Chapter 17 Chapter 17: The Lead
Ethan Cavalier
Day fourteen, and my grandfather has been kidnapped for twenty hours.
At midnight I go downstairs through the east wing staircase. Derek is waiting for me in the basement with a table, four monitors, an operations setup thrown together in a hurry, and two more men who’ve worked with me for eight years and haven’t slept in thirty hours. Ramón is still locked behind the last door, alive, eating whatever they bring him. Tonight I don’t care about Ramón. Tonight I care about my grandfather.
—Boss.
—Derek. Summary.
—Mr. Manuel’s meeting last night on Park Avenue. Confirmed. He left at eleven-oh-two. Car took the FDR. Driver’s phone last pinged at eleven-seventeen near exit ninety-six. The car turned up abandoned at nine-thirty this morning on a street in the South Bronx, empty. The note arrived at the mansion at four-thirty in the afternoon. Alive, twenty-four hours, no demands yet.
—The Park Avenue meeting was with who?
—Dr. Gutiérrez. Mr. Manuel’s private attorney. Succession paperwork.
I lifted my head.
—Succession?
—Yes, boss.
—My grandfather was handling his succession and didn’t tell me?
—Didn’t tell me either, boss. We only found out this afternoon, after he disappeared. Dr. Gutiérrez’s assistant confirmed the appointment but couldn’t tell us what it was about. Dr. Gutiérrez has been unreachable since last night.
—Unreachable how?
—Not answering his phone. The assistant went to his house this afternoon, nobody answered. I sent two men to stay outside the building.
—Derek.
—Yes?
—Twenty hours ago my grandfather disappeared after leaving a succession meeting, and the lawyer who met with him also isn’t answering his phone.
—Yes, boss.
—The lawyer is either dead or bought.
—I’m betting dead. Seventy-year-old man, no known enemies, no debts, loyal to Mr. Manuel for thirty years. Bought doesn’t fit.
—Doesn’t fit for me either. Send two more men to force their way into his building if they have to.
—Already on their way.
At one-fifteen one of Derek’s men walked in carrying a plastic bag. Inside was my grandfather’s driver’s phone.
—They found it in a ditch, boss. Exit ninety-two on the FDR. Two kilometers before the Manhattan crossing.
—Just the phone?
—No, boss. The driver too.
Silence.
—Dead?
—Yes.
—How?
—Shot in the back of the head, boss. Clean. Professional. Wasn’t a fight, didn’t defend himself. They got him out of the car, took him to the ditch, and shot him.
—The guard riding with him?
—Wasn’t there. Just the driver.
—Then the guard sold them out.
—Looks that way, boss.
—Name of the guard.
—Esteban Morales. Four years in the house. Direct recommendation from Mr. Manuel.
I closed my eyes for a second. Esteban had been one of mine before the coma. I’d recommended him to my grandfather as a backup driver. Two years later he became personal security. He was the man in the passenger seat whenever my grandfather traveled.
—Find Esteban Morales, Derek. I don’t care how. I don’t care what it costs. I want him alive. I need him talking.
—Yes, boss.
—And tell my mother about the driver tomorrow morning. Full honors funeral, family pays everything. He had two sons. They get their father’s salary for ten years minimum.
—Yes, boss.
At two in the morning another report came in.
Derek’s men had entered Dr. Gutiérrez’s building. They found him in his study, sitting in an armchair facing the window. Bullet through the temple. Gun on the floor. Suicide at first glance. Murder at second glance, because Dr. Gutiérrez was left-handed and the gun was beside his right hand.
—Boss.
—They silenced him.
—Yes, boss.
—And they silenced the driver because he saw Esteban hand over Mr. Manuel.
—Yes, boss.
—This isn’t an ordinary kidnapping, Derek.
—No, boss. This is very well planned. And very well financed.
—Marcelo?
Derek hesitated one second too long.
—Marcelo doesn’t have the reach for this, boss. Marcelo pays guards and buys maids. This is something else. Someone with deep pockets and cold planning.
—The three families?
—That’s what I’m looking at. But I still don’t have proof.
—Priority: find Esteban Morales. Through him we get to whoever’s behind this.
—Yes, boss.
At three-thirty I went back upstairs to the suite. I’d spent four hours in the basement and my body wanted a mattress.
I opened the door quietly. Laura was asleep on her side. My mother was sleeping beside her. Both women breathing evenly, both frowning in their sleep. Their hands were close, almost touching on top of the sheet between them.
I stood there in the doorway for a second watching them.
Then I closed the door, left the suite, and slipped into the adjoining room, the one Derek had set up for me in case I ever wanted to sleep without her seeing me. Small room, no window, bed and bathroom. A comfortable prison.
I slept for two hours.
At quarter to six Derek knocked on the door.
—Boss.
—Come in.
—They found Esteban Morales.
—Alive?
—Alive. In a motel in Queens. My men have him boxed into the next room. He doesn’t know we have him yet. He’s waiting for someone to pay him.
—Nobody pays him. Let him keep feeling safe until we get there. I’ll be downstairs in an hour.
—Yes, boss.
—One more thing, Derek.
—Yes?
—Capture him, don’t kill him. I need him talking.
—Yes, boss.
He left.
I went back to the suite at six-ten. Laura was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed in uniform. My mother was still asleep on the other side.
I lay down. Closed my eyes. Prepared to fake another morning.
Laura came over. Took my vitals. Changed the IV. Wrote down the progress notes. She did everything in silence, without speaking to me, without jokes, without the comments she’d been giving me for two weeks.
When she finished, she sat in the low chair at the foot of the bed.
—Cavalier.
Long pause.
—Your grandfather has been missing for thirty hours. The driver turned up dead. The lawyer they were going to see, dead too. Your mother slept here because she didn’t want to be alone in her room. I said yes because I thought it was the right thing to do. But I’ve spent two hours staring at the ceiling.
Pause.
—Cavalier. I’m offering you something. If Derek finds your grandfather and brings him back hurt, I’ll fix him. I know how to do that. It’s the only thing I know how to do in this story. I remove bullets fast, my stitches are clean, and I clean wounds better than half the doctors I’ve worked with.
Longer pause. Her voice trembled.
—But I’m scared, Cavalier. I’m scared they’ll bring him back already dead. I’m scared your mother won’t survive it. I’m scared I won’t be able to help when it’s time for me to help. And I’m scared of being alone in this, because your mother is broken and your father’s only just arriving from Toronto and Derek’s out in the streets.
Silence.
—Cavalier, I’m begging you to wake up. Just once. I’m not asking forever. I’m asking for one day. One hour. Five minutes. Wake up and tell me what I do if they bring him back dead. Wake up and hold me for a little while. Wake up and tell me you don’t know either and we’ll improvise together. Anything, Cavalier. But wake up.
Long silence. Her voice shook worse.
—Please.
Under my closed eyelids, I felt the two tears that fell onto my left hand. Felt them hot. Heavy. The kind people don’t cry easily.
I was about to break.
I was going to do it. I was going to sit up in bed and tell her I’m here, I’ve been awake for thirteen days, don’t be afraid. I was going to hold her. I was going to improvise whatever came next with her.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t because if I sat up in bed that morning, Derek would lose the entire trap we’d spent two weeks building. If they saw me awake too soon, Esteban would run. If Esteban ran, my grandfather wouldn’t come back.
I clenched my eyelids shut. Didn’t let them open.
But I raised the monitor by two beats, slowly, and kept it elevated for a long while. Long enough for her to know I’d heard her.
Laura stared at the monitor.
Then she took my hand. The one still wet with her tears. She squeezed it hard.
—Cavalier. Thank you for raising the heartbeat.
Pause.
—It helps. Even if it’s cheating.
She let go of my hand. Stood up. Wiped her face with the sleeve of her scrubs. Fixed her hair.
—I’m going to wake up your mother. We need to organize the day.
She left.
When the door closed, I opened my eyes.
My left hand was still wet. I looked at it. The two tears were still there, shining, tiny, not dried yet.
I stared at them for a long time.
Then I picked up the internal phone.
—Derek.
—Boss.
—When we rescue my grandfather — and we will rescue him — add one more thing to your list.
—Go ahead.
—My wife never cries over an empty bed again. I’ll handle that myself. But starting today, no more.
—Yes, boss.
I hung up.
Closed my eyes.
Three hours later I was in a motel in Queens with a knife, a chair, and a traitorous guard. And for the first time in fourteen days, I didn’t feel guilty about what I was about to do.
I did it for my grandfather.
And for the two tears on my hand.