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Authors: T. Jefferson Parker

Silent Joe (39 page)

BOOK: Silent Joe
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"We're taking you into protective custody at Hillview Home for Children," I said. "It's a safe place. I was there a while."

She sighed and looked down. "Okay. May I please get my things?"

"We've got Savannah," said Redd, into her phone mike. "She's all right by the looks of her."

Savannah rode in the back of my car, with Collier beside her. Redd sat up front with me.

Redd told Savannah her rights under Miranda, and asked if she'd like to talk to us without a lawyer.

"Sure."

"Tell us what happened, Savannah."

"I was playing Savannah the Spy, where I take my video camera and spy on people. It's a game. And I took this tape that showed my dad doing something bad. I was scared. When he loses his temper he goes psycho.

He hit me once and broke my eardrum but made me tell the doctor it was Alex. So I didn't know what to do with my spy tape. So I ran away to brother's and told him everything. And he said not to worry about any it. He said we could live together and be safe and forget about what Dad had done. But we needed lots of money. And the tape was worth money to my dad. So Alex called him and said he had it and that he wanted more for it. Dad said he'd kill Alex if he showed anybody the tape. Then Will found us at the Ritz and said he'd help. Then he got killed. Then Dad went on TV and called Alex a kidnapper and the FBI started chasing us all over
the place. Then we thought maybe Joe could help us without getting Alex killed and it worked. Here's the tape. You can have it."

I turned to see her digging into her Pocahontas backpack.

"Thank you," said Collier.

Savannah sighed and started sobbing.

"Hey," said Collier, gently. "Hey, you're okay, young lady. You've done the right thing. You're safe. You're sitting in a car with three cops. Cheer up.

But Savannah kept sobbing. "Joe—I never got to say it, but thanks throwing me over that wall."

"You're welcome. Where did you go?"

"To the corner of Lincoln and Beach. That was our place to meet, if anything went wrong."

"Alex picked you up."

"Yes."

I listened to her sobs. "Savannah, I never got to thank you for what you did that night we met at Lind Street."

"What did I do?"

"You looked me in the face and said how do you do."

"I like your face. It's unconventional."

"I like you. Hang in there. We'll be at Hillview in just a few minutes

Strange, to walk back into Hillview. I'd been back before, dozens of times, working as a peer counselor, attending some of the social functions, helping out as best I could. I believed in Hillview.

But to go through those doors again always took me back to the years I'd spent there, to the changing faces, the routine, the loneliness, the anxiety, the sadness and the doubt. As we sat in the intake room, I looked out at the library, where I'd first seen Will and Mary Ann; to the gym where I'd played endless half-court games with kids bigger and stronger than me; to the cottages for the teenaged mothers and their tiny infants; to the barbecue patio and the playground. I looked out at the neat walkways that I always secretly told myself would lead me out of this place and away to something else, something better and more real and more permanent, a home that I couldn't be taken away from, ever, and could never be taken away from me.

Savannah caught me looking out the window, so she looked out it, too.

A doctor examined Savannah and pronounced her unharmed and healthy. Trauma counseling would follow, but for now, Savannah was fit for admission.

The intake procedure at Hillview took less than an hour. The Hillview director and an intake counselor filled out the forms and officially accepted Savannah Blazak into protective custody. Within seventy-two hours, the state would have to convince a judge that Savannah needed to be kept there for her own protection, or her parents would get her back.

That was going to be difficult, given the status of Jack and Lorna. But the reason for it was safe in Collier's purse, and I was burning to leave Hillview and slide that videotape into a player back at headquarters.

I shook Savannah's hand, then went to one knee and hugged her lightly. My heart raced like a stick in a fast river, because I'd never even imagined saying good-bye to someone and leaving them at Hillview, my old Palace of Good-byes. For one of the few times in my life I believed I knew how another person felt. Really
knew.

"I'll be back, Savannah. And you won't be here forever." I looked at the director and the intake counselor. "These are good people."

"Joe ought to know," said the director, "he's one of our most famous graduates!"

I was just opening the doors of my car when my department-issue cell phone rang. It was Marchant.

"We took Alex Blazak into custody about five minutes ago. No shots fired."

On our way over to department headquarters I called Lorna Blazak. I just started to tell her where her daughter was when I heard Jack tell he beat it and give him the phone.

"You got her?"

"She's in protective custody."

"Where?"

"I can't tell you right now. You'll be informed of visitation rights timely fashion."

"I'm her father! What the fuck are you doing with her?"

"She's being protected. Your two million dollars made her safe, sir. I’d be happy about that if I were you."

"I'm happy," he said. His voice was so tight it sounded like he was
swallowing glass. "I'm very pleased. And the other?"

"I've got it."

"Then meet me at Diver's Cove immediately. I'll take what's mine give you what we agreed on."

"No, sir. I'm going to look at it first."

"That is private property and you do not have my permission to handle it."

"It's evidence collected in a police investigation, sir. Your permission isn't necessary or relevant."

"I own the best lawyers in the country."

"Congratulations."

"I'll pay a million for it back. Before you or anyone sees it. And I've
told
you what's on it. You've got to understand what an embarrassment it would be to my wife and myself."

"I understand embarrassment, sir."

"Then give me the tape! Two million, Joe. Last offer. That's
private property."

"By the way, Savannah is doing very well. A little tired, but otherwise well. Be sure to tell your wife."

"I'm going to sue you out of that department if I don't get my tape back."

"And your son—that would be Alex—has been arrested."

"I'll go three million for the tape. All yours. Three
million
dollars, Joe."

"Go fish, sir."

I hung up.

Twenty minutes later, just before one
a.m
., we were sitting in one of the Bureau conference rooms: Marchant, Birch and Ouderkirk, Redd and Collier. Marchant hit the play button on the VCR, then sat down next to Birch.

First was black and white snow, but a date and time at the top. May 12, 2:35
p.m.

Then the sound of a girl, giggling. The beach. Crystal Cove, between Newport and Laguna. Lorna Blazak walking along, in shorts and a pink sweatshirt. A Jack Russell terrier racing back and forth in front of her, chasing the water out, retreating when it came back in.

"This is Savannah the Spy, getting Mom. This is Crystal Cove. Mom can get a ticket because Abner is not on a leash. Spies notice these kinds of things. I'll see the cop first and warn them. Mom. Mom! Mom . . . smile!"

Lorna smiled and her hair blew across her face. The camera zoomed in close. Barking, the dog retreated from a rush of whitewater.

"I'll be taking Abner on our next dangerous mission, somewhere in either Africa or New York. He's getting in shape for it. Abner! Abner! Smile at the camera, Abs!"

Then the picture cut to a room like something from a decorating magazine: ocean through the windows, a big golden vase on the floor, Egyptian style, handles sculpted to look like cobras with their hoods flared. The date was now May 18, the time was 11:58
a.m.

Jack Blazak stood by the window, wearing a singlet and a pair of loose satin trunks. He was on the phone, but breathing hard, arm muscles taut, a white towel over his shoulders.

"Savannah the Spy gets Dad doing business after his boxing workout. Did you hit hard, Dad? "

Blazak looked blankly at the camera, then pushed one of the buttons. He made a muscle. He smiled. "
I'm no Muhammad, but it feels good!"

"Who's going to win the next big one? "

"Mel It's gotta be me!"

"Spies don't like blood, Dad. "

"I'll knock him out in the first—not a drop spilled!"

"You 're the champ. "

"I'm pretty! I'm scientific! I'll beat the gorilla in the thrilla in Manila.''

"Dad, that's racist. "

"So? Hey, I can make about four MILLION dollars in thirty seconds, if you 'll let me finish this call!"

Blazak smiled again, took a deep breath, and punched another button on the phone.

"Sorry, Carl. Savannah's spying on me again. Savannah, Carl says hello."

"Hi, Carl I drove the Volkswagen go-cart you gave me this morning. It was my favorite present. "

"Carl says you're welcome. Now beat it, honey—Dad's back on the chain gang."

"All you do is work and—"

"NOW! GO! I'm working, damnit!"

The image jiggled and jumped into nonsense as Savannah ran room. A moment later, a long hallway came into focus, and a high ceiling with recessed skylights, and French doors open to a small vineyard. I recognized them from my visit to the Blazak home.

"All Dad does is work and box. He bought us another home in Florence. I'll be spying there this summer!"

"How many homes do they have?" asked Redd.

"Four," said Birch. "Newport Beach, Aspen, Key West and Blazak hit number forty-one on the richest men list last year."

"Kind of a short temper with his daughter," said Ouderkirk. "But I'd go three rounds with him any day."

Collier asked about the room with the cobra vase.

"It's their Newport place," I said. "I was there three weeks ago."

The next scene was the living room where I'd sat with the Blazaks and Bo Warren. It was May 21, 10:20
a.m
. Savannah was apparently hidden behind one of the sofas that faced the windows. A short, dark-haired woman was dusting the fireplace mantel, lifting pictures to wipe underneath. Abner, the terrier, sat looking up at her with intent interest. The day was bright and clear and beyond her you could see Catalina Island crisp against the blue sky and blue Pacific. The woman finished the mantel, then turned toward the camera. Savannah must have shrunk behind the couch, because all you saw for a moment was carpet and wall. The camera jiggled and refocused on the cleaning woman, who was now in a corner of the room, working the high ceiling with a long pole that had a bright pink dust attachment at the end. She was humming quietly.

Marcie, I thought: the Blazak domestic.

Suddenly she turned. Savannah giggled.

"I thought I felt eyes on me! I catch you!"

"Savannah the Spy, caught by Marcie! Caught red-handed. "

Laughter, and a fade-out.

Then the image cut to a night scene. The date was May 29, the time was 10:40
p.m
. It was hard to make out at first, but I finally realized that the camera was up close on the ocotillo that grew along the south wall of the house. The ground lights threw shadows against the wall and when the camera pulled back, the thin, twisted stalks of the plant came into focus.

Savannah's voice was a whisper:

"Savannah the Spy on the family estate of international financier Simon Carny, whose wealth can be measured in the billions of trillions. A handsome man, a man of mystery and tons of secrets."

She panned the camera to take in the dark vineyard, the huge swimming pool surrounded by stout Canary Island palms, the guest house beyond the pool. The guest house was a smaller version of the main house, a cross between a Grecian temple and a Roman estate—pillars and columns, a large portico that looked like marble, the same heavy rectangular shape, the same flat roof.

"Due to extraordinary viewing conditions at the present time, Savannah is on an especially dangerous mission. Her mother is away for week. Her nanny is watching TV, and Savannah was put to bed almost two hours ago. But she has . . . slipped silently out of her window and... stealthily detected that the trillionaire strongman Simon Carny is holed up in his Roman office which sits between his lavish pool and his vineyard of the finest Bordeaux grapes in all of Tuscany. "

BOOK: Silent Joe
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