Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [129]
‘‘We’ve got to help Nancy,’’ said Hester.
We agreed. It was a matter of how, and until she was in Iowa at least, helping her was up to the Canadians and the FBI. We both looked at George.
‘‘We’ll get on it right away, I’m sure,’’ he said. ‘‘We’ll do everything we can.’’
I thought about that for a second. If we felt that it was Gabriel himself who was threatening her, we’d get her a lot more attention. If she was still alive.
Volont came out of the office. ‘‘Well, that was interesting. McGwinn thinks that Gabriel was seen in Winnipeg today.’’ He looked at his watch. ‘‘It’s time to go home, boys and girls. Tomorrow could be a very long day.’’
George was delegated to make some preliminary moves, such as getting a Nationwide Pickup out on Nancy, alerting all law-enforcement agencies in the United States. It didn’t take long.
We were all on our way out to our respective cars, when I said to Volont, ‘‘You know, I’d hate to be Gabriel. Wouldn’t you?’’
‘‘For more than one reason,’’ he said. ‘‘Why would you?’’
‘‘Well, you said he hangs out sometimes in London. Germany. But with those stolen weapons, the German cops are going to be on his case, the British cops, the RAF . . . not to mention you and the Canadians.’’
‘‘What do you mean, the RAF?’’ he asked. Quickly.
‘‘Well, Bruggen is an RAF base in Germany. Protected, I assume, by a unit from the RAF regiment, their base security forces, since they’re forward-deployed. Had to come from them. The weapons. Or from their storage.’’ I smiled. ‘‘He’s not welcome anywhere.’’
‘‘Houseman,’’ he said, ‘‘you amaze me.’’
‘‘Thanks.’’
I hit the Nation County line at 0227, and was at home and in bed at about 0300.
Twenty-four
I WAS AWAKENED by the telephone at 0718, according to my little fucking clock. On the 30th day of July, to be exact. Good little clock. Just that sometimes you like to see it, sometimes you don’t.
‘‘Helumph,’’ I said. Or something close to that.
‘‘And a very good morning to you,’’ said an unfamiliar voice.
‘‘Who is this?’’ I managed to get out.
‘‘Jacob Nieuhauser,’’ he said.
Jacob Nieuhauser. Jacob Nieuhauser. Damn, it was ringing a bell, but I just couldn’t grab on to it.
‘‘Do I know you?’’ I asked.
‘‘Not as well as you think you do,’’ he said.
The bell rang really loud. ‘‘Gabriel,’’ I said. My mind was working fast. So was my heart.
‘‘To some,’’ he said. ‘‘I prefer that my friends call me that, but you go ahead.’’
‘‘Thanks.’’ A bright thing to say.
‘‘You need to do me a favor,’’ he said. Very conversational.
‘‘What would that be?’’
‘‘Stop sending reporters out to look for me. It won’t work.’’
‘‘If I hadn’t, would we be talking now?’’
‘‘Point well taken,’’ he said. ‘‘But it gets rather expensive for the reporters.’’
‘‘Well, for one,’’ I said.
‘‘No,’’ he answered. ‘‘For two.’’
‘‘Do you have her?’’ I asked. ‘‘Have you harmed her?’’
‘‘No, to both,’’ he said. ‘‘Hostages just get you killed. First rule.’’
‘‘So?’’
‘‘But I can see her. She’s at a telephone at a Travel King just outside Fairmont, and from the frustration, I’d say she might be trying to call you.’’
I didn’t know just what to say.
‘‘You see,’’ he said, ‘‘I find it much more effective not to take a hostage in the traditional sense. I take my hostages at a distance. I don’t hold them. I simply kill them if the time comes. If it doesn’t, they live. A random harvest, almost.’’
‘‘Really?’’ Brilliance is not easy for me in the morning.
‘‘Certainly. Only the important ones have to know the potential. After all,’’ he said, ‘‘hostages don’t pay their ransom, do they? Others do it for them. Something you should remember.’’
He hung up.
I couldn’t believe it. I looked over at Sue, who was looking at me wide-eyed. ‘‘Who was that?’’
I told her what I could, which wasn’t much.
I headed downstairs to get some coffee and to try to decide what to do, and maybe even how to do it. The phone rang. The microwave said it