False Witness (15 page)

With Kumari in sight, Clark had sole discretion over the trigger. Whether to dial it, or when, would be his call and his alone. Once Jessica was safe and Kumari was taken away, the plan changed. If Clark lost connection with Kumari on Clark's regular cell phone, he would try to reestablish the connection for fifteen seconds—no more, no less. If he was unsuccessful, he would place a call with the Nokia. In effect, this meant that Kumari could rain death on himself and those around him at any time by simply disconnecting the call from Clark's cell phone and not answering the return call for fifteen seconds. And if, by some stroke of fortune, the triad members had separated Kumari from his computer, the bomb would be detonated without killing the professor.

As they waited for the helicopter, Clark gained confidence just by watching the unwavering dignity of Professor Kumari. The little man stood there in the baking heat of the early evening sun, his gaze calmly shifting from one gunman to the other, his confidence at death's door probably unnerving them.

Clark stepped out of the Durango, cell phones in each hand.

“They're coming in a helicopter!” he said, reconnecting to Kumari's cell. “They'll be here in five minutes.”

The professor nodded. He had his phone, still hooked on his belt, in speaker mode. “Not a problem,” Kumari replied, but Clark knew the professor was only being brave. A helicopter would soon rise out of cell coverage. The detonation device would be useless. Their leverage would disappear.

To make matters worse, Xu came early. About two minutes after Xu's call, Clark heard the distant whip of helicopter blades. His eyes shot to the horizon—a small, insect-size dot grew into a gleaming black monster, roaring toward the gravel pit. The helicopter kicked up a cloud of desert dust as it landed, like a giant vulture, swooping down on the flat plateau about a hundred yards behind the Navigator.

When the roar of the engine and whir of the blades shut down, the silence was overwhelming, like the eeriness of a calm breeze before the hurricane arrives. A slender man jumped out of the passenger seat and started walking toward the Navigator. He was shorter than Clark and lithe like a panther, his face shielded by a black ski mask. His T-shirt showcased slender arms and the cablelike muscles of a martial arts expert. He approached the gunmen quickly, confidently. He gave a few commands in Chinese and then started walking toward Clark.

Clark knew he was looking at Huang Xu.

“Where's Jessica?” Clark shouted.

“In the back of the helicopter, unharmed.” The man kept coming, covering the territory between the Navigator and Clark's Durango quickly. He kept his dark eyes fixed on Clark, not wasting so much as a sideways glance as he walked past Kumari.

“I want to see her.”

“In time.”

“Now!”

The man didn't respond but just kept coming, his audacity unsettling Clark. The sharp eyes of a predator peered through the ski mask, oblivious to the world around him.

“That's far enough,” Clark said, his finger poised on the Nokia.

Xu took another few steps, calling Clark's bluff.

“One more step,” Clark warned. He faced straight into the demonic eyes and held out the cell phone, unwavering. He made himself think about Jessica's screams—the torture. If Clark had to, he would blow them all into eternity right now, himself included.

To Clark's surprise, Xu stopped. Twenty feet away, max. Clark's heart felt like it might pound straight through his chest. Xu was still too far away, Clark hoped, to successfully use his martial arts expertise. Clark held the Nokia closer, relaxing a bit.

“Clever, this plan of yours,” Xu said.

“I'm just trying to make sure Jessica gets out of here safely.”

“What's to prevent you from driving away and then blowing up the professor and all of us around him?”

“This exchange can't work unless somebody trusts somebody,” Clark responded, trying not to sound intimidated. In truth, his hand now trembled a little at the unblinking stare of Xu and the rifle leveled at his forehead from the top of the rock pile. He thought about reaching for his Glock but rejected the idea. “And between you or me, I'd prefer to trust myself.”

The dry lips behind the ski mask smiled, displaying perfect rows of whitened teeth.
A showman.
Xu nodded toward the Nokia. “You're using cell technology to trigger the explosives?”

Clark nodded.

Xu studied Clark for a moment, as if through some trick of Eastern meditation he could peer into the dark corners of Clark's mind. He licked chapped lips. “But the helicopter,” Xu said. “You didn't plan on the helicopter. Once Kumari is on board and rises out of cell coverage, your detonation device is useless.”

Clark glanced toward Kumari, thirty yards ahead of him, still standing between the two vehicles like a soldier on watch. The professor stared at them as Xu and Clark talked, sealing the little man's fate by their negotiations.

“He's not getting on that helicopter,” Clark said.

“Then you must not want your wife to get off.”

They stood there for a few moments longer, a game of bluff with two lives hanging in the balance. Clark couldn't imagine selling the professor out after everything the strange little man had done for him already. But if the alternative meant losing Jessica, what choice did he have?

Besides, Kumari's plan could still work, even with the helicopter. An hour earlier, the professor had swallowed a small GPS device, shrink-wrapped in plastic, that would transmit his location using satellite technology. The plan was for Clark to escape with Jessica and immediately contact the FBI. Kumari and his captors could be located using the GPS device, and the feds could swoop in to rescue him.
If
he survived that long.

Xu took a few steps forward, and Clark carefully slid his regular cell phone into his pocket, his left hand still poised on the Nokia. He reached inside his sports coat for the Glock. “What is it to you?” Xu asked softly. “You get your wife back. As I promised, she has not been molested. I leave with the professor. He is not your concern.”

Clark kept his hand on the gun but didn't remove it from the holster. Xu called back to his men: “Bring the woman out so Mr. Shealy can see she is unharmed.”

His heart racing, Clark stared at the helicopter as one man jumped from the backseat and helped a blindfolded Jessica onto the ground. Her head was shaved and her hands tied behind her back, but she walked with no apparent difficulty, escorted toward the Navigator by another hooded figure. She wore jeans, sandals, and a cotton pullover. She seemed calm, almost serene, as if she had already reconciled herself to whatever might happen.

His heart ached just from seeing her. It took every ounce of restraint not to drop everything and run to her.

“Jess, are you okay?” he called out.

At the sound of his voice, she lifted her head, the lips showing surprise and expectation. “Clark?”

“Hang in there, babe.”

She nodded, holding her head a little higher. A guard led her by the arm.

Xu motioned toward Jessica, then turned back to Clark. “Unharmed, Mr. Shealy, as I promised. You let the professor get on the helicopter, and she stays that way.”

Clark hated what he had to do next. It felt like his emotions might detonate, blowing his heart into a thousand pieces. This was for Jessica, he reminded himself. But the thought of giving Kumari over repulsed him, especially in these circumstances where the bomb threat would soon be neutralized and Kumari would be at their mercy. It left a putrid aftertaste as he considered his options, realizing again that he had no choice.

But it was Kumari who made the next move.

Without saying a word, the old man turned away from Clark and shuffled slowly toward the helicopter, carrying his computer in front of him. He walked past Jessica and her armed guard, past the gunman at the side of the Navigator, and eventually stopped beside the helicopter.

He glanced back at Clark and nodded, as if to say it was okay, and then allowed a hooded guard to help him into the black beast, the professor still clutching his laptop.

When Xu saw this, he took a few steps backward, his eyes now fixed on Clark. “Let her go!” Xu shouted over his shoulder.

They untied Jessica's hands and removed the blindfold. She squinted in the light. She quickly surveyed the entire scene, drinking in the danger, then started walking toward Clark, tentatively at first and then faster, almost a jog. She swung wide of Xu and ran to Clark's side, where he squeezed her with his right arm, fighting back the tears. She hugged him and stood at his side, facing Xu.

“I will not be going near Professor Kumari until that detonation device is disarmed,” Xu said, looking them both over. “If you detonate that bomb or do something equally stupid like go to the authorities, I will personally hunt you down and make you pay. That's my promise to you. If you allow Kumari to ascend out of cell tower range without incident, you'll never hear from me again.”

Xu stared at them for a moment before he turned and shouted some instructions to the man standing next to the Lincoln. The man brought the car around. Xu turned to Clark one last time.

“You and your wife will be free to go a few minutes after I leave. I am a man of my word, Mr. Shealy. Keep that in mind as you make some crucial decisions in these next few moments.”

If this whole affair hadn't been so tragic, Clark might have laughed in Xu's face. A masked kidnapper bragging about his integrity. A killer who said he should be trusted.

But there was nothing funny about the unfeeling eyes that stared out from the ski mask. Or the fact that Professor Kumari would soon be at this man's mercy.

“I always keep my promises, Mr. Shealy.”

27

Clark didn't wait for permission. A few moments after Xu left in the Lincoln, Clark and Jessica jumped into the Durango and raced out of the gravel pit, leaving the helicopter and Xu's guards behind. Clark hunched over as he drove, every nerve on end, his eyes peeled for any sign of the Lincoln. He half expected a shot from the marksman stationed on top of the rock pile to end his life. But would Xu's men really do that—knowing it might also result in death for Kumari?

“Stay low!” he said to Jessica, gently pushing her head down in the passenger seat.

Clark didn't dare breathe until he had put at least a mile between the Durango and the rendezvous spot. Still no sign of the Lincoln. He handed his Glock to Jessica, now upright in her seat. She checked the chamber and twisted around to keep a lookout behind them. A quick glance at her confirmed the telltale signs of her ordeal. Sunken eyes, bloodshot in the sunlight. The pasty whiteness of her stubbled head, contrasting against her summer tan. But there were no noticeable bruises, and she still handled herself with a sense of pride and an unspoken desire to fight back, unbowed from her captivity. Maybe she had not been sexually assaulted.

Either way, just the sight of her next to him sparked a small flicker of hope.

Clark was going so fast, the SUV was literally shaking, like it might blow apart if he didn't ease up on the accelerator. He actually hoped the cops would see him flying down the road and pull him over. If not, he would head straight to the North Vegas police headquarters, the building he had noticed when he dropped Johnny Chin off at the hospital earlier in the day. He would call the feds en route.

Three minutes later Clark lost his cell phone connection with Kumari. He swore and stared at the small screen in dismay.

“What's that mean?” Jessica asked.

“Trouble.” Clark redialed Kumari's number and waited for an answer. After five rings, a message kicked in. Racing down the interstate, one hand on the wheel, he hit Redial.

Clark felt his throat clench this time, his stomach twisting with the pressure. “If he doesn't answer in fifteen seconds, I'm supposed to detonate the bomb.” For the second time, Clark heard Kumari's voice mail begin.

“Maybe he's out of range already,” Jessica suggested. “Maybe he's in the helicopter, high enough to lose coverage.”

Clark glanced at the GPS tracking device attached to his console and shook his head. “Kumari's still at the blasting pit.” He pointed at the GPS screen and redialed yet again. “If the helicopter had taken off, we would have seen more movement of the signal.”

Kumari's phone kicked Clark into voice mail a third time. It had been at least thirty seconds. Could he really do this?

“Maybe he's trying to wipe everybody out before the helicopter takes off,” Clark said. He redialed one last time, his finger now trembling on his phone. The trigger device—the Nokia—sat untouched in the panel between Clark and Jessica.

He waited for an answer, hoping against hope.
Please . . .
please
 . . . pick up!
This time, Clark ended the call as soon as the voice mail started. He felt crushed. Defeated. As if he had just been ordered to pull the switch on the electric chair for an innocent man.

He reminded himself that this was
Kumari's
plan. Kumari was the one pulling his own trigger. Clark wasn't supposed to have any discretion in the matter. But when they put the plan together, Clark hadn't realized how difficult it would be to send this man to eternity.

With a shaking hand, Clark picked up the Nokia and flipped it open.

Maybe Kumari was trying to save himself from being tortured. Maybe he had been separated from the laptop computer and detonating the bomb would kill the triad members and not Kumari. But Clark knew the reality was far more grim. His mind played it out in full-color video. Clark pushing the speed dial, the bomb detonating, Kumari and everyone else being blasted into tiny fragments that would rain down on the desert sand, covering the area with the cremated remains of a good and decent man. Sure, the blast would exact a rough form of justice. But Xu would escape. And it would also destroy any chance of a fairy-tale ending—the “best-case scenario” as Kumari had described it—a scenario where the authorities used the tiny GPS device to track Kumari and rescue him alive.