Swanson stood and took a few deep breaths, then put them both in facing chairs in the living room. He had holstered his Colt, but now took it out and pointed the barrel directly at the top of Ivi’s head. In conversations with Anneli and Brokk about their election opponents, Kyle had been told that the mayor spoke English. In fact, the mayor bragged about his ability to bring in foreign investment because he could negotiate face-to-face. “You speak English?”
Both of them nodded in the affirmative, and he put the gun away, went out and locked the door.
Swanson shrugged out of the backpack and opened a side pocket to withdraw a block of gray plastic, which he placed on a table. He rolled the mass with his palms in easy strokes until the malleable material was a long, thick string. Moving to the wife, he roped it around her neck, gently pulling her hair free, and then connected the awkward necklace at the front of her throat.
Ivi Pran tried to struggle, but Kyle whispered for her to be still. Her husband could not hear the promise that she would not be hurt. Her eyes remained wide in fright as the man in the black mask stood back and studied his work.
Satisfied, he went into the backpack again and found a pencil-like device that he held for them both to see. “Mr. Mayor, that material around your wife’s neck is a powerful plastic explosive called C-four,” he said, then wiggled the pencil. “This is a detonator. I am setting it to go off in exactly one hour.” He adjusted the detonator and showed the mayor a little screen that said 60:00, then pushed it into the plastic necklace on his wife.
“There is only one way to stop this from blowing up.” He moved to the mayor and knelt before him. “You will get in your car and drive to wherever you are keeping Jan Hollings, the American. You will bring her back here to me. Understand?”
Konstantin shook his head, thinking, If I can only get out, I will get the police.
Swanson knew what he was thinking, because it was natural. He walked slowly around the room and gathered the framed photos of children and adults. Christmas, beach scenes, new babies, teenagers and friends. “You should know that I am not the only one working tonight. Friends of mine are tracking all of these people even as we speak. Do you understand me?”
The mayor was horrified and jerked at his bindings. His children and grandchildren were being threatened.
“You have crossed a mark. You have begun toying with war, little man, and that is not allowed.” Swanson dumped all of the pictures at the feet of the man, and then he ruthlessly crushed the glass and frames beneath a thick black boot. “Not only is your wife at risk now, but if Hollings is not standing here within the hour, all of these other loved ones of yours will be murdered tonight or tomorrow. I will burn this house. We will kill your brothers, sisters, parents, friends and in-laws. Your line will come to an end. If you try to bring in the cops and the military, I will not be able to call it off. Still understand me? It will be wholesale slaughter. Just like you guys did to the Disappeareds.”
The mayor was pleading with his eyes. He flinched when Swanson jerked the duct tape off his mouth. “Wait, sir. Please,” he gasped.
Swanson casually reached for the detonator and started it, so the mayor could see the little numbers begin to count down… 60:00 became 59:59, then 59:58. “I suggest you leave now, Mayor. You will have to drive yourself because your guard outside is dead. Go, you fat bastard. Bring me my friend.”
Konstantin Pran drove as a man possessed, barely noticing other cars or people, pushing his old green Volvo hard as he retraced the route back to the town hall while counting seconds in his head. So much was at stake that nothing mattered but retrieving that woman spy from the basement cell. There was no time to call out the guard, or summon any other kind of help, because he believed in his soul that the madman back at the house would carry out his threat and not give it a second thought. Pran would worry about possible repercussions to his career later, but right now the only way to save his entire family was to do as he had been told.
When he reached the Raekoja Plats, light were shining from the spire of the Town Hall, which had been closed for the night. It had taken almost ten minutes to drive there and he looked at his watch in panic. Less than fifty minutes left. He stopped directly in front and leaped from the car with his chest pounding so hard he thought for a moment that he might be having a heart attack. That slowed him. Dying meant the deadline would be missed. He did not stop, but slowed and swallowed big bites of air as he went up the stairs. The place, so familiar to him, now seemed like an evil castle.
The double door was locked, which forced him to ring a bell and shout and pound and wave at the security camera to get the attention of the night watchman. No one else was in the entire plaza and the sounds he made stirred only sleeping pigeons. Seconds of waiting stretched to minutes. He is asleep! The watchman is asleep! He was about to leave and try to break through a window when a voice whined out from the intercom speaker on the wall.
“Who is it? The town hall is closed.” The voice was accusatory as the night watchman showed his authority.
“It’s Mayor Pran! Let me in immediately!” Konstantin demanded, sounding as mean as he could.
“Why?”
The mayor thundered, “Why? You don’t question me, you fool! Open up now or I will have you fired and arrested. I am on official business that is of no concern to the likes of you.”
There was a bit of silence before the man thought it over, then replied, “Yes, sir. Right away.” He moved slowly because of the way he was being treated. Reluctantly, he obeyed, and left his post.
Two more minutes were wasted for the mayor, who was huffing air and leaning against the wall while his feet moved in a nervous dance. The locks clicked and the door swung open. The night watchman, in a sloppy uniform, stood back as Konstantin Pran sailed past him. “You asshole,” the mayor said, and dashed for the marble stairs. Tick, tick, tick went his mental clock.
Kyle Swanson went to the woman and laid a hand on a shoulder. “Now that he is gone, ma’am, I can tell you not to worry about that thing around your neck. It is not a bomb, just some ordinary children’s clay, and there is no charge in the detonator. You are going to be fine, and your family is safe. I apologize for frightening you and damaging the pictures, but I had to scare your husband into doing what I wanted.”
He saw her close her eyes in relief. She murmured something impossible to understand from behind the tape.
“I have to leave you taped up for a while longer to be sure that you don’t scream or try to escape. You have no reason to trust me, but you can relax. He will be back soon, then I will leave. You will be fine. OK?”
Ivi Pran stared at him, then visibly eased her posture. It was impossible for her to fight against this man.
Kyle turned to the dining table, drawn by the aroma, and he gave the other rooms a quick search as he went. He rolled his mask up far enough to allow him to eat some chicken and potatoes while he waited, and it was delicious. He kept his big pistol on the table.
At the Town Hall, the guard in the basement was the same patrol officer as before and he once again snapped to attention when he recognized Mayor Pran. “Good evening, sir.”
“Good evening.” The mayor’s voice was a gravelly rumble in the echoing basement. “I have come to collect the prisoner.”
“Sir?”
“Open the door for me, Comrade Officer,” he said, falling back into the communist jargon. “I don’t have time to explain.”