Third Half (11 page)

             
She explained that she suspected there was a connection
between Jack's nightclub engagements and whatever else was going
on.

             
Carefully she sealed the note in an envelope and took it to a
restaurant where she and Martin Sloane often had dinner together. 
She left the note with a familiar waitress hoping the woman wouldn't
be too curious about why a nun was leaving a note for the famed
producer who frequented their establishment.

             
Now, for the next part
, Liane thought looking at her watch. 
"Wow!  Twelve o'clock already."

             
When she entered the convent, she found the Mother Superior
waiting impatiently. 

             
"I'm sorry Mother, I. . .I. . ."

             
"Never mind Sister, just get your things together so we can
leave for your plane.  I know it is scheduled to take off at three
o'clock, and it's only a little after twelve, but I prefer arriving with
plenty of time to spare."

             
Quickly Liane went to her room to get her belongings.  Early
that morning she had packed all Mary Catherine's things into her one
small suitcase and had it waiting by the doorway. 

             
All that remained was to get her sister's passport and the Bible
where she had hidden one thousand dollars of the money Jack had
sent Mary Catherine.  She knew it was all supposed to go to the
mission school, but was certain that under these circumstances he'd
understand her using some of it.  Besides, she wasn't certain there
would be any automatic teller machines in Peru, so her blue plastic
card might not help her there.

             
"Mother Superior, if I may make one phone call before we
leave?" she asked, biting her lip as she approached the Mother
Superior by the doorway to her office.

             
"Phone call?" The older woman looked impatient, then
glancing down into Liane's solemn face she smiled.  "Of course, my
dear.  But I did promise I'd keep you informed of anything that
happens."

             
"Yes, and again I thank you, but I'd like to make this one last
call before I leave."  She didn't want to use her brother's cell phone for
this call.

             
"I'll be at the car.  Please try to make it brief," the woman said
as she turned to leave.  "You may use my office extension."

             
"Thank you," Liane said as she quickly went into the huge
office. 
I hope Martin is still at his meeting.  She quickly dialed the
number of Martin's office at the theater.

             
"Hello," a woman's sultry voice answered.

             
"Who is this?" Liane asked, as she tucked a loose strand of
blonde hair back inside the white band of her veil.

             
"Tina Berry," the girl replied.  "Who is this?"

             
"Never mind that.  I have to speak to Martin," she said
abruptly, pleased to find it was her understudy who answered.

             
"He's not here," Tina said.  "You either have to leave a
message with me, or try later."

             
"Are you sure he can't be reached?  It's urgent."

             
"Yes, I'm sure.  Who is this anyway?" the girl asked again, her
blue eyes narrowing suspiciously.

             
"Oh Tina, please promise you won't tell anyone.   It's me,
Liane."  Of course she knew the girl would tell.  It was one way to
secure herself the leading role in Martin's new play.  Besides if the
phone was bugged it wouldn't matter.  "I have to meet with Martin. 
It's urgent.  I need his help."

             
"Do you think it's fair to drag him into your problems?"

             
"I don't have anyone else to turn to.  Please, just tell him to
meet me at six tonight at the restaurant where we had our first date."

             
"Isn't this all a bit cloak-and-dagger?" the girl spat
sarcastically.

             
"I really haven't much choice.  Now, I have to run.  Please give
him the message.  Thanks Tina.  Maybe I can do something for you
some day." As she hung up the phone, she knew, that in Tina's eyes,
she just did do something for her. 

             
Martin would lead the police, the FBI and whomever else was
after her to the note she'd left in the restaurant.  And if her timing was
right, it would all be done after she was safely out of the country.

I

             
The man wrinkled up the note he was holding as though he
would much prefer wringing the life out of the person who had
written it.  Perhaps he would if he knew who it was, but of course, this
type of note would not be signed.

             
So, someone has abducted Jackson and they want one hundred
thousand dollars for his return,
the man thought, taking a deep
calming breath. 
Well, anyone can easily be replaced.
He threw the
note into the circular basket by his desk.

             
But what about the merchandise that disappeared?   Or, the
money?  Funny, the exact amount being requested.  He had ordered
his men to do everything to try and locate the items.  It seemed,
Jackson was the only one who knew where they were. 
Or was he?

             
Slowly releasing the breath he had been holding, the man
slammed his fist onto his desk in anger.  He didn't like being made the
fool.  Worse, he didn't like that he was going to have to admit it.

             
Reaching for the telephone, the man sat behind his huge oak
desk and dialed the number from memory
–
searching for the words to
explain this new turn of events.

I

             
The first part of the flight was from New York to Miami
where she would change planes and fly the rest of the way to Lima,
Peru.  Liane's phobia about flying was made worse by everything that
had happened.

             
She was nervous, unable to hide her anxiety as she wondered
if all this would lead her to her brother.  If it didn't, she wasn't certain
exactly what her next move was going to be.     
             

             
Adding to her worries was the delay they had in Miami.  Each
time she checked her watch, she knew it was getting closer to the time
Martin would lead the authorities to her message.  After that, she was
certain they'd continue their search for her with renewed vigor.

             
They probably would go again to the convent, might even have
done that if they'd had bugged Martin's phone and knew where her
call had been from.  They would find that Mary Catherine had just left
for South America.   After that it wouldn't take them long to put the
pieces together.

             
It was exactly ten minutes to six when she heard the roar of the
giant plane's engines as it taxied onto the runway.  She knew that in
only a few short moments she'd be safely out of the United States.

             
"Excuse me, Sister," the man beside her said as he looked at
her with a strange expression.  "I've been watching you ever since you
got on this plane and couldn't help but notice how nervous you seem."

             
She took in the man's slightly thinning grey hair and well
rounded middle, deciding he didn't fit her image of a special agent. 
Nor her image of a villain, not that she had much prior experience in
knowing what either looked like.

             
"I'm not very fond of flying," she explained truthfully.  "I'm
afraid I haven't been doing a very good job of concealing my fears."

             
"Not to worry.  I don't think anyone else noticed." The man
laughed.  "The sight of you on the plane probably serves to make
everyone else feel more secure, if you know what I mean."

             
She did, and smiled back at the jovial man seated beside her. 
"I'm sure I'll feel much better once we're in the air again."

             
"You won't have long to wait," the man said as they felt the
plane start forward.  "Here we go."

             
She squeezed her eyes closed trying to ease her anxiety.  She
heard the man laugh, knowing he had been watching.

             
"It's all over already.  You can open them now," he said.

             
"Oh, thank goodness we're in the air.  The worst part is over
now."

             
"Then landing doesn't bother you?"

             
Did he have to remind me of landing?
  She frowned.  "The
only thing worse than taking off is landing."

             
"It's a long flight, so you'll have plenty of time to relax before
our landing," he teased.  "I do a lot of traveling.  And you know, I
believe I enjoy flying more than any other means of transportation. 
And I've traveled on all kinds of craft.  Some even say flying makes
them feel closer to God."

             
"Really?"

             
"Yep.  What do you think, being a nun and all?"

             
"I suppose it is a thought, except I feel God's closeness no
matter where I am." She was certain her sister would be proud of her
response. 

             
"Are you some kind of missionary?"

             
"Yes." She smiled warmly at the fatherly gentleman.  "I'm
going to teach at a school outside Pucallpa."

             
"Oh, out in the jungle territory," he said.  "I, myself, stay as
close to the city as possible.  I've heard too many stories about the
jungles."

             
"I'm sure things aren't like they once were, Mr. . ."

             
"Crossley."

             
"Mr. Crossley.  I'd say the people are far more civilized,
though still much in need of education."

             
"I wasn't exactly speaking on those lines.  But don't pay me
any mind."

             
"Actually I am curious to know more about the region where
I'll be.  You seem to have been to Peru before."

             
"On business.  But like I said, I stay close to the city.  Though I
guess it's everywhere down there."  He seemed to take the long way to
make a point.  "Even in the cities."

             
"What is?" She was curious, and impatient, but didn't want to
show it. 
Can I have just a little of my sister's patience?
  She raised
her eyes, then turned back to the man beside her.  "Like you said, we
have a long trip.  I'd like to hear more if you don't mind."

             
"Sure Sister." He leaned in almost conspiratorially.  "You see
it's the rebels."

             
"Rebels?"

             
"You know . . .the revolutionaries.  They're nothing but a band
of outlaws trying to overtake the government, or just out to make
plain trouble for everyone."

             
"I don't believe that's entirely uncommon among several South
American governments."  She also did not doubt that some rebel
activities may be justified, if what she'd read about many Central and
South American governments was true.