Two Wolves Dancing, page 18
Zakariah had a surprise of his own for Stephanie; it would hold it until the meeting.
***
The Golden Hunters’ Club met the next cold windy Saturday. The bad weather seemed to be making tempers short; everyone was anxious to return to the warmth of their homes.
Before Stephanie began her presentation, the president of the club updated everyone on Bradford Talliador’s hit and run accident and on his present condition. With Gerald present, they thought it was politically correct to make a gesture of respect, whether or not they felt any.
“What terrible misfortunes. It almost sounds like one of those celebrity family curses,” one woman said.
Zakariah fought off his annoyance. I wonder if they would be as sympathetic if they knew more about the Talliadors.
Stephanie stood up and turned to face the group. She spoke in her most professional manner. “We all miss Martin, but we are happy that Gerald stayed in the club. He has graciously consented to share the information discovered by Martin before he was killed.” Some members paid rapt attention and others seemed distracted and bored. At the end of her report she asked for questions and comments. Several members questioned the accuracy of some of Martin’s chronologies.
“Where did he get his information, and is there any written record to uphold his findings?”
Stephanie bristled and tried to circumvent the question by saying that as everyone in the club knew you couldn’t always expect old histories to be traceable and concrete. “Official and detailed timelines are not always possible.”
Zakariah raised his hand. “Before his murder, Martin mentioned finding an old family journal that he hoped might shed more light on the search.” Zakariah looked at Stephanie and asked, “Where is that journal and what does it say?”
Stephanie sputtered. For a brief moment her eyes had the unaccustomed look of a deer caught in the head-lights. She glared at Zakariah. He didn’t care. He needed to send a message. Her reaction told him that she knew more.
Turning to Gerald he asked, “Do you have it? Have you read it?”
Gerald paled. “I don’t have it any longer, and I didn’t read it. I gave it to Bradford just before this terrible accident.”
Zakariah was pleased. He remembered Stephanie telling him that Gerald claimed to have given it to Bradford weeks ago, not recently. There will be hell to pay later with Stephanie, but she knows what’s in that journal.
Gerald rose out of his seat with such force his chair fell over. “I really don’t want to discuss this further, not while Bradford lies in a coma fighting for his life.”
The room fell silent. Zakariah saw confusion on the faces of other members.
“Gerald is right. It is too ghoulish to be discussing this when the man who has it is in critical condition,” another member said. There was murmuring throughout the room.
The president of the club stood up. “Let’s leave it alone for now. There are other treasures. Over 200 of them in Texas alone. We haven’t talked about any others since our attentions have been taken up with Confederate gold and not all of us are involved in that search.
“Has anyone decided to search for the Santiago Treasure of South Padre Island?” When no one answered he looked around at the sullen faces. “We will meet again the third Saturday of next month. Let’s come in with other treasures to be found. This meeting is adjourned.”
Gerald sped out the door. Zakariah noticed that he was shaking. Not surprising under the circumstances and there is something in that journal or he wouldn’t be shook up. Other members moved toward the coat check at the front door.
Zakariah didn’t move. He watched the actions of those around him. Without a backward glance Stephanie was out the door in record time. She knows or she wouldn’t have reacted to my question that way. His plan was formulated. Now it was just a matter of when. It needed to be sooner rather than later.
***
“What exactly were you thinking with that question?”
Zakariah smiled at the shrill sound of her voice on the phone. Losing control Steph? “C’mon, Stephanie. After all this time you expect me to believe you haven’t seen the journal or don’t know where it is? If that were true you would have been happy to use my question as an opportunity to pressure Gerald, publicly. You’ve been holding out on me and you’ve been avoiding me. What are you hiding?”
“What am I hiding? She echoed in disbelief, which transformed into anger. “What are you covering up? You expect me to believe that you kept me fully informed of anything you’ve discovered? And your story about how you came into possession of that coin? Really? - Couldn’t you come up with anything better?”
“That’s right Stephanie the best defense is a good offense so you can avoid answering my question.” Silence on the other end. Then she issued the challenge.
“If that’s the way you feel, maybe we’ve come to the end of our time together.”
“Maybe we have.” With that Zakariah hung up. You bet we have. The sex has been great but there’s nothing else. I only need one more thing from you and I’ll take care of that tomorrow.
***
The lightweight chain attached to her ankle was long enough to allow Alina to move around the little room in all directions. She hummed, turning around and around to some mysterious melody, her arms outstretched.
Alina stopped, looked into his eyes and smiled. The man with the bandana tied around his head looked so much like her mother and he was kind and encouraging.
“Come now, little one. Eat the sandwich and drink the milk.”
“I don’t want to. I want to go home. I want my mother.” She sat down on the floor. “That red hair is yucky. It doesn’t look real and the big glasses are scary. I’m afraid.”
“You will be with your mother soon. You need to be strong. Eat the food then show me your dances again.”
***
Ames entered the darkened cabin, greeted by humming. Alina, with her eyes closed, turned circles with her arms outstretched and her head thrown back.
“What are you doing?”
She stopped abruptly. “I was dancing,” her voice quivered. Ames looked at the table. The sandwich and milk were gone.
“Go to bed.” Once Alina was in bed, Ames made the first call. Using a voice changing device the ransom demand was made.
“I don’t want money. If you want to see Alina alive again you give me what I want. Deliver Martin’s journal to me tomorrow night.”
“I don’t have it,” Gerald answered.
Ames repeated, “I want Martin’s journal. Tomorrow night.”
“But I don’t know where it is.”
“If that’s true then you’d better find it, fast.” Ames heard the desperation in Gerald’s voice.
“How do I know she is still alive?” Ames waited, deliberately not answering to increase Gerald’s anxiety.
His voice sounded shrill when he added: “I want proof before I give you anything.”
“Okay, here’s your proof.” He walked across to the bed and shook Alina awake. “Get up. Tell your Uncle Gerald that you’re okay.”
“Uncle Gerald, help me,” she cried. Ames pulled the phone away from the child.
“Proof enough?”
“Please don’t hurt her,” Gerald begged. “I need to ask her mother where it might be. I gave it to Alina’s father and I don’t know where he put it. He’s in a coma from a hit and run accident.”
“I will call you at the Talliador’s house at six tomorrow. You’d better know where that journal is. I will tell you where and when to deliver it and I want that ballet broad to make the delivery.”
“Chelly Bernardi?” Gerald squeaked her name. Ames laughed at the shocked tone of the other man’s voice.
“She makes the drop - alone. Any tricks and you never see the kid again.”
Ames hung up satisfied that Gerald was sufficiently upset by Alina’s crying. “Okay kid, be quiet now. Go to sleep. I won’t bother you again tonight.”
The ballet broad will be easy to control. She should still be scared from the night I took Alina. One more search to make before six tomorrow night.
* * *
“Damn.” Gerald’s hands shook so hard he misdialed three times. “Breathe, breathe,” he said aloud. His chest heaved. Finally he was able to get control of his fingers and dialed Marc Nerro. “The kidnapper called. He doesn’t want money. He wants the journal that Martin found before he was killed.”
“Do you know what’s in that journal?”
“It involves Confederate gold. That’s what Martin was searching for when he was murdered.” Marc sighed. Gerald continued. “I stalled. I told him that I didn’t have it and that I don’t know where it is. I told him I gave it to Bradford before the accident. Alina came to the phone and cried, asking me to help her. She was so scared. ” A sob escaped Gerald’s lips.
“You did great Gerald. Take a deep breath and hold it a moment then let it out slowly.” Marc waited. He heard Gerald exhale. “Was it a man’s or a woman’s voice? Were you given instructions?”
“Couldn’t tell. It was one of those mechanical sounding voices but yes, I got instructions. Tomorrow night at six o’clock he will call and tell me where and when to deliver it. He said I’d better find the journal.” Before Marc could say anything else Gerald added, “Wait. There’s one more thing. The kidnapper wants Chelly to make the delivery. He called her the ballet broad. Why her?”
“Maybe because Chelly was taken by surprise and overpowered the night Alina was grabbed. The kidnapper thinks she will be too scared to try anything.”
CHAPTER 38
Galilani sat on the hospital bed holding Bradford’s hand. His condition remained unchanged and the ventilator’s bizarre breathing sounds unnerved her.
“Please come back to me Bradford. I love you so much. Alina and I miss you.” Almost losing control, she remembered what the nurses told her, took a deep breath and spoke again in the cheeriest voice she could muster.
Galilani reminded him how they loved to take Alina to the park and how she loved swinging high into the air. “She is doing so well in dance. We can’t wait for you to see her in the next show.” She stroked his hand and allowed silent tears to roll down her face. He might be able to hear her but she was certain he couldn’t see her.
Footsteps came into the room. Galilani looked as Chelly, Paul and Marc walk in, followed by her mother. They had picked Wenona up at the airport. She flew into Austin on the first flight she could get after Galilani told her about Bradford’s accident.
Galilani threw herself into her mother’s arms and held her finger to her lips, indicating that no one should speak. She walked over to embrace her friends and whispered, “Please be careful. Don’t say anything about Alina. No one knows if he can hear or understand.”
“Come outside for a while,” Paul told her, taking her hand. “Chelly and Wenona will stay here with Bradford.”
Once outside Bradford’s room, Marc put his arms around her and allowed her to cry for a few minutes. “Does my mother know about Alina?”
“Yes. We told her on the ride from the airport. Please sit down. We have news.” Paul offered Galilani a cup of coffee. She wrinkled her nose and pushed the cup away.
Marc spoke. “Gerald was contacted and he spoke to Alina. We know she is alive.”
“Oh thank God,” Galilani whispered.
“Gerald said that the kidnapper demanded a journal that Martin found and he wants Chelly to make the drop.” Marc paused, letting Galilani absorb what he’d told her. “The kidnapper will call back with final instructions and he wants Chelly to bring the journal.”
“That damned journal again,” was Galilani’s first response. Then the rest registered. “Why Chelly? What does she have to do with this?”
“My opinion,” Marc answered, “is the kidnapper thinks she will be terrified and the easiest to control because she has no connection to anything. But what are the connections here? A new thought popped into his mind. Is this all connected to Martin’s murder?
Galilani interrupted his thoughts. “Does Chelly know?”
“Not yet but we will tell her later, after we leave the hospital. Your mother doesn’t know these details either. For the moment, she has enough to digest with the accident and the kidnapping. ”
When Galilani and Paul went back into the room, Marc stayed outside and wrote in his notepad. Kidnapper doesn’t want money from an extremely wealthy family – only wants an old journal that Martin found – Connected to Martin’s murder?
CHAPTER 39
Leaving Wenona with her daughter, Paul, Marc and Chelly went back to the Amato home where Gerald waited. They explained that the kidnapper wanted her to make the drop. Her heart fluttered. She was afraid, but not for herself. “I would love to tear this maniac’s throat out. How can anyone do this to a child?” she screamed at her husband and Gerald.
Talking fast in the New York style of rapid fire speech, Marc said, “Chelly get a grip. You were almost killed by Natasha’s murderer. You can handle this. Here’s what we’re gonna do.”
Marc took a deep breath and slowed himself down. “I want to have some leverage. It’s obvious that you are all being watched so we’ll try for a place close to the school, at night, after the academy is closed. Needs to be late to reduce the kidnapper’s option and make it harder to detect me following. You will be the focus, Chelly, and I want that.”
“What about Alina?”
“When the kidnapper calls we’ll ask for Alina to be exchanged immediately for the journal, but that won’t happen. Don’t argue. Ask when we get her back.”
Marc’s next words sent a chill up Chelly’s spine. “I am going to be brutally honest with you even though I didn’t tell Galilani. I think this is a man who may not be working alone and it may be connected to Bradford’s hit-and-run accident, and maybe Martin’s murder. I’m getting the feeling that this is personal. I don’t know if he’ll release Alina. That’s why it’s important that I follow him and find the child. It may be her only real chance.”
The ringing phone made them all jump. Chelly answered. All eyes were on her, but she said little until she hung up. “Galilani said there’s no change in Bradford’s condition. The nurses told them to go home and get some rest.”
“Good advice,” Marc said. “We all need to sleep. The next few days will be tough.”
Chelly finally drifted into the comfort of pre-sleep. Her body relaxed and her mind emptied. She drifted off in peaceful oblivion.
Murmurs. Who’s talking? She heard distinct whispers. Her eyes fluttered open. The voices became louder, numbers echoed around her. She felt cold.
“30.2519969, 97.74498649999998, 30.251996, 97.7449864999…in the journal…will bring him here.” The words became incomprehensible then “…must be ready, hurry. There isn’t much time.”
Chelly jumped out of bed, ran to the bureau, grabbed the pencil and tossed through Paul’s things to find a scrap of paper.
“Say the numbers again,” she looked upward toward the ceiling, turning circles, hoping to find the direction of the voices. She tried to write them down but couldn’t get them all. The murmurs stopped as suddenly as they started. The room returned to a normal temperature.
Chelly sat on the floor. She began to shout the numbers aloud.
Paul woke up. “What are you doing on the floor? Chelly? What happened?”
Without answering she ran to the back door, turned off the alarm and went outside. She was numb to the chill in the night air. Running up to the boulder, she spat the numbers out.
“Is this right?” She said them again, turning, not sure where to look for her answer. “Please tell me. Are these right? Are there more?”
“Not much time,” whispered on the air. A hard grip on her arm drew a squeal of fright.
“Come inside and tell me what the hell is going on here.” Paul propelled his wife inside the door where they found Marc standing with his arms crossed, waiting.
Chelly didn’t need to be asked again. “I heard murmuring in the bedroom. Voices saying numbers. I don’t know if I got them all. The voices weren’t always clear but they said ‘must be ready’ and ‘there isn’t much time.’”
“The Indian?” Paul asked.
“I don’t really know. I didn’t see anything. I only heard voices.”
Marc took the paper from Chelly and stared at it.
Paul shouted, “Will someone please tell me what’s going on here?”
Marc answered. “Sorry Paul. Sounds like a warning that there isn’t much time.”
“Not much time for what?” Paul asked, looking from one to the other.
“Not much time to save Alina,” Chelly whispered.
Paul shook his head and walked back to the bedroom without another word. Chelly followed. She tossed and turned, aware that Paul did the same.
***
How will I get through these classes? Paul and I didn’t get any sleep. Chelly changed her clothes and prepared to teach. All she wanted to do was close the school and concentrate on her friends, but she knew that wasn’t the wise thing to do. Last night was exhausting. She leaned on her desk with her head in her hands going over and over the conversations.
The front doorbell chimed. Students were arriving. Lots of coffee, I’m going to need lots of coffee to get through this day.
CHAPTER 40
Exhausted and battered from the events of the night, Paul sat at his desk with the door closed. “Hold my calls, Nancy,” he told his efficient legal assistant.
“Mrs. Hamlin will be here in half-an-hour,” she reminded him.
“Yes. I just need a few minutes.”
In spite of the closed door, Nancy, he legal assistant, walked into his office uninvited and closed the door behind her.
“Paul, loosen your tie and put your feet up.” Without waiting for a response, she walked into his private bathroom and ran cold water on a cloth. “Put this over your eyes. You look terrible. I’ll bring you fresh coffee.”
