Madman on a Drum (Mac McKenzie #5)

“McKenzie will bring it to me. I don’t trust you, Bobby. Not for a second.”

“Then McKenzie will bring it to you. If you give him Victoria, he’ll give you the money. One million dollars.”

“I know how much it is.” The kidnapper paused again, then said, “I’ll call back.”

After he hung up, Bobby sought Honsa’s face. “What do you think?” he said.

“He and his partner are discussing it.”

“If they are,” the tech agent said, “they’re doing it on Interstate 94 heading east, toward Woodbury.”

“I’ll bet you a nickel they’re holding Victoria somewhere near the Badlands,” I said. “Maybe Dayton’s Bluff. Maybe the East Side.”

Honsa nodded.

“Will they agree to our terms?” Bobby said.

“Question is, what are we going to do if they don’t?” Honsa said.

It wasn’t for me to say, but I said it anyway. “Pay the money.”

Bobby nodded. “Any chance is better than no chance.”

“No.” Shelby was speaking from the step on the staircase where she had sat two days before, again holding the posts of the banister and peering through them. “We talked about this before, Bobby. We are not going to reward these people for hurting our child.”

“Shelby,” Bobby said. He moved to the foot of the staircase and looked up at her. She slowly shook her head. Her expression was something I had never seen before. Ever. It was determined yet frightened, perfectly calm yet also crazed. It was the expression of a woman who had never bet on anything in her life, who had suddenly, inexplicably wagered everything in her life on the turn of a single card.

“Shelby.” Bobby repeated the name like a prayer.

In that moment I recognized just how fragile they had become since Victoria had been taken. The wrong word spoken at the wrong time could have shattered both their lives. Yet the wrong word was not spoken; no words were exchanged. For at that moment, when all bad things were possible, the phone rang. Bobby answered it. The voice of the kidnapper said, “All right, we’ll do it the hard way. See if you like that better. Put McKenzie on the phone.”

He handed me the receiver and I said, “This is McKenzie.”

“I want you delivering the ransom,” the voice said. “That Bobby, he’s liable to do anything. But you—you ain’t gonna fuck around with the life of someone else’s kid, are you, McKenzie? You ain’t gonna try nothin’ heroic, are you?”

“Not me.”

“Fuckin’ right, not you. You got a cell phone, McKenzie?”

“Yes.”

“Give me the number.” I did. “Your phone better be charged, cuz if I lose you, McKenzie, I ain’t gonna be responsible for what happens next.”

“It’s charged.”

“You do what I say, McKenzie. You go where I say. If I see anyone following you, if I see a helicopter in the sky—I had better not see no fuckin’ helicopters.”

“I’m not an air traffic controller. I can’t control what’s in the air.”

“Just so you know. Anything goes wrong, bad things are gonna happen.”

“I understand.”

“I want you to get into your car and start drivin’, okay? Take the money and go for a ride.”

“Where?”

“Just drive. I’ll call later when I’m ready and tell you where I want you to go. Remember, I’ll be watching you.”

After he hung up, Honsa patted my shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just patted.

Harry was standing near the front door. He was holding two of the aluminum cases. I picked up the third and moved to join him.

“McKenzie,” Bobby said. He took hold of my arm and led me toward the door. “I haven’t even asked if you wanted to do this.”

“Are you asking now? Cuz I don’t, you know. I really don’t.”

“It should be me.”

“Yes, it should.”

“You’re the only one I trust to do this. Anyone else…”

“Don’t worry about it, Bobby. I’ll bring Victoria home.”

“I know you will.”

I glanced up at Shelby. She was standing on the staircase and looking down at me. “See you in a little bit,” I said.

She opened her mouth, but words did not come out. Instead, she nodded at me. I nodded back.

Harry helped carry the cases to my car and load them into the trunk. “Are you ready?” he said.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“Harry, if it all goes bad…”

“It won’t.”

“If it does, make sure I get the blame. Don’t let Bobby and Shelby… Don’t let them blame themselves. Don’t let them blame each other.”

“Nothing will go wrong.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said. “As I live and die, I hope you’re right.”

12