The Trojan boy

'So they could be any nationality.'

'I suppose so.'

'Why Chicago?' asked Kathleen. 'Wouldn't it have been more sensible to use a city on the East Coast?'

'My guess is that they are taking no chances. Chicago is in the middle. That gives them options to move north, south, east or west with equal predictability.'

They stopped talking to allow a stewardess to ask them if they wanted anything to drink. Both said no.

‘I wish we were on the way back,' said Kathleen ruefully as the captain made a slight course correction.

Avedissian smiled. 'Do you know what I wish?' he said. 'I wish that we. really were Dr and Mrs Farmer travelling with our son David for a holiday in the States.' He put his head back on the seat cushion and closed his eyes. He was pleased to feel Kathleen take his hand and squeeze it.

The flight landed on time in Chicago and they were met by a woman who took charge of David. She wished them well before disappearing into the throng on the main concourse. It happened so quickly that Kathleen was visibly surprised. She looked wistfully after the child as he vanished among the arms and legs of the airport crowd.

'No problem with goodbyes,' said Avedissian.

‘I suppose not,' said Kathleen.

They took a yellow cab to their hotel and saw immediately why it had been chosen. It was enormous. Kathleen had to strain her head back to look up at the huge tower block. 'Identical rooms for identical people,' she said.

The edge of excitement that had been so much in evidence at the start of their journey had been dulled by the long flight and the knowledge that they were now in for another period of waiting. Their instructions, given by Bryant before they had left Belfast for London Heathrow, were that one of them was to stay in the hotel at all times. The other had to check back at intervals of no longer than two hours.

'Hungry?' asked Avedissian when they had finished unpacking what little belongings they had.

'Just tired,’ replied Kathleen.

'I want to stretch my legs,’ said Avedissian.

'I shan't go out,’ she assured him.

Kathleen was fast asleep when Avedissian returned from a brief walk in the streets around the hotel; he had enjoyed the exercise but had found the humidity oppressive and was glad to return to the air-conditioned comfort of the room. He tried to make as little noise as possible in taking a shower.

There was no message for them throughout the following day and they grew nervous with the waiting. Each had been unwilling to leave the other so they had spent almost the entire day talking in their room. It had not been unpleasant but always, at the back of their minds, they had known that they were waiting for something to happen and the seeds of frustration had been sown.

At seven in the evening Kathleen had just finished saying, 'They might keep us a bit better informed,’ when the phone rang and their excitement grew. Avedissian answered. It was Paul Jarvis.

'Meet me in the bar of the Regency Hotel at seven-thirty,’ said Jarvis. 'It's three blocks west of where you are.'

An American woman in her thirties was holding court in the bar of the Regency when Avedissian and Kathleen arrived. Her spreading buttocks slid around the bar stool as she emphasised every comment with extravagant hand gestures.

Her audience, mainly older men, were hanging on every word, not that what she had to say was important; it wasn't, just loud, but Avedissian could see that she was flirting with each of them in turn.

A slightly built man in his early forties sat next to her and, at intervals, the woman would take a cigarette from the pack on the bar in front of her and have it lit by him, then she would turn away. The long-suffering husband, thought Avedissian.

Avedissian ordered gin and tonic for Kathleen and himself and five minutes later they were joined by Paul Jarvis.

Avedissian had deliberately picked a table well away from the crowd so that they could talk without being overheard. 'Does the team have the boy?' he asked.

'Not yet,’ replied Jarvis.

'But you know where he is?'

'Not exactly.'

'But…'

'I understand from Bryant that the plan is to take the boy from the IRA after the exchange has taken place. He thinks it will be easier than dealing, with both the kidnappers and the Irish at the same time. There's also the question of NORAID. We don't know what kind of a presence they are going to put up. There's a lot of money involved.'

'What do you want us to do?' asked Avedissian.

'First I've to give you these.' Jarvis handed Avedissian a sealed envelope and said that it contained airline tickets for the two of them and the boy. Avedissian put them safely away in an inside pocket.

'What about the kidnappers?' asked Avedissian. 'Do you know who they are?'

'Every lead has petered out into nothing as if a whole bunch of red herrings had been prepared in advance. Whoever they are, they are certainly no amateurs. They are almost too good to be true.'

'What about the Irish?' asked Avedissian.

That's our trump card,’ replied Jarvis. 'We know who their contact man is and we know where he is. If we stick with him he is going to lead us to the child. His name is Innes and he is staying at the Stamford.'

'How did you get on to him?'

'Intelligence from Bryant in London.'

'Then you have been in contact with London?'

'Of course,' said Jarvis. 'Nothing is done without Bryant's say so.' He turned to Kathleen and asked, 'Have you ever heard of this man Innes?'

Kathleen nodded. 'Malcolm Innes. They call him the Tally Man. He looks as if he wouldn't harm a fly, but he's dangerous.'

'Can you describe him?'

Kathleen gave Jarvis a description.

‘That's the man all right,' agreed Jarvis. 'Is there anything else you can tell us about him?'

Kathleen shook her head and said not.

'Are there any more IRA here?' asked Avedissian.

'Not overtly,' said Jarvis with plain meaning.

'But you think there might be?'

'What do you think?' said Jarvis.

Avedissian nodded then asked, 'Has Innes been contacted by the kidnappers yet?'

'Yes, that's why I called you. He was contacted by phone this afternoon and told to attend a baseball game this evening.'

Then the exchange could take place tonight?' said Kathleen.

'I don't think so,' replied Jarvis. There hasn't been time to finalise the ransom details. It's my guess that NORAID or the Irish have asked to see the goods before they do business.'

'So the child could be at the stadium?'

'Perhaps, or maybe it is just being used as a crowded meeting place. Innes may be taken somewhere else after contact is made.'

'Are you going to be there?' asked Kathleen.

'We all are,' said Jarvis. 'We know where Innes will be sitting but we don't know who will be with him. I want you, Miss O'Neill, to have a look at the faces round about. Tell me if you recognise any of them.'

Kathleen nodded and Avedissian asked what he was supposed to do.

'Just be on hand,' replied Jarvis.

Under instruction from the NORAID man, Roker, not to do anything without keeping NORAID informed, Malcolm Innes had gone to a pay-phone in the street and called the number that he had been given. He told Roker of the contact that had been made and gave him details of his seat ticket for the game.

'Nothing else?' asked Roker.

'Nothing,’ confirmed Innes.

It was true when he made the call but, as he left the hotel to attend the game, a bellboy handed him a pair of binoculars and an envelope. Innes opened it in the cab. It contained a piece of white card with a code on it. It said 'Section J, Seat L-17'. He examined his own ticket and saw that it was in a different part of the stadium. So that was it, he would be allowed to see the boy across the stadium using binoculars.