The Law Of Three: A Rowan Gant Investigation (39 page)

Drained as I was, I knew I wouldn’t be able
to fall asleep even if I tried. The headache that had started me on
this odyssey was still in place and stronger than ever. It was
going to be a while yet before I got my reprieve.

I found myself denying the diametrically
opposed ideas being tossed about by the hemispheres of my brain and
concentrating instead on the events of the past twenty-odd hours in
search of answers to yet unasked questions. I was methodically
trying to remember minute details of the day, unimportant and
utterly mundane but details nonetheless. However, each time I would
happen upon a gem to grasp, my overtaxed brain would release the
previous tidbit and send it floating away into dark obscurity. The
whole exercise quickly turned into a game of “keep away,” where I
was the odd man out, desperately chasing after things that I
remembered and then promptly forgot again.

I allowed myself to slouch lower then shoved
my hands into my coat pockets for lack of anyplace else to put
them. My right knuckles immediately thumped against something hard.
I pondered the sensation absently for a moment and then wrapped my
fingers around whatever it was and pulled it out. I’m not sure what
my clouded brain was expecting, but it was only my cell phone. I
vaguely recalled someone giving me my charred coat at the hospital,
which must have been when I recovered the device. I guessed that
Felicity must have transferred it to this jacket when we arrived
home.

The sight of the phone in my hand renewed a
little hope. It reminded me that I wasn’t as cut off from the
outside as I had been feeling. I punched the power button and
waited as the lights behind the dialing keys winked on, then the
display flashed my number across the screen. I automatically
thumbed out the pattern of Felicity’s cell number that my hand had
memorized then hit send and put the phone to my ear.

I listened as the ring tone sounded at the
other end a trio of times before ending abruptly in the middle of
the fourth. The half-buzz was followed by a tired but familiar
Celtic-patterned voice.

“Aye, Rowan?” Felicity asked.

“Yeah, honey, it’s me,” I replied. “Where are
you?”

“We’re at the hospital. University down on
Kingshighway.”

“Good hospital,” I murmured. “So how are you
doing?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “What about you
then?”

“Tired and achy,” I admitted. “But still in
one piece.”

“Aye, you’d best stay that way.”

“I don’t think I have much choice,” I told
her. “The FBI has me sitting in the back of a panel van trussed up
in a bulletproof vest with an agent right outside the door.”

“Good for them,” she answered. “Remind me to
send a thank you card.”

I ignored her jibe. “How’s Constance?”

“Aye, it looks like she’ll be fine. The
doctor didn’t want to tell me anything at first, but I convinced
him I was her sister.”

“And he fell for that?” I asked. “You two
don’t look anything alike.”

“Aye, and what’s your point then? We’re twin
sisters from different parents.”

“Yeah, sure,” I half chuckled. “I can see
that.”

“Anyway,” she continued. “She has a broken
nose, a concussion, two broken ribs, and a fractured wrist. Most of
it came from the airbag they think.”

“Guess it could’ve been worse if there wasn’t
an airbag.”

“Aye.”

“So what about you?” I asked. “Did the doctor
check you over?”

“Aye, I’m fine, bumps and bruises, nothing
more. I’m mostly worried about you and Ben.”

“I’m good,” I told her. “Ben’s hand is really
messed up though. Last time I saw him there was a paramedic looking
at it for him. I suspect he’ll need a trip to the hospital before
it’s all over. Have you called Allison?”

“Aye. She was frantic at first, but you know
how she is. She’s a nurse. She’s used to this kind of thing,
especially out of Ben.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So what IS going on there?” my wife asked,
her voice turning serious as she left the chitchat behind. “I’ve
been watching the television, but they aren’t saying much.”

“Well, they got me here in time to appease
Porter,” I replied. “For the moment anyway. Right now, I’m sitting
in the back of a van, like I said, and they keep interviewing
me.”

“What for?”

“Looking for angles to use while negotiating
with him.”

“Aye, do they actually believe they can
negotiate with that monster, then?”

“Yeah, they do.”

“What about you?” she asked after a pause.
“Do you think they can?”

“No,” I almost whispered. “No, I don’t.”

We both fell silent, neither of us willing to
press forward with the conversation but neither willing to say
goodbye either. The digitally reproduced sounds of each other’s
breathing issuing from the phones became a tenuous connection
between us—distant and artificial, but better than nothing.

My fearful thoughts combined with the
hollowness in the pit of my stomach, and I became the first to
break the lull. “You know he’s going to kill her no matter what,
don’t you?”

“Row… Don’t say that,” Felicity appealed
softly.

“He will,” I continued. “I can feel it.”

“Don’t you go and do something stupid, now,”
she said. “Okay?”

I didn’t reply.

Her voice came at me again, “Rowan? Answer
me.”

“Yeah,” I finally said. “Nothing stupid.”

“Caorthann…
”
Her voice was ringed by sadness and filled with resignation as she
whispered the Gaelic pet name.

“Really, sweetheart,” I assured her. “Back of
van, FBI, cops everywhere. I don’t think there’s anything I CAN do
other than sit here.”

“Aye, but I know you.”

“They have a chapel there?” I asked, trying
to divert her attention.

“I’m sure they do, why?”

“Maybe you should go light a candle for
Star,” I offered.

Her reply told me that my gambit didn’t work
as planned. “Aye, I think you mean I should go light a candle for
you.”

There was no suitable reply that wouldn’t
either confirm her fears or force me to lie to her. Remaining
silent would just do the same. I said the only thing I could,
“Maybe for both of us then.”

“Aye,” she whispered.

I knew that unchecked, we would continue to
sit there clinging to the cellular thread that now linked us
together in the physical world. As much as I wanted to give in to
that comfort, I made the decision that I knew she wouldn’t.

“I’ve got to go, honey,” I said. “They’re
going to want to start asking me some more questions in just a
minute.”

“I love you, Rowan.”

I replied softly, “Yeah. I love you too.”

I pulled the cell phone away from my ear then
allowed my hand to slide down across my chest and fall into my lap.
Without looking, I depressed the end button and disconnected the
line. Closing my eyes, I left my head tilted back and began
wondering about the wisdom of having made the call.

I wanted to be certain that she was okay, and
I wanted to get an update on Constance but that information had
come at a price. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that Felicity
believed for a minute that I would be standing idly by at this
scene. Not with Star’s life resting in the hands of Eldon Porter. I
was convinced she hadn’t even believed that when she made the
decision to stay behind with Agent Mandalay. But she had come to
terms with it.

My phone call may have served to do nothing
more than open a wound. It very simply could have been an
inadvertent reminder of the dangerous uncertainty that I faced—and
my melancholy, a possible harbinger that Ben’s promise to her could
well be broken. Dwelling on the fact officially made me feel worse
than I had before I dialed the number.

I breathed in a deep lungful of the chilly
air then tilted my head back forward and glanced over at the door
on the rear of the van. It had been several minutes since Agent
Kavanaugh had left to hand over the information to the rest of the
HNT. Considering that I hadn’t given over anything of much
relevance, at least in my eyes, I was beginning to worry. Something
was taking far too long.

With the momentary diversion from my migraine
gone by the wayside, the pain had returned full force, hammering
away even harder than before. As I sat there, I felt a creepy wave
of gooseflesh climb up my back until it reached the base of my
neck. I shivered with a chill as the sensation traveled back down
my spine then spread out through my body. I fell into an eerie
state of semi-catatonic nothingness that made me feel sick to my
stomach.

I jumped with a start and caught an
outbound breath in my throat as my cell phone began pealing out
the
William Tell Overture
in
dull electronic tones. When my muscles tensed, the various bruises
I had acquired reported in sharply then settled back into dull
aches with unwavering loyalty to the task. I forced my body to
relax and rolled my head as I allowed myself to continue
exhaling.

“Oh yeah, you’re real stable, aren’t you?” I
chastised myself aloud.

I turned the face of the phone up and
inspected the screen, fully expecting to see the words “Felicity
Cell” in a blocky, liquid crystal font. Instead, I was greeted with
the words “New Number” and a string of unfamiliar digits.

I stared at the display for a moment as the
refrain began bleeping out again and then punched the center button
and brought the device upward.

“Rowan Gant,” I said.

“It is about time you turned on your phone,
Gant.” Eldon Porter’s voice issued from the speaker. “I have been
trying to reach you for almost an hour now.”

“So sue me, asshole,” I replied.

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “I would
rather just kill you.”

“Same here,” I shot back. “So shouldn’t you
be talking to the hostage negotiator?”

“Agent McCoy bores me,” he remarked. “All
give and take, I did for you, now you do for me. It is really very
obvious that he does not see the point behind all of this.”

Each sentence chilled me even more than the
frigid weather outside. His voice had returned to the flat,
rehearsed tenor I had discussed with Agent Kavanaugh earlier. His
sentences were overtly devoid of contractions and spoken with an
air of self-anointed superiority. There was a purposeful calm about
him—a frightening preparedness that struck me like a cold blade
directly into my heart.

“And that point is?” I asked.

“I think you are well aware of that, Gant,”
he replied.

“Yeah, just checking,” I quipped.

I knew from his tone there were literally no
words from me that would keep him at bay. Not now. Not anymore. We
were moving forward to the next phase.

I was wondering why the HNT hadn’t severed
the connection by now. It took a few seconds for me to remember
that this was the first time he had ever contacted me on my own
cell, so it was a line they wouldn’t be monitoring.

Still, they knew about the two different cell
phones he was using, so they should be on top of it, unless… A
random idea flitted in from the left side of my brain to give me
pause. If he had two cell phones, why couldn’t he have three? If he
did, then chances were the HNT had no idea this call was even
taking place.

“Well, whether he sees your point or not,
he’s the only one who can negotiate with you,” I said. “So maybe I
should just go get him.”

“I would not do that if I were you, Gant,” he
answered coldly. “My negotiations with them are finished. This is
between the two of us and no one else.”

My heart thumped in my throat, and I felt my
adrenal gland begin pumping again. The waiting game had reached its
end whether the FBI liked it or not, and it was all about to be
over before they could turn to the next page in the playbook.

I was wrong. This wasn’t moving into the next
phase. It was jumping directly to the end game.

I forced myself upward and barely missed
clanging the back of my head on an equipment rack as I stumbled. I
twisted to the side and started moving toward the back of the van.
Agent Kavanaugh had said there would be someone right outside. My
mind began racing, searching for a way to get that agent’s
attention without tipping off Porter.

I realized I had to keep him talking, so I
said the first thing that popped into my head. “So what did you
call me for, Eldon?”

“I have a question for you, Gant,” he
said.

“What’s that, Eldon?”

What I got back in reply was nothing short of
a lit match pressed firmly against my already short fuse.

“How loud do you think I will be able to make
your wife scream?”

I felt my face grow hot as repressed anger
was released directly into my veins alongside the rushing
adrenalin. My free hand balled into a solid fist, and at the same
time, I heard the tight squeak of my skin against hard plastic as
my other hand involuntarily attempted to crush the cell phone.

“You’re dead, Eldon,” I growled through
clenched teeth. “Understand me? You are dead.”

“How bad do you want to kill me?” He spoke
the question with the same nonchalance as someone asking for the
correct time.

I snarled my retort, “I think I made that
clear enough.”

He began his reply in an imperious voice. “Do
you think you can get to me…”

“Not with cops everywhere,” I spat. “And you
can bet that’s the only thing keeping you alive right now, you
bastard.”

“I was not finished, Gant.”

“Ask me if I care.”

“You do.”

“I doubt it.”

“Now,” he began again. “What I was going to
say is this: Do you think you can get to me before Miss Sullivan’s
sentence has been duly and properly executed?”