Well, I thought, Volont sure is a lot more concerned about his weapons than he is about Nancy. Probably logical too. She was one person. A load of weapons, the size of which I was beginning to comprehend, could kill hundreds.
‘‘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 was 0724.
‘‘Hello…’’
‘‘Jesus Christ, where the hell have you been?’’ It was Nancy.
‘‘Nancy, listen carefully…’’
‘‘Don’t you ever do that to me again, damn you, Houseman. I’m gonna get fucking killed up here.’’
‘‘Where are you?’’
‘‘Fairmont fucking Minnesota!’’
‘‘At a Travel King?’’
She stopped in her tracks. ‘‘What?’’ At least she stopped shouting.
‘‘You’re at a Travel King, aren’t you?’’
‘‘Yes… How did you know that?’’
‘‘Because the man you think is trying to kill you just called me and told me where you were.’’
‘‘Shit. I thought I lost him.’’ Her voice went up an octave, and began to shake. ‘‘You gotta help meeee, he’s gonna kill meeee…’’
‘‘No, he’s not, Nancy. That’s what he told me.’’ Maybe a white lie.
‘‘What?’’
‘‘He’s not going to kill you.’’
‘‘Oh, yeah,’’ came the tremulous reply. ‘‘I’ll just bet.’’
‘‘Give me your number.’’
‘‘It says you can’t call in on this telephone.’’
Shit. ‘‘Okay, just don’t hang up, and listen to me. I’m going to call my office on my walkie-talkie here. You listen to it, but feel free to interrupt anytime, ’cause I’ll keep the phone right at my ear, okay?’’
I took my portable out of the recharger that sat on top of the microwave, and called in.
‘‘Go ahead, Three.’’
‘‘Contact Fairmont, Minnesota, ten-thirty-three, tell them Nancy Mitchell is at the Travel King, at the pay phone, and to get officers there immediately.’’
‘‘Ten-four…’’
‘‘Do it on teletype. No radio. You got that?’’
‘‘Ten-four, Three.’’
‘‘There,’’ I said to Nancy. ‘‘Just stay put.’’
I could hear her take a deep breath. ‘‘Yeah. Yeah, I’ll, all right, yeah, I’ll stay here…’’
She talked to herself like that for about forty-five seconds. Then I heard sirens in the background.
‘‘They’re coming now,’’ she said.
‘‘Stay on the line,’’ I said, ‘‘and have one of them talk to me.’’
I picked up my walkie-talkie and called the office. I had them make immediate radio contact with Fairmont PD and get me the name of the responding officer. They did, just as he came on the phone.
‘‘Who is this?’’ he asked.
‘‘This is Deputy Houseman in Nation County, Iowa. Who is this?’’
He told me. It matched.
So by 0800 on that bright Tuesday morning, I was up, wired, worried, and getting hungry. I had coffee and started frozen fat-free waffles in the toaster, while the office contacted Hester, George, and Volont.
Just as the waffles came up out of the toaster, blackened but at least hot, the phone rang. I figured it was either Hester or Volont.
‘‘Hello.’’
‘‘You’re so predictable.’’ It was Gabriel.
‘‘I can’t be original this early,’’ I said.
‘‘I’ll bet you’re old and fat too,’’ he said.
Well, nothing hurts like the truth, but I’m hard to bait before noon. ‘‘You’ve been peeking,’’ I said.
There was a pause, for about two beats. ‘‘Let’s not waste time in banter,’’ he said.
‘‘Fine.’’
‘‘Find a way to be happy with those idiots you’ve already got.’’
‘‘Like who?’’
‘‘You know who. Wittman. Borcherding. Stritch. They’re the ones you want, really, and they will satisfy the public and the Zionists.’’