Finder's Fee (8 page)

“A loud pop? Like a gunshot?” Luke leaned forward.

“No. It sounded electrical, like a short in the phone.”

Luke pressed her. “What kind of scream?”

“What do you mean what kind of scream? How many screams are there?”

“Come on, you know the answer to that. There are scores of screams. Did she scream like something surprised her or like someone with a bloody axe just walked in the room?”

Judith thought, the sound of Terri's voice still ricocheting in her mind. “Surprise, I guess.”

“Not terror, but surprise?”

“I guess. I don't know. How am I supposed to know the difference?”

“Okay, something startled her but didn't terrorize her. That's good.” Luke's eyes darted from side to side and his brow furrowed.

“We don't know that. I'm guessing.” Judith reached for the phone again, picked up the handset but didn't dial. “You don't think we should turn around?”

“No. It would be counterproductive for us and for the Puppeteer.”

“Why should I care? If Terri's in danger, I should be there.”

“Really. Let's see: if we turn around, we could be back on the ground in thirty or forty minutes assuming we can land right away. By the time you get to the car and drive to your office another twenty or thirty minutes will have elapsed. Figure an hour.”

“If that's what it takes.”

“I can understand the desire to go back, Judith, but have you thought that you might be doing her a greater disservice than aid?”

Judith tilted her head. “A disservice?”

“Yes. What just happened? You called your office, you connected, and then something happened on the other end. Part of our marching orders was not to contact others. This guy means business. I doubt he's going to tolerate much rebellion on our part.” He leaned back. “Remember I said that he might have your offices bugged or your phones tapped. You told me he knew what your office looked like. Someone must have spent some time in there and they may have planted spy cameras, listening devices, and who knows what else.”

Judith reset the phone. “How could he know … You mean that he or one of his minions was listening in when I called and did something?”

“Exactly. I'm guessing they planted a device in the phone to deliver a shock, or sound, or even destroy the electronics of the phone. It could be one of a hundred things.”

“But why?”

“To keep you incognito. Most likely it was a message to you. Who knows what the next message will be like? It could be worse.”

“And so by going back, you're saying I could be further endangering Terri?”

“I'm afraid so.”

“But you're just speculating.” The fury roiled in Judith.

“That's true. I could be all wet. Are you willing to take the chance that I'm wrong?”

Judith thought for a moment, letting her gaze roam out the window. She felt so alone, her mind as inconsequential as the few gossamer strips of clouds beneath them.

“No.”

Terri examined her left hand. It bore a red stripe across the palm. For a moment she thought she saw a blister rising, but none appeared. Her left ear hurt, her knees felt weak, and her stomach flopped like a fish on a wood dock.

“Are you okay?” Marlin reentered the office through the same door he had fled a few seconds before.

“I … think so. I feel a little funny. Maybe I should see a doctor.”

“Of course, of course. Was that Judith on the phone?”

“What?”

“Focus, girl. Was that Judith on the phone?”

Terri wondered how long the jail sentence was for stabbing an obnoxious clown with a letter opener. For a few seconds, Terri was ready to pay the price. “Yes.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. Well, nothing I could hear.” She looked at the pieces of the phone on her desk. “How can a phone fracture like that?”

“I don't know. Are you sure she didn't say anything?”

Terri reached for the letter opener with her undamaged right hand, took it, then used it to push the phone's receiver toward Marlin. “Here. Why don't you call her yourself?”

Marlin looked at the phone. “No, thanks.”

Terri put down the letter opener and opened her handbag. She removed a compact and popped it open, using the mirror to look at her ear. Other than a slight reddening, it seemed fine. Returning the compact, she examined her hand. The red mark was already fading and would probably be gone by the time she could be seen by a doctor at any urgent care.

She looked at Marlin.

Marlin looked at her.

Finally, Terri spoke. “We should do something. I'm calling the police.”

“For a technical failure?”

“Technical failure? Look, I'm a little too rattled to play good-employee-bad-boss. So get as angry as you like, but this is not technical failure. When was the last time you heard of a phone zapping its user and blowing itself apart?”

“It didn't really blow up. It just sort of fell to pieces.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Find, you didn't stay around long enough to see what happened. It went off and you disappeared.”

“A reflex action. You'd have done the same.”

She moved into Judith's office, Marlin close behind. “Call it what you will, it was abnormal. I'm calling the police.”

“We don't need the negative publicity. I forbid you to call.”

She stopped at Judith's desk and looked at the phone. She hesitated. She looked up in time to see Marlin smile.

“I see you're coming around. Do not make that call.”

“I'm not coming around.” She walked past him, through her office, and to the elevator. She punched the call button.

“What are you doing?”

“I think I'll use the pay phone in the lobby. Whoever rigged my phone may have rigged Judith … Ms. Find's.”

Marlin seized her arm. It felt like a vise had closed on her flesh. She refused to wince or reveal any sign of pain.

“Let go of me or the phone will not be the only thing lying in pieces up here.”

“You think I'm afraid of you?” He laughed.

“Can you say assault and battery? If you fear bad press about the police investigating my phone, imagine what the press will do with a story about the senior VP of Find, Inc., abusing a female employee. It might even have an effect on stock prices. Who knows?”

“You wouldn't do that.”

“Try me.”

The elevator arrived. Terri stared into the cold eyes of Marlin. He relented, releasing her. Without a word she stepped into the elevator and let its doors shut. The look on Marlin's face chilled her.

As the elevator descended, a wave of nausea rolled through her. She had never stood up to someone as rich and powerful as Marlin Find. In truth, she had parroted what she had seen Judith do a few times. Courage was not her strong suit.

She thought of the phone.

She thought of Judith's call.

Soon a blizzard of fear drove the nausea away.

Terri began to cry.

J
udith struggled to focus. Terri's startled scream still resonated in her mind. Luke had printed several documents: the boy's picture, the Word document, an Internet-generated map of the house they planned to visit in Fresno, and the photos of themselves from years before.

“There has to be something we're not seeing.” Luke shifted the papers on the small desk as if by rearranging them he would see them with new insight.

“I can't get past his eyes. Surely someone has been playing with the photo in the computer.” Judith picked up the color print of the boy named Abel Palek and saw the same dark hair, the same fair complexion, the same serious look, and the same lavender eyes.

Lavender eyes. It made no sense. Judith had nothing more than high school biology but she was pretty sure purple eyes were unnatural. She had read novels where the author had described a character, usually the beautiful protagonist, as having violet eyes, but these were as purple as lilacs. “Maybe he's wearing contacts?”

“Maybe. I don't think it's possible for a human to have purple irises.”

“Why would someone fit a boy with colored contact lenses?”

“Maybe he has a vision problem and the purple tint protects his retina. Maybe … maybe … I got nothing.” Luke leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “We'll be landing soon and I hoped to have more info than we do.”

“If the Puppeteer wants us to find the boy, then why give us so little information?” Something else about the photo puzzled her.

“Perhaps it's all he has.”

Judith didn't agree. “He has too many resources. If he knows so much about us that he knows the secrets that would make us his marionettes, then how can he be so ignorant about this?”

“I don't have a clue.”

Clue? Was that it?

Judith shoved the photo across the table. “Can you zoom in on this?”

“You mean zoom in on some part of it? I can with the computer, but looking closer at his eyes isn't going to help.”

“I don't want to see his eyes. I want to see the floor.”

“You're not serious.”

“I am. Just show me some of your computer kung-fu or whatever it is you do and give me a close-up of the floor.”

Luke leaned over the table again and started tapping keys. In a few moments he had the picture on the screen displayed by photo soft ware. He turned it so Judith could see. He moved the cursor to the toolbar and tapped the icon of a magnifying glass. “Say when.” He tapped the icon again and the picture grew larger.

Judith leaned in. “There's something familiar about the floor.”

“It just looks like a wood floor; maybe one of those laminate jobs — ”

“That's it!” Judith pulled the computer closer and took over the keyboard. She worked with computers every day. This wasn't complicated. She zoomed in closer and closer. “This photo is unusually clear.”

“It's a big file. Almost two megabytes.”

“I don't believe it.” Judith raised a hand to her mouth. “What are the odds?”

“What do you see that I don't?”

Judith turned the laptop so Luke could see it. “You hit the nail on the head when you mentioned laminate.”

“I don't follow.”

“How do I explain this? There are different types of wood flooring and different ways of installing them. For example, a true wood floor is a series of narrow planks connected by a tongue and groove edge. The wood is glued if it's being installed over a concrete substrate or toenailed if placed over a subfloor. Because the planks are true wood all the way through, it's an expensive way to go but the floor usually lasts longer and is easier to repair.

“Most laminate flooring consists of a thin layer of decorative wood — say red oak — over a fabricated substrate. Those floors are usually installed by floating the floor over the subfloor.”

“Floating?”

“The flooring snaps together. It isn't nailed or glued. It allows the floor to expand and contract.”

“I don't see why any of that is important.”

“The floor in this picture is a laminate. The style is called Blocked Maple. I know because I designed it.”

“You designed the image used on the floor?”

“Not personally. We have a design department and sometimes we use outside designers. They approach us and if we like what they have, we make suggestions, buy the rights to the image, and farm it out for production. We handle the marketing.”

“And you recognize the pattern.”

“It's as unique as a photo of your mother. You look at something long enough and it gets burned into your memory. This pattern was designed and photographed by a guy named Stewart Blink.”

“Stewart Blink. That's his real name?”

“I doubt it. Some of these artist types like to remake themselves.”

“I never thought of a floor designer as being an artist.”

Judith smiled. “You need to broaden your horizons, Mr. Day Trader.”

Luke sighed but didn't object to the dig. “How does any of this help us?”

“It helps us because that particular design flopped big time. I lost a truckload of money on that design. No one knows why, but it took off like a herd of turtles.”

“You have a way with words, lady. I'll give you that. Still, I don't see — ”

“I think I can track the few sales we had. It won't be easy, but a few calls might narrow the field for us.”

“You're saying that we might be able to find the address where the boy is being held?”

“Not just by that.” Judith looked at the image again. “I also recognize the Persian rug.”

“You're kidding, right?”

“Not at all. Remember, this is what I do. My company specializes in interior design products. We're one of the top players in the field and we're not a one-pony show. We design and manufacture everything from paint to light fixtures. It's a multibillion-dollar business and we make our money by being informed and putting out the best product. Two years ago, we retained an overseas company to manufacture a line of Persian inspired rugs.”

“And you know for a fact that that rug is one of yours?”

“I do.”

The pilot's voice came from the overhead speakers, announcing their descent into Fresno. The table had to be stowed and the computer put away. Both were done reluctantly.

“Here's the thing.” Judith stacked the printouts. “I might, and emphasize the word
might
, be able to track where the flooring went and compare it to where that style of carpet was sold. It's possible that the numbers will be too large, but we won't know unless we try.”

“You keep that kind of data? You know who bought what?”

“No, we don't, but the retailers do a pretty good job. I'll start by seeing what outlets sold that type of flooring. It went out in trial, which means there were a limited number of retailers stocking the item. The rug may be more difficult but it might work.”