Foreign Affairs (11 page)

H
edy woke up on a blanket in what felt like the trunk of a car. Her hands and feet were tied, and she was blindfolded and gagged. She remembered the door being kicked in and the struggle but not much after that; she assumed she had been drugged. She had been stupid, leaving the house early to go to the grocery, instead of following Stone's instructions. She wondered what had happened to whoever was supposed to be following her.

The car came to a stop, and she heard the trunk lid unlatch. A man's voice, heavily accented, said, “You want toilet?”

“Yes,” she said, and he hustled her to her feet and dragged her across a floor. “You'll need to untie my hands,” she said.

He did so. He set her down on a toilet seat. “You got two minutes.”

“Close the door, please.”

To her surprise he did so. She got her jeans and underwear
down and retrieved her cell phone, then while she peed, she lifted a corner of her blindfold, went to her contacts, and pressed the speed-dial button for Stone's number. Busy signal. Shit! She texted him:
I'm okay but
—

The man hammered on the door. “Time up.”

She replaced the phone, got dressed, stood up, adjusted her blindfold, and groped for the doorknob. The door opened, knocking her back onto the toilet. “Thank you,” she said. “I'm not going to scream. Please don't gag me again, I can't breathe well through my nose.”

He didn't, but he retied her hands in front of her and threw her over a shoulder. She was carried a few yards, then up some stairs and dumped into a seat. A safety belt was fastened around her, and a moment later she heard a door being slammed shut. She assumed she was on an airplane. A moment later the airplane began to move slowly. She realized that she was in a hangar, and that the aircraft was being towed outside. She felt warm sun on her face.

An engine whined to a start. A jet, or maybe a turboprop; she knew the difference. Then a second engine. Someone put a headset over her ears, but it didn't seem connected to anything; she couldn't hear voices now, but the noise of the engines was muted to a whisper. One of those electronic headsets. She wriggled a bit in her seat. Snug. Not a big airplane like a Gulfstream; she had ridden in her stepfather's. A smaller airplane, maybe like Stone's. A Cessna, or a King Air, maybe. Someone plugged
the headset into a socket, and she heard classical music: Mozart. It was pleasant.

The airplane began to move again, this time under its own power. It taxied for what seemed a very long time. A big airport? She decided it was a jet, not a turboprop. Less noise. Then it stopped again for some time. Finally it moved and turned and she felt pressed back into her seat with acceleration. The airplane was taking off. After a while it seemed to level off, and she dozed.

—

S
tone's cell phone vibrated. He retrieved it, turned it on, and saw Hedy's message:
I'm okay but
—

“Contact!”

Dino, who had been dozing in his chair, sat up. “What contact?”

“She tried to send a message but was interrupted, just said she was okay,
but
.”

“But she's been kidnapped.”

“Exactly, but she has access to her cell phone.”

“They must have let her go to the toilet,” Viv said, “but they didn't give her much time.”

“You were right, Viv,” Stone said.

“It seems so.”

Stone texted back.
I hear you. Try again when you can
.

—

H
edy didn't wake up until the plane touched down. She pretended still to sleep. There was more taxiing, then the plane stopped, then was towed again, this time for a longer ride. Finally, her headset was removed, her seat belt unbuckled, and she was hoisted to her feet and slung over a shoulder again. Men were speaking in Italian, which she understood. She resolved to speak and respond to only English. It might give her some sort of edge. Shortly, she was placed in another car trunk, and the car drove away. Although her hands were now tied in front of her, she made no attempt to reach her cell phone again, because she didn't know how long she would have before she was interrupted, and she didn't want to lose the cell phone. She dozed again, and when she woke, she didn't know how long she had been out. She must still have some of the drug in her. Now they were driving more slowly and making very sharp turns in both directions.

Hedy remembered a road like this: the Amalfi Coast. After an hour or so the car came to a stop, and doors opened and slammed. She was taken out of the trunk again and slung over what felt like the same shoulder. There were steel-like clangings, and she felt the gravity increase and heard the whine of machinery. An elevator, probably some sort of industrial one, hence the louder-than-usual noise as they climbed.

They climbed for what seemed a long time.

J
im Lugano answered his cell phone. “Lugano.”

“It's Lance. What news of the girl?”

“Stone called, he's had a partial text. She said she's all right, but she was cut short. She's a smart girl, apparently, she's hidden her phone.”

“Smart indeed. Why haven't we bagged these people? Couldn't her position be nailed from the call?”

“Not enough time. We don't yet know how they're traveling. I hope they're not in a car or truck, that would make it much more difficult. Rick has expanded his airport survey to every airport inside of fifty miles of Paris. We're doing the same in Rome and Naples, but they could have landed anywhere—in a field, if they have the right plane—and switched to a vehicle. Confidence is not high.”

“I don't like hearing that.”

“I don't like feeling it.”

“Have the girl's family been contacted?”

“Stone spoke to her stepfather, who turns out to be Arthur Steele, of insurance fame.”

“That makes me wonder why I haven't heard from a senator or two.”

“He apparently has enough confidence in Stone to let him handle it.”

“Or enough indifference not to care much what happens to the girl.”

“I don't think that. She has a mother he has to live with.”

“What's our best hope, given what we know?”

“Another cell call or text, on the air long enough for us to locate. We don't know how much cell reception she has at her destination, wherever that is, or how much of a charge she has left on the phone. It's going to be dodgy.”

“Everything is always dodgy,” Lance said. “Keep in touch.” He hung up.

—

S
tone looked up and was surprised to see Mike Freeman stride into Marcel's living room. “What brings you across the Atlantic?” he asked.

“My two most important clients and my insurer's daughter,” Mike said, sinking into a chair. A butler approached and inquired of everyone's refreshment choices. A bottle of San Pellegrino satisfied them all.

Stone brought Mike up to date on the text message and Viv's theory on where the phone was housed.

“Smart girl,” Mike said. “Stone, is she smart enough to keep her cool until we find her?”

“I think she's already shown us that. I've sent her a text, so the next time she's able to check the phone, she'll know we're looking for her. I hope we'll get more information, too.”

“I hope she's doesn't end up in some remote farmhouse with no cell reception,” Mike said.

“I hadn't thought of that. I guess I just take reception for granted, and I shouldn't in this case.”

“It's a thickly enough populated country to give us hope.”

—

H
edy woke up in a darkened room. She let her eyes become accustomed, then had a look around. She was no longer blindfolded but her hands and feet were tied. She was on a single bed in a small room, like a maid's room. She spied a door ajar and hopped over to it, finding a small bathroom. She got her jeans down, retrieved the phone, and peed. She switched on the phone and got one dot of reception, on and off. She tried Stone's number but couldn't get through. She had less than fifty percent charge left. Why hadn't she charged it last night? Stupid!

She composed a text message, in the hope that it might eventually get through:
car, jet plane, car, windy road, A coast?
Noisy elevator, high floor, small room, half battery, one dot. text back.
She
got back to the bed; she tucked the phone between the mattress and box spring. Then she slept again.

—

S
tone felt his phone go off and checked for calls and messages. Nothing. It vibrated again but still nothing. Then the message. “Okay, everybody,” he announced, “Hedy has gotten through: she was put into a car, then a jet plane, then a car. She was on a windy road, maybe a coast, then had a long ride in a noisy elevator. She's in a small room, half her battery is gone, and she has one dot of reception.”

“She's not going to get a call out with one dot,” Mike said.

“The text seemed to take a couple of tries to get through.”

Stone's phone rang.

“We got the message,” Lugano said, “but texts go out so fast we couldn't nail even a general location, and Italy is mostly coast. Also, is ‘windy' a winding road or one with a lot of wind? Either way, sounds like a coast road.”

“She may not even be in Italy,” Stone said. “She could be anywhere.”

“Sounds like a skyscraper under construction on a coast,” Dino said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Noisy elevator, maybe a construction site. You know those temporary elevators they throw up with scaffolding on the
outside of a building under construction? Maybe an office building or a condo on the coast somewhere.”

“I wish she could be more specific,” Mike said.

“She's told us everything she knows,” Stone remarked. “She's doing her best.”

“Not good enough,” Dino said. “Not yet,
anyway.”

S
tone slept surprisingly well that night. Hedy was safe, and didn't sound abused, and that gave him some comfort. On the other hand, it was maddening to hear from her and get so little information. He joined the others for breakfast, and Mike Freeman was there, too.

“Where are you staying, Mike?”

“At my office. There's a little apartment there. Any messages from Hedy this morning?”

“Nothing—she probably slept.”

“I have a chopper available, and a hospital bed for her the minute we get her back,” Mike said.

“That's good thinking.”

“I've had some research done on Casselli's past, by our staff psychologist,” Mike said. “God knows, he's ruthless, but our man doesn't think he'll hurt or kill Hedy.”

“I guess that's good news.”

“The key seems to be, he's pragmatic and seems unlikely to act so much from spite as from need, and he doesn't need to harm her.”

“Makes sense.”

Jim Lugano turned up with some satellite photographs. “Here's Casselli's house on the Amalfi Coast,” he said, laying an enlargement on the dining table.

“No outside elevator necessary,” Stone said, pointing at the road to the house. “It's drivable.”

“No signs of life there, and it's the only house there owned by Casselli. He could be anywhere, but I would think he'd feel safer in Naples than anywhere else. It's his home base, and he probably is more likely to have made inroads into the police there.”

“Is there any building in Naples that might jibe with the description of Hedy's elevator ride?”

Jim got out his phone. “I'll find out.” He punched in a number. “It's Lugano. I want a survey of the coast in Naples, to identify a tall building under construction with a temporary elevator, perhaps a condo, hotel, or office building. We have a kidnapping victim who has furnished us with such a description, and it is imperative that we locate her soonest. Got it? Get back to me today.” He hung up. “We're on it.”

“I'd like to know where Casselli is,” Stone said. “He might visit her.”

“We haven't had eyes on Casselli since he left Lipp, in Paris.”

“Can you please locate him? It seems to me that would be useful information.”

“You're right.” Jim got on his phone again and started issuing orders.

“I understand Casselli disposed of two of his closest people, for fear that they might be in touch with the police.”

“Correct.”

“I'd like to know who replaced them in his hierarchy,” Stone said, “and if they're under surveillance. If Casselli isn't seeing Hedy himself, then somebody is taking care of her, and I think we should try and find out who that is.”

“I don't think we have enough information right now to figure that out,” Jim said. “If we could get a cell phone location, it would help.”

“If we got a cell phone location, we would have most of what we need,” Stone replied. “What are your capabilities when dealing with Casselli?” he asked. “What is authorized?”

“You mean, can we kill him?”

“Now that you mention it.”

“That's a little steep at this stage of the game,” Jim said.

“If we could kill him, he wouldn't be a problem anymore.”

Jim laughed. “I can't argue with that, but I have not been authorized to kill him.”

“Seek authorization.”

Jim laughed again. “Jesus, Stone, I didn't know you were so bloodthirsty.”

“I want my friend back, and I don't care if Casselli has to die in order to achieve that.”

“To tell you the truth, I don't much care if he has to die, either. He's just interfering with our regular work.”

“Ask Lance. Ask somebody.”

—

J
im excused himself, left the room, and called Lance.

“This is Cabot.”

“I've just been having a chat with Stone Barrington. He wants me to kill Leo Casselli.”

Lance burst out laughing. “Is that all? Just bump him off? Who does he think we are?”

“Lance,” Jim said, “Stone has a point.”

“You mean you're happy to eliminate Casselli? Is that how you think we behave?”

“It wouldn't be the first time.”

“Well, yes, but that sort of thing usually calls for a presidential finding.”

“Usually, but not always. Casselli could have an accident.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Maybe the sort of thing these guys use to take each other out—his car nudged over a cliff, a bomb under his seat, a bullet to the head. After all, Casselli has just erased two of his top lieutenants, because he's afraid they might be talking to the police. There are surely those who might think that calls for
a response. They must have family members or friends who might hold a grudge. If Casselli died, assumptions would be made about who did it and why, and I don't think we would rank high on anybody's list of possible perpetrators. If you need a bureaucratic reason, he's keeping us from our usual work.”

“I like that. Do you know where he is?”

“Not yet, but I've issued orders to find him.”

“Talk to me again when you have a location and a more definite suggestion for a plan.”

“Right.” Jim hung up and went back into the living room.

“Well?” Stone asked.

“It's being
discussed.”