Panic

“I’d like to introduce you to the head of my security team.” Logan gestured to the largest of the two men. “This is Jack Stark; ex-military man. Tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, I believe.”

Stark nodded dispassionately. He stood a little shorter than Jerome at around six feet four inches, but was just as muscular and looked a little younger. On his forearm was a tattooed insignia with something written underneath, but Leopold couldn’t quite make out the words.

“And this is Viktor Baikov,” continued the senator. “He reports directly to Stark and takes care of the day-to-day ru

Viktor grunted in response but otherwise made no sign that he had heard what the senator had said.

“I decided to hire a third party to keep an eye on me,” Logan continued. “The police and the FBI can only do so much to keep me safe, and I’d rather put my life in the hands of someone earning more than minimum wage.”

“Keep you safe from what, Senator?” said Leopold.

“We both know what’s going on here, Mr. Blake. I know what they’re peddling in the news, but I didn’t get to where I am today without having contacts in all the right places.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Let’s just say the FBI should listen more carefully to your theories.”

“And just what would those theories be?”

“Don’t underestimate me, Mr. Blake,” said Logan. “I found out about Wilson before you even got the call, and I had Stark’s team installed last week after reading your reports on Carrera and Hague. There’s clearly a pattern, whatever the FBI might think.”

“That’s very prudent of you,” said Leopold.

“I checked Stark’s references and hired him on the spot. He’s certainly impressed me so far. Isn’t that right, Stark?”

“It’s my job, sir,” said Stark, keeping his eyes on Leopold.

They left Viktor and Stark on the stairs, and the senator led the group through a wide hallway that separated the entrance hall from the rest of the house. On the walls hung numerous framed photos, mostly from publicity events and press appearances the senator had attended through the years. Leopold noticed one in particular and stopped to look closer.

“Ah, a personal favorite of mine,” said Logan.

Leopold looked at the black-and-white photograph of the senator shaking hands with the president of the United States at a birthday celebration. The two men were both gri

“Whose party was this?” asked Leopold.

“Oh, the president and I go way back. This was taken at his fifty-third birthday a couple of years ago. Most people notice that one; I’ve seen Stark staring at it a few times. Follow me.”

Logan ushered them through to a large room, with several empty armchairs arranged around the fireplace. Mary Jordan sat in the corner, dressed in civilian clothes, a look of impatience on her face. An enormous blond security guard stood by the window.

“Sorry we’re late,” Leopold offered. “Traffic was murder.”

Mary didn’t reply. The consultant settled himself into one of the armchairs and Jerome sat down near Mary, his weight straining the delicate sofa’s wooden frame. The senator took a seat in the remaining armchair opposite Leopold, took an unopened bottle of scotch and a crystal tumbler from the nearby cabinet, unsealed the whisky, and poured himself a healthy measure. He kept the bottle with him, leaving the drink cabinet empty save for a spare glass that had accumulated a thin layer of dust.

“Senator, I need to ask you some questions,” said Leopold, waiting for Logan to fill his glass. “Do you know of anyone who would have a motive to harm to you or your family?”

“No doubt the same person who killed Carrera, Wilson, and Hague,” said Logan, taking a short sip of scotch.

“Why kidnapping? The other victims were murdered. It’s unusual to see a killer change their approach like this.”

“That’s why Stark and his men are here,” said the politician, gesturing at Dolph. “With a team of eighteen highly trained security perso

“Do you have any idea why someone would want to get to you?” said Leopold.

“Could be anything. A man in my position makes a lot of enemies. Clearly money is a motive here.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The kidnapper asked for money. I would have thought his motivation would be obvious,” said Logan, the pitch of his voice raised in irritation.

“Not all kidnappings are financially motivated,” said Leopold. “And we know that the call came in a full two hours before Christina was seen leaving the nightclub early this morning. How do you explain that?”

“I can’t speak to the mind of a lunatic,” said the politician, drinking deeply from his glass of scotch. “Maybe he thought he wouldn’t have any issues grabbing her and wanted to catch me before I fell asleep for the night. Set the wheels in motion. Thirty-five million dollars is a lot of money to get hold of; it takes time.”

“Tell me about the arrangements for the exchange. Were the police notified?”

“Of course. In order to arrange for that much cash to be delivered, I had to inform my insurance company. I have a specific policy in place for situations like this, and they’ll cover any ransom money paid over to the kidnapper, on the condition that the authorities are informed,” said Logan, draining the last of his scotch. “Fortunately I have enough pull at the mayor’s office to get the NYPD to back off; otherwise, they’d insist on leading the investigation themselves. I’ve allowed Ms. Jordan to be present, on the condition that she bring you too. I made it clear I wanted a specialist to look into this, which is why you’re here.”

“What happened next?” asked the consultant, arching his fingers and leaning forward.

“I told the kidnapper that I could deliver the cash anywhere he wanted, but that I needed to speak to my daughter first, to prove she was alive. He agreed and we arranged to speak again by telephone to organize the exchange. The call was supposed to be at five this morning, but it never came. And now they’ve both disappeared off the face of the Earth.”

“Did you recognize the kidnapper’s voice?”

“No, his voice was electronically altered.”

“Christina is in college. Columbia, I assume?” said Leopold, looking into Logan’s eyes.

“Yes, she’s a senior there. How did you know?” said the senator, his eyes flicking away back to the bottle of liquor on the nearby table.

“We know she lives in New York, and Columbia is the best the state has to offer, so naturally I took a shot. Can you tell me the names of any of her close friends at college? We’ll need to speak with them immediately.”

“Of course. Stark and his team have been kind enough to brief me fully on my daughter’s friends. I have to make sure she’s moving in the right circles, you understand.”

The senator rose from his chair, scribbled a few names on a piece of note paper, and handed it to the consultant, who folded it and placed it inside his jacket pocket.

“Thank you,” said Leopold. “We’ll get in touch when we know more.”

“That’s it?” said Logan. “You don’t need anything else?”

“I’ve seen plenty already, thank you,” replied Leopold, turning to leave. “We’d better get going.”

“Wait a minute. I insist you take Stark with you. If there’s some madman out there, you’ll need some protection. I’ll be traveling into Manhattan later this afternoon, so we can arrange to meet again later. I’ll be at my townhouse in Park Slopes,” said Logan.

“No need, I have my own security.” Leopold gestured toward Jerome. “We’ll call you when we have an update.”