Читать интересную книгу The Devils Punchbowl - Greg Iles

Caitlin knows he’s lying, but there’s nothing to be done. She wishes Linda believed what he was saying, but who knows better than Linda Church how worthless Sands’s promises are?

Quinn takes a key from atop the cabinet, then comes over and unlocks the thick leather collar from Caitlin’s neck. He’s still naked from the waist down, but his erection’s gone, his penis shrunk to a nub.

“Go ahead,” Sands says to Caitlin.

“What?”

“Kick him. Right in the bollocks. He deserves it for being so bloody stupid.”

As Quinn darts out of reach of her feet, Caitlin recalls what he asked Sands:

Are you trading her?

Penn must be trying to negotiate her release by trading something for her. What? Could he be onto Ben Li’s private insurance policy? During the night, Linda told her that Quinn had several times asked her what “The birds know” might mean. Apparently Ben Li had screamed this phrase several times as he was being interrogated belowdecks on the

Magnolia Queen.

Maybe Penn has cracked this mysterious code—

“Put her back in the office,” Sands says to Quinn, who’s pulling on his pants.

“What about the other one?”

“Wherever you had her before. And get her some fucking medicine. Human medicine. You know where to get it.”

Quinn looks puzzled by this order, but he signals his willingness to obey with a nod.

“I'’ll take Masters,” Sands says, motioning Caitlin toward the storeroom door.

Her door is the first outside the storeroom, the only other room with four walls. Now she can see the rest of the kennel, and it’s just as Linda described it, two rows of Cyclone-fence stalls, the cats housed in the one nearest the main door.

Sands pauses outside her room, waiting for her to enter first. Caitlin looks through the eyeholes of the balaclava. “Will you give Linda her clothes back? Please?”

Sands stares into her eyes for a long time. Then he shouts, “Give Linda her clothes!” and prods Caitlin into her cell.

Caitlin goes to the corner and squats over her bloody footprints, but not in time. Sands grabs her wrist and pulls her across the floor. Staring down at the prints, he looks around the walls, then up at the roof. An appreciative smile shows through the mouth hole.

“Seamus?” he calls.

“Yeah?”

“Get those fucking cats out of here.”

“Why?”

“Just do it!”

“What am I supposed to do with them?”

“What do I care? Just get ’em outside the fence, yeah?”

“Okay.”

Sands takes a strand of Caitlin’s hair between his fingers, rubs it softly. “Very fine,” he says in the tone of a man judging an animal pelt.

She pulls away but makes a point of not jerking back, so as not to appear afraid.

Sands smiles again, then looks back at the bent tin of the roof.

“Smart girl,” he says. “Cage is a lucky man.”

CHAPTER

55

When I come out of the district attorney’s office, I find Kelly sitting on the concrete wall by the courthouse, beneath the shade of a gnarled oak. His rented 4Runner is parked in front of him, but when he points at it, I shake my head and sit beside him on the wall.

“What’s the deal?” he asks.

“Shad has the thumb drive, but he’s not giving it up unless I get more leverage.”

“He admitted having it?”

“No. But he’s got it. I’d like to take you back in there and sweat it out of him, but he is the DA. Two minutes after we left him, we’d be in there.”

Kelly looks to where I'm pointing, a tall pile of red brick with slit windows above the sheriff’s department across the street. He nods. “Okay, what’s plan B?”

“While Shad’s at work, I want you to search his house. If you don'’t find it there, come back to his office after work and search that. Can you get his safe open?”

“No problem.”

“Okay. We need to check Ben Li’s place too. They burned it down, but we should check the yard, anything. I’'ve got Chief Logan looking into any other property he might have had. Storage units, safe-deposit boxes, like that. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“You trust Logan?” Kelly asks, as two women come down the courthouse steps and turn our way.

“As much as anyone in this town.” One of the women waves. I do the same, acting as if I recognize her.

“What about you? What are you going to do?”

“Run the bluff of my life.”

“What’s your play?”

“The only way to increase the odds of Caitlin living through the night is to make Hull think I'm willing to blow his case wide-open if they hurt her. That they’ve pushed me so far I no longer give a shit about Po or anything else.”

“That shouldn’t be a tough sell. If the time limit Labry gave you is right—thirty-six hours—and he was supposed to tell you that this morning, the Po sting must be set up for tomorrow. Tomorrow night at the latest. Hull will be sweating bullets until then.”

“Exactly. But I have to be careful. I can’t demand that they trade Caitlin for something I don'’t have, and I don'’t want Sands to panic. He could kill her and split.”

“He’ll figure the moment Caitlin’s loose, she’ll go public anyway.”

“Right. What I want is to know Caitlin’s alive.”

Kelly scratches his chin. “Proof of life. It’s like you’re keeping your cool, but you know better than to trust Sands and Quinn. Do you think Hull knew they were going to take her?”

I shake my head. “He would have tried to stop that. I think they panicked and did it, then presented him a fait accompli—if they’ve told him at all.”

“So what will you ask for? A phone call from her?”

“They won'’t do that. We could backtrack with the cell company and figure out where she called from.”

“A photo with today’s newspaper is standard. They could text it to you.”

“I'm thinking of something even faster and simpler.”

“What?”

“A question only she would know the answer to.”

Kelly gives me a thumbs-up. “Do it.”

I speed-dial Hull, but he doesn’'t answer. There’s a click that I think is his voice mail, but suddenly his voice comes from the phone.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“Penn Cage.”

“I'm in a meeting. What is it?”

“You’d better take a bathroom break if you want Edward Po’s scalp on your wall.”

“Don’t use that name on an open line.”

“Buddy, I'm sixty seconds from calling the FBI and telling it to their kidnap squad.”

“Kidnap squad?” Hull sounds genuinely shocked.

“Is that news to you?”

“I don'’t know what you’re talking about,” he says under his breath. “But I told you, the FBI is part of my task force.”

“

Part

of the FBI is part of your task force. The National Security Branch, I'm guessing. And the Money Laundering Task Force. But I know how the FBI works kidnappings, Hull. Five minutes after I call the New Orleans and Jackson field offices, they’ll call the Puzzle Palace, and you’ll have a world-class clusterfuck on your hands.”

“Give me just a minute,” Hull says softly. “I'’ll be right back.”

I hear shuffling, then a closing door. “Cage, I don'’t know what the hell you’re up to, but we’re into endgame on this. You’re begging for an obstruction-of-justice charge.”

I laugh out loud. “Last night Caitlin Masters was kidnapped from her home. A sworn officer of the law was almost killed protecting her. I don'’t know how much you know about this, and I don'’t give a shit. I want proof that she’s alive.”

“How can I—”

“Do you have any idea who that girl’s father is? Clinton Masters owns twentysome newspapers across the Southeast. He’s got Rupert Murdoch on speed dial. If I pick up the phone and tell him what’s happened, you can kiss Edward Po smack on the ass as he flutters out of your net.

Capisce?

”

Kelly’s smiling and nodding encouragement.

“Let’s just calm down,” Hull temporizes. “If there has been a kidnapping, you should know this: Going public sometimes results in the death of the hostage. The Bureau can tell you that.”

“You’re not hearing me, William. Your pet psychopaths crossed the line down here. I no longer give a shit about your investigation, and I have enough evidence to arrest Sands for money laundering on my own hook right now. I want proof of life, and I want it in fifteen

minutes. If I don'’t get it, your investigation goes straight down the toilet. Make it happen.”

“What kind of proof do you have in mind?”

“I want an answer from Caitlin Masters to a question that only she would know.”

“What is it?”

“Who did you lose your virginity to?”

Kelly gives me a strange look.

“You got that, Hull?”

“Yes, but—”

“Make it happen. Once I know she’s alive, we’ll go from there. If I don'’t have the answer in fifteen minutes, I pull the trigger.”

Hull is still trying to talk when I hang up.

Kelly stands and stretches. “Are we waiting here for their answer?”

“Might as well. I want to ask you something. I think it’s bothering me down so deep that I couldn'’t quite voice it. But there’s no use hiding from it.”

“You’re wondering if they'’re planning to kill her no matter what. Right?”

“Yeah. Kidnapping alone carries the death penalty in Mississippi. How could they hope to let her go and get away clean? No matter what kind of immunity deal they have with Hull.”

“I think it depends on what that plea deal is—what Sands’s plans are after Po is busted. If he’s planning to go back to China and take over Po’s operations, I guess he could let Caitlin go.”

“But what about Po’s son? He’ll want the China operations, right?”

Kelly begins a set of what look like isometric exercises with his hands. “No doubt. More likely, they’ve cut a private deal for Sands to keep the U.S. casinos, while the son takes over the China stuff.”

“And in that case?”

“I don'’t think Sands will want Caitlin running around screaming about kidnapping. Much easier to kill her, lose the body, and never worry about it again.”

The detachment in Kelly’s voice nudges my nestled fear back toward panic. “But even if that’s his plan, he has to keep her alive until the sting. Right?”

“Absolutely.”

“So we’ve got what, thirty hours to find her?”

“Or to find something to trade for her.” Kelly sits on the wall again and hits my knee with his fist. “And we will, man. We will.”

The buzz of my cell phone makes both of us jump, but the caller isn’t Hull or Sands. It’s my father. “Dad?”

“Penn, I need you to come by the house, if you can.”

“What’s the matter? You’re not at work?”

“Take it easy. Peggy called me. Annie called her from school, saying she had a stomachache, and Peggy called me to come home and look at her. I think she’s having a delayed reaction to the separation in Houston. All she really needs is to see you. To see all of us together.”

Remembering our conversation in the car this morning, this doesn’'t surprise me. But Annie has almost never asked to be checked out of school. I wonder if Dad could be getting me home for some other reason.

“I'm on my way.”

“Good.”

Kelly is on his feet again. “Everything okay?”

“We need to get to my dad’s house.”

We move quickly to Kelly’s 4Runner. “Can we talk in here?” I ask, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Swept it right before I drove down here. We’re okay.”

Kelly is turning left on Wall Street when my cell phone chirps, signaling a text message. Closing my eyes briefly, I take my cell out of my pocket and check the message. It reads: PHILIP RIVERS.

“What is it?” Kelly asks. “Caitlin’s answer?”

I nod, thinking.

“Is it the right answer?”

“It’s

an

answer. But not the right one. Not quite.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s part right and part wrong. The message says Philip Rivers. The guy’s name was Philip, but Philip McKey.”

“Okay, then. That'’s Caitlin doing that. She’s handing you information. A clue about something. Philip means she’s alive. What does

rivers

mean?”

“The river!” I cry.

“She’s by a goddamn river,” Kelly agrees. “But which river?”

“The Mississippi. Has to be, right? That'’s where all the action has been. All the dogfights and training stuff. They probably have her at one of those camps, or on an island.”

“But she said ‘ri-

vers,’

plural.”

“The singular would be too obvious. Wouldn’t sound like a name.”

“Maybe. But she could also be on a tributary, something that flows into the Mississippi.”

“Who cares? Either way, we know she’s alive, and she’s somewhere close to a river. Odds are, it’s the Mississippi.”

“So, what are you thinking?” Kelly asks.

“I'm thinking Danny McDavitt and his FLIR pod.”

“Classic. We can fly the river as soon as it gets dark. I'’ll be his TFO.”

“His what?”

“Tactical flight officer. You need two guys to run FLIR from a chopper. The pilot to fly the ship and hold position, and a TFO to control the pod and read the monitor. That'’s why they missed those dogs that hit us the other night. Carl doesn’'t have any hours on a FLIR screen. Just rifle scopes. But I’'ve done time in an AH-64 in Afghanistan. I’'ve spotted IEDs from six miles out in pitch-darkness. And we know how these guys roll. Wherever she is, there’ll be guard dogs, shit like that.” Kelly jams his elbow into my side. “If she’s on the river, we’ll find her.”

Excitement flashes through me…hope, even. “Let’s get over to my dad’s place. Quick.”

“Can you get us out of a speeding ticket?”

“That'’s

one

thing I still have the power to do.”

Kelly laughs and floors it.

James Ervin is standing outside the door of my father’s house. The familiar beagle eyes of the old cop always make me smile.

“How you doing, Penn?” he asks.