Chapter 28: Desperate Attempts

SOMETIME BEFORE DAWN, my phone jangled me awake and I fumbled to answer it. What I heard didn’t make sense.

“ ... see her again ... laptop and back-ups ... Wait for our call...” None of it made sense. Then...

“Dag, it’s Riley. I’m so sorry.” Then the line was dead.

Riley? She was asleep in the living room on the sofa. I must have moved to the bedroom sometime in the middle of the night because I distinctly remember holding her and her falling asleep. I covered her up.

I got up and pulled on a robe. What time was it? 5:30 a.m.? I wandered into the living room, expecting to see Riley stretched out on the sofa.

It was all neat and clean. No blanket. No pillow. Even my chair was upright and the afghan that I keep there was folded neatly on the side table.

This was surreal. There was no sign that Riley had been at my house at all. What happened to the Chinese food containers that we had eaten from? I went to the kitchen and checked the garbage, but it was empty with a new bag in the garbage pail.

I automatically put water on to boil. I needed a cup of coffee.

No. Wait a minute. I was on the program. I needed a new heart.

I felt my chest. It felt fine. Maybe I just imagined it all.

How much? Simon? Brenda? Angel?

Riley?

I felt suddenly alone and afraid. I began to worry. Maybe I was dead. I went back to the bedroom and looked at my bed to see if I was still in it. The bedclothes were rumpled where I’d just gotten out of it. Maizie looked up at me from her basket beside the bed and then jumped up and stretched. She padded over to me and snuffled against my leg.

No, I wasn’t dead. I wouldn’t have a wet cold nose pressed against my leg if I was dead. If I was dead, a little mutt wouldn’t be running to the door to be taken out.

I pulled on trousers and a jacket and grabbed my umbrella before taking Maizie out into the early morning rain. Something just wasn’t right.

After we had walked, I fixed breakfast, showered, and dressed for the office. Program or no program, I was stopping at Tovoni’s this morning. I needed a cup of coffee. They open at 7:00 even on Saturday, so Maizie and I put on our jackets and headed out. I figured that by the time I got to the office my head would be clear and I’d be able to sort out whatever was happening.

Tovoni’s was closed.

Damn.

I looked at my watch again. 7:15. I looked at the hours on the door. Monday-Friday 7:00 a.m.–9:00 p.m. Saturday 7:00 a.m.-7:00 p.m. Closed Sundays. I glanced down at the headlines on the newspaper in the paper box by the door. “Seattle moves to forefront in battle to save lives.” “Loyalists seize Iraqi TV station.”

I stared at the paper for several minutes trying to figure out what was out of place. The huge words at the top of the newspaper finally sank in—Sunday Edition.

When did it become Sunday? Friday night Riley and I had talked late into the night and she fell asleep crying in my arms. Now it was Sunday morning? Did I sleep through all of Saturday? How could that be?

Maizie was getting impatient so we continued on toward the office.

“Well, girl, I’m not supposed to have coffee anyway,” I said as we walked along. “Would you let me know what happened yesterday?”

At the office I toweled Maizie off and sat down at my desk while she curled up in her bed by the window. I opened my computer and tried to rebuild what I knew was planned for Saturday to try to jog my memory. What were my plans?

“Eat and sleep. That’s all you have to do, isn’t it girl?” I said casually. “And poop.”

Okay. That was first. Maizie goes with Mrs. Prior on Saturday to get her grooming done. I looked over at the slightly soggy pink bow attached to her collar. She had been to the groomer. Check.

I usually play cards in the afternoon at the Swedish American Center. It would be easy enough to check with a friend about that, but I wasn’t going to call anyone at 8:00 on Sunday morning.

And Riley. Riley hadn’t intended to spend the night Friday, but fell asleep on my sofa. She was going to take me to the SA Center Saturday afternoon and then go to a party Saturday night with Cinnamon and some of the girls at the condo. I wasn’t enthused about that, but Riley insisted that it would be okay. She had become friends with Cinnamon, and even though my identity was out, Riley was still playing at being my girlfriend. The condo was closed for a “girls’ night” holiday party. I flipped open my phone and pressed her speed-dial number. The phone rolled immediately over to voicemail. Either the phone was off, or she was on it.

I went to my window and stared out at the Elliott Bay. God, I love that view. On a clear day I can see Mount Rainier from here. Today wasn’t clear. But I could imagine where its dominant shape would rise, just over the stadiums down there, if it were clear.

A ferry left the terminal, and traffic was beginning to pick up. I turned my eyes uphill toward the Market and looked at some of the newer high-rise apartments and condos between my office and the Harbor Steps.

It’s funny. I had never noticed before that I could see the building where the party condo occupied the top floor. Of course not. Why would I notice it before I’d actually been there? Nonetheless, I went to my desk and got out a pair of binoculars from the drawer. Usually I use them to watch for orcas and dolphins in the Sound. This time I trained them on the top of that building.

I didn’t recognize the condo at first. The roof seemed bare of any gardens that I could see. Then I realized that there was a lower roof with glass doors leading inside. On this rooftop deck, there were, indeed, a few plantings, and I assumed if I had a better angle I’d be able to see the hot tub. That could have made for some interesting nighttime viewing, I thought.

My curiosity sated, I was about to lower the glasses when I saw a flash of movement. I refocused in time to see a woman run to the edge of the roof and look over. A huge block of a man grabbed her from behind and dragged her back from the edge. She fought him, but the fellow swung and connected with her face. I watched in horror as I first thought her head had flown off the building and then realized that the floating object was a wig.

I fell back into my chair gasping for breath as if I’d been the one struck. Riley was in trouble. My head was too fuzzy this morning. I couldn’t work out why she would be at the condo in the morning. I couldn’t imagine who had called me. And Riley had said what? She was sorry?

The phone rang, moving me into action. It wasn’t a dream. What did they want, and who besides the refrigerator man, Oksamma, was holding her?

“Do you have the disks?” the voice demanded. I already had a good idea who it was, even though he was trying to disguise his voice. I had the presence of mind to snatch a press-on mic and push the record button on my laptop.

“What disks?” I asked. “I didn’t understand anything you said this morning. You woke me up.”

“Well, get this straight then,” he said. “I want Simon Barnett’s computer and the backup disks. You get them to me and I’ll give you back your bald little freak.” God, I hoped Riley wasn’t in hearing distance. I would wring that coward’s scrawny neck with my bare hands. I kept my voice under control as I answered.

“None of that will do you any good, Bradley,” I said. “The money is all gone.”

“All what money?” Bradley dropped all pretense of disguising his voice.

“All the money,” I said. “All the BKL assets were liquidated over the weekend. By tomorrow morning there won’t be anything left. Just give up and turn yourself in.”

“Who cares about BKL? It was nothing,” he dug in. “Simon is trying to pin all his dirty little tricks on me and I’m not going to stand for it.”

“Your thug already killed Simon. Didn’t he tell you?”

“You think he’s mine? You’re some hotshot dick. I don’t want to be next, understand? I need that computer. Either you bring it, or your little bald-headed girlfriend suffers a permanent accident. She just couldn’t live looking like such a goddam freak. It’s that simple.” That’s twice, Bradley. I looked through my binoculars at the condo garden. A ladder led from the rooftop down to the patio. The boxy shape of a roof-access stair enclosure poked up from the roof. I wondered how far I would have to climb to get to Bradley. He was really pissing me off.

“Fine Bradley. Don’t hurt her. Where do you want me to bring the laptop?” I didn’t want to let him know that I knew where Riley was held. Bradley might not be there. There was a pause. I had the feeling that he hadn’t prepared this very well. He was improvising.

“Wrap it in plastic and take it to the market. Slip it under the haddock at the fish stall—the one with the “Low Flying Fish” sign. Have it there in one hour. I’ll have my contact pick it up.”

“It will be there,” I said. “How do I know Riley is okay?” I heard him yell at Riley and the phone was pushed close enough to her that she could speak.

“Dag,” she gasped. “Don’t give them anything. Don’t give them the disks.” The phone was snatched away and I heard a smack and cry.

“Loyal bitch,” Bradley said. “If that computer and the backup disks aren’t at the fish market in sixty minutes, she’ll be the one on ice.” The phone went dead. I looked at the recent calls list and saved the number. I might need it. What was important now was that I act quickly.

I dialed Jordan’s number and got his answering machine. I told him Riley was at the condo and played my recording of the phone conversation into the open receiver onto Jordan’s answering machine. Then I hung up.

I opened the vault and pulled out Simon’s computer and the two copies I had made of the hard drive. There wasn’t enough time to make another backup, but it was pretty well worthless now anyway. Just for good measure, I removed the jump-drive and left it in the vault. There is always bubble-wrap in the office from drives that have been delivered. I taped a makeshift bag around the laptop and the two disk drives, and headed toward Pike Place Market. I went in through the lower parking garage and took the elevator up seven floors to the skybridge across to the Market. As soon as I was out of the concrete structure I opened my cell phone and tried Jordan again. He was either out of range or couldn’t get to his phone.

I came across the sky-bridge directly toward the fish market, a Seattle landmark where they throw the fish when the workers fill people’s orders. I checked my watch. It was close to 9:30—twenty-five minutes since I got Bradley’s call. I was panting. The merchants had just dumped a fresh load of crushed ice in the bins that would be filled with fish by 10:00. As they moved to the back of the market to wheel out the racks of fish, I frantically dug in the ice at the near corner and shoved the computer under it. I really didn’t care if anyone saw me doing it. Bradley hadn’t said to be subtle, and had chosen a ridiculously public place to stow his precious goods. As long as no one dug it out before he got there, I really didn’t care.

I retraced my footsteps to the stairway down a level in the market. This quiet area had less traffic, and if Bradley or Oksamma was on his way, I didn’t want to run into him. I surfaced at the north end of the Market on Western and headed for the condo. It was nearly 10:00 on Sunday morning. I was betting that there was no one but the two kidnappers with Riley at the condo. I entered through the garage, practically collapsing from lack of breath. My heart was thudding in my chest like it would burst at any moment. I didn’t have time for that. I fumbled for my pills and swallowed two, then opened my eyes and focused on the surroundings. The standard elevator was where I remembered, but I looked further and found a loading dock with access to a service elevator. It was key-locked it took a few minutes to pick it with my pocket knife. I entered and jammed my finger onto the button for the next to top floor. I didn’t want to take the chance of having the doors open only to be staring directly into the face of the Refrigerator. I was going to have to climb the last two flights to the roof.