wife is throwing for the board officers of our soon-to-be subsidiaries.” He turned to Will. “Well, if it isn’t the darling of the Society. Welcome to the farm, Dr. Grant. Life seems to have been rather unkind to you since we last met.”
Will shook his head derisively.
“Is that what this is all about, Halliday,” he said, “acquiring companies?”
Halliday looked back at Gold.
“I need you here with us, Marsh. As it is, we’re barely going to have enough time to finish our business today, and the meeting is set for ten tomorrow morning. How about sending Mr. Watkins with our friend? He might do better than you in Roxbury, anyhow.”
“But-”
Halliday gestured toward Patty.
“She’ll be here with us, right?”
“Yes, but-”
“So there’s no chance Dr. Grant will cause Mr. Watkins any problems. Isn’t that right, Doctor?”
“Whatever you say,” Will muttered.
“If he does cause even one bit of difficulty, if Mr. Watkins doesn’t call in every fifteen minutes on the dot, the good doctor’s relationship to this sleeping beauty will be, how should I say, cut short.”
“What companies are you acquiring tomorrow?” Will asked. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess. The companies you’ll be acquiring just happen to have been controlled by the four people who just accidentally happened to have been murdered by a killer out for revenge. What a convenient coincidence.”
“Actually,” Halliday said, “we were only interested in two of them. But patterns can be so revealing. Mr. Watkins, are you ready?”
“Whenever you say.”
“Wat,” Gold ordered, “before he leaves this room, put a pillowcase over his head and tie it at the bottom. Take it off only when you reach Roxbury. Use the handcuffs for the trip, too, just in case he loses his mind and decides to be a hero. If he gives you any shit at all, just shoot him through the knee, then the balls, and then drag him back here.”
“You got it, boss.”
“We can keep her right here in this room, Marsh,” Halliday said. He reached down and gave Patty’s great toe a playful tweak. “I’m sure Dr. Krause wouldn’t mind watching her.”
CHAPTER 33
“What kind of car is this, Watkins?”
“Lincoln Town Car.”
“Nice. I knew I was kneeling on the floor of something pretty spiffy. Smells new.”
“I take good care of it. Keep your hands up on the seat where I can see them.”
“You’re three-hundred pounds of frigging muscle, and I’m kneeling on the floor of your car with handcuffs on, my fingers all torn up, a pillowcase tied over my head, and my girlfriend being held as collateral. What are you worried about?”
“Mr. Gold tells me what to do, and I do it. And this time he told me you are not to be trusted. So get your hands up on the seat where I can see them, or I’m going to reach down and grab them and put them there, and I don’t think you want me to do that.”
Will did as he was ordered. There was an abruptness to Watkins, a coldness, that he hadn’t fully appreciated at the farmhouse. Despite his Buddha-like physique and moon face, and the care with which he had bandaged Will’s fingers, there was nothing soft about him. If Watkins needed or wanted to kill, chances were he would do so without remorse. Gold knew that. Otherwise, there was no way he would have trusted the man as he had.
They were maybe twenty minutes away from the farm and, at Gold’s insistence, Will had spent the entire ride on his knees, his butt crammed under the dash, his face pressed onto the front seat. At first, influenced by any number of hostage movies, he tried remembering turns and listening for the sort of telltale sounds that might enable him to retrace their journey-the tolling of a church bell, the whistle of a train, the jackhammering of road construction. He heard nothing that he could pinpoint. Of course, before retracing any steps, he had to deal with his handcuffs and overpower the gargantuan at the wheel of the Town Car. Quickly he gave up listening for clues and instead forced his mind back to the conundrum of how to guarantee that Gold would release Patty. He had yet to solve that puzzle, and time was running out.
To Will’s right, he could hear Watkins fumbling for something in his jacket pocket. A moment later he dialed a cell phone with a single touch. The check-in call. They were fifteen minutes out, not twenty.
“Mr. Gold, Wat here. Just reporting in. No problems so far. . He’s doing just fine, sir, just fine, but he doesn’t like being on the floor. . Okay, Mr. Gold, I’ll tell him. I’ll speak to you in fifteen minutes. We should be in Roxbury before too much longer. . Yes, sir. Whatever you say is the way it’s going to be.” He returned the phone to his pocket. “Mr. Gold says for you to get used to it down there.”
“Isn’t he just a sweetie.”
“Shut up.”
“What did he say to you, Watkins? What’s the ‘way it’s going to be’ mean?”
“Shut up or I swear I’m gonna do some work on those fingers. I bandaged them and I can just as easily unbandage them.”
“You’re a real prize.”
Will sank down on the seat, mulling over what Gold might have said. The possibilities he came up with were unsettling. Several of the electrical burns on his body had been itching mercilessly. He asked for permission to scratch and got the predictable response. They were making the frequent turns and stops of city driving now. Watkins had made his second check-in call, this one much briefer than the first, then drove on in silence for maybe ten minutes more. Almost there.
“Okay,” Watkins said, slowing down, “we’re near where you met Lionel. You can untie that pillowcase and take it off. There’s a bow in the twine right under your chin.”
“Bless you.”
“Now, slowly, push yourself up onto the seat and turn around.”
“What about these handcuffs?”
“Just keep your hands in your lap.”
“How will I fasten my seat belt?” Will waited in vain for Watkins to respond to the humor. “Okay,” he said once he was upright and had worked the stiffness from his shoulders and a painful cramp from his hip. “That’s where I stopped Lionel to ask directions, right over there, but I think it’s too early for his evening walk.”
“Mr. Gold wants us to check in some stores. He says if this Lionel is the way you described him, someone will know who he is.”
“Smart man.”
“You’re going to come with me, but you’re going to keep your mouth shut unless I ask you to speak. Try anything, and Mr. Gold has instructed me to shoot you and whoever we’re talking to. You know I’ll do that, right?”
“Right, chief.”
“Wiseass.”
Half a block down, Watkins found space by a meter and skillfully maneuvered the boatlike Lincoln into the spot. Then he lumbered around to Will’s door, undid the manacle on Will’s left wrist, and clicked it onto his own.
“What direction was this man coming from when you stopped him for directions?” he asked.
“From there.”
