47
Wilson — Boston, MA
Once back at Fielder amp; Company, Wilson told Anne that he didn’t want to see or talk to anyone except Hap Greene. Then he took the leather wing chair from the head of the gray stone table and pushed it to the wall of windows where he sat down and stared out over the Charles River. Five minutes later, Hap entered the office without knocking. He closed the door behind him and walked to the gray stone table.
Wilson remained adrift in thought, trying to make up his mind about which of Wayland Tate’s revelations were true and which were not.
“Swatling, Malouf, and Emerson were in a room down the hall listening to everything. Someone was patched in by phone, probably Kamin,” Hap finally said. “They met briefly with Tate afterwards, but not long enough for us to break their nullifiers.”
“Surprise, surprise,” Wilson said sarcastically as he turned around.
Hap stepped to the wall of windows and stood next to Wilson. “We need some clarity, Wilson. And we need it soon.”
Wilson didn’t respond, but of course Hap was right.
“For whatever it’s worth,” Hap said, “No amount of intelligence or data mining would have uncovered this scheme. Nothing is what it seems. Manipulation is a way of life for these people. Every word has multiple meanings, every action points to a range of possible outcomes. And everything could change in an instant.”
Wilson held his silence. Manipulation and contingency.
“When are you going to talk to Emerson?” Hap asked.
Wilson didn’t respond.
“The sooner the better, Wilson. Whether it’s Hearst or Tate or someone else in the partnership who’s holding Emily, they won’t give you much time to convince them that you’re cooperating.”
Just then Anne’s voice came over the telephone speaker, “Wilson, I know you didn’t want to be interrupted, but Emily Klein is on line one.”
Wilson moved immediately to the workstation. Before he pushed the button with the blinking red light, he looked back at Hap.
Hap was standing a few feet behind him nodding his head. “We’re ready.”
Emily sat fretfully in the straight-backed wooden chair listening carefully to the sounds around her while she waited for Wilson to come on the line. She was still blindfolded with her hands and legs strapped to the chair, but the tape over her mouth and the heavy earphones had been removed. The same woman who’d taken her to the bathroom and fed her vegetable soup and crackers a few hours earlier was once again holding a phone to her ear and mouth.
“Emily!” Wilson said as he pushed the button.
She could hear the emotion in his voice. “I only have a few seconds. I’m on a seesaw with my emotions but I’m fine. They let me call my parents to tell…”
There was a click on the line and the phone was taken away from her head. Within seconds, the earphones were replaced. The automated voice said, “Do you want anything to eat or drink?”
“No, thank you,” Emily said, shaking her head from side to side, feeling jittery and uncertain. But she’d done everything she could for the moment. With any luck, it would be enough. New tape was placed over her mouth.
“Emily? Emily?” Wilson said into the phone, but he knew she was already gone.
“That’s all for now, Mr. Fielder.” It was the same computerized voice from before. “Remove yourself from our affairs and you’ll have her back.”
The line went dead and Wilson hung up the phone, racking his brain to figure out what she meant by “I’m on a seesaw with my emotions.”
Hap was already on a cell phone to his people, listening to the replay. “What’s she trying to tell us with on a seesaw,” Hap asked, looking at Wilson.
“I have no idea,” Wilson said, pushing back the strands of black hair that had fallen onto his forehead. “Is it a name? A place? Is she trying to tell us she’s by the sea? God, I have no idea.”
“We’ll track down and analyze the call to her parents. Hopefully, it will give us more to go on. In the meantime, I suggest you meet with Carter Emerson. We’ll be monitoring everything.”
After Hap left the office, Wilson called Carter.
“I’ve been waiting for your call, Wilson,” Carter said with an emotionless voice after his assistant put Wilson through to his office.
The realist in Wilson had known for some time that Carter was intimately involved, but his innocent wisdom still didn’t fully comprehend why Carter hadn’t confided in him. Carter had been withholding the whole truth from him for reasons only his father and Carter knew. “How could you do this to me and Emily?”
“I know how you must feel.”
“You have no fucking idea how I feel!”
“It’s time to talk,” Carter said.
“So you can tell me more lies?”
“I’m prepared to explain everything. I will be home in an hour. Elizabeth is in Montreal visiting friends. Your man Hap already knows about it. The house will be ours.”
“You sure about that?”
“Hap’s people already sterilized the place and I’m sure they’ll have a van outside. Bring your nullifiers, if you like. See you in an hour.”
Wilson stayed at the office for another thirty minutes, waiting until Hap returned with word on Emily’s phone call to her parents. When Hap entered the office, he set the handheld recorder he was carrying in his hand on the gray stone table. “They must have placed calls tying up the line to make sure she only got the answering service,” Hap said.
“How did you get this?”
“Don’t ask. Emily’s parents remain unaware of her kidnapping,” Hap said. He pushed the play button on the recorder. Emily’s voice seemed enthusiastic and upbeat:
Mom and Dad, it’s me. Sorry I missed you. Just wanted you to know that we’re back. We had a glorious time. When we arrived by sea at the San Marco port and I saw the Campanile d’Oro and the Palazzo Ducale, I started crying because it was so wonderfully beautiful. And where we stayed was only minutes from San Marco. Never fear, I’ll tell you all about it when we visit you next week. I love you.
They listened to it two more times before Wilson said, “That’s not the right name. There’s the Cap-d’ Oro and the Campanile, but no Campanile d’ Oro. She’s definitely trying to tell us something. It’s got to be the Oro.” Wilson looked up at Hap, who was standing on the other side of the table.
“The ‘sea’ and the ‘saw’ are there again. What about the word ‘port’?” Hap said.
“Seesaw and Oro. It’s got to be Teterboro Airport in New Jersey,” Wilson exclaimed as he jumped to his feet.
Hap nodded with a glint of realization. “We have a group of decoding experts working on possible interpretations right now. Teterboro will go to the top of their list, but they’ll want to know if anything else seems strange or out of character, besides the misnaming?”
“She didn’t cry when she saw San Marco Square; she kissed me in front of everybody on the water-taxi and then laughed. And, it’s unlike her to overstate things like wonderfully beautiful.”
“Good. We’ll be working on it while you’re at Carter’s. Another team will be jamming and recording your conversation from the street. They can be inside within ten seconds if you need them. Make sure Emerson knows that.”
Wilson nodded to the one person outside Emily he still trusted, and then he left for Carter’s house.
48
Carter — Cambridge, MA
The stately Victorian home, only a few blocks away from Brattle House, was originally built in the late 1880s for one of Harvard’s presidents. Wilson struck the front door three times using the brass knocker. Carter opened the imposing walnut door and ushered Wilson into his eclectic den where a fire was flickering beneath an ornate Italian mantle. Wilson chose the old brown leather couch while Carter took one of the tapestry wing chairs. Neither one of them said a word. Wilson had no intention of making this easy for Carter, so he waited.