Even When You Win... Page 13

“This is my golf party, Jim,” Ed said with a smile. “We beat each other’s brains out on the golf course almost every day in the spring, summer and fall, and any time the temperature gets over fifty in the winter.

  “We’re scheduled to play today at twelve-thirty, right guys?” They both nodded and smiled at the thought.

  “You play, Mr. Stanton?” Trisker asked.

  “Jim, please; no, I’m not much of a golfer.”

  “Jim’s pretty involved with the outdoors, though; he fishes, hunts and forages – today’s he’s going exploring with his wife.

  “Missouri’s not as wild as your Oregon,” Flynt said, “but you still have to be careful when you’re out ‘n’ about in a strange place, I think. You feel that way?”

  “I don’t trespass, ever, Mr. Flynt, and I find that no matter where I’m at, if I’m careful not to wander into somebody else’s game, I’m usually pretty much okay.”

  “Wise concept whether you’re home or away, I think,” Trisker said with a laugh.

  “Just the same,” Flynt said. “Around these parts, some folks don’t much care for any stranger whether or not he’s pokin’ his nose into their business.”

  “That’s somewhat true, I suppose,” Trisker said in a thoughtful voice, and then he delivered what was obviously his punch line, “But I’m confident Mr. and Mrs. Stanton will never go wandering around the vast holdings of your extended family. Anywhere’s else; they’ll be just fine I’m sure.”

  That got a big laugh from all three men, and I could see real camaraderie among them.

  We drank our coffee, shared anecdotes about the foibles of government and sports, and broke up about eleven.

  “Can I drop you back at the Inn?” Ed said.

  “No, you go on to your golf. I’ll walk back.”

  Chapter 28

  By the time we were sitting in an airport lounge on Thursday afternoon, everyone involved with the Sweets’ dilemma was on full alert. The paper had been delivered as usual, and Ed found an unstamped envelope in his mailbox when he looked for his mail just before noon.

  Dear Mr. and Mrs. Sweet,

  You can love them all, or remember them all; it’s your choice. What you can’t do is protect them all. The FBI won’t sit on those children indefinitely. You have to choose the right ‘heir’ by July 1, but you don’t know which name will save and which will kill. You want a chance to prove your willingness to care for all of them. Perhaps you need a hint or a sign? If that’s the case, I’ll send you a sign. Follow the sign and you’ll know who your heir must be... Stay tuned.

  The note had thrown Ed and Rita a bit, but Richards had assured them that our leaving was the best for all concerned, and they wished us well. We promised to stay in touch.

  Jan finished her tea. “I think I need to make a bathroom stop before we board the plane.”

  “No problem. We’ve got plenty of time before they make the first call for our flight. You can use the facility right over there,” I said, pointing with my empty rocks glass. “I’ll stay here and fortify myself a bit more for the flight.”

  She shook her head in fun, “Such a coward I married, afraid of a little turbulence...”

  I watched her walk away, admiring as I always did the grace of her stride, the elegance of her posture and the curves that made her so beautiful from any point of view. She turned into the restroom, and I made my way to the bar for another shot of Makers Mark.

  Rearmed with another drink, I watched as one of those motorized carts they use to help travelers making the longer jaunts between gates motored slowly by, it’s little light flashing and its horn beeping; warning pedestrians of its arrival. I noted with casual interest two EMTs tending a passenger on a litter.

  With that distraction over, I returned to watching the seemingly endless flow of people coming and going from where or to where I couldn’t guess. I was nearly lost in a day-dream when I heard the first call for our flight. I finished my drink, gathered up my carry-on, and walked down to take up a position across from the women’s facility.

  I started worrying when I heard the call for boarding of economy seat travelers and I still had seen no sign of Jan. I saw a woman heading for the entrance to the restroom and strode over to intercept her.

  “Ma’am,” I said as softly as I could, seeing the normal reaction to being braced by a brute my size. “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am,” I said with my best smile, “My wife, Jan, went in there a while ago, and now they’re calling our flight. I’m concerned that she might be ill or something. Would you be so kind as to check with her? Find out if she needs help or anything?”

  The lady smiled, “Of course; no bother.” She disappeared around the corner into the restroom, and I heard her calling, “Jan? Is there a Jan in here?”

  I heard her call out again, and then again, each time from further inside the facility. A minute later she came out as far as the doorway. “Mister? There’s nobody in here, not a soul.”

  The woman’s words seemed to echo in my brain. I couldn’t really react. People walked around me without breaking stride, as if I were an island in a stream. I started turning, searching for Jan in the sea of faces; hoping to see her familiar profile in the crowded gate area. I was searching and hoping and all the while knowing, even before I had fully completed my three-hundred-and-sixty-degree, slack-jawed pivot of misery that I wouldn’t see her. I knew the fact of the moment: I was alone and Jan was gone...

  Chapter 29

  Richards answered his phone with a smile in his voice, “Agent Richards.”

  “Archie, this is Stanton. Jan’s missing.”

  “What? What do you mean, missing? Where are you?”

  “At the airport. She went to the bathroom. I didn’t see her come out, and then when our flight was called, I asked a lady to check on her. She was gone!”

  “Did you notify airport security?”

  “I called you!”

  “I’ll call you right back.”

  I stood there feeling stupid, waiting for his call. I saw a uniformed officer strolling towards me. “Officer?” I hailed him.

  “Yessir?”

  I told him my concern, and while I was doing that, his radio squawked. He held up a finger to quiet me, and listened intently to his earpiece. He started nodding, “You Mr. Stanton?”

  “I am.”

  “There’s an all-airport alert out for her. Can you give me a description?”

  I pulled my wallet out and handed over the picture of her that I carried in front of my driver’s license.

  “Height?” He asked.

  “Five-eight; she weighs about a hundred and twenty-five. She’s wearing slacks, navy; and a white sleeveless top.”

  He keyed his radio and repeated my description, then listened again. As he was listening, a golf cart arrived with two officers. The woman went into the bathroom. The other sat at the wheel of the cart.

  The female officer came out, shook her head at my officer and held up a bag that I instantly recognized as Jan’s carry-on.

  She then walked over to take Jan’s photo from my officer as he apparently got off the message. “Can you get that to the office and have it duplicated?”

  “Wait!” I said. “That bag; it’s Jan’s.”

  She opened it, and started pawing through it, “It’s a carry-on all right.” She lifted Jan’s pocketbook out and held it up. “This is hers?”

  I nodded dejectedly.

  She handed the bag to my officer. He turned to me as she skipped to the waiting cart. They sped off with their blue light flashing. “Mr. Stanton, what’s the time frame here?”

  “I wasn’t paying attention, really. It was fifteen minutes or so before our flight, and she went towards the restroom... I saw her walk in there, and then I went and got another drink. I just waited over there, watching people. Oh, there was some kind of medical activity; they probably logged that at your office.”

  “What kind of activity?”

  “Just two EMTs transport
ing a patient on one of those long carts...” I pointed at one of those carts, this one full of passengers, which was coming down the corridor. “Like that, only there was just the driver and two EMTs and a patient on a litter or gurney...”

  He put that finger up again, and I shut up to hear him say, “Control, Adams here. Did you log a medical emergency in this vicinity in the last hour?”

  I interrupted him, “It wasn’t an emergency...”

  He interrupted his conversation, “Wait; whaddaya mean?”

  “They weren’t in any hurry. They had the patient on the thing, and they were going no faster than that one there. No special lights, nothing that looked like an emergency.”

  He returned to his radio and repeated what I’d said. “So it would be logged as a routine transport, I guess... What? Nothing?”

  He looked at me closely and I could see he was evaluating me.

  “Mr. Stanton, how much have you had to drink?”

  “Not enough to lose my wife or hallucinate about what I saw,” I snapped at him. “I don’t fly well, so, if I can, I have a couple of drinks before... but I’m not a problem drinker.”

  “I’m sorry, but there’s no record of any kind of medical transport here today, much less in the last hour.”

  “Then I think I know where my wife is.”

  He started talking on his radio again, and my phone went off. “Stanton here.”

  “Richards. Where are you?”

  I told him where I was and my suspicion as to how Jan left the area if not the airport.

  “I’ll be right back with you,” he said into the phone, and I heard him disconnect.

  I was suddenly exhausted, and I walked over to a bench along the wall and sat down. The officer, his name badge said Sgt. Keith Adams, came and sat beside me. “It’s the adrenaline; it leaves you tired as it wears off. It happens all the time.”

  I didn’t say anything. I just sat slumped there; heartbroken. I knew I needed to get a grip on my center, my pulse, but the thought didn’t start the process. I just sat there wondering if I’d ever find my center again without Jan.

  Chapter 30

  I lost track of time, but finally I became aware as a pair of sensible shoes entered the square of floor I’d been staring at. I looked up and saw Richards checking me out with the officer sitting beside me. Neither of them had made a sound, but I could see a pity in Richards’ eyes that alarmed me.

  “You found her?”

  He shook his head. “No, but we found the gurney. It was abandoned near a service door in the baggage claim area. They wheeled her down there and took her out, probably to a waiting vehicle.

  “You heard anything yet?”

  “Yet?”

  “Jim, get in the game; this is probably a kidnapping. Remember the note? It didn’t make any sense? Well, this is probably the sign...”

  His words were like a slap in the face. My head cleared and I felt energy course through me like an electric shock.

  “What’ve you done so far?”

  “Followed protocol. We’ve got an APB out for her; her photo is in the hands of every cop, taxi driver and hotel doorman inside a fifty-mile radius. There are traffic stops set up on every highway in case they try to drive her out of the area... it’s like an amber alert. Her picture is on television and every radio station has the description.”

  I had a thought. “If you make it too hot for them, won’t they just dump her?”

  “If they had any intention of killing her, she wouldn’t be outside this airport right now, Jim. If they’ve got any rationale left in them they’ll just leave her in a car somewhere and walk away if it gets too hot – they won’t risk facing a murder charge.”

  “Rationale? I’m not encouraged if that’s the deciding line.”

  “Come on; let’s get you out of here. This is no place to wait.” He turned to the policeman, “Officer Adams? You have anything else to do with him before I take him outta here?”

  “No, sir. I was told you were going to come and take over; I was just waiting with him.”

  I reached out to Adams, “Thank you, officer. You did what you could, and I appreciate your attention.”

  He shook my hand. “Have faith; you’ve got good people on your team.”

  I nodded as I turned and walked with Richards into what looked like a bleak future, but then my inner voice took over, “Snap out of it, pal,” I thought. “Show some grit; engage your brain. You know the ‘why;’ if you’re going to find out the ‘who,’ you won’t have time for self-pity.”

  Chapter 31

  “What do you want to do?” Richards asked as we walked to his waiting car, illegally parked in front of the terminal with its blue light flashing on the dashboard.

  “I’m not sure,” I grumped. “I’ve never been on this side of a kidnapping.” We walked on without further conversation. When we were in the car, I picked up the thread, “And I can tell right now it’s easier being the kidnapped person than it is being on this side of the equation.”

  “Oh, how I know it,” he muttered as he started the vehicle and snatched the light off the dash. He unplugged it and tossed it gently into the back seat.

  “I think we’re going to take you to the office and wait for some sign. We’ll need to inform the Sweets...” I could tell he was making a mental list, “... and we’ll want to alert everyone who’s watching the grandkids... and the folks on Cartwright and Dumont...”

  “You guessing, or are you just covering everything you can think of?”

  He took a second to glance at me, “Thinking out loud, if you have to know. I’ll do a better job of explaining back at the office.”

  We rode in silence. He parked and we went inside. He went to his desk, pointing at a chair outside the office for me as he went by.

  “At least he didn’t close his door,” I thought as I parked on the chair and listened to his calls.

  Hurst came over and with just a gesture took me to the conference room. “Coffee?” She asked.

  “Please; just a little cream?”

  She was back in a matter of seconds with an insulated carafe, a cup, and a handful of non-dairy creamers. She put them in front of me without a word, and took a seat across the table.

  “What’s he doing?” I asked.

  “Checking my work, probably.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her, and she followed up, “We’ve only been partners for six months, and I’m only in my third year with the bureau... he doesn’t fully trust me yet.

  “I was supposed to call the Sweets, our field agents on the grandchildren and those on our primary suspects... I’m guessing he’s checking to see what they’ve got, and to make sure I did what I was supposed to do.”

  “Did you?”

  She smiled and nodded slightly, “Rita Sweet is devastated. She wouldn’t have been any different, I think, if it had been one of her chicks... We’re all concerned on a personal level, Jim. Jan’s a great lady.”

  I nodded, but didn’t comment. I was nursing an old and familiar feeling: Locked out; sitting in a chair when others were out making the moves, asking the questions... it’s a desk editor’s curse.

  I sat there and drank coffee. Hurst went off to tend to her business, and I sat. I needed a restroom, and the carafe was empty by the time Richards made an appearance.

  I stood as he entered, and he waved me back to my seat. “There’s nothing to report as yet. We’ve had both Cartwright and Dumont under surveillance all day, and, not surprising, they haven’t made any suspicious moves.

  “It’s probably too soon to get any contact from the kidnappers. You might get a phone call – we’ve determined that Jan’s cell was missing from her carry-on – but we don’t think that’s as likely as the Sweets receiving a note in the next twenty-four hours.”

  At that I let my head sag back on my neck, looking at the ceiling tiles and wondering how I’d cope with waiting.

  “I think we should get you to a hotel – we have one downtown t
hat we use to house witnesses, visiting FBI administrators, whatever. It’s nice, quiet and paid for. You can feel safe there, just keep your phone handy.”

  I had complete control of my center by this time; my fear and anxiety were still front and center, but they were not part of my thinking by then. “What kind of sign do you think this is?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. I asked Quantico that a while ago, but I haven’t heard an answer yet. When I do; you will.

  “I’ve asked Hurst to drive you, and stick around. She can have dinner with you; sometimes it’s just good to have an agent at hand. We’ll keep you up to speed if and when anything develops.”

  “I appreciate the thought, Archie, but I don’t need babysitting...”

  He interrupted me, “I doubt you do; but I know what the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours are going to be like for her, and I want her well-fed going in, so take her to dinner downtown – Kansas City has no corner on great Missouri steak houses – and then keep your phone handy. Got it?”

  Dinner was quiet. The food was excellent. I picked at it, and Hurst ate with the appetite of a longshoreman. Afterwards, she left me at the elevator to my room. I went up, found my luggage had been delivered, along with Jan’s.

  I sat in the chair between the two beds that came with the room, and watched the night sky of St. Louis. I tried not to think about what Jan might be going through at that point. I knew from training and experience that our imagination of the worst often eclipsed the reality, leading to wasted energy and emotion.

  Instead, I tried to think of things I could do to help the Feds find her, bring her home to me. I remembered what I knew about my woman. I remembered that she is tougher and more resilient than most of the people I’d ever known, and I held on to that thought.

  And I promised. I promised myself that whoever was behind this was going to regret it.

  Intellectually I knew that this kind of thinking was also counter-productive, so I connected with my chi until finally, I just watched the lights of the city’s night sky until I fell asleep with the ache of wishing I could hold her one more time...