“That would be me,” said a short, chubby man as he rounded the corner into the unit. “You’re Wilson? I’m Lieutenant Steve Lasher.” He held up a plastic Ziploc bag with Noah’s wallet inside and waggled it. “I gather you wanted to get your hands on this?”
Noah shrugged. “Since it’s got my ID and credit cards in it, I thought it might come in handy.”
Lasher laughed and tossed the bag to Noah. “So, what kind of fed are you? I called the number that came up on the strip reader and found myself talking to some stuffed shirt at the State Department, then I got transferred to the NSA. No, wait, let me guess: you could tell me, but then you’d have to kill me, right?”
Noah put a grin on his face. “That could be a lot closer to the truth than you want to think about,” he said. “No, actually I’m part of a new counter-terrorism task force. My team is supposed to track down particular individuals who turn up on our radar. This time, it looks like one of them tracked us down instead.”
Lasher nodded. “Nobody told us to stay out of the investigations into your missing people, so I’ve got the word out. We managed to get photos of them from the hotel’s security cameras and sent them out to every patrol officer. If one of them turns up, we’ll know about it. We’re checking every hospital, morgue, you name it.”
Noah looked at him. “I appreciate it,” he said. He was still looking through boxes and suddenly froze. Sarah’s purse was in a box marked “Personals,” and he flipped it open. He dug around for a moment and came up with the keys to the Chrysler, then looked up at Lasher. “There was a small Beretta automatic in this purse. Any idea where it ended up?”
Lasher pointed to the duffel bag that Moose used for carrying guns. “All the firearms except yours went into that bag,” he said. “Should be there.”
Noah knelt down and unzipped the bag. Almost all of the guns, including Moose’s Glock and Sarah’s Beretta, were present. Even the air rifle they had bought was in the bag. The only thing missing was Neil’s little machine pistol. He picked up the Beretta and shoved it into his pocket.
“I’m going to leave most of this here at the moment,” he said as he picked up his suitcase. “Detective, could I trouble you for a ride back to the hotel? I can get a cab, if you prefer.”
Gravois started to speak but Lasher cut him off. “I’ll drive you,” he said. “I got a private message I’m supposed to give you, anyway, from somebody named Parker.”
Noah shook Gravois’ hand and followed Lasher out of the building to his car. He tossed his suitcase into the back seat and climbed into the front passenger side. “What’s the message?” he asked.
“I got a call just a bit ago from a guy named Parker, sounded like an old fellow. He wants you to call somebody named Donnie Franco as soon as you can. I guess he talked to the doctors at the hospital and found out you got banged up good, because he said he don’t want you going solo on whatever’s going on. He says Donnie Franco will help you get things done. Kinda weird, he kept saying it like that, Donnie Franco, Donnie Franco.”
Noah nodded. “I’ll be calling Parker in a bit, and I know who Donnie Franco is. I appreciate the message, though.”
Lasher glanced over at him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, go ahead. I’ll answer you if I can.”
“These people that are missing,” Lasher said. “On the hotel security cameras, you all look like you were pretty close. You think there’s any chance you’re going to find them alive?”
“At least one of them,” Noah said. “One or two may be dead already, though I doubt it. There wouldn’t be any point in taking them along if they planned to kill them right away, it would’ve been easier just to put them down right there in the room. The man who took them will be planning on trying to use them to draw me out into a trap. I’ve just got to figure out how to turn it into a trap for him, instead.”
Lasher shook his head. “Can’t say I envy you,” he said, “but if there’s anything we can do, just let us know.” He reached into his shirt pocket and produced a card like the one Gravois had already given Noah.
*
Some kind of noise was there, just under the threshold of being annoying. It had been there for a while, he knew, slowly worming its way through his eardrum and demanding his return to consciousness. The realization that he could hear reminded him that he could see, and he struggled for a moment to open his eyes. His entire body was in pain, and even his eyelids protested at being forced to move.
His eyes were open but he still couldn’t see. He tried to move, and suddenly realized that his hands were bound together behind his back and he seemed to be tied to a post or something. He struggled for a moment but it only intensified the pain he was already feeling, so he stopped after only a few seconds.
“Moose?” A faint voice managed to cut through the ringing sound that had been the annoying noise. The voice was soft, and he knew it was Sarah.