The Tin Man (35 page)

“But—I’ve already filed the story.”

“You’re lying.”

“
I’m not.”

“
Then why hasn’t it run?”

He shrugged. “
Maybe Osbourne got wind of it and talked one of his friends at Titan into killing it. Or maybe they don’t believe Thea wrote it. If you let her go, she can vouch for its veracity.”

“
Nice try. But I want his company. So I can break apart his little empire piece by piece like the Legos I asked Father Christmas for year after year but never got.”

“You should know that they’re playing you.
The Prince and your father. You’re no more than a pawn in their scheme to control the media.”

“That’s a lie
,” Zeus said, getting red in the face.

“Maybe.
But not according to Malcolm Connolly.”

“Don’t play with me, Mr. Buchanan
,” he said, eyes like blue fire. “I want that disk and I want it now!”

Buchanan licked his lips.
“I told you: I flushed it.”

Zeus
, now fuming, turned to the twins. “Bring in the girl.”

* * * *

Mary Hoskins, senior fact-checker, was already on edge, and the cup of coffee she was drinking—her fourth in the past hour—wasn’t doing much to calm her nerves. Gut churning, she looked up at the big round clock on the newsroom wall. Only fifteen minutes to go until deadline and still no callback from Robert Sterling, Azi Zahhak, or Milo Osbourne. She glared down at the phone on her desk, mentally willing it to ring. When it did, she jumped in spite of herself, almost spilling her coffee. Flustered, she snatched up the receiver.

“Research.
Mary speaking.”

The woman introduced herself as Gina Metcalf, Milo
Osbourne’s executive assistant. “I’m afraid he’s tied up with other commitments right now and won’t be able to get back to you until tomorrow morning. Perhaps if you read me the story, I could try to run it past him between appointments.”

Mary suspected it was a ploy, but it also was the only way to get a response. She glanced at the clock again, biting a nail.
Ten more minutes. With some reluctance, she called up the file and started reading it to Gina. She could almost picture the woman on the other end, poised at her desk, listening to the incredible story through headphones or a speakerphone, taking the whole thing down in shorthand.

After hanging up, Mary looked at the clock once again and sighed. She was almost was out of time. And there was nothing left to do but wait and hope.

* * * *

Buchanan
stood puzzling as he watched Mr. Wint struggle to maneuver something through the door—something bulky on wheels. Wint’s back was to the room, so he couldn’t quite see what he was pulling. A cart of some sort or maybe a gurney. An image of the body bag he’d seen at the office sprang into his mind, sending shivers down his spine.

And then, he saw.
Mr. Wint pulled an office chair—the kind on wheels. And in it sat Thea, slumped over, eyes closed, and naked except for the blanket over her lap. She was almost unrecognizable. Her lips were swollen, one eye was blackened, her hair was a nest of tangles, and her body was covered in bruises, abrasions, and scabs. What had they done to her? Rape? Torture? Beatings?

H
e lunged at Zeus like a snarling dog. “I’ll fucking kill you, you sick motherfucker!”

The twins
grabbed him as Zeus stepped up to Thea, pulled a knife, and pressed the blade against her left nipple. Leering at Buchanan, he said, “Try that again and off it comes.”

“What have you done to her?”

“Nothing compared to what I will do if you go on refusing to cooperate.”

Buchanan
felt strangled, gutted. This lunatic had him by the short hairs and they both knew it.
The News
was never going to run that fucking story and, without it, there was no way of stopping any of this.

“And if I give you the disk
…will you promise not to hurt her anymore?”

“I’ll do better than that,”
Zeus said, stepping away from the chair. He set the knife on the table beside the crank phone. “I’ll let her go.”

B
uchanan knew that even if Zeus kept his promise and let Thea go there was little hope for him—unless he could figure something out. His mind raced around, considering various scenarios, but kept coming back to the same one: the knife. He dared not look at it for fear Zeus would realize his mistake.

“How do I know I can trust you to let her go?”
the Scot asked, looking for assurances along with extra time.

“I gave you my word
.”

Zeus’s
sincere tone belied his sly expression. He was now standing with his back to the table.

“No offense,”
Buchanan said, still hatching his plan, “but the word of a psychopath doesn’t count for much in my book.”

Shifting his eyes to
Thea, Buchanan started a little when he saw what he thought was a quirk at the corner of her mouth. He quickly looked away, doing his best to appear unaffected. Probably just a muscle spasm. No big deal.

“What do you want? A contract signed in blood?”

“Aye. And notarized, too, if possible.”

Zeus
expelled a staccato laugh. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Buchanan
snuck another glance at Thea, astonished to see her reaching for the knife. He ripped his eyes away. Wint and Kidd were posted on either side of Zeus. All three had their backs to what was going on. A plan started to solidify.

“I’m going to need some time.”

Zeus rounded on him with narrowed eyes. “Time for what?”

“Time to think it over, to weigh my options
.”

Zeus
snickered. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, Mr. Buchanan, but you’re fresh out of options.”

“Be that as it may
”—Buchanan nervously cleared his throat—“I still want a few minutes to myself.”

Zeus
looked suspicious, but appeared to be considering his request. After a moment, he turned to one of the twins. “What do you say, Mr. Kidd? Should we give Mr. Buchanan some time…or should I just go ahead and perform a double mastectomy on his girlfriend here?”

“You know my answer to that,” Kidd said,
ogling Thea’s breasts.

“Very well, Mr.
Buchanan,” Zeus said. “You have ten minutes. After that, you either tell me what you’ve done with that disk, or off they come.”

Buchanan winced at the thought. But a
flick of the eyes gave him hope. The knife was no longer on the table. 

Buchanan, kneeling before Thea, scanned the small room for anything that looked like a camera or a bug. He set his hands atop the blanket and gave her thighs a gentle squeeze. He wanted to warn her not to talk, to work out some kind of signal, in case they were under surveillance. Given what they were up against, they couldn’t be too careful. He leaned in, brushed back the tangled hair from her face, and planted a kiss near her ear.

“Give me your hand,” he
said as softly as he could, knowing his body blocked the view from every angle. She set her left on his right. “Tap once for yes and twice for no. Do you understand?”

One
tap.

“You should know that I sent the story to your editor, pretending it was from you,” he said, keeping his voice low. “It still could run, but probably won’t. I’m a dead man either way, but you could still walk out of here. If you don’t try anything,
that is. Do you understand?”

One
tap.

He cleared his throat, which
felt tight. “Do you have a plan?”

Tap
.

“Any chance I can talk you out of it?”

Two taps in rapid succession, but distinct.

“Should I give him what he wants?”

One tap.

If things went the way he hoped,
Zeus would insist on going with him to the diner and very likely bring one of his goons along. That would leave only one of the twins behind to guard her, greatly improving her chances with the knife. Assuming, of course, she had the element of surprise on her side.

“All right,” he rasped, moving in to kiss her on the cheek. She turned her mouth just in time to meet his lips. The lingering kiss was bittersweet.  

“Thea,” he whispered, pulling away, “did he…?”

Two
taps.

Laved by relief, h
e started to choke up, which both surprised and unnerved him. He tried to remember the last time he’d cried, but couldn’t. Not even in Baghdad. The Iraqis were like lions going after the weakest members of the herd. He hadn’t broken down when Kenny died, either. Not even when he was alone, despite how much he hurt inside. Someone had to be a rock for his mum while his da drowned his sorrows in malt.

He’d been wrong about
Thea. She was tough, but hardly a ball buster. “I’m sorry I misjudged you,” he whispered, overwrought.

He dropped his head in her lap
. She squeezed his hand in a consoling way that seemed to say, “Everything’s going to be all right.”

As he said the words, he felt the twinge of a lie.

When the door swung open, Zeus, now dressed in a smart double-breasted gray suit, strode toward them. The twins followed on his heels. With one final squeeze of Thea’s hand, Buchanan sucked his feelings back inside and climbed to his feet. Conscious of his nakedness, he dropped his hands to cover his genitals as he rounded on them.

“So, have you made up your mind?”
Zeus wanted to know.

“Before I tell you anything, I want my
fucking clothes back,” Buchanan growled, ready to put an end to this game of humiliation. If he was going to die, he wanted to do it with as much dignity as possible. “And your solemn vow that you’ll keep your promise and let her go.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”
Zeus’s smile was remarkably reptilian. “Provided, of course, that all my terms are met.” His head pivoted toward the door. “Mr. Kidd, please bring Mr. Buchanan his things.”

Mr. Kidd
went out, but came back shortly carrying a pile of folded garments. Buchanan held his breath as the twin set them on the table, right where the knife had been. He couldn’t stall any longer. Any second now, Zeus might remember.

As
Buchanan dressed, he thought about Judy with a pang. But as bad as he felt about putting her in danger, he couldn’t see another way to help Thea. Turning to Zeus, he said, “You must give me your word you won’t hurt the person who has the disk.”

Shaking his head, Zeus
looked at the floor. “You’re unbelievable, Mr. Buchanan. Making such demands of me in your situation.”

“I gave the disk to the waitress at the diner,” he offered begrudgingly, watching as
Zeus’s expression turned from gloomy to triumphant. “I told her I’d meet up with her later…behind the diner, when she got off work.”

Zeus
arched an eyebrow. “Did you tell her what was on the disk?”

Buchanan
shook his head. “Only that it was an interview. And that I was a reporter.”

“What
’s the name?”

“Not on your life
,” Buchanan retorted. “I’m going along. To see that you keep your promise not to hurt her.”

“Funny,”
Zeus said with a snigger. “I don’t remember promising anything of the kind.”

“All the same, I’m going along.”

“Fine,” Zeus said, turning toward the door. “Then let’s get going.”

Buchanan
began to follow but stopped short when he saw the Arab standing there, just outside the open door. He was a big man with a thick mustache. He wore a business suit and a
keffiyeh
—the traditional Arab headdress. Buchanan recognized Prince Zahhak at once from the photo on Wikipedia.

“You
cannot go with him,” the Arab said. “I need you with me for the meeting with the attorney general.”

“
We had a deal,” Zeus replied, sliding a sidewise glance toward Buchanan, “and I must have that disk.”

“I understand that,”
Zahhak said, coming toward them. “But we are meeting in less than ten minutes. And, if we wait another minute, we will be late. Send one of your men with the journalist to collect the item. If he does anything stupid, kill the girl.”

Zeus turned toward the twin on his right.
“Mr. Wint, go with Mr. Buchanan. Use the handcuffs and if he gives you any trouble, just shoot him in the balls and bring him back here. If I’m not around, go ahead and dispose of his body. And the girl’s.”

“How do you want me to do it?” asked
Wint.