Sealed with a Lie (18 page)

Evan’s eyes narrow, but he says nothing.

“Don’t do anything stupid. No police. No Interpol. No nothing. We will call you again in twelve hours.”

“I understand. Let me talk to Charlie. Please. I just need to know that he’s okay.”

There’s a pause, and then the voice says, “Fine.”

“Kari?” Charlie’s voice is high and squeaky.

My knees buckle in relief. I fall onto them, because I am so glad he’s alive. I can barely speak. “K-kiddo? You okay?”

“I guess so,” he says in a small voice. “Are you coming to get me?”

“Yes.”
I almost shout the word. “I love you. I’ll be there soon.”

“Good, ’cuz the food sucks and I hate these people and I’m almost done memorizing the German dictionary and—”

“That’s enough,” says the mechanical voice. “You know he’s alive.” It adds ominously, “For now.” And then the connection is broken.

I let my body fall forward so that I’m resting on my elbows, my forehead touching the rug. I force myself to take three deep breaths.
He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay.

For now.

“Only you and Gustav?” Evan asks.

“Yes.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s probably a trap,” says Rita.

Kale runs his hand through his hair. “Of course it is.”

“I don’t care,” I say. “It’s my only chance of getting Charlie back. Do you have any better ideas?” I look at everyone in the room, but nobody has a different plan to offer, not even Evan.

“Kari,” he begins. He tosses a cuff link from one hand to the other, then back again. “I can’t help but think—”

“What?”

“I just—it’s a bad idea to meet face-to-face with these people. What if, when they call back, you try to arrange a drop instead?”

“Haven’t you figured out that I’m not the one in charge here, Evan?” My voice rises; I can’t help it. “These people aren’t open to negotiation in any way, shape, or form.”

“I think they’re bluffing,” Evan says.

“Yeah? Well, that’s a great theory, Holmes, but I’m not willing to take the chance that they’re not. My brother’s life is on the line. What don’t you get about that?”

Evan takes a deep breath, as if he’s about to say something, then stops. “Fine. Never mind. We’ll do it the way they’ve told us to. But it’s a guaranteed double-cross, and we’ve got to be prepared for that.”

I nod. “All I care about is getting Charlie out of there. So if it comes down to saving me or him—grab him.” I look every one of my friends in the face once again. “Are we all clear on that? Charlie is the priority, no matter what. I’ve gotten myself out of jams before, and I can again. But he’s only seven years old.”

Everyone’s eyes sort of slide away from mine, which ticks me off. “I’m not kidding. I need you to commit to this, or say you’re out. Who’s out?”

Silence.

Kale stares into the middle distance at nothing.

Evan folds his arms across his chest, no longer playing with the cuff links.

Rita tightens her ponytail.

Matthis drums his fingers on the lid of his laptop.

Gustav pulls another shard of glass out of his arm and drops it into the ashtray.

“So we’re all on the same page?” I ask.

Everyone nods.

“That’s better.” I know I probably sound like someone’s crabby parent, but I can’t have anyone squirreling out on me. This is too important.

Evan and Gustav are both somber and withdrawn on the five-hour train trip from Zurich to Salzburg. They wear winter hats to hide as much of their faces as possible, and just try to look casual. They don’t resemble the two young businessmen whose pictures are being flashed all over the news.

I’m a bundle of nerves again, half-full of anticipation at seeing Charlie and half-full of dread that something will go terribly wrong.

So Kale, Rita, Matthis, and I discreetly try to run through possible double-cross scenarios and how we can survive them. Correction: how Gustav and I can survive them.

Scenario one is that we show up with the vial, hand it over, and both of us get double-tapped: one bullet to the head and one to the heart. I’m not too keen on that one, but where are we going to find bulletproof vests within the next twelve hours?

Scenario two is that we hide the vial somewhere, demand Charlie first, and get tortured until we say where the hiding spot is.
Then
we get double-tapped, along with Charlie. I like this play even less than the first.

In scenario three, Evan, Kale, Rita, and Matthis hide somewhere around the periphery of the meeting spot. They cover Gustav and me with long-range rifles while we hand over the vial and get Charlie. Then everyone walks away happy with no violence, and we never hear from these monsters again.

Of course this is my favorite version, but it’s pure
fantasy. We have no long-range rifles, even if I were willing to risk my friends getting shot. Short of robbing a sporting goods store—do they even have guns at sporting goods stores in Europe?—we also have no ability to get rifles in the next twelve hours. Robbing any place is a very bad idea for us, since we’re already in the news for two other incidents. Sooner or later, our luck is going to give out, no matter how good we are. It’s just the law of averages.

I still cannot understand why the kidnappers want this cosmetic ingredient. It makes no sense to me. I question Gustav about it, and again about who these people could be.

“Je ne c’est pas,”
he says, shaking his head. But he’s avoiding my gaze, and that tells me that he knows more than he’s letting on.

“Gustav, you’re really pissing me off. At least tell me why they wanted you, of all people, to steal the
jungbrunnen
? Explain that one to me.”

“Because . . .” He presses his lips together. “Because they have taken . . . something of mine. So they have, how you say? Leverage with me. They know I will do what they want in order to get zis something back.”

“But they needed us to break you out first.”

“Oui.”

“But why the
jungbrunnen
?”

“I tell you zis already. Zey will sell it to a competitor of Jolie, eh? For a fortune. Raise money for whatever it is that zey want to do.”

I think about it. “That’s risky, though.”

“They’re clearly in the business of taking risks,” Evan says drily. “Kidnapping is inherently risky. So is extortion and theft. Who knows what else these guys do for fun and profit? A bit of money laundering or human trafficking?”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, I can tell he regrets them, given my reaction. Bile surges up my throat at the thought of Charlie being sold to some pervert. It’s followed by blind panic.

Evan touches my arm. “Kari, forget I said that. I’m sorry.” His eyes have gone gray and serious.

“I can’t forget it.” I rub my damp palms up and down my denim-covered thighs.

“That’s not going to happen to Charlie, all right? We’re going to get him back.”

“Evan, what if they just kill us all?”

He shakes his head.

“You can’t be in denial that it could happen. . . .”

“I’m not in denial,” he says quietly. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I won’t allow it to happen.”

“What, you’re Superman now? Batman? Spider-Man?” I know I’m being bitchy, but I really can’t help it. I don’t know how much anxiety and uncertainty I can take; I feel like I’m on the verge of a meltdown.

“Yeah, Kari. I’m all three. I can leap tall buildings in a single bound.” He drags his hands down his face. There are deep, bluish hollows under his eyes, and he looks pale. “I’m here to save the day.”

I open my mouth to tell him I don’t appreciate the sarcasm. “I’m sorry,” I say instead. “I don’t mean to be so grouchy. It’s just—”

“You needn’t apologize. If it were my little brother missing, I’d be a raving lunatic. So I think you’re doing very well, all things considered.”

I look down at my feet—anywhere but at him. I don’t know what to do with this kind, understanding side of Evan. When I first met him, he was so obnoxious that I could cheerfully have run him over with a car. And now . . .

Now I don’t know.

I stare out the window at the snowy, stunning Austrian countryside. It looks like a panoramic Christmas postcard, with a sky so blue it’s almost violet, the mountains in the background, and the evergreens loaded with icicles. It’s beautiful, but it makes my heart ache.

Christmas will never be the same. We will never spend it as a family again, with stockings by the fire and eggnog to sip while we sing carols and decorate the tree. We’ll never see Dad again in his stupid Santa hat, or eat Mom’s spice cookies hot out of the oven, or rip open the dozens of brightly wrapped packages that they’ve collected for us over the season.

That stuff is a fairy tale now. And I don’t care that much about it . . . all I really want for Christmas is Charlie, alive and well and reading
Roget’s Thesaurus
page by page, like the adorable little geek that he is.

Is it appropriate to say that we have to “face the music,” so to speak, in Salzburg, Austria? Or is that just my dark humor again? Salzburg is the birthplace of Mozart, host of the famous Salzburg summer music festival, and one of the most picturesque cities I’ve ever seen. Too bad I’m in no mood to appreciate it.

The massive eleventh-century fortress of Hohensalzburg looms over the city from the rocks of Festungsberg. On the left bank of the Salzach River is the Old Town, where Mozart’s home once was. There are also a number of beautiful old churches there. On the right bank of the Salzach is the New Town, where Mirabell Palace is, and the Kapuzinerberg, a steep hill with 250 steps that lead up to the top and a stunning view of the city.

It’s anyone’s guess where the kidnappers will want to do the exchange. We can’t imagine that they’ll want
to do it in a very public place, but who knows? We take a cab from the train station to the top of an icy hill, twisting and winding crazily around hairpin turns and bumping over cobblestones.

Evan has booked us into a gorgeous five-star hotel—a modernized
castle
—on its own little mountaintop. So that we’re out of the public eye, he says. They’ll be looking for us in lower-end places.

You think?

When we arrive at the Schloss Mönchstein, I gape like an idiot. I’m glad he’s the one paying.

Kale blinks at the snowcapped tower, the vast expanse of snow-covered lawn, the terraces, and balconies. He whistles. “We’re staying
here
?”

But Rita strolls in like a queen—and she’s warmly greeted like one. The staff couldn’t be nicer or more welcoming, and the rooms they give us have breathtaking views of the entire city of Salzburg, with the Salzach River winding through it like a festive silver ribbon.

I take in our surroundings through a fog, because all I can think about is Charlie—and how we’re going to deal with the double-cross later.

The weird, mechanically altered voice calls right on schedule, and I jump on the phone, answering on the very first ring. “Hello?”

“You and Duvernay will bring the
jungbrunnen
to the Schiff boathouse along the Salzach, at midnight. You will come alone, as instructed. We will search you both for wires or cameras before the transaction.
If we find either, you will be shot instantly. Do you understand?”

“Will Charlie be in the car?”

“No.”

“I want him there.”

“This is not a negotiation.” There’s a brief pause, and then a shriek from Charlie in the background.

“Stop it!
Stop it!
” I scream.
Oh, God, oh, God
. It’s my fault they hurt him. I want to die.

“Midnight,” the mechanical voice repeats.

“Yes.” My voice cracks. “All right. Don’t hurt him again.”

“That,” the voice says, “is entirely up to you. Try anything stupid, and he dies.” With that, the kidnapper cuts the connection, and I’m left staring at the phone with a rising sense of dread.

Gustav doesn’t look too happy either. He shakes his head. “I do not like zis.”

Evan walks over and gives me a squeeze on the shoulder.

Rita has grabbed Kale’s hand and is holding it tightly, her face drawn.

Matthis’s lips are clamped together, bloodless.

I know each of them is worried about Charlie—even Gustav, who’s never met him.

“Right, then,” Evan says, breaking the silence. “I don’t think we have much choice in the matter. We can’t accompany you. However . . .” He turns to Matthis and nods.

Matthis digs down into a pocket and comes up with
two tiny chips and a tube of superglue. “GPS units,” he says by way of explanation. “So that we at least know where you are at all times.”

I shake my head. “You heard them. They’ll search us.”

“We’ll attach them somewhere on you where there’s already metal,” Evan says. He turns to Gustav. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a metal plate in your head, Frog?”

“No, English, I do not.” Gustav scowls at him.

“A filling or two in your molars, then?” Evan asks.

“Yes . . . ?”

“Then Matthis, you get to play dentist. Glue the chip behind a tooth with a filling. Rita, we’ll need those eyebrow tweezers of yours again.”