The Hostage (6 page)

“What if they don’t find the shooter?” Sarah asked. “They’ll detain Drake and nothing will happen. Then, two days later the shooter catches Drake at a delicatessen buying a
fucking
sandwich and shoots him in the face spilling lettuce and ham all over the fucking place. You’re still the murderer in that case because you had a chance to stop it yourself by finding Drake and staying close to him and having me there. If you don’t catch the shooter today, he’ll try again tomorrow. You know that and I know that.”

Rod looked at each man flanking him and then turned back to Sarah. She tapped her hand on the table, frustrated by his inability to see it her way.

“Look,” Sarah continued for her last try. “The information I receive is quite accurate. You
know
where the shooter will be. The chances of nailing him today are much greater than on any other day. If we do exactly as Vivian says, everything will work out.”

Rod shook his head again in that irritating way, his forehead lowered, his eyes looking up at her.

“Everything will work out? Like how it all worked out with Gert four years ago. You almost got yourself killed. Like how it worked out with those guys who kept you prisoner in a small shed. You were shot a couple times. In the temple at the compound you were about to be raped and murdered, but Parkman had trailed you and walked in just at the right time. But, everything will work out, right Sarah? And I work for NASA and take routine flights to Mars to negotiate territorial rights for oil in their tar pits.” He stepped into the corridor. “No go. No lies. No deceptions. No more bullshit. Just prophecies. Do that and maybe we’ll feed you today.”

“Rod, wait,” Sarah said, her arm extended. “You can’t seriously do this.”

“Just did.”

He pulled the door shut. The lock clicked.

She righted the chair, sat on it and lowered her head to the table. “I’m sorry, Drake. I tried. I fucking tried.”

#

The door burst open and Sarah jumped in her seat. She’d almost nodded off.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Rod stood there with at least six men behind him.

“We’re going,” he said. “I’ve changed my mind. Get up.”

“Going where?” she asked.

“The stadium in Toronto. A plane is ready to take us.”

Her head spun in circles as she loosened her neck. “What are you saying? We may be too late already.”

“We will be if you keep hesitating.”

She didn’t need any more prompting. Sarah got up and ran to them.

Rod held something out. “Here, put this on first.”

“What’s that?”

“A GPS tracking bracelet. Whenever you leave this facility you will wear one of these the whole time. I will never have you out of my sight again.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Sarah nodded. “But you stay out of my way at the stadium. I do it on my terms.”

“Agreed.”

Sarah extended her hand and Rod secured the bracelet on her wrist. She wondered why he had the change of heart.

“The tracking bracelet beams a signal to a van that I’ll have parked outside the stadium. Even if you manage to escape our clutches, we’ll know where you are at all times. Are we clear?”

Sarah nodded.

“You’re not giving me much time to organize this. There’s paperwork whenever you enter another country. While I made you wait, I got the plane ready and organized everything as much as I could.”

All seven men, with Sarah running in the midst of the group, headed down the corridor and up two flights of cement stairs. A door led them outside where Sarah had to close her eyes at the bright sun and blink rapidly to see where to go. A waiting Lear Jet sat, its engines already running.

“We’re landing at the Toronto Island airport,” Rod shouted to be heard over the noise of the jets. “Do you realize how hard this was on such short notice?”

“You managed to rearrange the flight plan of a major airliner and have it land in Chicago. I’m sure a little ball game in Toronto isn’t too hard for a man of your talents. Come on, it couldn’t be that hard. They’re Canadians.”

“What does that mean?”

“They’re nice people up there. They’re pushovers.”

They got to the plane’s door. Two men jumped in and waited for Sarah. She looked at Rod. “Just remember. Stay out of my way. This is my gig. Get me to the stadium. I’ll handle the rest.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Chapter 7

The ball game was in full swing as the black SUV pulled up to the Rogers Centre. On the quick drive over to the Rogers Centre from the Island airport, Rod explained that the Toronto Police already had a group of uniformed officers posted throughout the complex. Along with that they were sending over five plainclothes officers to help in the event a shooting actually takes place. All Toronto officers had been given a picture of Sarah. They all knew to allow her full access to all areas of the building and help if she needed anything.
 

“Okay, Sarah, here’s a couple pieces of paper and a pen in case Vivian gets in contact. Listen, I’ll be out of sight, but watching you the whole time. That bracelet will tell us where you are. Remove it and the consequences will be severe. Got it.”

Sarah grabbed the paper and pen. “We’re running out of time,” she said, holding the door handle with her other hand. Ever since they’d landed at the Island Airport, she’d watched for Parkman to show up. She was sure she’d see him soon as he was probably still in Toronto, looking for her. The Lear Jet had made the flight in just over an hour. The ball game was in the seventh inning according to the radio, the Jays behind four runs. None of that mattered. All that mattered to Sarah was getting into the stadium and locating Drake as soon as she could.

“I need to hear it,” Rod said. “All bets are off if you remove that bracelet. I will take you back to the states and have you charged with the murder of Joseph Singer. A radio transmitter embedded in the bracelet is programmed to send out a distress signal as soon as it’s tampered with. A simple pair of scissors can cut this one, with the proper amount of strength, which is difficult with one hand. But — be warned … don’t. Deal?”

Sarah glared at him. “Deal. Now, let me go or Drake will be shot and that’ll void any deals we’re sitting around here making. We didn’t come all this way to chat.”

Rod looked past her and nodded. The door clicked to unlock. She opened it and ran for the gate, her ‘All Access’ pass dangling around her neck. Just before she reached the door, she turned and looked up at the massive structure of the CN Tower and marveled at its height and how thin it looked. Then she entered the stadium through gate seven.

Rod had asked how she’d know Drake. Tickets for the ball game were purchased and seat numbers were allotted, but not by the person’s name like a plane seat. If Drake used a credit card, maybe they could find the purchase and trace it back to a seat number, but that sort of thing took time and so far Rod’s people were coming up empty. Sarah had explained that all she was supposed to do was show up. Vivian would handle the rest. There was a process and she trusted in that.

She stepped past a group of slow moving people and hustled in to the circular hallway, beyond which she saw a gigantic stadium filled with seats and thousands of baseball fans.

“How am I expected to locate one man in all that?”

The Toronto Police were supposed to step in once she found Drake. They had been informed that Drake was a suspect in a high-level criminal investigation in the states and Sarah was helping them locate him through a positive ID. All the extra noise Rod had created around Drake had made her mad. The cops might be watching her too closely. The shooter could see the extra police presence. Anything could happen to screw this up and it would all fall on her head.

She had to do something about it and she had to do it fast.

Sarah looked both ways until she saw the ladies bathroom sign. She ran toward it, hoping Vivian was close. In the bathroom, she picked a stall at the back, closed the door and latched it.

With the paper and pen in her hand, she sat on the closed toilet and leaned into the side wall so if she passed out, she wouldn’t hit the floor.

“Come on, Vivian,” she whispered. “Give me something.”

As if on cue, Sarah felt the familiar stirrings in her writing hand. She laid her head back and closed her eyes. A moment later she opened them and saw a note in her own handwriting.

Drake’s in blue seat 126. The third baseline. Bullet will be shot in 15 minutes. The Shooter is a man named Ferenci. He has help.

At the bottom was an afterword. Like Vivian had remembered something.

Beware the cop. He’s fake. He wants to kill you.

Sarah reread the note at least three times. All she had to do was find Drake’s seat and she still had over ten minutes. She recalled something Rosalie had said to her in Montone, Italy, after the head of the immigration consortium had been killed just a few weeks ago. It would take over six months for the investigators to go through everything before they could possibly start arresting anyone. That meant people all over the world hadn’t been exposed yet — they were still in business … doing business.

Then who is the cop that wants to kill me?

How many men could Ferenci have? Two, three, or more? Rod had four with him, and five plainclothes cops, plus a stadium filled with uniforms. Which one was the cop she was supposed to watch out for? How would she know?

Too many questions that had to be answered at another time. Save Drake first and then figure everything else out.

She opened the stall and walked out of the bathroom. As soon as she stepped into the wide corridor again, she realized that her escape plan was right in front of her.

Rod won’t even know what hit him.

She couldn’t believe it hadn’t hit her earlier.

First, she had to get rid of the tracking bracelet.

She jogged along the corridor until she found a hotdog stand with a small line. On the side, down behind the booth, she saw an employee breaking down boxes from a shipment.

He held a pair of scissors.

Perfect.

The clock continued, unabated. She knew time was short, but for everything to work right, she had to remove the bracelet first.

She stepped up to the young guy who didn’t look older than twenty.

“Excuse me, can I borrow those scissors?” she asked.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at the scissors and then back at Sarah. She smiled and rolled a finger seductively down the length of her hair. “I just need them for a second.”

The employee shrugged and handed the scissors over. Sarah took them, lifted her sleeve and applied them to the bracelet.

“Hey, what’s that? Is it one of those things you have to wear when you’ve broken the law?”

Sarah nodded. “Something like that.”

After two tries she still couldn’t budge it. “Damn the fucking clock. I’m almost out of time.”

The clerk had stepped back a few feet.

“Here,” she gestured with the scissors. “Help me with this.”

No one had noticed them yet. Since the baseball game was almost over, the hotdog stand wasn’t as busy. People still walked by in the wide hallway, but no one looked at them.

“I can’t help. That’s illegal.”

As fast as she could, Sarah stepped up, slipped her foot behind the guy’s ankle and pushed his shoulders back. He lost his balance and fell to the floor backwards. She pounced down and landed beside him, the scissors at the base of his throat just above the collar bone.

“Don’t scream. Don’t do anything crazy or these scissors will enter your neck. Do you want to bleed out and die?”

She wondered what crime he was conjuring up that she would’ve committed to be wearing the bracelet. This act of violence would fill his mind with many scenarios.

He shook his head in response to her question.

“Good, because I’m sick and tired of having to kill people.”

His eyes widened as far as they could.

“After I kill you,” Sarah continued, “they’ll probably give me two of these fucking things. So, I’ll make you a deal, cut this thing off and you’ll never see me again. Tell me you won’t help and I’ll have to jam these scissors as far into your throat as I can. Cool?”

He nodded his head like an insane bobble-head figure. Sarah brought her wrist up and applied the scissors to the weakest part of the bracelet. She held one side of the scissor’s grip so the hotdog stand employee couldn’t turn them on her and waited. He inserted his fingers inside the grip and pushed. It took two strong attempts, before the bracelet snapped in half.

Sarah got up and stepped back from him. She tossed the bracelet in a corner and then threw the scissors after them.