Finder's Fee (21 page)

After they ate, she volunteered to go to the gift shop on the first floor and buy whatever pain reliever she could find. After purchasing several small packets of ibuprofen, each priced as if they were the last pills on the planet, she returned to the room. Luke had wanted to go but after Judith made him look in the mirror at the lump on his forehead and the darkening circle under his eye, he yielded the point.

Luke slept in the living room chair, his sock feet propped up on the coffee table. Ida and Abel had taken the bedroom. They had discussed again using both rooms but Luke couldn't
make himself comfortable with the idea. He wanted everyone in the same place.

Who was this Luke? She had met him only twelve hours before and they had traveled to Fresno on the company jet, barely escaped death in a house rigged to explode, flown to San Diego, learned that her own stepson might be attempting a coup d'état in her absence, ferreted out enough information from that provided by the Puppeteer and through the Internet, confronted a man who no doubt was a killer or at least some kind of criminal, overpowered him with surprise, returned to the hotel and learned from a child that other children were in grave danger. All of this she had done with a man unknown to her yesterday. Now she lay on the sofa wishing for a few hours' sleep while the paranoid man snoozed nearby.

The scenario was nutty and even though she had lived it she had trouble believing all that had happened. If she could sleep, then she might awaken in her own bed, in her own home, and learn that it had all been a hyper-real dream. She knew it wouldn't happen that way. The pain she felt was too real, the look on Ida's face when Abel bolted into the car, the fear she endured when she saw the man Abel called Mr. Pennington knock Luke to the ground. All of that made any hope of a dream evaporate.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself someplace else: somewhere where peace and security were the norm, where the next person down the street would certainly be a friend, a place where she could feel safe.

Luke began to snore. “One more thing I've learned about you,” she whispered.

She thought of his secret and his reluctance to speak of it, then she thought of her own. Guilt rose in her, seeking its outlet in tears, but she fought it. The last thing she wanted to
do was lose control and the last thing she wanted Luke to see was her as a trembling woman.

The business, the television shows, the commercials, the money, the prestige — everything seemed to be the dream now, a dream that began and ended a generation ago. Fear could strip away pretense faster than sandpaper could remove paint.

It took effort, but Judith took control of her breathing, timing each inhalation and exhalation. Sleep slipped into the room and covered her.

She dreamt of children in the mountains.

Children with lavender eyes.

A
t 5:00 a.m. Judith phoned the front desk to inform them they were checking out. Five minutes later she sat in the front passenger seat content to let Luke drive. Ida sat in the rear, Abel's head resting on her lap as he continued to sleep.

Luke was sullen but still cautious. They exited the parking lot, drove down the main street, turned into a residential area then repeated the process two more times, checking his rearview mirror every few seconds. Before pulling from the lot, he had circled the rental car twice and ran his hand in the wheel wells looking for tracking devices. He found none, but that fact did nothing to change his disposition. He didn't need to explain to Judith that a professional could hide a device
in a way that only a detailed search or the use of electronic detection equipment would reveal it. They didn't have the equipment or the means to adequately search the car. Before starting the engine, Luke popped the hood and spent a full ten minutes looking at everything. It couldn't have been easy. The sun had yet to rise. All Luke had was the light of a nearby streetlamp.

Satisfied that no one tailed them, Luke pulled onto the I-15 and headed north. Judith seldom drove at this hour and the sight of lines of traffic, their headlights and taillights stringing the freeway like jewels, surprised her. San Diego came to life early — if it ever went to sleep.

Judith looked over her shoulder and saw Abel enfolded in the peaceful sleep of a child. She envied him. Her eyes burned from weariness and her back ached from reclining on the sofa. Her eyes moved from Abel to Ida. She looked pale and drawn, and Judith doubted she slept more than an hour.

“We need to make some decisions,” Luke said. “I don't even know where we're going. I turned north out of reflex. It's the way home.”

“I have no ideas.” Admitting the fact did nothing to alleviate her tension. “Abel is back in his mother's arms but the danger still exists.”

“For all we know, it may be worse. It certainly is worse for us. I don't think that Pennington character is going to forget last night.”

The thought had crossed Judith's mind too and she wished it hadn't. “What about the Puppeteer?”

“I don't know. I just don't know. We've done what we were forced to do, but things don't add up. We could never have found Abel if we hadn't been given the photo. Who took the photo? How did the Puppeteer get it? If he knew where
Abel was in the beginning, then why not just tell us? Better yet, why bother with us at all?”

“I have no answers,” Judith sighed. “Nothing, nada, zilch. I keep running these questions through my brain but nothing comes out. The only conclusion I can reach is that finding Abel is not the ultimate goal.”

“The children,” Ida said from the back. “Could that be the goal?”

Luke objected. “No. Don't even go there. There is no way we can rescue a bunch of kids. Getting Abel out almost cost me my life.”

“Still …” Judith said.

“Still what?” Luke's question came fast and hot.

“I can't give up on them, Luke. And I don't think you can either.”

Luke slammed his hand against the steering wheel but kept his voice low. “I used to think I was in control of my life, of my privacy, and now this.”

Judith said nothing. She felt the same frustration. Sometime today, Marlin would meet with the board of directors and try to pull a fast one. She should be there, she thought. Have Terri find out what time the meeting is and then crash it. Of course there would be questions about her disappearance and why she fled the scene of an explosion. The police would want to talk to her and the media would be all over that. She corrected herself — they were already all over it. Visions of news vans parked in front of her building played on the screen of her mind.

“I dreamt about the children last night.” Luke spoke the words softly, just above the drone of the tires on the pavement.

“Really?” Judith asked.

“Yeah. I don't remember much. Several kids, maybe a dozen, I don't know. They were huddled around me. They all had the same eyes as Abel.”

“What were they doing?”

“Staring at me.” Luke shuddered. “It gave me the chills.”

“Their eyes?”

“No, the dream. You know how dreams are. Most of the time they fade like steam from a teakettle. One part of it stuck with me. They hovered over me while I lay on the ground. I was bleeding. I'm pretty sure I was dying.”

“That's horrible.”

He nodded. “But you know what? For some reason it seemed … right.”

“I didn't sleep so I didn't dream, but images of the children came to mind and wouldn't go away.” Judith gazed in the predawn dark. “There was a little girl, with long, straggly brown hair.”

“What was she doing?” Ida asked.

“Holding my hand.” Judith raised her right hand. “I can still feel it.”

“This is nuts, crazy, bonkers. We have got to find a way out of this; a way back to normalcy.”

“I can never be normal again.” Ida's voice cracked. “No home, no husband, no money.”

“But you have Abel,” Judith said. “And don't worry about money for now.” She wanted to say more but couldn't form the thoughts. A few moments later she asked, “What happens if we just go to my house?”

“My first fear would be that someone has it under surveillance and it's probably bugged.” Luke changed lanes and drove slowly, utilizing the same trick he used the previous day. It would be difficult to follow a slow moving car without
being noticed — at least according to Luke. “My second fear is that the police will be keeping an eye on the place and stop by with more questions than we can answer.”

“Is that so bad? We've done nothing wrong.”

“We fled the scene of a crime; we, well more specifically,
I
entered property uninvited —
two
properties since Abel and I snuck around the wall onto the adjoining lot; you assaulted a man with a cell phone and we both left him in the street.”

“That was self-defense.”

“I know, but how do you prove it?”

“Okay, then, what about an attorney? I can have our corporate attorney dig up the best criminal lawyer. We can go to him. We both have money — at least I think you have money.”

“I'm comfortable.”

“Okay, we both have plenty of money. We have the lawyer work out a way that we can talk to the police without getting held for questioning.”

“Maybe.”

“And maybe he can find a way to protect Abel,” Ida said.

“Yeah, maybe.” Luke switched lanes again.

“What's on your mind, Luke?”

“The kids. I know I snapped a few minutes ago and said we couldn't rescue them but … It's just that I can't get them out of my mind. They're haunting me and I've never met them. Maybe it's Abel.”

“What do you mean, Abel?” Judith turned to face Luke, his face lit only by the auto's instrument panel.

Luke smiled. “I kinda like the kid.”

“I like you too.”

“What?” Luke glanced over his shoulder. “You've been playing possum, you little sneak.”

Abel giggled then sat up.

“That's it,” Luke said, “I'm going to pull over and tickle you until you beg for mercy.”

“Bring it.” Abel laughed.

It was the most pleasant sound Judith had ever heard.

T
he sun had just begun its work when Marlin stepped into the private gym. A longtime member, he usually arrived at 6:30 a.m. and put in a solid hour at the weight machines and treadmill. Like all things in his life, he worked out to an extreme. A part of him knew he was compensating for his short stature but that didn't matter. The key to life was making the most of what you have, not whining about what you don't.

As he stretched legs, arms, and back, he thought of the pot of gold handed him. He couldn't be sure what was going on, but he knew enough to recognize that mommy-dearest had somehow gotten herself in a world of hurt. He'd be a fool not to capitalize on her blunders.

Today it would be his upper body that got the workout, but it would be his mind that would do the most exercise. He could barely sleep last night for the thoughts and plans ricocheting in his overstimulated mind. Once his muscles were warm and stretched he settled into the weight machine and
began pumping his pectorals, feeling the smooth motion of his arms as they hoisted the weights.

With each exercise he reminded himself that what he was doing was for the good of the firm. The duty to defend the firm fell to Judith, but she had abandoned her post and apparently become the catalyst for corporate injury. As senior vice president, he had to act. The mantle of responsibility fell to him and he could not allow outside forces to destroy what his father had built even if that outside force was once the chief insider.

And there were the stockholders to consider. He had a responsibility to those who had invested in the firm. Of course there were the board members, all heavily invested. If Judith ruined the company, then some of them would suffer financial harm and at least two of them were facing retirement in the next year. He could not allow Judith to jeopardize them and their families.

Sure, there would be those who would accuse him of selfish motives. Privately, he wouldn't deny it. So what if protecting others happened to help him in his goal of leading Find, Inc.? He couldn't be blamed for that. Business people understood the bottom line was always the deciding factor in decision making.

Marlin moved from the weight machine to the curl bench and free weights and began to work his biceps. Eight reps in he began to feel the burn and it made him smile. Nothing he did in the gym today could remove the giddiness inside. Perhaps he should feel guilty.

But he wouldn't.

The black TwinStar AS355 business helicopter skimmed through the air at 150 miles per hour. Pennington sat alone
in the passenger cabin taking one of the four beige leather seats and watched the ground, newly lit by the sun, scroll past. The rental company had come through for him, as well they should. Cal-Genotics poured a lot of money into their pockets over the last ten years. They had been good about not asking questions.

The pilot banked northeast as they passed over Riverside and headed toward the San Bernardino National Forest. He had made this trip before and knew what to expect. Soon the pilot would change directions again to skirt the controlled airspace of San Bernardino International Airport, then move back on track to the pine-covered mountains where his destination lay nestled in trees and accessible by only one road.

Pennington wondered what was happening at Dr. Zarefsky's house. Surely the crime scene people were scouring house and grounds alike. And while he sat in the comfort of the business chopper, Danny “Silk” Saccio was being grilled by the police.

Saccio earned the name Silk with his smooth talk and ability to lie with impunity. The rest of his name was a fabrication. As a young man he wanted to be thought of as the guy with mob connections. Truth was, despite his name, he was more Irish than Italian. The stupidity of the desire dawned on him one day while reading a newspaper report about a mob hit on one of its own. He decided a new goal was in order. In the end, Silk Saccio became a private detective and made a good living fingerprinting corporate execs, doing background checks, and following cheating spouses. He had one other attribute that put him on the top of Pennington's first-call list: loyalty. Saccio had an odd ethic but he could be counted on to never roll over on a client or a buddy.