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Crown Vic to a Parallel World: Stolen Love The third and final installment of the ongoing adventures of Church Philips
12
Meetings and Demands
The demand for the ransom came as I drove us back toward the house. Bem was in the passenger seat, having helped Cellarius into the back to sit with Met. He was the first to see it. Bem had downloaded the flight recorder and also recovered Shawn's cell phone from the cockpit of the plane.
Bem had gotten me to open the phone. He was using the ride back to search through Shawn's messages and emails from the last several days for clues to who could be behind the kidnapping. Both Shawn and I had access to each other's phones. It was a matter of convenience, not one of distrust. As we shared all our early memories and had an emotional link, keeping secrets wasn't really possible, so locking each other out of our phones was a little silly.
Bem had already questioned Met enough to find out the man knew nothing. The story Met told was a simple one. He and Shawn had gotten to the office the previous night to find no emergency and no one waiting for them. Shawn called his answering service and was told they had no record of an emergency call, or a call of any kind.
Shawn and Met shrugged the error off as irritating, but not sinister. They got in the jet and headed for home. Forty minutes into the one-hour flight, the communication system in the plane cockpit lit up with a text distress signal. It said there was a medical emergency on an aircraft that had landed on the plains due to mechanical difficulties.
Shawn was always ready to help anyone in trouble, so he responded to the distress signal and landed his plane. Once on the ground, Met and Shawn were able to see a jet, very similar to ours, with its running lights on, but its cabin lights off. They assumed the dark cabin had something to do with the mechanical issue that had grounded the plane and didn't think anything more about it. Met was the first one out as Shawn had been piloting and he needed a minute to finish shutting down the plane. Met said that as soon as his feet touched the ground, something hit him that paralyzed his body but didn't shut off his mind.
Met assumed it was an energy weapon set to stun. He crumpled to the ground and was dragged under the plane. He watched Shawn climb down the steps to the ground but was powerless to do anything to prevent him from suffering the same fate. Shawn was stunned in the same way, then picked up and carried onto the other aircraft. The men that did the carrying were dressed in all black with hoods over their heads. They had no identifying markings on their clothes and the plane was a generic craft with no markings.
Once they had Shawn secured, the men returned and put Met on our plane. They tied him up and left him to his fate. The stun wore off at some point during the night and Met struggled with his bindings, but the tying had been done too well and there was no play in the ropes. All he could do was wait to be rescued and wonder what had happened to his partner in medicine.
I listened to his story. I thought it rang true, but that was based on my gut and nothing else. Met didn't seem to have too much information or too little. What satisfied me even more than my gut impression was that the story seemed to satisfy Bem. I assumed Bem planned to have Met questioned more thoroughly sometime later but wanted to get as much information from him while the memories were fresh. Once he had the background and as much fact as he seemed to think he could get, he directed me to drive us back.
As we drove along, making good time but without the frantic pace that characterized the outbound trip, I heard Shawn's phone chime with a text message. Bem read it aloud. "Chordus is with us. Remit five-hundred-million credits to numbered account 412SIN-0041 by the close of business today and leave your airstrip lights on all night."
Chordus,' I thought, why are they using that name? That's not even his name anymore. No one uses that name. The last time I even heard that name was when his father used it. Weird.' The use of Shawn's formerly proper first name was odd, but it didn't change who they were talking about. I thought of a partial Shakespeare quote. A Shawn by any other name would smell,' my mind flashed to me standing in the closet with Shawn's briefs pressed to my face and the quote changed directions, sexy as fuck.'
I chased that thought away as unproductive. "I'll pay it." I announced to Bem. There was no hesitation in my mind. A half-billion credits for Shawn,' I thought, that's it? Fucking sold.'
Bem was guarded in his advice. "This demand reads like an invoice. It says to `remit,' and gives what I assume is a number to an untraceable account. The demand also comes via text so there's no voice print to analyze. It's probably safe to assume the number the message came from is untraceable. It's easy enough to use a temporary number or send the message through a scrambler. Even amateurs have access to that kind of technology. Notice they don't actually say they'll give Shawn back. They just say to leave the runway lights on. You might pay and get nothing for your money. This might be a test to see how willing you are to cooperate."
I exploded at what I viewed as Bem's unnecessary negativity. "WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?"
Bem didn't react to my shouting. He patted my thigh and kept his voice even and calm. It was the same voice he'd been using since he'd spoken to me in the plane. I guessed he was doing it to keep me from coming unglued. "I'm not saying not to pay it. You have the money, Shawn means more to you than the money, so you pay. I agree. I just don't want you to hang all your hopes on this. Five-hundred million is a huge sum, but not compared to your total worth. The exact size of your fortune isn't public knowledge, but the fact that it's a large one is no secret. We need to consider why they would only ask for a fraction of it.
"It's also interesting that they don't mention the police at all. Most of notes like this that I've read, or written for that matter, say not to contact the authorities. This one doesn't. It's like they assume you won't call anyone for help. Why? There's something here we're not seeing."
"Written?" I asked to address a piece of Bem's small speech that made me curious.
Bem drew a breath and sighed it out. He looked away from me, out the passenger window of the car. I kept my eyes on him because there was nothing on the vast plains to hit and I could afford to have my eyes off the `road' for as much as several minutes before I needed a course correction. Bem seemed to feel my scrutiny. He returned his eyes to mine. When he faced me, he looked defiant, but he spoke with assurance. "Big Guy, it's with no pride that I tell you, as part of my old career, I've kidnapped people. That's why I know how these things work."
"OK." I agreed, temporarily mollified by his calm tone and careful words, and encouraged by words that should have horrified me. I wanted to ask Bem for details, but I knew those questions were inappropriate. I settled for an apology that I truly meant. "I'm sorry I yelled."
"Don't apologize to me, Big Guy. If it helps you to yell, you yell, just don't hit. Those big fists of yours are no joke."
"Yeah...you don't have anything to worry about. Since when have I ever been able to land a hit on you?"
"Never," Bem teased, "but you might get lucky one of these days and then I'd be missing a head." I recognized Bem was trying to make me feel better, and I loved him for it. I wanted to let him know without coming right out and saying it, so I teased him back. "Yeah, but would anyone notice?"
"Mary might, when I couldn't kiss her goodnight, and when I couldn't use my tongue to..."
I held the steering wheel with my knee, covered my ears with my hands, and shouted, "LA LA LA LA LA" to block Bem's words. It was a long-running sort-of joke between him and me that what he did with my sister, or more accurately, to my sister, had to stay between him and her or it would shatter my fragile psyche. He hadn't teased me about that in a long time and a part of me missed it.
It was nice to know that Bem was still my friend, even though he was dedicated to Mary. It was nice to know he was with me in the nightmare I seemed to be trapped in. There were others that could help me, but none that I trusted like I trusted him.
I put my hands back on the wheel and felt Bem pat my leg again. "We'll get him back." He said, and I believed him.
Mary was waiting for us when we got to the house. She hugged me and Bem and escorted the four of us, including Met and Cellarius into the rumpus room. Met diverted himself to the bathroom along the way. In the rumpus room, everyone was sitting around waiting. Everyone was waiting except for Joe, who wasn't there.
I took notice of the clusters of people gathered on couches and at the gaming tables. Andy and Comet sat together, almost on top of one another at the far end of one of the long couches. Hannah and Leah bookended Altus at the other end of that same sofa. Mary held little Tobit on her lap while the boy squirmed and struggled to get loose from her grasp. Cass sat with her and used his tricks with the red rubber ball to try to entertain Tobit in an effort to keep him quiet and still. Cass's actions made the man seem oddly lucid. It was something I noticed but that I didn't dwell on.
Paul sat on the end of a couch by himself. Met entered the room and took a spot at a chess table. I noticed the red welt across his face was gone, presumably healed by his own magic. Cellarius took up a position by one of the doors, the one that led to my kitchen, and stood like a stoic sentry. Lenis loitered near the other door, the one that led to both the servant's wing and a set of stairs to the grand entryway.
I went to my mother-in-law and hugged her. "We'll get him back." I said and tried to sound confident.
She agreed. "Bem already gave me the account number for the ransom. If you do not need me, I am going to go make arrangements for the payment."
"Can you do that without Shawn?" I asked. The way Shawn and I set up the accounting for our fortune, was that Shawn and I each had our ten million in mad money, but for any major spending, we both had to agree. What that meant in practice was that any expenditure over ten million, or any joint expenditure, needed approval from both of us before the bank would process the transaction. I worried that with Shawn...unavailable, the funds would be inaccessible.
Lenis told me not to worry. "You forget that when I became your financial advisor, we became a team. I cannot initiate a transaction, but I can be the second `yes' vote. I will get the draw ready for you to initiate, then I will approve it."
I agreed and Lenis moved to exit the room. Bem called after her and she stopped to see what he wanted. "You should figure out how much money you can get your hands on quickly. I already told Church I think this is the first payment. I think they're going to ask for more before this is over. See how much you can get in a day, and in a week. Do the same thing for my money. I don't know how much we'll need."
Andy spoke up from where he sat holding onto Comet like the mousy man would float away if he didn't grip him tightly. "Uncle Church, whatever I have is yours...if you need it."
"Thanks, Andy." I would have smiled at my nephew if I wasn't so close to breaking down. The fact that everyone had pulled together so readily warmed my heart. "I hope it doesn't get to that point, but would you mind working with Lenis to figure out what that means in dollars and cents."
"What's a dollar?" Comet asked. Andy shushed him and they rose to follow Lenis from the room. "My boy." Cass's high, quavering voice cut across the room. I raised my eyes to the old man and worried that he was about to launch himself into a stream of meaningless gibberish. He surprised me again. "Anything I have," he said, "my possessions or my professional skills, if you can use them, they're yours."
I waved my silent thanks to the old man and sat on one of the sofas next to Paul. He had a book in his lap with a scrap of paper holding a place in the early pages. I took a closer look and realized it was the copy of Fidum's bible I'd given him. I was pleased he was reading it, but too distracted to ask him about its contents. Paul didn't offer any words to me as I sat. He nodded his big head in paternal understanding and wiped his hand over his face.
Bem remained standing to address the group. "People will be coming here, people we know, to help us deal with what happened last night and this morning. No one is to speak to the authorities unless we decide as a group that is the right course of action. No one is to speak about what happened, or any decisions regarding what happened until I have a chance to sweep this entire residence for listening or video recording devices."
My brain caught Bem's words and gnawed on them like a dog with a rawhide bone. I didn't like what Bem had suggested. I didn't like the idea that it was possible, maybe even probable, that we were being spied on by unknown people. I didn't like the idea that the people who had taken Shawn might be listening to us, or even watching us at that very moment. A large part of me wanted to shout at the house, shout at the hidden devices for people who planted them to give my husband back to me. I told myself it wouldn't be that simple and I stayed quiet for the rest of Bem's short speech.
"No one," Bem emphasized, "is to speak to any of the servants about anything until I have had a chance to question them. No one is to leave the estate, and no one is to welcome anyone onto the estate, unless I say so. No one is to talk on the phone, send any emails, texts, or external messages of any kind, unless I say so. What happened is serious and we are going to deal with it in a serious manner. Does everyone understand me?"
The people in the room murmured their agreement with what Bem had to say. From the way he spoke, I gathered that he was taking charge of the situation. That made me feel better because I had no idea what to do. I was in the middle of being glad Bem was with me when some noise from the back of the room made me look toward it. The noise was Joe stomping in. He hesitated, just inside the door and shifted his vast weight from one leg to the other. He looked in my direction, with shy, downcast eyes. "Can I join you?" He asked.
"Come over here." I slapped the cushion next to me. "Sit with me. I'm glad you're here. I need you."
"You need me?" He asked with surprise in his voice.
"You're my brother. I need your help to get through this."
Joe lurched over and flopped on the couch next to me. He struggled around to find a comfortable spot and seemed to settle when he couldn't. His labored breathing was concerning, but I was glad to have him with me. Bem reiterated what he'd said for Joe's benefit and moved onto other things.
"I'm glad you're here, Joe." Bem said and sounded like he meant it. "I want you on the team. Your power will be a big help. I'm not going to say more at this time until I can sweep the room."
I put my hand up to get Bem's attention. He acknowledged me with a tilt of his head. "How about a box?" I asked and hoped he'd understand what I meant. I was offering to put him and me and anyone he wanted to talk with, inside of my magic.
"Good idea." Bem agreed. "Let me finish and we'll do that."
Bem summarized his orders and told everyone to go about their normal business like nothing happened, except, of course, for the modifiers he'd already stated. When he was done, he ordered the crowd to disperse. Mary's girls and Altus tried to remain. They felt that, as recent graduates from the police academy and as telepaths, they were uniquely qualified to help. Bem verbally sent them away while he mentally promised to use their talents when he could find a use for them. He promised not to leave them out.
Once Bem had dismissed the girls and their boyfriend, Cass approached his son and coughed to get his attention. Bem seemed to want nothing to do with the old man and his nonsense. Bem raked his father with impatient eyes. "Yes father?" He asked.
"My boy." Cass said in a voice that was an octave lower than the voice he usually used. "Bem, my boy, be very careful with the task you are about to embark upon. Remember, remember that this is not your profession anymore. This has not been your profession for a good many years. The skills, the patterns of thought that served you then have been blunted by the passage of time and the joy of married life and children. You must be very, VERY careful." Cass insisted to his son.
Bem stared at his father like he was looking at a man he didn't know. I wasn't sure I knew the man either after his very reasonable speech. Bem bowed his head to the shorter man, either out of respect, or in deference to his well-reasoned instructions. "Yes, father, I'll be careful. You can count on me."
"You're a good boy." Cass replied. He looked like he wanted to embrace his son, but he made no moves to do so, and Bem made no moves to reciprocate. Instead, father and son had a short staring contest, which Cass lost when he lowered his head. He shoved his hands in his pockets and puttered away like he always did.
When Cass was gone, Bem seemed to recover himself from their conversation. He took command of the group that remained. He moved us to my kitchen where I could seal us in without including any furniture that could contain `bugs.'
Bem gathered me, Joe, and Paul into the discussion. He didn't think Paul could help get Shawn back, but he told us that he saw Paul as being above suspicion and assumed that I would confide in the man sooner or later. We stood close together in the kitchen and I built a box around us. Joe seemed to struggle to stand still, as he continuously shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again. I noticed his plight and created a smaller box for him to sit on. He was obviously embarrassed at needing it, but he swallowed his pride and sat.
Bem put his hand in front of his mouth to talk and asked us to do the same in case we were being watched. He knew they, whoever `they' were, couldn't hear us inside my magic, but if they could see us, they could potentially read our lips. "I don't know if they have someone on the inside or not." Bem explained to start the discussion. "I know the servants are vetted, but that doesn't mean anything. One person with a gambling problem or drug addiction or some other exploitable weakness can be the enemy's ticket into your household.
"Once the others get here, we can start to act. Neb is going to bring some equipment, as is Vulp, and we're going to sweep this place from top to bottom. Once that's done, Joe, you and I are going to interview the servants, and the boyfriends. I think Comitis and Altus are probably OK, but I don't know that for certain. I also plan to go through every piece of correspondence into and out of this house for the last week, month, and six months. I don't know if there's anything to find, but if there is, I'm going to find it. Questions or comments?"
"What can I do?" I asked.
Bem sighed like he knew what he was about to say was going to disappoint me. "Very little right now. Your talents don't lend themselves to what we need. You can stay ready to act at a moment's notice. You can work with Lenis to make sure whatever money they demand is available. You can do whatever you have to not to give in to despair.
"I know your history and I don't want you to take offense when I tell you this, but do NOT get drunk. The need to act may come at a moment's notice and we won't have time to wait for you to sober up. You will also need to eat regularly and sleep regularly. I know how hard that will be, but you MUST do it. I recommend you and Paul spend as much time together as you can. He can help keep you occupied and that will keep you stable. I hate to tell you the best thing you can do is to play tour guide, but there it is."
I shrugged and let my shoulders hang. I was disappointed there wasn't a way for me to help, a way that I could be useful, but I understood that Bem wasn't trying to be mean. He just expressed the fact that I didn't have much to offer that phase of the work. Setting that grim reality to the side, it was interesting to be reminded of my former alcoholism.
I guessed I really was completely cured of it, because I hadn't even considered drinking. There was a time, a long time, when that would have been the automatic reach for' whenever I encountered bad stuff in my life. I was in the middle of thinking yay me,' as sarcastically as I could manage when Paul linked his arm with mine and tugged on it.
"You and me, Church." He said confidently.
Bem seemed pleased with Paul's attitude and moved onto other things. "Alright, Joe, I want you to keep yourself available. When the others get here, we'll clear one room in this house and have a meeting, then we'll start with the servants. We're going forward with the investigation in parallel to paying the kidnappers. That way, if they don't come through with Shawn this time, we'll already be working. Even if they do send him back, we'll be that much closer to identifying the culprits. Any questions?"
No one had anything. I released the magic and Bem went about his business. I looked at my brother, still sitting on my magic and breathing hard. I asked Paul to give us a minute in private and rebuilt the magic box around just me and Joe. I dropped to one knee and faced my fat, gasping brother. "I need to say something to you, Joe, and I want you to listen to me and I want you to take my words as I intend them, not the way you think I mean them."
Joe's already-red face reddened even more as his preemptive anger colored his high blood pressure. "I DON'T..."
"Shut the fuck up." I commanded. "For once in your life, just shut up."
To my surprise, Joe clamped his mouth shut. I went ahead with what I had to say. "Twelve years ago, I sat in your kitchen at the old house, and you told me you hated me for destroying myself more than you hated me for killing mom and dad. Well...I hate you for what you're doing to yourself. I'm tired of watching it, and Andy is tired of it, and enough is enough."
I took a breath and braced myself for the rest of what I needed to say. "Someone took my husband away from me and Bem seems to think you can help get him back. That means I need you, but I don't need this gasping, fat thing you've turned into. I need my brother back. I need the man with the five promissory notes in his briefcase. I know that man is still inside you, but I can't use him in there. I need him out here with me.
"If you really want to help me, when we're done here, you'll go see Met and ask him what he can do to help you. I am sure he can increase your metabolism, or fix your blood pressure, or make it easier for you to breathe or some-fucking-thing. If he needs more magic to get it done, I'll give it to him. That's what I need from you. Will you help me or not?"
Joe started in on his usual routine of resistance and evasion of responsibility. "I think you're..." I snapped. I wasn't interested in anything Joe could possibly have to say that wasn't a yes' or a no.' I wasn't even interested in a `no.' I wanted agreement or nothing. I jumped to my feet, curled my hands into fists, and blasted him. "GODDAMNIT JOE, FUCKING YES OR NO!"
"Yes." He whispered and glared hatred at me.
"Thank you." I said and released the box around us.
Joe hauled himself to his feet and stomped off without a word. I let him go. I figured he hated me, but that was nothing new and I really didn't care. He could hate me all he wanted as long as he'd do what was required to help us get Shawn back.
Paul watched Joe leave. He seemed like he wanted to ask me about what had transpired between Joe and me, but he held his tongue. He took Fidum's bible from where it had been tucked under his arm and held onto the book like it was a security blanket. "What should we do now?" He asked me.
I rubbed my neck with my left palm as I thought about what we should do. My neck felt sweaty from not being washed yet that day and I was still wearing my clothes from the day before. "I need to shower and change and eat something. Have you eaten?"
"Not yet. I almost had the culinarian machine figured out when Mary came to get me earlier."
"Let's eat and then I'll clean up and we can do something until Lenis needs me or the others get here." I wished the others, the team that Bem was assembling, was there instantly. I found myself regretting the choice to build our home in the middle of the Pravus Plains. "That's the one downside of this place...how far we are from the rest of the world."
"You might consider that an asset." Paul suggested.
"I always did before." I admitted and didn't say anything more about it. I moved to my special culinarian and asked Paul what he wanted.
"Whatever you plan to have will be fine with me."
I programmed a half-dozen eggs in their shells, several pieces of thick-cut scrapple, potatoes and onions for home fries, and a pot of black coffee with two cups. I put two frying pans on the stove and waved Paul to a seat at the counter while I cooked. Paul asked me to let him help, but I wanted to do it myself. I told him that he would be helping me more by letting me keep my hands busy than by helping me cook.
I cooked while Paul played with Fidum's bible on the island counter. When I plated the food, Paul set the book aside while we ate and made small talk over coffee. When we finished, I asked Paul if he wanted me to turn the wall screen television on while I went to get cleaned up.
"I think I will go with you." He stood from his chair and tucked his book under his arm.
"While I shower?" I asked. I didn't understand why he thought I'd need him with me.
"While you go to your room." He explained.
I understood when he put it that way. He figured I'd need company while I was in the space that Shawn and I shared. He was probably right. I also had a qualm about the Solum television programming and realized I didn't want Paul experiencing that for the first time without me there to explain. The frequent orgies that took place in the middle of the programs would probably fry his circuits if someone wasn't there to premise things like Shawn had done for me, once upon a time. I told Paul I'd be glad to have him along and we made our way to the stairs.