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Left alone, Oakley felt chilled. He chewed a cigar to shreds, enraged beyond reason by his feeling of helplessness. The hot fury sawed through him until his jaw muscles stood out like cables and he wanted to plunge his fist through the desk, the wall, anything in reach.
Co
The essential coldness which Co
“The hell they can’t. They have.”
“No. I’m not as soft as they think. Don’t count on me throwing my hand in.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Think they can wipe their feet on me,” Co
Oakley’s face changed. “I wouldn’t worry about that right now. We’ve got other things to think about. I’ll have to call Farmers and Merchants in the morning, think of some reasonable explanation for wanting that much untraceable cash—and just hope they’ve got that much on hand.”
“You’d pay the bastards then?”
“For God’s sake what option have you got? Of course we’ll pay. Anything—anything beyond reason, of course. There’s no choice at all.”
“Wrong,” Co
Oakley stared at him. “You can’t mean that.”
“Maybe. Let’s think it out.”
“There’d be hell to pay.”
“Then we’ll pay it.”
“No. It’s Terry who’d have to pay.”
“You understand things too quickly, Carl. Just stop and think. What if we refused to pay?”
“How can you even ask that?”
“To find out what the answer is. Well?”
“What do you think would happen? For God’s sake, it’s as plain as the nose on your face!”
“Saying they’d kill her?”
“Of course they would!” Co
“No. I don’t. What you’re saying has got a smell of sickness to it.”
“What I’m saying,” Co
“Certainly—but how could you possibly take that chance?”
“You don’t get this yet, do you? Our whole objective is to save Terry, right? Not to do what they want just because they ask. Now, question: given choice between no money but freedom, and big money but inevitable capture, what will they do? Look—spell it out. They call tomorrow. I give them choice, starting with premise that I’m a man of limitless wealth. My offer: they turn Terry loose, she returns here unharmed, and we’ll forget whole thing. The only other choice I offer—since I refuse to pay ransom—is for them to kill her and make run for it. But if they choose that course they recognize I’ll spend every last cent of my vast fortune to see them dead—tracked down no matter how many dollars and years it takes, found, captured, and put to death by most painful slow method imaginable. Given those alternatives, and no others, which would you choose?”
Oakley stared with awed disbelief. “You’d actually take that risk with Terry’s life at stake?”
He saw color rise in Co
“You can’t actually believe what you’re saying.”
“I have to.”
“What kind of maniac are you?”
“You can’t shout me down, Carl. Don’t try. If I can’t make you see that—”
“You can’t. Stop it. You act as if you’re dealing with an opposition team of corporate businessmen who can be reasoned with. You heard that voice on the phone. These people are of another species. There’s no reasoning with psychopaths. That voice belonged to a man who’s lacked from birth the ability to distinguish right from wrong. We’re dealing with a monster who’s indifferent to fear just as he’s indifferent to cruelty.”
“Possibly. But if you read that much into his voice, and read it right, then he plans to kill her anyway. Paying ransom won’t stop him.”
Abrupt and distressed, Oakley threw back his head to swallow a mouthful of whiskey. Ice cubes in the glass shot forward and whacked his upper lip. He said desperately, “All right, suppose you do this and they call your bluff. Suppose you spend every cent you’ve got to track them down and see them killed. When you do, Carl—when you do, what then?”
“That is not my intent.”
“Who cares what you intended? Who’s going to care what your real motives were? Earle, you’re judged by the consequences of your acts, not by your intent. If you go through with this—”
“Yes?”
“You’ll have to defend it for a hell of a long time,” Oakley finished weakly. “Or try to.”
“Only thing that matters now is Terry. I couldn’t care less about future accusations and justifications.” Co
Oakley said bitterly, “At least talk it over with Louise before you decide to do it.”
“Why? So she can take your side and try talk me out of it?”
“You assume she won’t agree with you?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Automatic reaction. Sentimentality. Tradition—kidnap, pay ransom, last-reel magic rescue. She knows The Desperate Hours by heart but not much about reality.”
“Reality,” Oakley breathed, “is a psychopath out there somewhere with a gun pointed at Terry’s head. You anticipate Louise will disagree with you—doesn’t it occur to you that anybody at all would reject this mad scheme of yours, with good reason? How many people do you think you could find who—”
“God damn it,” Co
“Will you at least talk to Louise? You owe it to her to tell her what’s happened, at the very least.”
“She’s not Terry’s mother.”
“She’s your wife.”
Co
“You think that’s wise?”
Co