Ransom

“She'll probably take the older boy to a game, maybe in Marin. Or the girl to ballet. She usually has the little one with her on Saturdays. They don't seem to do much, probably even on weekends.” The weather had been great, but she didn't seem to go out much. In fact, almost never. “You'll get a good look at the kids. She's with them pretty much all the time, and the little guy never leaves her.” Peter had a sense of betraying them, and Waters nodded. Carl wasn't interested in making friends with them. This was a reconnaissance mission for him, and nothing more than that. To him, this was business. To Peter, it was becoming an obsession. But Carlton Waters didn't know that. He took the keys, got in the car, and drove to the address Morgan had given him. It was ten o'clock on a brilliantly sunny Saturday in May as Peter left for Tahoe.

He thought about her all the way, wondering what would happen if he backed out now. It was simple, Addison would have his daughters killed, and Peter himself shortly thereafter. And if he confessed to the police and did time for it, or was violated, Addison would have him killed in prison. It was all so simple. There was no turning back. They were on a roll now. And as he reached Truckee finally, Waters was following her to Marin, to one of Will's lacrosse games. He had seen all three kids by then, and she looked about the way he had expected her to. To him, she looked like a suburban housewife, which was of no interest to him. To him, she was a victim, and a lucrative one, and nothing more. To Peter, she looked like an angel. But in some ways, Waters didn't know what he was seeing. The kind of women that appealed to him were a lot jazzier-looking than Fernanda. He thought she looked pretty but plain, and noticed that she didn't wear makeup. At least not when she went out with her children. In fact, she hadn't worn any since Allan died. It no longer mattered to her. Nor did fancy clothes, high heels, or any of the jewelry he'd given her. She had already sold most of it, and the rest had been in the safe since January. She didn't need jewelry or fancy clothes for what she was doing, or what her life was now.

Peter drove to the first address on his list, and saw that it was bordered on three sides, and within two feet in each case, by other houses, which made it impossible for their purpose. He had the same problem with the next four. The sixth one was insanely expensive. The next four were equally unsuitable. And much to his relief, the last one was the right one. It was perfect. It had a long winding driveway that was full of potholes and weeds, the house itself looked ramshackle, and was so overgrown, you couldn't even see in the windows, which were shuttered, which was yet another bonus. The house had four bedrooms, a kitchen that had seen better days but was functional, and a large living room with a fireplace Peter could have stood up in. And behind it, there was a cliff of sheer rock face. The man who owned it showed it to him, and said he no longer used it. It had been used by his sons, and they had moved away years before, but he kept it as an investment. He was renting it since his daughter didn't want it either. Both his sons lived in Arizona, and he was spending the summer in Colorado with his daughter. Peter took it as a six-month rental, and asked the man if he minded if he cleaned it up a bit, and weeded the yard, since he was going to be using it to entertain clients, and the owner looked delighted. He couldn't believe his good fortune to have Peter as a tenant. Peter hadn't even quibbled about the price. He signed the lease, paid three months' rent and a security deposit in cash, and by four o'clock he was back on the road when he got a call on his cell phone from Carlton Waters.

“Something wrong?” Peter sounded worried and wondered if something had happened, or if Waters had been spotted. Or even scared her, or one of the children.

“No, she's fine. They're at the kid's ballgame. She doesn't do much, does she? And she's always got one of the kids with her.” It was going to complicate things for them eventually, not that it really mattered. She was too small to give them any trouble. “I just thought of something. Who's getting the weapons?”

Peter looked blank for a moment as he thought about it. “I guess you are. I can ask, but he probably doesn't want to supply us anything that can be traced back to him. Can you handle it?” Peter knew Addison had the connections to supply them. But he also knew Addison wanted no link whatsoever to this project.

“Maybe I can. I want automatic weapons.” Waters was clear about it.

“You mean like machine guns?” Peter sounded startled. “Why?” The kids weren't going to be armed. Nor was she. But the cops would be if there was ever a showdown. To Peter, machine guns sounded excessive.

“That keeps things nice and simple,” Waters said bluntly, and Peter nodded. These were the professionals Addison had wanted.