Vanished (5 page)

"No." Spineless-he should yank her by the elbow and get
her out of here. Fast-before what really was going down came
down on them.

She laughed. "You've never gone high, huh? A little E or
weed, even?"

He cleared his throat, trying to muster nonchalance. "Never
wanted to."

"Everyone wants to. But not everyone dares." Jasmine traced
her finger along the sweet spot under his ear.

Every nerve ending in his body fired.

"OK," he said. "Real quick, though."

Jasmine coated her finger with the powder and slid it into
Ben's mouth. "Feel the buzz?"

He shrugged.

"Here, try it again." Jasmine rubbed her finger under his
upper lip.

Ben licked his lips, wanting the kick. Feeling cheated. "It
tastes sweet."

"Don't be dumb, Benjie. It's supposed to be tangy, and give
you a little..." Jasmine ran her finger under her own lip. She
frowned.

"What's wrong?" Ben said.

She shoved the baggie back into the knapsack. "We gotta
book it outta here. Luther's running some sort of scam."

"What scam?"

"It's sugar, you fool."

"Wait. Maybe they put a bag of sugar on top because they
knew you would dig into it."

Ben unzipped the pack all the way so he could get a better
look. Underneath the bags of powder was something any kid
who had seen an action flick would recognize.

Plastique explosives, with a detonator attached and a digital
clock set to 10:00 a.m.

OGAN AND PAPPAS STOOD ON NORTH SPIRE, STARING
down at the Circle. Pappas droned on about the precautions for the president's train ride. Quanta planned
a party atmosphere, with President Freeman taking in an
afternoon game at Yankee Stadium and then a night game at
Fenway.

The high-speeds were that fast.

Is that what we've been reduced to? Logan wondered.
Burrowing underground so the enemy can't get us? Maybe
he should have taken the same route. Gone underground by
moving his family out of Barcester right after Kimmie was
born. But Hilary had been so loving that he never breathed one
doubt about why their daughter didn't look a bit like him. If
she had been unfaithful, it was over and done with. He had
silently forgiven her, and they became a family, happy together
for almost five years.

And then, out of the blue, Hilary announced she wanted
a divorce.

Homeland security-what a joke. Logan couldn't even
protect the sanctity of his own home, and Pappas was blabbing
on about arrangements for Columbus Day?

His cell buzzed, a welcome diversion. Logan glanced at the
screen. Private caller. Better answer it. It could be Hilary or
maybe Marita. He pushed talk. "Sergeant Logan."

"Hello? Sergeant Logan?" A kid with a hitch in his voice.

"This is. Can I help you?"

Silence.

"Son, is there something-"

"You gave us a card. Said if there was ever any problem, we
could call this number." The kid spoke so fast that Logan could
barely catch what he was saying.

"A what?"

"A business card. Two nights ago."

The curfew sweep. Sixteen boys and seven girls trucked to
the substation. Most of them thought it was a party, an arrest
that would be their first badge of honor. Logan had given them
his cell number so they could talk without having to go through
the PD switchboard.

"What can I do for you, son?"

"There's a bomb."

"What?"

The kid's voice hushed. "I can't say it again. Someone might
be watching us."

"You said bomb."

Pappas jerked to attention. Motioning him close, Logan
upped the volume on his phone.

"Yeah," the kid said.

"Where?"

"The Circle."

Pappas frowned. Logan held up his index finger. Wait. Hot
summer days and bored kids bred pranks. "Are you there now?"

"Nearby. It's set to blow."

Logan peered down the boulevard. They were too far away
and the bushes too dense for him to spot anyone. "Talk to me,
son. Where exactly are you?"

"I'm calling from... " The kid stopped.

"It's OK. You can tell me."

"I'm outside the Circle on one of the paths."

"Which path?"

"One of 'em, that's all. I told people to get away, said I saw
a big snake in the bushes. There were only a couple of kids out
anyway. Too hot to cycle."
"

"Ask him how he knows," Pappas whispered.

"How do you know it's a bomb?" Logan said.

I was in the bushes. Just hanging out. I ... um ... found a
knapsack in there. There was plastique."

Logan handed his two-way to Pappas. Call Central, he
mouthed. Tell them to stand by.

Pappas got on, speaking low, eyes on Logan.

"You know what plastique looks like?"

"Kinda."

"You want the bomb squad?" Pappas whispered.

Logan held up his index finger again. "If this is a prank, son,
you'd better fens up now."

"No prank. I swear. There was a timer attached. It looks like
it was set for ten o'clock."

Logan's watch read 9:56.

"Son, go to the substation and wait for me there, OK? Pappas,
tell 'em to send the works. I gotta get down there."

Logan broke into a run.

Half a mile and downhill all the way, but suddenly the Circle
seemed a hundred miles away.

ULLETS RIPPED THROUGH THE BACK DOOR.

Kaya unlocked the bolts of the front door with one
arm while holding the baby in the other. Nearly catatonic with fear, Sarah clung to her shirt like a toddler.

The back door shattered. The man was on them before Kaya
could get the last bolt unlocked.

"Give me that baby."

His eyes were narrowed, an animal ready to strike. His hair
was ragged, his face gaunt. His arms were marked with tiny
scabs, and his pupils were dilated. Clearly a meth head.

"OK, OK. But don't shoot. Please," Kaya said.

"Get out where I can see you." He motioned them into the
middle of the waiting room.

"Please," Kaya said. "We only want what's best for your
daughter."

"She's not his," Sarah whispered. "Don't say that."

"Shut up, slut. She's mine if I say she is." The man glared at
Kaya. "Give her over."

What did her one hour of hostage training teach her? Make
the encounter personal. Find a common ground, a point of
meeting. "I'm Kaya de los Santos, the clinic director. And your
name is-

"Now!"

"Stone," Sarah said. "Please."

He slammed Sarah on the cheek with the butt of the gun.
She went down to one knee without making a sound.

"Mr. Stone," Kaya said.

"Just Stone," he said.

"Can I get Sarah some ice? From the fridge behind the desk?"

Stone smacked his palm on the desk. "Hurry up. I see a gun,
I'm gonna blow your head off."

"No guns. See?" Clutching Angelina to her chest, Kaya pulled
the tiny tray of cubes from the freezer and sat down.

"What're you doing?" Stone was tall and thin. His neck was
heavily tattooed and his eyebrows pierced with heavy studs.
Reeking of smoke, even now he patted his T-shirt, looking for
a cigarette.

Kaya almost laughed when he pulled out a pack of low-tars.
"Looking for something to wrap the ice in."

She pulled her chair in all the way. Underneath the desk
was the panic button that Jason Logan had installed. She
pressed her knee against it and felt it vibrate to indicate the
signal had gone out.

"OK, I've got the ice wrapped. Can I give it to her?"

"No. The slut will come get it." Stone turned to Sarah.
"Get up."

Sarah held the ice in her hand, apparently unable to stir
enough energy to put it to the bruise. Kaya guided the girl's
hand to her face.

"Give me the baby." Stone's cheek twitched despite the deep
draughts of nicotine. Likely coming off his high.

How long before the cops would get here? Even though the
clinic was closed, Jason Logan had insisted on keeping the
alarm active.

Kaya liked the sergeant's calm manner, had found herself
stealing glances at him in Bible study. His black hair, long
enough on top to shine under the lights. His warrior's eyes,
fierce until he grinned and showed his dimples. His football build was imposing, but she'd seen him gently cradle an
abused child.

Jason's wife had left him a few months back and taken his
little girl with her. Stupid woman. If Kaya had a man like Jason
Logan, she'd glue herself to him.

Where did that come from? Survival compensation-the
mind reached for the trivial to alleviate the obvious. Kaya took
a deep breath, forced herself to focus. "Stone, this little girl
really needs to be looked at before she goes home."

"You're the doc. Look at her."

"I'm not a doctor. I'm a nurse practitioner."

"What you are is stalling. And I'm not liking that, lady."

"I'm not, I swear. Something's wrong with the baby's
shoulder."

Come on, Jason. Where are you? He and his people must all
be out on patrol. Even so, the alarm should signal a call to his
cell. If the substation didn't acknowledge the alert, the signal
would be transferred to Barcester Central. Downtown meant
an extra eight minutes in response time.

Stone tossed the cigarette to the floor, ground it with his heel
into the carpet. "I don't have all day, lady. I'm taking my kid."

The phone rang. In the empty waiting room, it sounded like
a fire alarm. After ten rings it stopped, going to voice mail.
Probably Central trying to ascertain if the signal for help was
genuine. They didn't expect anyone to be here, would likely
assign it a low-priority-the work of kids who broke in and
were messing around.

"Let me splint her shoulder, OK? Otherwise Angelina will be
unmanageable."

"She don't look unmanageable."

"That's because I'm holding her carefully. So her shoulder
won't slip."

"OK, OK. After you show me your driver's license."

"What? Why?"

Stone shot into the ceiling, raining down plaster. "I said, give
me the license."

"Sarah, could you get my license out of my wallet? Is it all
right if she does, Stone? I don't want to move Angelina. It
might jar that shoulder."

"Whatever. Just give it to me."

The baby grasped at Kaya's shirt, and for the thousandth
time her heart ached. Perhaps it was good she had been forced
to close the clinic. How many more Sarahs and Angelinas could
she bear to heal with medicine, only to see them lost to the likes
of Stone?

Sarah's hand shook as she passed the license to Stone. He
studied it, then tossed it to the floor. "Good."

"Good what?" Kaya asked.

"Now I know where you live. If you mess with me, I'll return
the favor ten times over. So let's go fix that little girl's shoulder,
and then her mama and I are taking her home."

"And then what?"

Stone jammed the gun into Kaya's face. "Then what ain't
your business."

ASMINE TUGGED AT BEN. "Let's go," she said. "We gotta
get out of here."