college kids don’t necessarily go home on breaks. Some stay in New York, where there is plenty to do when there is no class. Some go to Florida, the Caribbean and God knows where else. They go in groups or visit friends. If I’m right about the plan to take your daughter during a break, whoever took her knew you expected her. Hence, the video a day after the kidnapping.”

“She probably told a lot of people where she was going,” Anastasia said.

“Sure. But it’s a place to start,” Sealth said. “You can probably eliminate most of them as suspects. But something may pop up.”

“Unless, you guys are wrong about it being a coincidence she was snatched during the Easter break. Could be someone she didn’t tell, even a random nut who got lucky.”

“What demands have been made?” Scarne asked.

“None,” Maura Dallas said. “Just that part about waiting for further instructions.”

Scarne got up and put his hands on the back of his chair and looked at her.

“Ms. Dallas, I’ll be honest with you. You don’t want to hear it, but Noah is right. The police are much better at this sort of thing than I am. I know you probably don’t like the Bureau. I can understand that. I’m not crazy about them, either. But they take kidnapping very seriously, especially when a child or young girl is the victim. You will be treated just like any other mother. Cops have kids, too. They will pull out all the stops. They have vastly more resources than I have, especially where technology is involved. They’re not as good as Hollywood makes it seem, where they ping cell towers and triangulate signals and all that crap, but you stand a better chance with them than with me.”  

Maura Dallas dismissed Scarne’s arguments with a wave of her hand.

“I don’t want the F.B.I. hanging around, taking the opportunity to plant bugs or otherwise intrude in my affairs, under the cover of looking for my daughter. I want my daughter back. Alive. But I have my own resources and I thought it prudent to follow the instructions on the videos while I used them. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. If I did, I will have to live with it.”

“Then why involve me?”

“My activities are concentrated on the West Coast. As Vincent noted, we have some reliable people in New York, but they are low-level. I have checked you out, thoroughly. I have studied some of your cases. You are not only good, but you have a reputation for bending the rules, even breaking them when necessary, to help your clients. And you have contacts, on both sides of the law.”