Roses Are Red Read online

  Dooner stopped to take a breath. The color in his face was returning slowly. “As you know, we have a kidnapping insurance policy that covers up to fifty million in ransom. I suspect that the kidnappers already know this. They seem to be thorough and organized. They’re also clearheaded, which gives them an advantage. I think they know that we are the underwriters on the policy ourselves. Therefore, we can get the money and we can get it fast.

  “Now, ladies and gentlemen, please, we have to talk about our alternatives. If there are any alternatives. The kidnappers have made one thing very clear — there can be no mistakes or people will die.”

  Chapter 58

  I WAS AT THE FBI FIELD OFFICE on Fourth Street when we got the emergency call.

  A Washington on Wheels tour bus with eighteen passengers and the driver had been hijacked soon after it left the Renaissance Mayflower Hotel. Minutes later, a thirty-million-dollar ransom had been demanded from the MetroHartford Insurance Company.

  The instructions from the kidnappers stated that police agencies were not to be involved, but there was no way we could back off and trust them. We set up at the Capitol Hilton, which was close to the Mayflower, on Sixteenth and K. We had four mobile command units in addition to the dozen agents already operating inside the Mayflower. It was dangerous, but Betsey felt we needed primary surveillance at the hotel. The technical penetration involved concealed listening devices and a limited amount of video surveillance. The entire Metropolitan Field Office of the FBI was put on alert.

  High-tech helicopters, Apaches, were in the air searching for the Washington on Wheels bus. The Apaches had heat monitors for tracking purposes, if and when the kidnappers attempted to hide the bus and its passengers. The alphanumeric indicator on the bus’s roof had been given out to aerial police, military, city, state, and even civil aircraft. None of the groups were told why they were looking for the bus.

  The Capitol Hilton was close enough for us to get to the Mayflower in about ninety seconds if necessary. We hoped it was far enough away so that the crew wouldn’t know we were there. We now had exactly two hours until the money was to be dropped. The schedule was incredibly tight. For them and for us.

  Then the job got harder.

  Jill Abramson from the insurance company’s internal security committee and Steve Bolding from the security firm itself arrived at the Hilton. Abramson was a heavyset woman in a yellow pinstriped business suit. She looked to be in her late forties. Bolding was tall and in good shape, probably in his early fifties. He had on a blue blazer, white shirt, and jeans. They had come to the Hilton to tell us how to do our jobs.

  Betsey opened her mouth to speak, but Bolding abruptly waved her off. He had something to say first. It was clear that he wanted to take control of the meeting.

  “This is how it’s going to be. I let you in on this, but I can also shut you right out again. I’m a former SAC with the Bureau so I know all the right moves — and all the wrong ones. We don’t have time for niceties here. Agent Cavalierre, are there any leads on the identity of the UNSUBs? It’s eleven forty-six. Our zero hour is one-forty-five. Precisely.”

  Betsey took a short breath before she answered Bolding’s question. She was keeping her cool better than I would have done with the private security expert.

  “Suspects, yes, but nothing we can use to help the hostages. A neighbor saw the hijacking of the bus. Two males were involved. They wore ski-style masks. The bus was spotted on DeSales Street, but we don’t know if that was before or after the hostages were taken. It’s now eleven forty-seven, Mr. Bolding.”

  Ms. Abramson said something that surprised all of us. “We have the money coming to the Mayflower right now. The ransom will be paid.”

  “On schedule,” said Bolding. “We’re waiting for further instructions from the hijackers. They have been incommunicado since their first contact. Our people will make the drop, and we’ll make it alone.”

  Betsey Cavalierre finally went off on Bolding. “I listened to you, now you listen to me, mister. You were a SAC. I am a SAC. I would have been your superior if you had stayed at the Bureau, and I’m your superior now. My people will make the money drop. I’ll be there — you won’t. That’s how it will be done!”

  Both Abramson and Bolding started to argue with her, but Betsey cut them off instantly.

  “That’s enough bullshit out of both of you. Everything will be handled with the full knowledge of how dangerously predictable the hijackers are. If you don’t like my terms, then you’re out. I’ll arrest you right here, Bolding. That goes for you, too, Ms. Abramson. We have lots of work to do — in exactly one hour and fifty-seven minutes.”

  Chapter 59

  HE WALKED AMONG THE PEOPLE in the crowded lobby and the vast corridors to nowhere inside the Capitol Hilton hotel. None of them had any idea what was happening, which was just as he liked it. Only he had the answers, and the questions as well.

  He had already spotted the FBI agents and Metro Detective Cross as they arrived. They hadn’t seen him, of course, but even if they did, there was no chance that he would be stopped and apprehended. It just couldn’t happen.

  This was such an incredible mismatch — his mind and experience against theirs. Sometimes, it didn’t even seem like a challenge to him. That was the rub, the only problem he could see: If he got too bored and careless, then maybe they had a chance to catch him.

  He noticed a small entourage, nervous and worried looking, cross through the lobby and head toward the hotel’s cramped nest of meeting rooms. That was where the FBI had set up camp. MetroHartford had violated his warning, but he’d known they would. It really wasn’t important. Not this time. He had wanted the FBI and Cross brought in on this.

  Finally, he decided to leave the Hilton. He walked to the Renaissance Mayflower — the scene of the horrific crime. That was where the real action would be.

  And that’s where the Mastermind wanted to be as well. He wanted to watch, to be right there.

  Chapter 60

  THE KIDNAPPERS finally called MetroHartford’s board of directors at ten past one. There were only thirty-five minutes left until the deadline.

  We knew what would happen if we missed the deadline. Or if the kidnappers did, even if they did it on purpose.

  Betsey and I hurried to the Mayflower Hotel. We caught two small breaks, but given the direction of things so far, they felt much larger. The first was that the service door of the kitchen led to a small loading dock and alley. During the Clinton inaugural, the Secret Service had parked there. We used the alley to get inside without being seen. The second break was that the FBI agents in the hotel had learned that the room where the MetroHartford board was meeting, the Chinese Room, had a unique feature that would be useful to us. There was a narrow metal staircase directly behind it. The stairs led to a catwalk above the rotunda. There were small viewing holes there so we could watch and listen but not be seen.

  Betsey and I hurried up to the catwalk and crouched high over the meeting room. We needn’t have bothered.

  The kidnappers were still on the line.

  “We assume that the FBI and possibly the Washington police are involved at this point,” the voice of one of the kidnappers said over the speakerphone in the Chinese Room. “We have no objection. We fully expected it. In fact, we welcome the Bureau. We’ve written you into the plan.”

  Betsey and I shared looks of exasperation. The Mastermind was making us look bad. Why? We hurried downstairs and joined the others in the Chinese Room. My head was spinning with questions. The Mastermind was good at keeping us off balance. Too good.

  “First, I’m going to repeat our demands for the money,” the distorted voice on the speakerphone said. “This is important. Please follow the instructions. As you know, five million of the thirty should be in uncut diamonds. The diamonds must be packed in one duffel bag. There should be no more than eight other duffels. The cash must be in twenties and fifties. No hundred-dollar bills. No dye packs. No tracking devices o
f any kind. Now, who am I speaking to?”

  Betsey moved close to the speakerphone. So did I. “This is Special Agent Elizabeth Cavalierre. I’m Special Agent in Charge with the FBI.”

  “I’m Alex Cross, Washington police and liaison with the Bureau.”

  “Good for you. I’m familiar with both your names, your reputations. Is our money ready as requested?”

  “Yes, it is. The money and the diamonds are here at the Mayflower,” Betsey answered.

  “Excellent! We’ll be in touch.”

  We heard a click as he hung up the phone.

  The CEO of MetroHartford exploded in anger. “They knew you were here! Oh Christ, what have we done! They’ll kill the hostages!”

  I put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy. Please. Is the payoff arranged exactly as they’ve requested?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Exactly. The diamonds will be here any minute. The money has already arrived. We’re doing our part, everything that we can. What are you people doing?”

  I continued to speak in a soft voice. “And no one at MetroHartford has heard a word about where the money and diamonds are to be dropped? This is an important question.”

  The insurance executive was frightened, and with good reason. “You heard the man on the phone. He said they’d be in touch. No, we haven’t heard anything about where to drop the money and diamonds.”

  “That’s good news, Mr. Dooner. They’re acting in a professional way. So are we. I don’t believe they’ve harmed anyone yet. We’ll wait for the next call. The exchange is the hardest part for them.”

  “My wife is on that bus,” the chief executive said. “So is my daughter.”

  “I know,” I told him. “I know.”

  And I also knew that the Mastermind seemed to like hurting families.

  Chapter 61

  IT WASN’T as if we weren’t doing everything we could, but we were at their mercy so far, and our time was running out. The clock was ticking. Very fast.

  No aircraft had spotted the tour bus, and that meant that the bus had gotten off the road quickly, or possibly that they’d changed the alphanumeric indicator on the roof. The heat-seeking army helicopters hadn’t found anything, either. At twenty past one, another call came to the Chinese Room at the Mayflower. It was the same disturbing, machine-distorted voice.

  “It’s time to move. There’s a delivery at the front desk for Mr. Dooner. Inside you’ll find Handie-Talkies. Bring all of them.”

  “Where are we going?” Betsey asked.

  “We’re going to be rich. You’re going to load the money and diamonds into a van and head north on Connecticut Avenue. If you deviate from the route I give you, a hostage will be shot.”

  The line went dead again.

  We had a van parked in the alley outside the hotel kitchen. The kidnappers knew we did. How, though? What did that tell us? Betsey Cavalierre and I and two other agents rushed outside to the van, then headed onto Connecticut Avenue.

  We were still on Connecticut when the Handie-Talkie went off. FBI agents call walkie-talkies “Handie-Talkies.” So had the kidnappers on the phone. What did that clue mean? Was it a clue? Was the caller simply communicating that he knew everything about us?

  “Detective Cross?”

  “I’m right here. We’re on Connecticut Avenue. Now what?”

  “I knew you would be. Listen closely. If we see any surveillance planes or helicopters flying above your prescribed route — a hostage will be shot. Understand?”

  “I understand perfectly,” I said. I looked over at Betsey. She had to cut off air surveillance immediately. The kidnappers seemed to know everything we were doing.

  “Proceed as fast as possible to the Baltimore-Washington Airport rail station. You and the FBI agents are to be on board the five-ten PM. Northeast Corridor train from Baltimore to Boston. Bring the money duffels with you. Bring the diamonds. The five-ten to Boston! We are aware that all FBI agents in the Northeast are available to you. Get ready to use them. It doesn’t matter to us. We dare you to stop the payoff. It can’t be done!”

  “Is this the Mastermind I’m speaking to?”

  The Handie-Talkie went dead.

  Chapter 62

  FBI AGENTS AND LOCAL POLICE were dispatched to all the train stations along the route of the Northeast Corridor train, but blanketing the entire route would be next to impossible. The kidnappers knew that. They had everything working for them now.

  Agents Cavalierre, Walsh, and Doud and I were on board the train out of Baltimore. We stationed ourselves at the front of the second car.

  The rumbling train was a noisy place to be; we couldn’t think straight, or even talk among ourselves very well. We waited for the next contact from the kidnappers. Every passing minute seemed longer than it really was.

  “Sometime soon they’re going to tell us to toss the duffel bags off the moving train,” I said. “That how you figure it? Any other ideas?”

  Betsey nodded. “I don’t think they’ll chance meeting the train in one of the stations. Why should they? They know we can’t cover all of the territory between here and Boston. The ban they put on planes flying anywhere near the train was the clincher.”

  “They seem to have solved the tricky problem of the drop, the exchange. He is a smart son of a bitch,” Agent Walsh said.

  Betsey said, “He, or maybe it’s a she.”

  I reminded her. “Tony Brophy said he met with a male, if we can believe him.”

  “And if the person he saw was really the Mastermind,” she countered.

  Agent Doud said, “The name bothers me. Makes him sound like a geek. A loser. The Mastermind.”

  “Brophy said as much. He said the man he spoke to was an asshole. But he still wanted the job,” said Betsey.

  “Yeah, well, the pay is good,” Doud said.

  Betsey shrugged. “Maybe he is a geek, maybe some kind of computer genius. I wouldn’t be all that surprised. Geeks are running the world now, right? Getting even for what happened to them in high school. I sure am.”

  “I was reasonably cool in high school,” I said, and winked.

  The Handie-Talkie crackled again.

  “Hi there, law-enforcement stars. The real fun’s about to start. Remember, if we see any choppers or planes near the train, a hostage will be shot,” the familiar male voice instructed. Was it the Mastermind?

  “How do we know the hostages are still alive?” Betsey asked. “Why should we trust you to tell the truth? You’ve murdered innocent people before.”

  “You don’t. You shouldn’t. We have. The bus hostages are alive, though. All right — open the train doors now! Get ready for my next signal. Get the duffel bags up to the door! Now, now, now! Move it! Don’t make us kill somebody.”

  Chapter 63

  THE FOUR OF US rushed to get the heavy bags of money to the nearest train door. I was already starting to sweat. My face and scalp felt flushed.

  “Get ready! Get ready!” The voice on the Handie-Talkie yelled out frantic commands. “This is it.”

  Betsey was already on another two-way alerting her people. The countryside was flashing by in bright greens and muddy browns. We were somewhere near Aberdeen, Maryland, having passed through the last station about seven minutes earlier.

  “Get ready! Are you ready? Don’t disappoint me!” the voice squawked loudly.

  So far, the only trick we had come up with was to try to spread out the area where the money bags would fall. We had even considered keeping one bag on board, which might force them to search for a while. But we agreed that was too dangerous for the hostages.

  The Handie-Talkie went dead again.

  “Fuck!” Doud exclaimed.

  “Do we throw the money bags out?” Walsh yelled over the rumble of the train and the rushing wind.

  “No! Wait!” I yelled at him and Doud, who was leaning precariously over the train’s edge. “Wait for their instructions! He would have told us to throw the money off. Don’t throw the
bags!”

  “Son of a bitch!” Betsey shouted as she swung her arm around in a fast, hard arc. “They’re messing with us. They’re laughing at us right now.”

  “Yes, they probably are,” I said. “Let’s keep our cool. We have to keep it together.”

  The FBI was going crazy trying to track the channel the kidnappers were using for the two-way radios. It wasn’t working. The two-ways were state-of-the-art, the kind the military used. The scrambler chips in them were encoded to change the frequency each time they were used. It was even possible that the kidnappers had several two-ways and were discarding them after each call.

  Betsey was still incensed. Her brown eyes flashed. “He’s thought of everything, including not giving us time to plan. Who is this bastard?”

  The Handie-Talkie crackled again.

  “Open the door! Get ready to heave the bags out,” the radio voice suddenly commanded again.

  I grabbed two bags full of twenty- and fifty-dollar bills. My heart was in my throat as I rushed to the open door a second time. The wind outside roared.

  The train was hurtling through deep woods now, elms and pines and thick brush. I saw no houses — or anyone lurking in the woods. It seemed like a good spot for the drop-off.

  The Handie-Talkie went dead again!

  “Assholes!” Agent Doud yelled at the top of his voice. The rest of us groaned and dropped to the floor.

  The voice repeated the drill eleven times in the next hour and a quarter. Three times we were made to move all the money to different cars on the train.

  We were sent all the way to the last car — then we were immediately ordered back to the front again.

  “You guys are good. Very obedient,” said the radio voice.

  Then the two-way was silent again.

  Chapter 64

  “I CAN’T STAND THIS!” Betsey yelled. “Goddamn him to hell! I want to kill that bastard.” The money bags were oversized and heavy; we were exhausted from lugging them through the train. We were covered with perspiration and dirt and soot. Jumpy and on edge. The constant rattle of the train was noisier than ever.