Heart Of Gold (42 page)

Through
gritted teeth, Carter got out, “I've never called the man before. I don't
know it.”

Towering
over her, his face pressed in close to hers, she saw sweat on his upper lip and
a twitch in his left eye. Desperation had come out in his face, making his eyes
too wide and his mouth tight.

“Do
not fuck with me,” he growled, giving her hair another pull. When she just
continued to stare back at him, he let go and returned to the phone, apparently
to call information.

Carter
had to swallow hysterical laughter. She'd been kidnapped, taken to some seedy
hotel room, and the lunatic was calling 411?

The
thought didn't strike her as funny anymore when it occurred to her that Nick
might have an unlisted number. Fortunately, Lyst scribbled something down on a
pad and then dialed again.

There was
triumph in his voice when he said, “Farrell? I think I have something you
want.”

When
Nick's angry response came over the phone loud and clear, she almost wept with
relief. She knew, as soon as she heard the resolve in his voice, that he would
do everything in his power and more to come get her. It was gratifying to see a
little of Lyst's confidence drain out of his face.

Carter
took a deep breath, the first one since she had been captured. Nick was going
to come for her. She knew it as plainly as she recognized the danger she was in
and the realization was antidote to her fear. One way or the other, Lyst was
going to be brought down. She just knew it.

She
frowned, surprised by the measure of calm that had come over her. That feeling
was about trust, she realized with astonishment.

Trust.

She
thought back to the way Nick had come up to get her on the mountain during the
storm, how he had driven her to the doctor, taken care of her.

Why
hadn't she recognized his actions before for what they were? As proof that he
cared for her; was willing and able to take care of her. She'd been so scared of
getting hurt, she hadn't seen in his actions what she had been looking for all
along in his words.

Regret
burned as she thought of what she might have lost forever. Images of Nick and
her together came in a painful flood, and the distance between them struck her
as a misguided waste. She'd never given him a chance to really explain about
her father's arrival. She'd pushed him away because of her problems with her
family, because of her vulnerability and her fear of him and his past.

But he
was coming for her. Even still, he was coming for her.

It gave
her hope that there was still a chance for them.

Carter
glanced over at Lyst.

Assuming
Nick got to her before the other man did something really horrific.

“Now,
Farrell, there's no reason to get nasty,” Lyst was drawling into the
phone. He shot her an outrageous wink. “Here's our new deal. You're
going to give me five million dollars and I'm going to give you your girlfriend
back in one piece. Nice and simple. Here's the account I want you to put the
money in. When I get confirmation of the deposit, I'll call you back and
arrange for the return of your little piece of ass.”

He read a
series of numbers out. “Now don't get to thinking independently and going
to the police. Let's just keep this gentlemen's agreement between us. It will
be better for her that way. Oh, and Farrell? If you dawdle, I'm liable to get
bored and there's nothing to do in this fleabag motel except her, you know what
I mean? So let's be quick about this. I'll call you back in an hour”

He hung
up the phone with a triumphant smile. “Well, that went nicely. You'll be
pleased to know, no doubt, that Farrell is extremely worried about you. That's
a good sign.”

Lyst
reclined on the bed, pushing his legs out in front of him. “He seems
awfully attached to you. Maybe I should have asked for more money.”

Carter
stayed silent and shifted in the chair to try and ease her stiff muscles. The
movement also gave her a pretext for trying to work her hands against the rope
in hopes of loosening it. She didn't get far with the effort. The skin at her
wrists had already been shredded and she suspected the new wetness she felt on
her palms was her own blood.

She
stilled herself and noticed Lyst's eyes traveling over her, hot and
speculative.

“How
do you like being tied up? Does it turn you on?”

With a
shudder, she attempted to distract him. “I thought you were after the
gold.”

He
shrugged. “I was. But events have— Let's just say, I need to go on a long
vacation. And I don't have time for you to find that treasure.”

Carter
felt a surge of hope, thinking he might have already gotten himself in trouble
with the authorities. Had some of his black-market deals come back to haunt
him? Maybe the police were already after him.

“You
can't honestly believe you're going to get away with this,” she said
stridently.

“Oh,
I'm feeling pretty good about things. And five million goes damn far in a
third-world country. I’ll live like a king.” He got off the bed and
approached her. “Which makes me think. Perhaps I should take you with me.
I imagine you'd make the nights much more interesting.”

He
brushed his knuckles over her cheek and she turned away. Lyst captured her chin
and forced her head in his direction. “This hard-to-get act is wearing
thin.”

Carter
blanched as he bent down toward her.

* * *

As soon
as he hung up the phone, Nick had to fight to control his raging emotions. Fear
and anger hit him hard, making him feel as though someone had shot him in the
chest. He looked across the desk at Buddy.

“Lyst
has her. He wants money.” Nick wrenched a hand through his hair, his eyes
going blurry. He focused on the ceiling, willing his vision back. “But at
least we have something to tell the goddamn police now.”

Nick
picked up the phone again, rubbing the back of his neck as he dialed.
“Freddie? I need you to arrange a wire transfer of five million dollars to
the following account at Credit Suisse. But don't execute. Just be ready. And
get me the number of John Smith. Thanks.”

Nick
hastily scrawled a number down on a sheet of paper. John Smith was a specialist
in messy events, a tough man whose U.S. Marine and intelligence background had
been useful to many Wall Street kingpins. As soon as the guy's voice came over
the line, Nick quickly relayed the status of events.

Smith got
right to the point. “I'll call my buddies in the FBI immediately, and I'll
put an electronic trace on the account. You talk with the state police
yet?”

“They're
already up on the mountain and we've got a couple in the kitchen coordinating
with some of the local sheriffs. Lyst warned me not to call anyone but they
were already here.”

“Good.
Tell them everything, in spite of what the guy said. You're going to want their
help. Did they set up a wiretap on your phones?”

“It's
almost ready.”

When Nick
hung up, he looked at Buddy and the statie who was finishing up with the
wiretapping. A thought occurred to him. Lyst had said something about a fleabag
motel and lodging was pretty scarce so far north. Considering the amount of
time that had passed, he might have her close by.

Nick went
to the kitchen where several armed policemen were at the table, making calls
and speaking into walkie-talkies. He told them what Lyst had said and his
theory. After mentioning the FBI had been contacted, he went back to his study.
Although he appreciated everything the authorities were doing, he was
frustrated. He wanted Carter back, wanted to take her into his arms and feel
her safe against him. Anything short of that was a failure.

Checking
his watch, he guessed it would be another forty minutes before Lyst called
back. It seemed like an eternity.

When the
phone rang, his head snapped to the sound and he picked it up in a flash of
movement. It was Freddie, calling to confirm that the transfer was all set and
that Smith had connected with her. The trace was ready on the account.

As Nick
put the receiver down, the policeman who'd been working on his phone line stood
and closed up his tool case. “If he calls again, keep him on for as long
as possible. We can find him now.”

Nick
nodded tightly and stared at the phone, willing it to ring.

He
thought over the conversation with Lyst, wondering how the man would have
gotten Carter inside a motel without being noticed. He'd have to have her tied
up or have forced her into the room with a gun or knife. You do that in the
light of day and you'd get seen, somehow, by someone. Unless it was a hotel set
far back from the road. In the woods. Nick started to review all the places he
could think of.

The phone
rang again.

Nick
snatched it to his ear.

“I
know I'm a little early but how are we doing?” Lyst asked. The cockiness
in his voice made Nick want to reach through the phone and put his hands around
the man's throat.

Instead
of yelling, which is what he wanted to do, Nick nodded to the policeman who
activated a machine and put earphones up to his head. As calmly as he could,
Nick said, “We're ready but I want to talk to her first.”

“That
wasn't part of the deal.”

“It
is now.” Nick's tone brooked no argument. “How do I know she's still
alive?”

Lyst
laughed. “She almost bit my lip off when I tried to kiss her. I can assure
you, she's doing just fine.”

Nick
gripped the receiver so hard, the plastic creaked in protest. Through gritted
teeth, he said, “I talk to her or you don't get the money.”

There was
a long pause while Lyst breathed into the phone. “Fine. Make it
short.”

There was
a rustling noise.

“Nick?”
Carter's voice was painfully thin. She was trying to be strong, he could tell,
but she was scared. His heart pounded.

“I'm
going to get you out of this. Are you okay? Has he hurt—”

Lyst came
back on. “Like I said, she's just fine. Now wire the money and I'll call
you with further instructions.”

“No.
Tell me now.”

Lyst's
voice was sharp. “You are not in a position to be making demands. Wire the
damn money.”

Abruptly,
a third voice came on the line. It was that of an older woman and she sounded
confused. “Hello, Jeanie? Oh, have I interrupted another call?”

Then the
phone went dead.

Nick
hissed in surprise, meeting the state policeman's eyes.

“I
know where he has her,” he said urgently, throwing the phone down. He ran
through the house while talking, the state policeman and Buddy right on his
heels. "She's at the Forest Ledge Cabins”

They have
a party-line system there which means that all the phones are on one wire.
Anyone can pick up at any time and interrupt someone's conversation. Old Mrs.
Cullay just got on. They're only twenty-five miles from here."

As Nick
sprinted into the kitchen, he knew the local cops had come to the same
conclusion he had because they were grabbing for their hats and keys as well.

Before
racing from the house, he got his .357 Magnum out of the locked gun closet in
the mud-room. With deft movements, he threw a clip into the butt of the gun and
cocked it. When he emerged, strapping on a shoulder holster, none of the state
police stopped him from getting armed or coming with them. They weren't going
to stand in his way.

Nick ran
to the Porsche and gunned the car out of the garage. As he shot out onto the
road with three state police cars behind him, he wracked his mind for what he
could offer God in exchange for Carter's safety. Except for plenty of cash, he
came up woefully short on trades.

You sure
as hell can't put salvation on a credit card, he thought grimly.

So he
made a promise to himself. If she came out of this alive, he was going to spend
the rest of his life convincing her he loved her. Nothing would ever keep them
apart again.

It took
only twenty minutes to reach Forest Ledge Cabins, a conglomeration of small,
dark green structures, the Adirondack version of bungalows. Nick knew that they
would get whatever help they needed from the proprietors.

He
wrenched open the screen door of the office and the officers followed him
inside.

Mrs.
Cullay, a spry older woman, was already looking up in surprise, having
obviously seen the rush of cars pulling in. “What's going on?”

Nick
spoke urgently. “Have you rented out a cabin to a guy who's about six feet
tall, black eyes, whip thin—”

“Sure
did. He wanted one way in the back. In the woods.”

“Which
one?”

“Number
nineteen.”

Nick
stormed out, running fast over the grass and dodging trees.

When they
got to cabin nineteen, he crouched behind the thick trunk of a pine and the
police fanned out around him. It was dark underneath the canopy of the forest
and he was grateful for the protection the dim light offered.

Up ahead,
he saw a white Lincoln parked close to the door.

Nick was
wracking his brain for what he should do. He kept coming up with Hollywood
scenes, like him bursting through the door and knocking Lyst out, taking Carter
into his arms and holding her. The trouble was, real life couldn't be scripted
and he was smart enough to know it. He wasn't sure how they were going to get
in there without spooking Lyst and endangering Carter's life even further.

And then,
unexpectedly, the door to the cabin opened a crack.

Nick
peered through the, shadows, watching as Lyst stuck his head out, looked in
both directions and cautiously went to the car. He was carrying a suitcase and
seemed to be in the process of leaving.

That was
all it took.

Nick
sprang into action, leaping forward and running full tilt at the man.