you’ll believe him-he’s a man!”
She subsided muttering while Delia patted her soothingly and Carmine talked to Dagmar, who, perhaps because she associated police with men, now seemed to understand Kurt’s situation and peril thoroughly.
“What’s concerning all of us in Holloman is the size of the ransom,” Carmine said. “Have you any hope of raising it?”
“Oh, yes,” said the clear voice in its German accent, “it is already collected.”
“No kidding! How did that coincidence happen?”
“It is the foundation of a trust fund for my children,” said Dagmar. “My mother has retired from the company, and the ten million represents her capital, which she insisted be put into American dollars. Of course it will go to pay Kurt’s ransom-we can always set up another trust fund for the children later.”
“I see.” Carmine’s mind was racing. “First of all, ma’am, I do assure you that your brother has been kidnapped. His finger established his identity, as the kidnappers knew it would. I must warn you that the odds of getting Kurt back alive are not good, but there is a chance. The Holloman end will be devoted to a search aimed at finding him, because we have our doubts that the kidnapping masterminds are in America. We think they may be German, and that the kidnappers don’t care who is brought in to solve the American end because it can’t make any difference to the ransom. That’s going straight from Munich to Zurich.”
“Typically American!” she said in an icy voice. “Blame anyone but yourselves.”
“There’s no blame attached to us, Frau von Fahlendorf!” said Carmine, voice equally icy. “We’re the whipping boy. What’s your husband’s real name?”
“Von Fahlendorf,” she said.
“No, before he changed it.”
“That is no one’s business except his.”
“For someone whose blood brother is in terrible danger, you seem to have strange priorities, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am!” she snapped. “Helen, what is the account number, and the name of the bank?”
Carmine shook his head vigorously. “Oh, no, ma’am, you don’t get that information until it’s time to pay the ransom.”
She hung up.
“What a bummer!” Nick exclaimed. “The Dodo escalates to murder, and a day later a foreign national who is a Chubb professor of physics is kidnapped. It stretches us thin, boss.”
“Too thin,” said Carmine grimly. “I’ll have to go see the Commissioner in a minute, but first-priorities. The Dodo has to be worked, even though his victim is dead. We don’t know if von Fahlendorf is dead yet, so we proceed on the assumption that he’s alive. That’s not impossible, because a lot of kidnappers kill passively by imprisoning their victim somewhere impregnable and then not giving them food or water. Three days without water, three weeks without food. Not a terribly accurate rule of thumb. If the prison’s insulated, sheltered and full of air, the victim will survive at least a week unwatered. Therefore our first priority is searching for Kurt.” He hunched his shoulders, sank his chin onto his chest and thought for what seemed an eternity; it was probably three or four minutes. Then he sighed. “I can’ t run the Dodo and the kidnapping,” he said flatly. “As a completely new case, the kidnapping goes to Corey and his team, with Helen tacked on to liaise between us and Kurt’s family as well as with other agencies like the FBI.”
Helen’s face betrayed her dismay, but she had learned from her conflict with Abe Goldberg; she nodded willingly.
“When and if Abe and his team can be freed up, we’ll have two teams spearheading the search for Kurt. Helen, keep me in the loop at all times. You’re my trainee, not a part of Corey’s team-understand?”
“Yes, sir.” She looked directly at Carmine. “Will the FBI be a help or a hindrance, Captain? Cops dislike them.”
“They won’t bother the Holloman PD,” said Carmine, unfazed. “If the kidnappers were known criminals, the FBI would be a big help, but we know they’re not. I’d be willing to take a hefty bet that they’re German nationals who visited the U.S.A. with only one purpose-to snatch Kurt. Further, the kidnappers knew that Dagmar von Fahlendorf had liquidated her mother’s investments to form a trust fund for the grandchildren. Again, it screams a German operation. Our real task is to find Kurt before the ransom money has to be paid.”
“Do you seriously think that she’s involved?” Delia asked.
“No, but I don’t trust her security, Deels. If she leaves the name of the bank and account number lying around, and the kidnapper has access to the ten million, the transfer might take place ahead of time. So-she doesn’t get it until her Friday twenty-five.”
“What if the FBI tell her?” Helen asked.
“After I’ve explained, they won’t.”
From Silvestri’s office Carmine went to Corey’s, two floors down. He was on his own.
When Carmine entered Corey looked up, grinned, and pushed a file across his desk. His long, dark face was suffused with triumphant content.
“The Taft High arms cache case,” he said. “Closed.”
“That’s great, Cor. Fill me in.”
“It wasn’t as bad as we originally thought, though Buzz is still muttering that there’s more to it. All I can say is that if there is more, we can’t find evidence of it, including Buzz. The story as we have it is that someone in the Black Brigade got spooked into thinking there was a raid coming, and gave his little brother the cache of guns he had in their home. The kid hid them at the Taft High gym, and, as you know, Principal White found them.”
“Why does Buzz think there’s more to it, Cor?”
“He believes the Black Brigade has thrown off a splinter group composed of less patient, more violent soldiers who don’t think Wesley le Clerc is doing it any more than Mohammed el Nesr. Both le Clerc and el Nesr preach that violence for the sake of violence is a waste of manpower, but the splinter group is tired of waiting for the country’s entire black population to erupt. The guns weren’t supposed to be at the school for more than a few hours in transit-they’d been bought with the proceeds of a bank holdup in Middletown, and there are a shitload more than were found.”
“But there’s no proof?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Then the case is closed. But keep an eye peeled, huh?”
“Sure, always. What have you got. for me now?”
“A kidnapping.”
Corey sat bolt upright, staring at Carmine as at the Angel Gabriel. “
“Yes, and not a baby snatching outside a supermarket.” Corey following avidly, Carmine told him the story of Professor Kurt von Fahlendorf, including the direction his own theories were taking.
“Is it possible that von Fahlendorf himself is a part of it?” Corey asked.
“No, I don’t think so. I’m picking his brother-in-law, but I don’t expect to get much co-operation from the Munich cops.” He leaned forward across Corey’s desk. “I’m giving you Helen MacIntosh because she knows Kurt better than anyone else here, and because she’s the liaison between Kurt’s family and all the cops on this side of the Atlantic.”
“He’s already dead, Carmine.”
“I agree, but we have to pretend he’s alive. And, Cor?”
“Yeah?”
“Keep decent notes. That’s a direct order. This case has the potential to wind up in a civil court with the State or the County accused of some kind of malfeasance. And don’t glare at me! You’ve brought cautions on your own head. If Morty Jones takes a drink, he’s off the force. Understood?”
Corey managed to nod civilly, but the anger burned inside. “Sure, Carmine.” He thought of something. “I guess the FBI will be here to trip us up?”
“Is assassination the flavor of the year? Sure the FBI will be here. I expect you to co-operate with its agents, okay?”
“We’ll give them whatever we get.”
“Good,” said Carmine, knowing it was a lie. “Helen will be here shortly to fill you in on the details.” He walked out, very relieved that Corey was finally shaping up.
