Finder's Fee (32 page)

“It doesn't matter. All that matters is the kids. I didn't kill Zarefsky. I'm sure a good attorney can prove that. I don't matter now. Only them. Do you understand? We can't fight our way onto the ship and we can't stop Pennington from arriving. We have to stop the ship from leaving. That's it. We need help.”

“But Pennington can hold the children hostage.”

Judith dropped her hand. “I know, Luke. I know. But there is nothing else to be done. It's the only way. It's crossed your mind. I know it. I must make the sacrifice.”

“Judith — ”

“No. No more talking. Give me Ernie's cell phone. You go back to the Humvee. There's no need for the police to take you.”

“I'm not leaving you,” Luke said. “Don't bother arguing.”

“Sweet as this is, nobody's going to call the cops and the only place you're going is with me.”

Judith spun on her heels. An Asian man in white pants, a white button-down shirt, and deck shoes stood at the opening of the alley. He also wore a dark blue coat that was much too heavy for the warm temperatures. His right hand was in the coat pocket. The pocket bulged more than it should. He was holding something.

She snapped her head around. Another Asian man dressed in identical clothes blocked the other end of the artificial corridor. He too had a hand in his pocket.

“You will come with us.” The first man demanded.

“And if we don't?” Luke asked. Judith recognized bluster when she saw it.

“Then I will shoot the woman.”

“Someone will hear,” Judith said.

The man smiled. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He addressed Luke. “I'll take that gun now.”

Judith felt like wax in the sun. Her strength had left; her will to fight had grown thin and been replaced by weariness. She was too tired to fear.

Judith and Luke followed the man to
The Great Divide.

“I told you I'd figure out a way to get on the boat.” Luke's words were artificially light and devoid of humor.

Terri sat alone in Judith's office and tried to make sense of all that had happened in the last two days. Karen had presented a bulletproof case that Judith was somehow connected to the dead Dr. Zarefsky. That news had hit Terri like a cruise missile. The other news Karen brought had been just as devastating. Sitting in the same casual meeting area where Karen Rose had laid out her case, Terri replayed the information over and over in her mind.

Karen moved the mouse on her computer. “I had to look deeper.” A list of names appeared on the screen.

Dwayne was the first to ask. “Who are they?”

“Missing children.” Karen muttered the words as if they were painful to say. “I went back to the missing Ida and her son, Abel. I kept wondering why someone would blow up
a house, causing it to burn to the ground. To kill someone seems a likely answer, but it is, for lack of a better term, overkill. Why draw so much attention? Why not just suffocate, or shoot, or poison, or something else? That had me going.”

“To get rid of more than a person,” Wilson said. “The explosion kills the target, the fire destroys the evidence. It's just a guess at this point.”

Karen agreed with him. “I came to the same conclusion. So that got me thinking. Were there any other such cases? I used a media archive retrieval ser vice the station subscribes to and came up with some interesting things. By using several sets of parameters, such as search terms for house fire, bombings, missing children, and so on, I developed a list of potential events that were similar to what happened in Fresno. I found four that were close enough for me to begin making phone calls.”

She worked her computer again and the photo of a child appeared, a girl who looked a little younger than Abel. Karen continued. “This is Sarah Thomason of Phoenix, age six. She lived in this house.” A photo of a burned-out shell flashed on the screen. “The bodies of both parents were found in the home, but not Sarah's. No one has seen her. The newspaper that ran the piece included her picture.” Another image popped up. It showed a three-story apartment building. Firefighters were battling a blaze on the second floor. “Tucson. Again, a man and woman found dead. Neighbors told reporters the couple had a seven-year-old boy; again, missing.” The image of a child who looked much like Abel but thinner in the face looked back at Terri. Like Abel, like Sarah, he had pale lavender eyes. “His name is Jesse Barnett.”

Another pair of pictures. “Henderson, Nevada. Explosion. Fire. Two bodies. Missing child — eight-year-old Liza Marshall.”
Again photos. “Six-year-old Nelson Vines. His parents also died in an explosion fire.”

“This is crazy,” Dwayne said.

“I wish I had made it all up.” Karen turned back to the group. “I think there may be more. I haven't had time to run everything down. I thought it best to get everyone on the same page.”

“Why tell us?” Marlin asked. “This has to be the scoop of your career. Why bother with us?”

Karen looked at Marlin. “Some things, Mr. Find, are more important than career.”

Wilson stood. “I've got to make some calls.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and stepped from the office.

“What I can't figure out,” Dwayne began, “is whether Judith Find is part of the problem or one of the victims.”

“I can't say,” Karen admitted.

Terri had gone numb. Running away sounded so sensible to her. Instead, she asked, “Earlier you said that this woman doctor or researcher or whatever she was, made women infertile. How?”

Karen paused before answering. “When a woman goes in for fertility treatment, the doctor harvests some of her eggs. Usually, then as now, hormones are given to mature the eggs. The doctor then harvests the cells. The same is true for women selling or donating their eggs. Today a woman can make tens of thousands of dollars by selling her eggs. Since a woman produces at least one egg per month, selling or giving away a few shouldn't hurt her chances for children later. Companies advertise in college newspapers because college-age women are younger, healthier, and in greater financial need. Diane Corvino apparently tried new procedures and new medications. Remember, this was over two decades ago. In her zeal,
many women were damaged in the process. There were even allegations that she let nonmedical personnel do some of the procedures but that hasn't been proven.”

“Am I the only one appalled by this?” Terri asked.

“No. In 2006 a congressional effort to make the selling of eggs illegal was begun. It is illegal in some countries like Great Britain. In our country, there are in the neighborhood of 100,000 egg-harvesting procedures. Not all of those women are selling their eggs. Some are done for infertile couples as part of an IVF procedure.”

“You think these children are somehow different, don't you?” Terri stood.

“Aside from the odd eye color and the fact that at least one of them, Abel, is unusually bright, I can't say.”

“What does your reporter's instinct say?”

“It says something really weird is going on.”

H
old 'em.” The command came from the first captor they had seen. “He'll be here in a moment.”

Judith looked around the room. They had been led up a sturdy metal ramp that bridged the gap between boat deck and concrete pier around the cabin structure and into a large space that nearly spanned the width of the boat. Judith's practiced eye couldn't help noticing that the space was beautifully designed and appointed. In less stressful times she
might have taken notice of the furnishings, the carpet, and the wall treatment. At the moment she had trouble looking away from the man with the gun. Once on the monster yacht, he had ceased hiding the weapon.

She didn't know much about yachts but the few times she had attended parties on such vessels she learned that this room was called the salon — the equivalent of a large living room in a mansion. Tinted windows ran the perimeter of the space; the smoke-colored glass complemented teak panels.

Luke moved to the set of windows overlooking the dock area.

“I didn't say you could move.” The gunman raised the weapon a few inches.

“Then shoot me. After what I've been through the last two days, you'd be doing me a favor.” Luke returned his attention to the window.

Judith joined him. The gunman said nothing.

The tint darkened the view of the outside but the view remained clear. She could see the stacks of shipping containers waiting to be moved to or from the container ships that loaded on this part of the pier. She could see the wide expanse of asphalt they had been forced to walk before being led up the ramp to the yacht. She could also see a bright yellow school bus pull onto the lot and park near the ramp.

Pennington had arrived with the children.

The overpowering sense of helplessness she had been fending off for two days returned with irresistible force. One thought ricocheted in her mind: we failed.

The door to the bus opened and the children filed out in quiet order, like students following a teacher from the classroom to the auditorium. They looked helpless. All separated
from their parents; all held in the grip of a man with no conscience. She and Luke were no better off.

Abel stepped from the bus last and took his place at the end of the line. He paused, looked puzzled, then gazed at the window through which Judith gazed as if he knew she was there looking back at him.

One of the men who had taken Judith hostage trotted down the ramp and spoke to Pennington. Pennington gave him a slap on the shoulder. The man stepped to the head of the line of children and led them up the ramp. Pennington followed at the line's end, a step behind Abel.

A set of stairs at the stern side of the salon ran to the lower deck. The crewman at the front of the line made a sharp turn and started down the steps. The children followed. Not one cried. Not one seemed upset or worried. Each child did, however, take the time to look at Judith and Luke.

Judith wanted to run to them, to take each one in her arms, but a man with a gun stood in her way and any confrontation would only endanger the children.

The floor vibrated and a guttural rumble rolled through the yacht.

The engines had come alive. The nightmare grew worse, something Judith didn't think possible. She looked out the window again and saw men removing the mooring lines.

“Not good,” Luke said.

Judith had no response.

Pennington appeared at the top of the stairs. Judith felt a fury that came from a dark place in her she didn't know existed. For a long moment, she had the urge to launch herself at the man; to push him down the steps; to strangle him; to find something hard and beat him until he couldn't move.

Pennington paused and then smiled. He walked toward them in casual, easy steps. “Mr. Becker, we meet again.”

Luke doubled over as Pennington buried his fist in his belly.

“Don't — ”

A backhand quieted Judith and she dropped to the deck.

“I don't know how it is that you are still alive,” Pennington spat, “but you have meddled in my affairs for the last time.”

Luke straightened the best he could and Judith struggled to her feet.

Pennington smiled again. “I was beginning to think you two were clever; worthy adversaries and all that. Turns out you're just a pair of lucky idiots. You should have hidden the Humvee better.”

“Not many hiding places around here.” Luke coughed and Judith expected to see blood. Thankfully, she didn't. “Nothing here but open pavement for parking or shipping containers. And just for the record, I did hide it behind an eighteen-wheeler.”

“You see, that's the difference between us. I would have known that the truck's driver could return and drive off in his rig. You're not devious enough, Becker. Not by a long shot. Personally, I would have flattened a tire or two on the truck. It takes a long time to get those things changed. But you didn't and I saw the Humvee when I drove by the lot. All I had to do was send a couple of crewmen to find you and bide my time driving in circles until they did. Now, here we are.”

“I take it we're going for a little trip.” Luke struggled to get his words out. His hands still clutched his stomach. “Say … to Singapore.”

“How do you know about Singapore?” Pennington's smile dissolved.

“My Humvee hiding skills may be weak but I have other talents.”

Judith braced herself to see another punch launched at Luke. It didn't come.

“What are you going to do with the children?” Judith tried to sound forceful but to little effect.

“You got the Singapore thing right. I'm going to take the kids on an ocean voyage. This yacht is designed to sail across the Pacific, but most of all, it's designed to stay at sea for long periods of time. When we get close to the island of Singapore we'll take on a few more passengers.”

“Who?” Judith pressed.

“People who work for the company that owns this vessel and several others. The people who own the children.”

“Own the children? You can't own another person.”

“Sure you can. Slavery still exists in some countries, but I'm talking about something else. I'm sure you've noticed the children are different. They're genetically engineered or so I'm told. As such, they are as much product as people.”

“Engineered for what?”

“I don't know. I'm not a scientist. I just work for those who are.”

“What are their plans?” Luke finally lowered his hands.

Pennington shrugged. “Beats me. They hire me and pay my exorbitant fee and I do what I'm told. Then I disappear for a long time. With what I'm making on this gig, I may disappear forever.”

“You don't care what happens to the children?” Judith couldn't believe what she had just heard.

“In a word, no. I don't care one bit. I only care what happens to me.”