King's Ransom

8

There was only one light burning in the parlor of the Sands Spit farmhouse, a standing floor lamp that stood close to the open sofa bed, casting a circle of light on the exposed wooden flooring. Jeff Reynolds was asleep in the center of the bed. He turned and mumbled, and the blanket fell free of his shoulder. Kathy Folsom went to the bed and covered him again. Eddie Folsom lighted a cigarette and shook out the match.

“He asleep?”

“Yes.”

In the bathroom, Sy Barnard was singing at the top of his lungs. His shirt, tie, and gun holster were draped over the back of one of the parlor chairs. The police radio, part of the complicated equipment which stood against the wall, monotonously bleated its calls.

“… proceed to intersection of Cambria and Newbridge. We want a block there to cover the whole intersection. You’ll have 311 to assist. You got that, 307?”

“We got it.”

“Car 311, Car 311, proceed to intersection of Cambria and Newbridge to assist 307 in road block.”

“This is 311, okay. Any make on the car yet?”

“Nothing, 311.”

“Right.”

“Sy!” Eddie called. “Hey, Sy, you hear this?”

Sy, his face half covered with lather, came out of the bathroom. He was wearing only his undershirt. His arms and shoulders were covered with thick matted hair. “What’s the matter?” he said.

“They got road blocks springing up like mushrooms. How we gonna use the car?”

“What’re you getting excited about? So they got roadblocks. So who cares?”

“You don’t understand, Sy. They’re stopping every car on the road. We have to use that car in the morning. How’re we gonna…?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’ll be driving, right? Alone, right? In a lousy old Ford that don’t attract any attention. So let’s say they stop me. So I’m a guy on his way to work. I’ve got a driver’s license, and I’ll show it to them if they ask for it. So? Do they know I’m driving a stolen car? How can they know that? We changed the plates, didn’t we? So nobody’s got nothing on me. So why the hell are you worried about their stupid roadblocks?”

“What about after we get the money?” Eddie said. “How we gonna leave here? They’ll still be watching.”

“And we’ll still have nothing to worry about, because we won’t have the kid with us. It’ll be a guy, his wife and their brother-in-law. There’s nothing to worry about. Let me finish shaving, will you? I feel like a Grade-A bum.” He went into the bathroom. Kathy waited until the door closed behind him.

“Eddie… after he gets the money, What’ll happen to the boy?”

“We’ll leave him right here. We’ll call King to let him know where the kid is.”

Kathy nodded. “That would be taking a… big chance, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Eddie, let’s get out of here. Let’s get out now, before it’s too late!”

“Aw, honey, please will you cut it out?”

“Car 234, are you still at the tunnel entrance?”

“This is 234. That’s where we are, Handsome.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Listen to them,” Kathy said.

“Sy says we got nothing to worry about. We’ve got to trust him in this, Kathy. He knows what he’s doing.” Eddie walked to the ash tray and squashed out his cigarette. “Sy never gave me a bum steer all the time I knew him. He’s all right, Kathy.”

“Yes, he’s fine,” she answered sarcastically.

“Well, he is. He taught me a lot.”

“Yes, he certainly taught you a lot.”

“Well, damnit, he did!” Eddie paused. “He didn’t have to hook up with somebody like me. Sy is big-time.”

“Big-time!” Kathy said. “He’s a hoodlum!”

“Aw, don’t say that about him. He got a few bad breaks, that’s all. But he’s okay. Listen, you think it was easy to plan something like this? You know how many things that poor guy has on his mind?”

“He’s got only one thing on his mind, Eddie.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“He wants to kill that boy.”

“Aw, come on, willya? Wants to kill the boy! Sy’s got a cool business head. He ain’t yearning to get involved in a murder rap. All he wants out of this is his share of the loot.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you want?”

“The same thing. Two hundred and fifty thousand bucks.”

“And how far will you go to get it?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Eddie said. He went to the dresser, picked up the cigarette pack, dug into it, and crumpled it when he realized it was empty.

“How bad do you want that money, Eddie?”

“Very bad. You got a cigarette?”

Kathy opened her purse and looked into it. “No, I haven’t,” she said. She snapped the bag shut. “Eddie, when we were kids, we used to play a game. It was called ‘Suppose?’ and we used to say, ‘Suppose somebody offered you a million dollars, what would you do for it? Would you cut off a toe for it? Would you give one of your eyes? Would you spit on the cross?’ Things like that. It was funny to hear the answers. All the kids had a different price for that million dollars.”

“What are you driving at?” Eddie said. “Sy! Hey, Sy!”

“Yeah?”

“You got any cigarettes?”

Sy poked his head around the door. “What?”

“You got any cigarettes?”

“In my jacket. You mind if I finish shaving?” He went back into the bathroom.

Eddie crossed to the jacket and went through the pockets. “None here!” he said disgustedly. “Sy, you ain’t got any.”

“There’s a carton in the car!” Sy yelled. “Stop bothering me.”

“Where?”

“In the glove compartment. Man, will you let me shave in peace?”

Eddie started for the front door.

“What’s your price, Eddie?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Kathy.”

“Do you give an arm—but not an eye? Do you take part in a kidnaping—but stop at murder?”

The room was silent.

“What do your kid games have to do with real life?” Eddie asked at last.

“Sy is planning to kill that boy,” Kathy said.

“You’re nuts.”

“It’s part of his scheme, Eddie. He can’t chance leaving the boy alive to identify him.” She paused. “And I have to know where you stand.”

Eddie sighed. “Where I stand, huh? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“No, Eddie. I have to know.”

“All right. All right, look. You were a kid, and you played your kid games and… and I was a kid, too, all right? Okay, and when I was a kid, I didn’t have nothing. You know, Kathy? Nothing. Nothing. I … I … you say Mexico… you want to go to Mexico. Well, I want to go there, too. I really want to go there and… and I want to have a lot of money and I want waiters to treat me nice… and I want to have something. Not always nothing, all the time. I… I don’t want to be dirt anymore, okay?”

“Okay. But—”

“So, honey, don’t ask me where I stand. Don’t harp on me. I don’t want to start wondering about what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. This is the only way, believe me.” He paused, and when he went on there was a peculiar distress in his voice. “This is the only way I know.”

“But it’s not,” Kathy said firmly. “Eddie, we could leave now. Sy’s in the other room. If we hurried… Eddie, we could get out of here, and drop the boy someplace, and be free. Do you think the cops would care? If the boy is returned safely before any money changes hands, do you really think they’ll try too hard to find us? We could get to Mexico. And we’d be together, without having to run all the time.”

“I… I don’t know. I need a cigarette.”

“Eddie, tell me.”

“Kathy, leave me alone!” he shouted. He paused. “I’m getting out of here.”

“Down to the car for those cigarettes and… and then I’m going to take a walk.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t want any company. Leave me alone!” he said, and he opened the door.

“You still haven’t told me where you stand, Eddie. I have to know…”

The door slammed on her words. She stood despondently in the center of the room, listening to his footsteps retreating on the gravel outside. She walked to the door and locked it, and she leaned against it and sighed heavily, and suddenly Sy began singing in the bathroom again. She walked to the window and peered around the edge of the shade, stood there thoughtfully for a moment, turned to lean against the wall, facing the bathroom, studying the closed bathroom door, and then the boy asleep on the bed. When she made her decision, it showed in her face, and it showed in the sudden stiffening of her body. She took one last look at the closed bathroom door and then moved swiftly and purposefully to the sofa bed.

Seizing Jeffs shoulder, she whispered, “Jeff! Wake up, Jeff!”

Jeff popped upright in the bed almost instantly. “What is it?” he said. “What? What?”

“Shhh,” she warned. She waited, watching the bathroom. “Be quiet and do what I tell you to do.” She paused again. “I’m taking you out of here.”

“You’re taking me home?” Jeff asked exuberantly.

“Shhh! For God’s sake, keep your voice down.” She looked at the bathroom door and then the front door. Sy’s voice was raised in song. There was no sound coming from the front yard. “I can’t take you home,” Kathy said, “but I can take you out of here. I’ll leave you off somewhere. Someone will find you. You’ll get home. But you have to help me, and we have to move quickly and quietly. Do you understand?”

Whispering now, Jeff said, “Yes. Are they… are they going to kill me?”

“I don’t know. But we’re not going to give them the chance.”

“Is Eddie your husband?”

“Yes.”

“He’s not so hot,” Jeff said.

“He’s my—”

“But he doesn’t seem as if he would hurt me,” Jeff nodded hastily.

The singing in the bathroom stopped abruptly. Kathy glanced at the closed door sharply. The sound of running water seeped into the silent room.

“You’re pretty,” Jeff said.

“Thank you. Where’s your coat?”

“I don’t have a coat. Only Bobby’s sweater.”

“You’ll need it. It’s very cold out there. Where is it?”

“On the chair there.”

Kathy walked swiftly and silently to the chair. She took the sweater and began pulling it over his head.

“We’ll go straight to the road,” she said. “When we reach the road, we’re going to start running, do you understand?”

“I’m a good runner,” Jeff said.

“All right then, come on.” Quickly she put on her coat and took his hand. Together, they tiptoed to the front door. Kathy unlocked it, turning the lock with all the caution of a safecracker. The tumblers clicked, and she hesitated. Then, slowly, cautiously, she opened the door a crack. The squeak sounded like a gunshot in the silent room. She peeked into the yard and then held out her hand to Jeff again. “Come.”

“Wait!” he said, and he pulled away from her suddenly and darted back into the room.

“What…?”

“My gun!” he said, rushing to the table where the empty shotgun rested. “He gave it to me, didn’t he?”

“Yes—hurry,” she whispered impatiently.

Jeff seized the shotgun by the barrel, swinging it around as it slid off the table, starting to run for the front door simultaneously. The stock of the gun clung to the table, hit an ash tray as Jeff pulled on the barrel. And then the ash tray moved to the edge, caught by the gun’s stock, rushing, tilting, sliding over the edge of the table and dropping leadenly to the floor. The crash filled the room. Scattered pieces of glass ricocheted like fragments of a hand grenade. At the door,

Kathy almost screamed. She brought her hand to her mouth and bit the knuckles. Jeff froze.

“Do you think…?”

“Shhh!” Kathy said.

Silently, they waited. The door to the bathroom remained closed. Quickly, Kathy opened the front door again and peeked out.

“All right, let’s go,” she said, and the bathroom door opened. She did not see the door opening. Looking into the yard, her hand extended behind her, waiting for Jeff, she did not know that Sy had entered the room, stopping in the bathroom doorway, his hands on his hips, instant recognition on his face.

“Hurry, hurry,” she said to Jeff, and she beckoned with her hand and then, when she realized he was not coming to her, turned from the door, starting to say, “Jeff, will you please—” and then spotting Sy, and going pale all at once.

“Well, well,” Sy said. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I was taking the boy out,” Kathy said.

“Oh, was you now?” His eyes flicked the room. “Where’s Eddie?”

“He went for a walk.”

Sy went quickly to the front door, locking it. “Is that two-bit punk planning a doublecross?”

“No. He didn’t know anything about this. He went to the car for cigarettes.”

“So you figured this was as good a time as any to blow the coop, huh? Boy, leave it to a dame. Lots of curves, and they’re always ready to throw one of them at you. Take off your coat!”

Kathy hesitated.

“Take it off before I rip it off!” Sy shouted.

She took off the coat and tossed it onto the bed.

“The kid, too. He won’t need that sweater. He ain’t going anyplace.” Kathy went to Jeff and helped him to take off the sweater. “Real buddy-buddy, ain’t you? A real nice team, you and the kid.” Sy reached into his pocket and when his hand came into view again a closed switch knife was on the palm. He pressed a stud in the knife’s handle, and the blade flashed into view. Slowly, he walked to where Kathy and the boy stood near the open bed.

“Listen to me, you little bitch,” he said. You try anything like this again, and you’re gonna need plastic surgery, you understand? No matter what your darling Eddie says. And I’ll personally rip this little bastard’s heart out! Now you just remember that! You just remember!”

“I’m not afraid of you, Sy,” she said.

“No, huh?” He lifted the knife so that the blade was close to her throat now. “You better even watch the way you talk to me from now on, honey. You better be real sweet to me, and maybe I’ll forget what you just tried to pull. Real sweet to me from now on.”

With the blade at her throat, Sy moved his free hand down the length of Kathy’s arm, caressing her. She pulled away from him quickly. The doorknob rattled, and Kathy moved toward it.

“Hey, open up,” Eddie called from outside.

Sy gestured at the door with his head. He pressed the blade of the knife shut and returned the knife to his pocket. Kathy unlocked the door. Eddie came into the room.

“You got your cigarettes, I see,” Sy said, smiling.

“Yeah.” Eddie dragged deeply on the butt. “Gee, it’s nice out. Cold, but real clear. Full of stars.”

“That means a good day tomorrow,” Sy said. “Even the weather’s with us. There ain’t nothing going to foul up this job.” His eye caught Kathy’s. “Nothing,” he repeated.

“How come the kid’s up?” Eddie asked.

“The little bastard can’t sleep. He’s worried about what’s gonna happen to him tomorrow.”

“You think it’ll go all right, Sy?”

“It can’t miss,” Sy said. He turned to Kathy again. “You hear that, Kathy? It can’t miss. It’s gonna work, and nothing’s gonna stop it. We’re all gonna be rich. I’ll never ride another goddamn subway as long as I live. I’ll wear silk underwear. You know there are guys who wear silk underwear? Me! I’m gonna be one of them.” He nodded vigorously. “Tell her about it, Eddie. Tell her how we worked it out. Your wife here thinks we’re playing games.”

“Look, let’s just do it,” Eddie said. ‘‘What do we have to talk about it for?”

“I want her to know because it’s beautiful, that’s why. What the hell’s the matter with you? Are you ashamed of it? It’s a goddamn good plan.”

“Yeah, I know, but…”

“We’re gonna call King in the morning, and give him instructions about the drop, and there won’t be a cop in this city who can stop us, or who can even find us!” Sy paused. “How does that sound to you, Kathy?”

“It sounds very smart,” Kathy said tonelessly.

“Yeah, very smart. Damn smart! Not even King is gonna know where the hell to drop that loot, so he couldn’t tell the cops even if he wanted to. All he’s gonna know is that we’re waiting for it. But he won’t know where.” He saw the puzzlement on Kathy’s face. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. And it’ll work. All because of Eddie’s monster there.” He pointed to the radio equipment against the wall. “Why do you think we knocked ourselves out on these radio store jobs? To give Eddie something to play with?”

“I thought you needed a radio for listening to police calls,” Kathy said, more puzzled now.

“A setup like this? For police calls? You know what those two tin cans are over there? Oscillators. And the big thing behind them? A transmitter. Am I right, Eddie?”

“Yeah, that’s right. You see, Kathy, what we’re gonna do—”

“What we’re gonna do,” Sy said, “is surprise the pants off King and the cops both. Once King gets started, there ain’t gonna be a soul in the world but him who knows what to do. Not the cops, not nobody. Nobody but King and us. Once he leaves the house with that money in his hands—”

“If he leaves the house,” Kathy said, “If he pays the ransom.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret, sweetheart,” Sy said. “He better leave the house, and he better pay the ransom.” His hand darted into his pocket, and the switch knife appeared again. The stud made no sound when he pressed it. The blade snicked open with a slight whisper. Sy looked at Jeff, who stood by the bed, terror wide in his eyes now.

“He just better pay the ransom,” Sy said softly.

* * * *