CALL MAMA (8 page)

Encouraging Dale Greer to drink up to drown his sorrows, a fellow drinker, with a comforting arm around his shoulders, said, “Sounds like you've had a tough time, buddy. Let me buy you another drink and you can tell me how a nice guy like you got such a bad deal.”

“It's Cindy, you see, my wife… our lives have been ruined… and the kids… I can't even put a roof over their heads… they had to go live with her folks… ain't seen them in months. I ain't got two dimes to rub together, man. It's hopeless.”

“Someone needs to cut you some slack, man. Maybe I could help you and your wife, Cindy. What a sweet name! That was my dear late sister's name. She died last year, I miss her so much, but, hey, maybe we could help your Cindy.”

Dale's new friend explained he was part of a finance group and was sure he could lend Dale some cash. “Max $2,000 with an easy repayment scheme. You pay back what you can each week, minimum of five dollars. Think you could manage that, Dale?”

Assured that this would solve his immediate problems, Dale, through a fuzz of alcohol, wept into his drink and thanked his new friend, over and over until the guy said, “I have to make a call, buddy, stay around.”

He returned sometime later with good news that Dale's loan had been approved and if he hung around for an hour or so, a courier would come with the dollars.

“Sorry I can't stay, Dale, I have a business meeting to get to. Les will be here as soon as he can. You enjoy your drink.”

Les did indeed turn up with a package and showed the dollars to the grateful blubbering man who in his tipsy condition agreed to the terms. He signed on the dotted line little knowing what lay ahead.

Before very long, repayments became a nightmare for him and he found himself an unwilling, terrified participant in the disappearance of Lucy Mears. Like Clara Blake, he was “invited” to agree to an assignment that would cancel his debt. When questioned by officers he could not give a description of the moneylender as his mind had been fogged by alcohol. He did, however, remember the name of his drinking hole. Undercover officers were assigned to investigate the bar.

***

Feeling sorry for herself, Clara Blake sobbed quietly into her cheap drink.

“You upset, babe?” enquired a well-dressed, politely spoken guy. “How about I buy you a drink and you tell old Barclay here, all about it?”

Glad of company and a sympathetic ear, Clara through a blur of alcohol told an almost incoherent version of her financial nightmare and her wayward son.

“He's a good guy, my Samuel, just got in with the wrong company, wanted to help his mom out of some money problems… I've let him down… can't support my own kid… got no money for bail… poor Samuel, locked up in that hellhole cos of his bad mom.”

Clara's tale spluttered out through her drunken state.

“Hell no, Clara. You don't mind me calling you Clara, do you, honey? Such a sweet name… it was my dear mother's name. She was a beautiful lady, just like you. Sadly, she passed away a year ago. I sure miss my mom. You're a good mom, I'm sure. I can see that in your pretty eyes; hell, you've just fallen on hard times. You know, Clara, I might be able to help you out and cut you some slack.”

He offered her a way out of her difficulties. He was, he told her, a private financial advisor and was sure he could obtain a loan for her.

“Would two thousand dollars set you on your feet, Clara? You would have to repay a minimum each week of five dollars, more if you could afford it when times get better.”

He excused himself to make a call and returned with news that $2,000 could be lent to her, once the paperwork was signed. Clara was elated.

“You're such a kind man Barclay, a credit to your mom.”

“I have to go catch a flight, but stay here. My good friend Les from the firm will come here in an hour or so with some cash for you. Enjoy your drink. I'll have to rush off, sorry about that; I'd like nothing better than to spend more time with such a charming lady.”

She agreed to wait for his colleague Les to arrive with the cash and a sheaf of papers. Sobbing quietly and drinking heavily, she signed the paperwork to complete the deal, having no idea of the amount of interest she had agreed to. Les took his leave of her.

***

Wracked with sorrow for himself, George North settled on a bar stool and began to drink. It wasn't long before he was well inebriated and fell from the stool with such a clatter it attracted the attention of the other drinkers.

“You ok, buddy?” asked a well-dressed, well-spoken man who helped him to his feet.

George mumbled his thanks, offered to buy his helper a drink and soon the pair were seated in a more comfortable area. George drank as if it were going out of fashion. His new friend sipped on his own drink while listening and encouraging George to talk about his worries.

“It's Nora, my sweet girl, that I'm thinking of. We've got plans and I don't want to let her down.”

He continued to regale his friend with his financial problems. At times he was so incoherent that he had to repeat himself.

“If she can make a fortune, so can I,” he mumbled.

“Who? Nora? Who is ‘she'?”

“No, not my dear Nora, my employer, Brenda Mears. She's president of Mears Empire back in Chicago, palatial home, everything I want from life, dollars, dollars, dollars, you'd never imagine one person having so much… life's unfair.”

On hearing the name Brenda Mears, Barclay drew a sharp intake of breath and became utterly transfixed on the guy's dreadful story of his life and work with the one person he had sworn to get even with. Memories flooded back from his time there.

George rambled on, unaware that the probing from his new drinking buddy, which elicited many details from him about his employer, only rekindled the man's dislike of the woman who had the nerve to spurn his advances. He was particularly interested in hearing more about the daughter who was only a young kid when he left Mears.

“Clever kid, no doubt about it,” mumbled the almost incoherent, inebriated, pathetic human being. “Talented musician, has been since a very young age, one of those child prodigies, only fifteen years of age, plays the cello like a true professional… plays in her school orchestra.” He sobbed even more at the memory. “Hell, I promised to take my Nora to the kid's concert in Chicago next week.”

He encouraged George to talk more about his finances. George wept when the guy told him that perhaps he could help.

“Your lucky day, buddy, when you fell off that stool.”
Fate, in more ways than one
, he thought to himself. He explained that he was part of a large financial organization, which could lend him a few dollars. “Max $2,000, buddy, with an easy payback scheme, to get you on your feet.”

“Enough to get me my computer equipment and set me on the right road?”

“Sure, buddy, it sure would help you win back your dear Nora. Such a sweet name, Nora. That was my dear mom's name; she died a year ago. I sure miss my mom. Let me go make a call.”

Arrangements were made for George to be given the cash. All he had to do was stay where he was and enjoy his drink. Barclay Jones mentally took note of the proposed venue for Lucy Mears' concert, then arranged to have the money brought to George by a courier.

“It won't be me bringing your dollars, George. I've a flight to catch. Stay here and my colleague Les will find you.”

Pleased with his success in snaring another pitiful victim, he left the seedy surroundings to return home to wash off the stink of the evening.

Well out of his mind with drink and elated by his good fortune, George willingly signed his name to the paper proffered to him by Les who turned up showing George the package containing more dollars than he had seen in some time. George put the package safely in his inside pocket and staggered back to his hotel, unable to believe his good fortune, and longed to be back home with Nora.

Disaster struck the trio in the form of sickness. Lucy, normally a healthy robust child, was the first to succumb to a violent sickness and ague, causing grave concern for her minders. Her female captor, a former nurse, ministered to the sick girl, dispensed medication and cooled her fevered brow. She comforted the frightened, restless girl, soothing and calming her young patient during the height of the fever. Lucy moaned in her sleep and constantly called for “Mama, call Mama”.

Fearing she too might become ill, she instructed her partner on how to care for them. When she did develop the illness, he coped as best he could in nursing them both. Knowing her previous medical history, he was concerned about her fragility. Before long, he too became sick and the trio were at the mercy of nature as they parked up in a desolate, remote place.

Lucy slowly recovered and became aware of moaning from the other room. She struggled through to where she found the female captor fevered and agitated, calling out in a strange language. Instinct told Lucy to tend to her. She tenderly proffered cool sips of water as she wiped the fevered face of the sick lady. Her partner slept fitfully by her side. Lucy felt frightened at the thought of what might happen if her captors became much sicker. It was many
days before the group had fully recovered enough to take stock of their dire situation.

“We must move on as best we can. Our water supply is running low and I have missed the deadline to report to Boss,” moaned the weak man.

“We are far too frail to travel further,” she replied. “We need to rest up properly somewhere safe and restock our supplies.”

They cautiously travelled some distance and found a motel complex near
a small grocery store. The manager was amazed at the mode of transport of the sickly- looking guy who checked in and mumbled about having to visit a sick relative, stating he had no other vehicle. He was reluctant to involve the hotelier in conversation. Once more Lucy was secretly carried to the motel room where the trio spent several more days in recovery. Much later than arranged the man made the call.

“You are late!”

“Boss, we have all been sick.” He then related events and was given a change of route that he was to take.

Refuelled and stocked up, they set off once more on their grim journey. They travelled slowly, covered less ground and rested often.

“Please, please, Call Mama,” a weary voice called again in desperation.

“I know, honey, this is hard for you, for us all, but soon we will reach our destination and you will understand more.”

The exhausted trio journeyed on through Wisconsin to St. Croix River, where they stayed for some time at Stillwater, Minnesota.

***

Kip O'Rourke, one of Harvey's team, took in every word his boss related concerning the case of missing Lucy Mears. The unfolding events intrigued him. He held his superior in high esteem, but as for Carole Carr, he had very different feelings. Having been shortlisted for promotion and hoping to be Harvey's right-hand man, he was incensed when Carr was promoted over him and consequently found it difficult to work with her. She was totally unaware of her colleague's dislike of her, believing his congratulatory remarks to be genuine. He watched and waited, hoping she would make an error of judgement, which he could use to discredit her, such was his resentment.

“I'm on your tail, lady,” he murmured to himself. “One false move…”

He was a devious character with a nasty streak. His best buddy was a long-term high school friend, a reporter, to whom he fed snippets of information sure in the knowledge that nothing could be traced back to him. For a tidy sum, he planned to give his buddy the big one: news of Lucy Mears whenever the abduction ended, as it surely would. During lunch with his friend he offloaded his feelings about Carole Carr, his bitterness spewing from his mouth as he let his emotions vent.

“A few discreet bugging devices are called for here, Kip boy. Tell me where you want them hidden. I know a guy who's an expert at this
sort of thing, does it often for me.”

“Sonny, you kept that quiet!”

Kip's buddy Sonny was fearless when it came to planting bugs, fitting tracing devices to cars and generally messing with surveillance equipment, sometimes working alone, sometimes with a trusted accomplice whom he named “slipper” due to the guy's ability to slip in, fix bugs and slip out without detection. Sonny successfully planted devices in Harvey's office and Carr's private vehicle. He deliberately did not inform Kip of the exact location of the gadgets as he knew his friend was a weak character, who, if confronted, would spill the beans and land him in trouble.

Barclay Jones travelled to Chicago to attend Lucy's school concert.

Unwilling to risk being spotted by Brenda Mears, he waited until the last moment to claim a seat at the back of the hall. His mission was simply to spot the Mears kid. Identification was essential for the plan forming in his mind. Proud parents were permitted to use cameras on condition there was to be no flash photography, which suited Barclay Jones, as he recorded Lucy Mears' solo performance.

Sure has talent
, he thought to himself.

From his distant position he spotted Brenda Mears. Seeing the woman was enough to reawaken his hatred of her, spurring him to plan his revenge. As intermission was announced he made to leave the hall promptly, satisfied with the evening's results. Another spectator sitting nearby also rose to leave. They reached the door at the same time. Barclay Jones turned, a look of recognition on his smiling face.

“Hey, how are you? It's been a long time!”

“Hey, how are you, Barclay?”

The two exited the building, renewing acquaintances and chatting as they went along. Unknown to them at this point, this chance encounter was to launch a series of events that would have consequences reverberating well beyond the city of Chicago.

“Have you eaten?” enquired Barclay.

Together, the duo headed for a quiet restaurant that his companion recommended.

“It's off the beaten track so we shouldn't be disturbed by hordes from the school.”

During the course of the evening, encouraged by the ambience, the flow of alcohol and completely trusting his fellow diner, Barclay revealed his loathing of Brenda Mears and his wish to exact revenge on her.

“How to make her suffer, that's the challenge for me,” he mused.

As they chatted, he told his companion about his life, his time in prison and his loan scheme, causing raucous laughter.

“I like that, you old scoundrel! Hey, I might just have a suggestion for you to consider.”

And so, the pair hatched a plot that was to involve some of Barclay's victims of his loan fraud scheme, cause hours of police time and, unknown to them at that moment, have repercussions reaching almost to the White House itself.

“Our main co-ordinator will be your George North guy. Agree?”

“Sure. He will have no choice but to co-operate,” answered Barclay.

“He can set in motion the first stage in our plan, which will give Brenda Mears a taste of suffering she never imagined could exist in her cosseted life. Leave the details with me for a few days. Contact me directly on this private number only. Do not use my name, ever, or reveal it to anyone, understand? You call me Boss, from now on in, Boss.”

“Hey, I like that,” agreed the animated rogue. “Ok, Boss!”

As they parted company, Barclay Jones, with a spring in his step, thanked his lucky stars for his chance meeting with an old friend.

“Boss, yeah, I like it!”

His newly found conspirator returned home and mulled over the details of a plan to bring chaos into the life of the president of Mears Empire. Barclay called Boss as instructed and was invited to stay at headquarters to discuss plans. He was flabbergasted at the opulence of the place and stood in awe as he studied the splendour of Boss's home.

“Listen up… this is what we do,” began Boss. “I'll fund this project and have great pleasure in doing so. These are the people from your contacts whom we can make use of: George North, we have already mentioned, Dale Greer and Clara Blake. From what you told me about them they should be amenable to our request. This is what each will do… if they carry out instructions and keep their mouths shut, cancel their debt… I'll refund your losses.”

Boss relayed in detail the plan to cause maximum chaos for Brenda Mears and continued:

“My people here will be heavily involved in all stages of the plan. Your two business buddies will be needed as well. You will all be well rewarded but swear them to secrecy on the pain of death.”

He was convinced Boss was well able to carry out such a threat.

The stunned conspirator could hardly believe his turn of fortune. He arrived home to brief his fellow rogues and swear them to secrecy, spelling out the consequences if they dared breathe a word to anyone.

“Looks like you'll be doing a bit of flying again, buddy,” he said to the exuberant Les.

Subsequent visits to Boss finalized details of the heinous crime about to be perpetrated.

“It's up to George North now to keep his cool and set it all in motion when the opportunity arises. Let's drink to the success of the greatest plot ever imagined!”