Innocent Hostage (3 page)

“I don’t know.” Breck looked down at his feet.

To his surprise, Ingrid Rowland approached him and patted his arm as if she were petting a piranha. “He talks about you all the time, Mr. Marchant. He’ll head straight for you.”

Breck raised his head and stared at her. He felt like a condemned man who’d been given a reprieve. “He talks about me?”

She nodded, the long silver-blonde hair swaying around. “Like I said before, he talks about the places he goes with you…uh…”

“You mean he talks about the places we plan on going till Tania puts a stop to it,” Breck said bitterly.

The officer manning the phones interrupted them. “Kerr’s just phoned Central and they’ve patched him through.”

Tanner shot over to the camera. “Damn. He’s still holding the rifle in the crook of his arm. Okay, time to parlay.” He sat down with the phone, eyes narrowed, staring at the screen. Breck presumed he was trying to evaluate Marty Kerr’s mood.

“That you, Marty? I’m Jack Tanner and you’ll be talking to me today. So here’s my number. Any time you—”

He was interrupted by some angry quacking on the other end of the phone. Breck distinctly heard the words “bloody Marchant” and “fucking kid” before he mentally closed it out. He had to keep calm and not worry about Kerr’s outbursts if he was to help Kit. Heaven knows, he’d heard them often enough. Cursing was Marty’s preferred method of communication. He glanced at Ingrid and she gave him an encouraging nod.

“Sorry, Marty. No can do.” Somehow Tanner managed to sound disinterested, brisk and cooperative all at once. “He’ll be back here soon and he may talk to you then. But if he doesn’t want to, I can’t force him to. He’d probably talk to Kit. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

To Breck’s amazement, Tanner clicked off the phone. On the operations Breck had been involved with, he’d never heard a negotiator behave like this.

Ms. Rowland voiced Breck’s fears. “B-but what if he gets really angry now and hurts Kit and—”

Tanner shook his head. “He’s after Marchant. The boy is the means to an end.”

Breck prayed Tanner was right.

He was. Ten minutes later Marty rang back asking for Breck. This time Tanner gestured Breck over to the speaker-phone. The conversation was relayed throughout the caravan, through the speakers on the AOS team’s helmets, and at Central. Breck cringed inwardly. The idea of the whole world knowing about his problems was embarrassing. But he had to swallow the embarrassment and save Kit.

“Kerr?” Breck inquired.

He received back a string of invective. Following Jack Tanner’s instructions, Breck asked, “What can I do for you, Marty?”

“Send Tania back, you sonofabitch. I know she’s with you. Tell here to get back here now or I’ll—”

“Gotcha,” Breck jumped in before Kit got to hear what was going to happen to him. His heart ached for the blameless little boy he’d thought was living a normal life with reasonable parents. If he and Kit survived today he’d take the boy home, and no matter how bad a parent he was, he and Kit would muddle through. To hell with the Family Court and to hell with Tania. What a bloody fool he was. He should have known better than to trust Tania in the first place.
Concentrate, Marchant, concentrate on the job in hand
, he told himself.
There’ll be no future for you and Kit if you don’t get this right.
“I’ll try to—” he began to say, but Tanner leaned over and cut the phone off.

“Don’t promise him what we can’t give him, Marchant. Why does he think Tania’s with you?”

Breck shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”

Baz’s voice boomed through the speakers. “At least that answers one question. Tania’s not there so that’s one less person to worry about on site.”

Breck didn’t give a damn about Tania. Tania had always been able to take care of herself. And he was beginning to wonder if she hadn’t set this scene up.

“What about the other two children?” Ingrid Rowland asked.

Breck jolted. He’d forgotten Pixie and Bob, the other two kids in the Kerr family. Pixie was Marty’s daughter from a previous relationship, and Tania and Marty’s son Bob was barely eighteen months old. Breck knew very little about them, only what Kit had told him.

“If Tania left, wouldn’t she take the kids with her?” Jack Tanner asked.

“I’m not sure,” Breck said.

“Oh, she’d take Pixie and Bob all right,” Ingrid Rowland said grimly. A trickle of sweat dribbled down the side of her face to disappear inside her collar.

Breck sympathized. The back of his shirt was saturated with nervous sweat even though the aircon kept an even temperature inside the trailer van.

“Marchant. He’s back again.” Tanner was gesticulating over Ingrid Rowland’s head.

Breck spun around in his chair. On the screen he saw Marty with his cell phone to his ear. His voice rang through the speakers. “Put Marchant on. Must be frantic by now about his poofy little boy.”

“He’s here,” Tanner replied. “Just a moment.” He flicked the hold button and handed the phone to Breck. “Find out what he really wants. Maybe it’s not about Tania at all. Maybe it’s something else. Usually I’d say we spin it out, but this has gone on too long.”

Everyone inside the van looked at Kit, sitting beside Kerr. His head drooped in the spring sunlight, and the grimy hand plucking at grass-blades trembled.

Breck flicked the switch. “I’m here, Kerr. What can I do for you?”

“Get Tania on the phone.”

“She’s not here. She’s never been here. If she’s disappeared, then it’s nothing to do with me.”

“She’s with you all right. She said that even if you were a nosy, sanctimonious ponce, at least you earned good money. The bitch. Just because I lost my job. I know she ran to you.”

“No, she didn’t because she knows damn well I’d never have her back at any price. Use your brains, Kerr,” Breck replied, deviating from Tanner’s set piece. “Since our divorce, the woman has played me for money to keep you lot in luxuries. There’s no way she’d get past my front door.”

It was quiet while Kerr regrouped, then “Get me another beer,” they heard him say in an aside to Kit.

“How many does that make?” Tanner asked the video technician.

“Five. Starting to get to him.”

“Yeah,” Tanner agreed.

On the screen they watched Kit trot in through the open front door, heading for the kitchen at the back of the house.

Baz’s disembodied voice spoke one word. “
Now
.”

Breck leapt to his feet. Inside the trailer, all eyes were glued on the screen. Everyone watched as three members of Unit Four fanned out and approached the house from the rear. Behind them, the remaining members crouched at the ready. Then in a rush, Baz raced forwards and pulled Kit to safety. The Unit melted away into the trees at the rear of the property. Marty Kerr neither saw nor heard any of it as he chugged down the last swallows of his beer.

“Oh, God.” Breck thunked down on to a seat and closed his eyes. Relief thundered through his head. From a distance he heard Baz calling, “You there, Breck? Kit’s asking for you. Get over here.”

Breck peered out the door of the trailer and saw Baz with Kit perched on his shoulders, standing beneath the spreading branches of the sycamore tree. As he stumbled outside, he could hear Jack Tanner talking to Marty Kerr. “Marty? We spoke before. This is Tanner here. We’ve got Kit so—”

Breck didn’t hear the rest. He raced across a couple of lawns and hurtled over someone’s garden to get to Kit.

Chapter Three

As Breck clutched his son to his chest, he wondered how things had come to this. Although Kit had his head buried in Breck’s shoulder, he was amazingly composed for a little boy who’d just been held hostage by his stepfather. No tears. Breck wasn’t sure if the boy realized how precarious his situation had been until he whispered, “Daddy, was Marty going to kill me?”

Breck gulped and fumbled for a reply.

“Of course not, Kit,” Ms. Rowland’s composed voice responded from beside them. “He’s angry at everyone because he lost his job, so he’s trying to get back at the world.”

Breck gazed at her with gratitude. He doubted Kit understood her explanation, but her calmness was what the boy needed. She was one hell of a woman. “Thank you,” he mouthed over Kit’s head.

She nodded in acknowledgment.

“Can I go home with you now, Daddy?” Kit asked.

Breck hated the way his son’s voice quavered over such an ordinary question. Between them, he and Tania had made Kit hesitant and fragile. And Breck knew that of the two of them, he was more to blame. If anyone should understand the value of a secure childhood, it was he. To think he had once vowed to himself that no child of his would endure what he had lived through.

Now he must make it up to Kit. He’d take his son home and love him, even if he wasn’t an adequate parent, and even if his cramped apartment didn’t have a front lawn. Somehow he’d dig deep and give Kit the secure, loving childhood he’d never had.

He coughed to clear his throat. “Yes, of course. We’ll be together from now on.”

Kit’s solemn grey eyes surveyed him, and then a tiny smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. He quenched it quickly and dipped his head.

Breck looked at Ingrid Rowland, wondering if she’d seen that ghost of a smile.

She had. She smiled back at him, and he felt as if he’d accomplished some great feat of courage. Lord, the way a smile could light up that woman’s face. For a moment he savored the warmth, then he bent down and lifted Kit up to perch on his shoulders, the same way Baz had done. Kit had seemed to like that. He turned to thank Ms. Rowland and she was right at his elbow.

“Kit, honey—I probably won’t see you at preschool tomorrow because you and your dad will have to talk to the police and make plans about what you’re going to do. But I’ll see you there Monday, okay?” She was telling Breck she expected to see Kit on Monday come hell or high water. And she was giving Kit the security of knowing that he’d get past today. She patted Kit’s leg. Breck marveled at how she seemed to understand instinctively what to say. Some people were made to have kids, and some weren’t.

As Breck turned away, he thought of something. He went to dig in his pocket and realized he was still wearing his bullet-proof jacket. “Ms. Rowland?”

Again the hundred watt smile. “Ingrid,” she said.

“Ingrid. Here’s my card. My private number is at the bottom. If you want to call us…I mean—”

“Thank you,” she murmured, when he ran out of steam. “And in return—” She fished around in a handbag the size of a small continent. Muttering under her breath she pulled out a couple of books, a box of crayons and a stuffed tuatara lizard. He smothered a grin. The necessary adjuncts of a preschool teacher, no doubt.

“Aha!” She pulled out her wallet and handed him a card.

He memorized the private phone number before putting the card in his pocket. He’d always been good with numbers and knew he wouldn’t really need the card. But it comforted him to know he wasn’t alone in caring for Kit. Holding on to Ingrid Rowland’s card was like holding on to a talisman.

****

Two hours later he’d bought a bunk bed and arranged to have it delivered. A quick dash into a couple of department stores netted some clothes for Kit along with a few toys and puzzles. Kit trotted at Breck’s side, holding on to his hand, saying nothing. Breck knew that Baz or possibly Harley Max, the overall AOS manager, would be trying to contact him. But he’d left his cell phone turned off. Of course that was a no-no, but they’d have to understand that right now Kit came first.

Kit stared through the shop window of a bookshop. Remembering Ms. Rowland’s bagful of books, Breck detoured to the children’s section. “You choose,” he told Kit, watching to see what sort of books appealed to his son. Precious minutes ticked by as Kit hovered over the huge selection. He finally cut his selection down to two books titled ‘When I’m Feeling Happy’ and ‘When I’m Feeling Sad.’

Breck swallowed hard and said matter-of-factly, “We’ll take them both.” He knew Kit couldn’t yet read the words, but the sentiments inherent in the bright pictures obviously appealed to the boy. “I couldn’t have chosen better myself,” Breck said. An inner voice cautioned, “And how would you know what books a child wants to read, Marchant? You were the despair of your parents. Hell, you couldn’t even read till you were eight.” All too vividly he remembered the endless hours of squirming in front of his parents as they held up flash cards, trying to get him to read simple words like ‘tree’ and ‘dog.’ He was a fine one to take his kid into a bookstore.

“Thank you,” Kit whispered in a wispy little voice when Breck handed him the plastic bag of books to carry. Breck looked down at his son. He couldn’t put off the real world much longer. Soon he would have to attend a debriefing and contact his solicitor, but these two hours with his son had given him a glimpse of what he’d been missing. Tania and the Family Court could get stuffed. He’d fight them both tooth and nail before he let Kit out of his protection ever again. If he had to, this time he’d reveal his suspicions about Tania’s tawdry little occupation.

As he bundled Kit into the SUV, the boy asked, “Are we going to eat today, Daddy?”

Breck cursed his own stupidity. Here he was pontificating to himself about how well he’d look after Kit, and he hadn’t even
fed
the child. “Sorry, tiger,” he said, trying for a casual grin. “Subway, here we come. Uh…I guess your Mom gave you breakfast this morning?” He wasn’t sure how to ask exactly when Tania had disappeared.

Kit shook his head. “When I woke up, Mom, Pixie, and Bob were gone,” he said matter-of-factly. “Same as last month.”

“Last month?” Breck pricked up his ears. “Mom went away last month too?”

“Uh, huh.” Kit gazed out the window as they exited the ramp out of the parking building. “She said it was his last chance. If he didn’t…didn’t…something to do with ships, then she’d do it again.”