Page 4
* * *
THE drill was the same at the corner of Veterans and Sixty-sixth. Peter waited in the car. Kenan went to the phone, and it rang almost immediately.
The kidnapper said, "Very good. That didnt take long. "
"Now what?"
"Wheres the money?"
"In the backseat. In two Hefty bags, just like you said. "
"Good. Now I want you and your brother to walk up Sixty-sixth Street to Avenue M. "
"You want us to walk there?"
"Yes. "
"With the money?"
"No, leave the money right where it is. "
"In the backseat of the car. "
"Yes. And leave the car unlocked. "
"We leave the money in an unlocked car and walk a block-"
"Two blocks, actually. "
"And then what?"
"Wait on the corner of Avenue M for five minutes. Then get in your car and go home. "
"What about my wife?"
"Your wife is fine. "
"How do I-"
"Shell be in the car waiting for you. "
"She better be. "
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Look, theres one thing bothers me, thats leaving the money unattended in an unlocked car. What Im worried, somebody grabbing it before you get to it. "
"Not to worry," the man said. "This is a good neighborhood. "
THEY left the car unlocked, left the money in it, walked one short block and one long block to Avenue M. They waited five minutes by Peters watch. Then they headed back toward the Buick.
I dont think I ever described them, did I? They looked like brothers, Kenan and Peter. Kenan stood five-ten, which made him a scant inch taller than his brother. They were both built like rangy middleweights, although Peter was beginning to thicken just the least bit at the waist. Both had olive skin tones and straight dark hair, parted on the left and combed back neatly. At thirty-three, Kenan was starting to develop a slightly higher forehead as his hairline receded. Peter, two years older, still had all his hair.
They were handsome men, with long straight noses and dark eyes set deep under prominent brows. Peter had a mustache, neatly trimmed. Kenan was cleanshaven.
If you were going by appearances, and if you were up against the two of them, you would take Kenan out first. Or try to, anyway. There was something about him that suggested he was the more dangerous of the two, that his responses would be more sudden and more certain.
Thats how they looked, then, walking rapidly but not too rapidly back to the corner where Kenans car was parked. It was still there, and still unlocked. The bags of money were no longer in the backseat. Francine Khoury wasnt there, either.
Kenan said, "Fuck this shit, man. "
"The trunk?"
He opened the glove box, triggered the trunk release. He went around and lifted the lid. There was nothing in the trunk but the spare tire and the jack. He had just closed the trunk lid when the pay phone rang a dozen yards away.
He ran to it, grabbed it.
"Go home," the man said. "Shell probably get there before you do. "
* * *
I WENT to my usual evening meeting around the corner from my hotel at St. Paul the Apostle, but I left on the break. I returned to my room and called Elaine and told her about the conversation with Mick.
"I think you should go," she said. "I think thats a great idea. "
"Suppose we both go. "
"Oh, I dont know, Matt. It would mean missing classes. "
She was taking a course Thursday evenings at Hunter, in fact shed just got back from it when I called. "Indian Art and Architecture Under the Moghuls. " "Wed just go for a week or ten days," I said. "Youd miss one class. "
"One class isnt such a big deal. "
"Exactly, so-"
"So I guess what it comes down to is I dont really want to go. Id be a fifth wheel, wouldnt I? I have this picture in my mind of you and Mick rocketing around the countryside and teaching the Irish how to raise hell. "
"Thats some picture. "
"But what I mean is itd be a sort of boys night out, wouldnt it, and who needs a girl along? Seriously, I dont particularly want to go, and I know youre restless and I think it would do you a world of good. Youve never been anywhere in Europe?"
"Never. "
"How long has Mick been gone? A month?"
"Just about. "
"I think you should go. "
"Maybe," I said. "Ill think about it. "
SHE wasnt there.
Nowhere in the house. Kenan went compulsively from room to room, knowing it was senseless, knowing she couldnt have gotten past the alarm system without either setting it off or disarming it. When he ran out of rooms he went back to the kitchen, where Peter was making coffee.
He said, "Petey, this really sucks. "
"I know it, babe. "
"Youre making coffee? I dont think I want any. Bother you if I have a drink?"
"Bother me if I have a drink. Not if you do. "
"I just thought- never mind. I dont even want one. "
"Thats where we differ, babe. "
"Yeah, I guess. " He spun around. "Why the fuck are they jerking me around like this, Petey? They say shes gonna be in the car and then shes not. They say shell be here and she isnt. What the fucks going on?"
"Maybe they got stuck in traffic. "
"Man, what happens now? We fucking sit here and wait? I dont even know what were waiting for. They got the money and we got what? Fucked is what we got. I dont know who they are or where they are. I dont know zip, and- Petey, what do we do?"
"I dont know. "
"I think shes dead," he said.
Peter was silent.
"Because why wouldnt they, the fucks? She could identify them. Safer to kill her than to give her back. Kill her, bury her, and thats the end of it. Case closed. Thats what I would do, I was them. "
"No you wouldnt. "
"I said if I was them. Im not, I wouldnt kidnap some woman in the first place, innocent gentle lady who never did anybody any harm, never had an unkind thought-"
"Easy, babe. "
They would fall silent and then the conversation would begin again, because what else was there to do? After half an hour of this the phone rang and Kenan jumped for it.
"Mr. Khoury. "
"Where is she?"
"My apologies. There was a slight change in plans. "
"Where is she?"
"Just around the corner from you, oh, uh, Seventy-ninth Street, I believe its the south side of the street, three or four houses from the corner-"
"What?"
"Theres a car parked illegally at a fire hydrant. A gray Ford Tempo. Your wife is in it. "
"Shes in the car?"
"In the trunk. "
"You put her in the trunk?"
"Theres plenty of air. But its cold out tonight so youll want to get her out of there as soon as possible. "
"Is there a key? How do I-"
"The locks broken. You wont need a key. "
Running down the street and around the corner, he said to Peter, "What did he mean, the locks broken? If the trunks not locked why cant she just crawl out? Whats he talking about?"
"I dont know, babe. "
"Maybe shes tied up. Tape, handcuffs, something so she cant move. "
"Maybe. "
"Oh, Jesus, Pete-"
The car was where it was supposed to be, a battered Tempo several years old, its windshield starred and the passenger door deeply dented. The trunk lock was missing altogether. Kenan flung the lid open.
No one in there. Just packages, bundles of some sort. Bundles of various sizes wrapped in black plastic and secured with freezer tape.
"No," Kenan said.
He stood there, saying "No, no, no. " After a moment Peter took one of the parcels from the trunk, got a jackknife from his pocket, and cut away the tape. He unwound the length of black plastic- it
was not unlike the Hefty bags in which the money had been delivered- and drew out a human foot, severed a couple of inches above the ankle. Three toenails showed circles of red polish. The other two toes were missing.
Kenan put his head back and howled like a dog.
Chapter 2
That was Thursday. Monday I got back from lunch and there was a message for me at the desk. Call Peter Curry, it said, and there was a number and the 718 area code, which meant Brooklyn or Queens. I didnt think I knew a Peter Curry in Brooklyn or Queens, or anywhere else for that matter, but its not unheard-of for me to get calls from people I dont know. I went up to my room and called the number on the slip, and when a man answered I said, "Mr. Curry?"
"Yes?"
"My names Matthew Scudder, I got a message to call you. "
"You got a message to call me?"
"Thats right. It says here you called at twelve-fifteen. "
"What was the name again?" I gave it to him again, and he said, "Oh, wait a minute, youre the detective, right? My brother called you, my brother Peter. "
"It says Peter Curry. "
"Hold on. "
I held on, and after a moment another voice, close to the first but a note deeper, a little bit softer, said, "Matt, this is Pete. "
"Pete," I said. "Do I know you, Pete?"
"Yeah, we know each other, but you wouldnt necessarily know my name. Im pretty regular at St. Paul s, I led a meeting there, oh, five or six weeks ago. "
"Peter Curry," I said.
"Its Khoury," he said. "Im of Lebanese descent, lemme see how to describe myself. Im sober about a year and a half, Im in a rooming house way west on Fifty-fifth Street, Ive been working as a messenger and delivery boy but my field is film editing, only I dont know if Ill be able to get back into it-"
" Lot of drugs in your story. "
"Thats right, but it was alcohol really stuck it to me at the end. Youve got me placed?"
"Uh-huh. I was there the night you spoke. I just never knew your last name. "
"Well, thats the program for you. "
"What can I do for you, Pete?"
"Id like it if you could come out and talk with me and my brother. Youre a detective and I think thats what we need. "
"Could you give me some idea what its about?"
"Well-"
"Not over the phone?"
"Probably better not to, Matt. Its detective work and its important, and well pay whatever you say. "
"Well," I said, "I dont know that Im open to work right now, Pete. As a matter of fact Ive got a trip planned, Ill be going overseas the end of the week. "
"Whereabouts?"
" Ireland. "
"That sounds great," he said. "But look, Matt, couldnt you just come out here and let us lay it out for you? You listen, and if you decide you cant do anything for us, no hard feelings and well pay for your time and your cab out and back. " In the background the brother said something I couldnt make out, and Pete said, "Ill tell him. Matt, Kenan says we could drive in and pick you up, but wed have to come back here and I think its quicker if you just jump in a taxi. "