Stolen

CHAPTER 41



“Quite the scene we’re causing,” Uretsky said as soon as I picked up the phone.

“What you did to Winnie . . . to us . . . Please, this needs to stop.” I needed the kitchen island countertop to keep myself upright. “You win. You win everything,” I said, pleading with him. “Please just let us go.”

It was odd to hear myself beg, but beg I did. Desperation seeped from my pores as rivers of sweat. Hopelessness stifled my breathing. I had so much rage welling up inside me, so much hatred, that I was amazed I could put together a coherent thought. All I could do was to plead for some sort of mercy and pray that he might tire of toying with us.

“You’ve watched the news reports, I trust,” Uretsky said. “Crazy stuff, John. Crazy.”

“You need to stop this,” I said. “This needs to stop.”

“You don’t control me,” Uretsky said. “I control me. You can just react to what I do.”

“You’re going to keep killing,” I said. I meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement of fact.

“I am,” Uretsky said. “Unless you stop me.”

“How do I stop you?”

I hated how weak I sounded. My voice came out pleading, shaken, and defeated.

Uretsky just laughed. “By winning, of course,” he said.

“You want me to commit another crime?” I asked. The anger in my voice encouraged me. “What do you want me to do now? Mugging? Carjacking? Drug smuggling? I guess there’s a lot to choose from.”

“You sound excited, John,” Uretsky said, chuckling. “Are you actually looking forward to what’s next?”

“How many more?” I asked.

“Crimes, you mean? Not for you to know. It’s a game, remember?”

I looked over at Ruby, still kneeling on the futon. If her ashen complexion were any indication, the end of this game was very near at hand. We couldn’t take much more.

“I’m thinking about turning myself in to the police,” I said. “That means you won’t have me to play with anymore. You’ll be all on your own, and they’ll come looking for you. They’ll come after you with everything they’ve got.”

“It won’t help,” Uretsky said. “I’m as hidden as hidden can be. They can’t trace any of my communications to you. These calls, the texts, they’re all done through a bunch of anonymous proxy servers and so many Internet hops it’s like the Easter Bunny traveled around the world. I’m untraceable. I can’t be found. But I can be stopped. Are you ready to stop me?”

I let my apprehension pass through me like a shiver.

“I’m ready,” I said.

Did I mean it? I didn’t know. But it was what came out of me, because now I wanted to stop him. I wanted to beat him. To be honest, at the most primal level, inside a place I cringed to acknowledge, I wanted to win.

“Have you ever heard of the Machiavellian Scale?” Uretsky asked.

“I’ve heard of Machiavelli,” I said.

“Well, the Machiavellian Scale is an assessment of the lengths one would travel to gain an advantage in interpersonal encounters.”

“And your point is?”

“My point is that a prince should imitate the fox in cunning as well as the lion in strength. A wise prince should never keep his word when it would go against his interest, because he can expect others to do the same. Those aren’t my words, by the way. That’s from Machiavelli’s The Prince. It’s poetry.”

“Like I said, your point?”

Ruby was watching me intently, so she probably saw my jaw tightening.

“My point is that I’ve always had the advantage in our burgeoning little relationship, and you the disadvantage, and I think it’s high time I tipped the scales a bit more in your favor.”

“Why?” I said.

“Because I want you to succeed,” Uretsky said. “I want this to be a fair fight. I mean, I think you’ve done your dandiest to thwart me, but it seems I’m always one step ahead. No arguing there. So are you ready to take the advantage? Are you ready for that big, bold step toward ending the game?”

“And if I’m not?”

My phone buzzed. I glanced and saw that I had received a picture text message. The sender’s name was just a series of numbers, but I knew where it came from. I went quiet, thinking about what to do next.

“Look at it,” Uretsky said in a hushed tone, that breathy whisper of his.

I did as requested and saw a picture of a playground and an attractive black woman pushing her young son on a swing.

“There’s no geolocation information embedded in this image,” Uretsky said. “Nothing to help the police identify my whereabouts. You don’t even know what city I’m in, or what state for that matter. But I’m going to tell you about the woman in this picture, because it’s very important. Her name is Tinesha, and she’s a single mother of three, and if you don’t do exactly as I say, she’s going to be reported missing. You can go to the police. Go right now, but I’ll know if you do, and I promise you, she’ll go missing. I picked her because you know her, John. Is she familiar to you?”

I studied the picture intently but couldn’t place the face. “No,” I said.

“I’m not surprised. We interact with so many people on a daily basis, we can’t possibly keep track of them all. But I assure you, the connection to you is there. Now, you can quit playing my game. But I’ll know if you do, and she’ll go missing. The only way for her not to go missing is for you to succeed. Is that understood?”

“I thought you were tipping the scales in my advantage,” I said.

“I am,” Uretsky replied. “I just want you to know there are consequences for failure.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to figure out what my next clue means. No crime this time, just your smarts. That should make it easier for you to play along. Do you have a pen and paper ready, John? Get those items now.”

I found a scratch piece of paper and a pen nearby. My throat had gone dry as I looked at the picture of Tinesha at the park, knowing that I held her life in my hands, and not just her life, but all lives tethered to her.

“I’m ready,” I said.

“Good. Write this down exactly as I say it. I won’t repeat myself. Forty-two, twenty-six, twelve, seventy-one, six, fifty-seven. Do you have it? If so, repeat those numbers back to me now.”

I was still scratching down numbers, but I was able to repeat the sequence without error. “What does this mean?” I asked.

“That’s for me to know and for you to figure out,” Uretsky said. “Now remember, for Tinesha’s sake, every minute and every second counts. Text me when you have the answer. Once again, John, best of luck to you. Game on.”





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