I glance at my watch and groan. I’m forty minutes late for my scheduled call with Andries.
Andries answers immediately. “You’re late. What’s going on?”
“A slight problem this side.”
His voice sharpens. “Anything I should worry about?”
“No.”
“You can’t elaborate?”
“Not on the phone.”
There’s an impatient huff of air. “We agreed from the outset we wouldn’t meet until after July twenty-fourth. When this matter is resolved. We want to be sure we’re protected.”
We. Andries represents PAMS—The Prevention of Animals for Medical Science—a low-key animal advocacy group. Only in operation for about a year, PAMS doesn’t favor the media spotlight. Their preference is to work behind the scenes, funding activist groups. Six months ago, Andries contacted me and offered tochannel small amounts of funds to AFD on a regular basis. Money is always desperately needed for our operations so I accepted his offer.
And then Andries proposed the kidnapping of a neurology professor’s daughter. PAMS’s objective was to persuade well-respected scientist Graham Hutchinson to publicly abandon animal experimentation and support non-animal alternatives. If the operation was a success, the publicity generated for the animal rights movement would be invaluable. The permanent threat over his daughter would be enough to keep Hutchinson in line. He’d be the poster boy for sound ethical science.
At first, I objected strenuously to PAMS’s proposal. I wouldn’t kidnap someone. No way. It took four months for PAMS to wear me down. What finally caused my caving was the promise of half a million in funding. I’ve already received a payment of $50 000, which went straight to a friend’s animal sanctuary. I could do so much good with the money. At least, that’s how I justified agreeing to the kidnapping. That, and the vow that no harm will come to Amy. But now, reviewing what I’ve done to her, I’m not sure I’ve managed to keep that promise.
“There’s to be no meeting,” Andries emphasizes again.
I swap the phone to my other ear. “I’m not proposing a meeting. I’m saying you don’t need to know the details. I’m handling them.”
Andries’s voice hardens. “Nothing must happen to the package. All right?”
“This was your idea,” I say, needling him. “You knew the risks.”
“If anything happens to the package, the deal is off.”
“Nothing will happen,” I say, tired of baiting him.
“Anything else?” he asks.
My mind drifts to Justin and Heather. Andries knows nothing about the teenagers and the undercover operation they’re involved in. For whatever reason, whether it’s a desire to protect them or the less noble desire to stop Justin from tapping Andries’s deep pocketsonce he learned of the existence of PAMS, I want to keep that operation a secret for now.
“Nothing else,” I tell him.
After ending the call, I fill a bucket with soapy water, grab a cloth and brush, and closet myself in the entertainment room to scrub away all traces of tonight’s fiasco.
After I finish, I scan the news and find no mention of the kidnapping. It appears Hutchinson has fallen for my bluff and is keeping the police out of it, at least for now.
I check my email and make a few calls, filling the time so my mind will remain empty.
When I can’t fight the fatigue any longer, I stretch out on the couch in the formal living room and wait for Nolene to come downstairs. I suspect she’s avoiding me, punishing me with her absence. I scratch my jaw, stubble rasping. My mouth is furry, my clothes grimy, but I’m too weary to do anything about it. All I want is to find release in sleep.
As the night hours stagger into one another, I sleep fitfully on the couch. I surface at one point to find Nolene standing over me, a strange look on her face, but when I wake up again, she’s gone.
#
The morning comes too soon. I force myself to sit up, cradling my head in my hands, knowing I have to go to Amy and try to repair the damage I’ve caused.
When I enter her room, I stop abruptly, confused by the strange and shadowy darkness inside. A second passes before I figure out what’s wrong. The side lamp is on, but positioned on the floor, on the other side of the bed.
What is she up to now?
A tremor of apprehension twists in my chest and I flip the light switch. The air next to me shifts and I feel the sting of something sharp slice through my ski mask, gouging my scalp.
