The Abduction

56

General Howe reclined in his leather seat the moment the pilot switched off the FASTEN SEAT BELT sign. The mood was festive among his staff in the back of the campaign jet, but Howe was in his restful mode. He switched off his reading light and glanced out the window to enjoy the view. Washington was in lights, beautiful from above. Looking down from the sky made him feel almost godlike. In just a few hours, he’d own this town.

The air-telephone rang in the seat beside him. He answered quickly. It was his strategist.
“This is big,” said LaBelle.
He sipped his Dewars and water. “What do you got, Buck?”
“It’s just hitting the wires now. Apparently, Leahy had another go-around with the kidnapper around five o’clock this evening. This time at Rock Creek Park.”
He stiffened in his seat. “What the hell is going on with that woman?”
“Thankfully, another disaster. Kidnapper got away. Some old man who runs the equestrian center got whacked. Another guy is dead. It may be Allison’s husband.”
“Her husband?”
“Yes. No confirmation yet, but that’s the rumor.”
“That’s terrible,” said the general.
“No shit. It could swing the sympathy factor right back in her favor.”
Howe bristled. The way LaBelle had so quickly reduced his opponent’s loss to political terms had taken him aback—but only for a moment. “What can we do, Buck?”
“Now more than ever we have to get you on television to reverse your position on the payment of the ransom. We have to keep people thinking about your granddaughter. Sure, what happened to Allison’s husband is bad. But let’s keep reminding them that a little girl’s life is still at stake.”
“I told you I would do that just as soon as you found O’Brien. It makes me nervous that the FBI is looking for him.”
“Sir, I understand that. And I don’t know why the FBI is looking for him. But nobody can find him. My investigators tell me that Marine Patrol may have found his sailboat with some traces of blood on it. Could be foul play or even attempted suicide. I don’t know. All I do know is that O’Brien has nothing to do with your decision to pay a ransom.”
Howe lowered his voice so no one could overhear. “Damn it, Buck. We have to think about appearances here. Look at the series of events. First, O’Brien comes to us and tells us he slept with Allison Leahy. Then he flunks a lie detector test. Then he disappears. Now you’re telling me there’s blood on his sailboat. It’s starting to sound like somebody killed him.”
“Possible, I guess.”
“What if the people who killed him are the same people who kidnapped Kristen? What if all this comes out in a few weeks or months? What will the American people think if I suddenly say I’ve changed my mind one hundred and eighty degrees and now I am willing to pay these dirty bastards a million dollars?”
“I don’t know what they’ll think.”
His voice was shrill but still a whisper. “They’ll think I masterminded some idiotic Oliver Stone conspiracy, that’s what they’ll think. They’ll think the million dollars was last-minute hush money or a payoff. At least that’s the kind of nonsense those bastards over on Capitol Hill will lead them to believe. I don’t want my entire first term tied up in congressional hearings.”
“General, if you don’t make that speech tonight and offer to pay the ransom, you may not have a first term.”
The general paused and sipped his drink. “You honestly believe that, Buck?”
“I honestly do. You have to keep the sympathy factor in your camp, General. Because if it turns out that dead guy in the park really is Allison Leahy’s husband, I may just feel sorry enough to vote for her, myself.”
He sucked an ice cube, then crunched it in his teeth. “All right, damn it. I’ll give the speech.”


Time constraints made it impossible for Allison to sit down face-to-face with Tanya Howe and explain everything. It was only a twenty-minute car ride to the operations center, but Allison didn’t want to wait another minute before making the phone call. She recalled at least two prior occasions when Tanya should have been the first person she’d called, but Tanya had been forced to call her. She wasn’t going to be embarrassed like that again. Harley continued driving across the district as she placed the call on her encrypted cellular phone.
It took only a few minutes to deliver the news. Tanya had listened without interruption, without making a sound.
“Tanya?” she asked after several seconds of silence. “Are you okay?”
Tanya sat alone on the edge of her bed, staring at the photograph of Kristen on the nightstand. She blinked repeatedly, as if returning from a hypnotic state. The last thing she had expected to hear was that Allison Leahy’s husband was behind the kidnapping. “What am I supposed to say?”
“I know this can’t be much of a comfort, but I was probably even more surprised than you were.”
Her mouth quivered. “I guess I should respect you for telling me. But I’m not sure what I’m feeling.”
“You have every right to hate me,” said Allison.
“No. I don’t hate you. That would be like hating my mother because she’s married to my father.”
Her voice suddenly tightened. “Oh, my God. My father.”
“What about him?”
“I honestly thought he or one of his cronies was responsible for the kidnapping. The other night, I told him that if Kristen wasn’t back by the time the polls open, I’d go on television and tell people exactly what I thought.”
“Hopefully, she will be back by then.”
“But he’s going to screw everything up. He’s scrambling, trying to get her back. My mother just told me he’s planning to go on television tonight to say he’ll pay the ransom. If the kidnappers hear that, who knows what they’ll do?”
Allison was calm but firm. “You have to stop him. For the next few hours, no one should say anything publicly about the kidnapping. Especially not anything about a ransom.”
“How do you expect me to get my father to shut up?”
“There must be something you can do.”
The response was slow in coming, but Allison could almost feel the energy flowing on the other end of the line.
“I can think of only one thing,” said Tanya.
“What?”
“That’s between me and my father.”
Allison paused, but after the pain Peter had caused her, she was in no position to second-guess. “Good luck, Tanya,” she said sincerely.
“Thank you,” she replied, then hung up the phone.


Tanya dug an address book from her purse, opened it to the right page, and laid it on the bedspread beside her. She opened the nightstand drawer. Loose change and costume jewelry were arranged neatly in little plastic organizers. A metal strongbox was in the back. She lifted one of the plastic organizers, exposing the key. She unlocked the strongbox. Inside was a Dictaphone. She removed it, closed the box and the drawer, then laid the Dictaphone on the nightstand beside the phone.
She checked the number in the address book one more time. She drew a deep breath, then dialed the number. On the third ring, she got an answer.
“Mr. LaBelle, please.” She winced at the response, then said, “I don’t care what he’s doing. Tell him it’s Tanya Howe, and he has one minute to get on the line. Or he loses the election.”
She waited, checking her watch. In twenty seconds, LaBelle was on the line with his mouth in high gear.
“Tanya, I’m well aware that we’re closing in on your deadline. Your father is doing everything possible to get Kristen back safely by tomorrow morning. In thirty minutes he’s calling a press conference to announce that he will pay the ransom. A million dollars. What more can he do?”
“All I want is for my father to shut his mouth. He is to say nothing of Kristen or the kidnapping unless I say so. That also means no attacks against Allison Leahy for the way she is handling this.”
“That’s not possible, Tanya. You see, you don’t run your father’s campaign. I do.”
She reached for the Dictaphone. “I have something here I’d like you to listen to, Mr. LaBelle. Remember that little meeting we had in the hot tub back in Nashville?” She held the Dictaphone closer to the telephone, then hit the PLAY button.
Tanya’s recorded voice was first: “Don’t you dare threaten my daughter.” LaBelle’s sharp reply followed: “I’m not. I’m threatening you.”
Tanya switched off the recording and came back on the phone. “The whole conversation is on tape. I’ve kept it in a safe place for an occasion like this, just in case I ever needed to bust your ass. Would you like me to send this over to the networks?”
“That’s a fake,” he barked. “You spliced it together.”
“It’s completely genuine. I recorded it myself, word for word.”
“That’s impossible. You were in the hot tub. You were underwater.”
“But my robe was laying right on the floor next to me, and the Dictaphone was tucked into the pocket. Maybe if you hadn’t been so busy ogling my body you would have been more alert.”
His tone turned more conciliatory. “Tanya, please. You may think you’re hurting me. But it’s bigger than that. The real person you’re hurting is your father. Not just your father, but your mother, too. You’re hurting your whole family.”
She smiled thinly. “I’m not threatening my family, Mr. LaBelle. I’m threatening you.”
The line was silent.
Tanya said, “I will expect no further comment from the general until I give you the approval. So cancel that press conference. Do we understand each other, Mr. LaBelle?”
“Yes,” he grunted. “Perfectly.”
“Good,” she said smugly, then hung up the phone.


Tony Delgado parked the Capitol City Carpet Cleaners van behind the hotel, at the service and delivery entrance. He stepped out and pulled on a pair of green coveralls. He pulled the painter’s cap down tightly, almost to his eyes. He cinched up the particle mask worn by workers who were in danger of breathing dangerous chemicals, then carried a bucket in each hand to the hotel entrance and rang the buzzer.
A security guard came to the door. He was dressed like a police officer, but Delgado noted he had no weapon. “Yeah, what is it?”
“Carpet cleaners. We’re supposed to clean the second floor.”
“Tonight?”
“That’s right.”
“Nobody said anything to me about this.”
“Got a work order right here.” He handed him a convincing phony.
The guard studied it, his face scrunched with skepticism. “This seems strange. Hold on a second, okay? Let me check with the night manager.”
“No problem. But hey, buddy. Could you give me a hand here first? One of my buckets of cleaning solvent is leaking all over the back of my truck. I need to push some things around and get it out of there before it ruins everything.”
The guard paused.
Delgado flashed a rolled-up twenty. “It’ll just take a second.”
The guard cracked his gum, taking the money. “Yeah, sure. I can help you out.”
Delgado smiled with his eyes, talking as he led the guard to the van and unlocked the rear doors. “I guess I must have made a turn a little too fast or something. Knocked the damn bucket right over.” He opened the door. “See it over there?” he said, pointing.
The guard leaned forward. Delgado snatched a pipe from his pocket and crushed the back of the guard’s skull. His body landed with a thud, half inside the van, half out.
Kristen stirred inside the trunk.
“Quiet, girl,” he said.
He shoved a half-dozen buckets forward, clearing space. He snatched the guard’s walkie-talkie and key ring, then stuffed the body inside. With one foot on the bumper he reached atop the van and removed the dolly. In seconds, he loaded the trunk onto the dolly and pushed it up the loading ramp.
He checked his hat and mask once more, then inserted the guard’s key and entered the building. The freight elevator was just inside. He hit the CALL button and wheeled in his cargo. With a confident flick of the wrist he punched the button for the second floor.
The doors closed, and the elevator began its ascent.