The next day was his last day of surveillance. Carlton Waters, Malcolm Stark, and Jim Free were going to stay with him that night. He still had a few things to get for them in the morning, which got him to Fernanda's late. Ashley had already left for Tahoe with her friends, and the shift had changed. By sheer luck, he never saw the cops of the previous shift leave at noon, nor the new ones come in, all through the back door again. And when he left for the last time that night, regretfully, at ten o'clock, he had no idea that there was anyone in the house with her. He wasn't there to see them leave at midnight, and others arrive. In fact, he didn't see Fernanda at all that day, nor her children. He wondered if she was tired from entertaining the day before, or just busy. And as the kids were out of school for the summer, they didn't have to go anywhere, and he suspected they were enjoying their vacation and being lazy. He saw her at the windows in the day, and he had noticed that she had drawn her shades at night. He always felt lonely when he couldn't see her, and as he drove away for the last time, he knew just how much he was going to miss her. He already did. He hoped he'd see her again one day. He couldn't imagine what his life would be like now without her. It saddened him, almost as much as what they were about to do to her. He still felt sick at the thought of it. And worrying about it distracted him from any sense that she and the children were being protected. He didn't repeat it to Addison because he was completely unaware of it. Surveillance was unfamiliar to him.
Caring about her as he did, he finally forced himself to stop thinking about what it was going to do to her when his associates kidnapped one or all of her children. He couldn't allow himself to continue thinking of it, and forced his mind toward more agreeable subjects, as he drove away that night, and went back to the hotel, thinking of her. When he got there, Stark, Waters, and Free were already waiting for him and wanted to know where he'd been. They were hungry and wanted to go to dinner. He didn't want to admit to them how hard it had been for him to leave her, even if leaving her meant only driving away from a parking space on the street where she lived. He had never admitted to any of them how much he had come to respect and like her, nor how fond he had become of the children.
As soon as Peter got to the hotel, the four of them went out to dinner. They went to a taco place Peter knew and liked in the Mission. All four of them had been to their parole agents the day before, and as they were on two-week check-in status now, no one would realize they were gone until they were out of the country. Just as Addison had assured him, Peter in turn had assured them that Fernanda would pay the ransom quickly for her children. Presumably within a few days. The three men who would be executing the plan had no reason to disbelieve him. All they wanted out of this was their money. They didn't care about her or her kids, one way or the other. It made no difference to them who they took, or why, as long as they got the money. They had already been paid a hundred thousand each in cash. The balance was to be paid to all four of them out of the ransom. Peter had detailed instructions from Addison as to where she was to transfer the money. It was to be wired into five accounts that could not be traced, in the Cayman Islands, and from those accounts into two in Switzerland for Addison and Peter and three in Costa Rica for the others. The children were to be held until the money was wired and Waters was to warn her at the outset that if she called the police, they'd kill the children, although Peter did not intend to let that happen. Waters was to make the ransom demand, according to the instructions Peter had already given him.
There was no need for an honor system among the men. The three others still did not know Phillip Addison's identity, and if any of them squealed on the others, they would not only lose their share but be killed, and each of them knew it. The plan appeared to be failsafe. Peter was to leave his hotel the next morning, while the others took whatever kids they got to the house they had rented in Tahoe. He had already booked a motel room on Lombard under another name. The only contact between Peter and the other three men was to be when they had dinner the night before the kidnap, and slept in his hotel room. They had brought sleeping bags and put them on the floor, and Peter got up, dressed, and left when they did, separately, early the next morning. The van was gassed up and ready for them. They picked it up at the garage. They were not yet sure at exactly what time they would make their move. They were going to watch for a short while, and pick their moment while things were still quiet in the house. There was no set time schedule, and no hurry. Peter arrived at his motel on Lombard by the time they got to the garage to pick up the van. He still kept his other room so as not to arouse suspicion. Everything was set up. They had moved the golf bags with the machine guns out of the car into the van. There was rope and plenty of duct tape, and a startling amount of ammo. They shopped for groceries on the way to the garage, and had enough to keep them going for several days. They didn't expect it to last long. They weren't worried about feeding the children. Hopefully, from their point of view, they wouldn't have them long enough to worry much about it. They had bought peanut butter, jelly, and bread for the kids, and some milk. The rest of what they bought was for themselves, which included rum, tequila, a lot of beer, and canned and frozen food, since none of them liked to cook. They had never had to cook for themselves in prison.
It was the third day of cops and FBI agents in the house, when Fernanda called Jack Waterman early that morning and said that she and Sam had the flu and couldn't go to Napa for the day. She still wanted to talk to him about what was happening, but things were too crazy, and it still seemed too unreal. How could she explain the men camping out in her living room, sitting around the table with holsters in her kitchen? It almost made her feel foolish. Particularly if it turned out to be unnecessary. She was hoping that she'd never have to tell him about it. Jack said he was sorry they both had the flu, and offered to come by on his way to Napa, but she said they still felt too lousy, and she didn't want him to catch it.
After that, she tucked Sam into bed with her, and put on a movie. She had fed the four men breakfast by then, and she and Sam were cuddling, with his head on her shoulder, when she heard an unfamiliar sound downstairs. The alarm wasn't on, and didn't need to be with two policemen and two FBI agents protecting her. With all that trained protection and armed firepower at hand, the alarm seemed redundant, so she hadn't put it on the night before, or in fact since they'd been there. Ted had told her they could set it off accidentally with the movements of the men going in and out of the back door from time to time to check on things. It sounded as though something had fallen in the kitchen, a chair or something comparable. She didn't worry about it with four men downstairs, and lay there with Sam dozing on her shoulder. Neither of them was sleeping well at night, and sometimes it was easier dozing in the daytime, as Sam did now, in his mother's arms.
She heard muffled voices then, and footsteps on the stairs. She was just beginning to wonder what was going on and assumed they were coming upstairs to check on them, but didn't want to get up and disturb Sam, when three men in ski masks exploded through her bedroom door and stood at the foot of her bed, pointing M16 machine guns with silencers at them. As Sam saw them, his eyes flew open wide, and he stiffened in his mother's arms, as one of the men came toward them. Sam's eyes were huge with terror, as were Fernanda's, who was praying the men wouldn't shoot them. Even to her untrained eye, she knew they were carrying machine guns.