The Pandora Key aka The Hostage Room

34

I DIDN’T REMEMBER RACHEL HAVING AS MANY BAGS AS I had to load into the Durango or that they were that heavy. I thought about checking for silverware, but that might have been considered inflammatory.

Rachel had wanted to take a cab to the airport, but Harvey insisted that I drive her.

“I wish you would go with us,” I said to him. Rachel was in the car waiting.

“I cannot,” was all he would say.

“You shouldn’t be here alone.”

“It is unlikely that Mr. Kraft will call before you get back. Besides, you have your phone with you and the key. If he calls, you can make arrangements to meet somewhere.”

He was right. It had been just a little over an hour since Kraft and I had spoken. He wasn’t likely to check back in before I got back. Besides, if it made Harvey feel better to know that Rachel was safely on her way, it was worth the effort. I just didn’t want to leave him alone. I had tried to call Radik and got his voice mail.

“Give me your phone.”

He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out his cell. I programmed in Radik’s number. “Keep checking with him. If you can get him and you can communicate, ask him to come over. If the land line rings, don’t answer it.”

I checked my watch. Ninety minutes to her departure time, and she still had to get to the airport, check in, and clear security. I could get Felix or Dan to move her through, but even with that advantage, we had no time to waste. I had to go. I gave him the phone back. “Are you sure-”

“I will be fine. Please, this is hard enough. Just go.”

Rachel didn’t even look at me when I got in and buckled up. Her attention was focused on whatever she saw out her own window. I checked to see that she was strapped in and started the car, and we drove for several miles in silence. While she continued her vigil, I paid attention to the traffic. I still wasn’t accustomed to all the changes the Big Dig had wrought. If I didn’t read the signs, I always ended up somewhere I didn’t want to be.

Eventually, the heavy silence started to feel childish. “Harvey said you’re going to Hawaii.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t travel a lot when I was with Majestic, but that was one place I always found a way to get to.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Dan will probably move you up to first class, which is nice on such a long haul.”

She didn’t answer. Screw it. At least I gave it a shot. But then she turned her head, and I happened to catch just a glimpse of what was going on. She blinked the tears out of her eyes and wiped them with a swipe of her thumb.

“I don’t want to go.”

“Harvey said you always wanted to go to Hawaii.”

“Not like this.” She turned away again, slipped on a pair of shades, and didn’t say another word until we pulled up to the Majestic curb. We got out and met at the trunk, where a skycap was already pulling out her bags.

“Where to, Miss?”

“Molokai.” She tried to hand him the ticket.

“You’ll have to check in at the counter.” He nodded to a kiosk set up down the curb, then took the bags over and put them in line for her. I slammed the trunk closed and pulled out my phone to call Dan.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting someone to come and take care of you.”

She shook her head and gave me a smile tinged with something that looked like remorse. “I’m used to taking care of myself.”

I put the phone away and went to get back behind the wheel. I took a last look at her across the roof of the car.

“Rachel?”

In the permanent twilight of the covered curbside, she had taken off her sunglasses to dig in her bag, probably for ID, so when she looked up at me, I could see it. She knew she had left something really good behind.

“Be safe.”

I took every yellow light and time-shaving maneuver I could to get back to the house quickly. When I walked back in, something was different. I felt it. The old cliché was true, that you didn’t know how much you missed someone until they were gone. I couldn’t say I missed Rachel, but I did feel that something had shifted. I walked past that seldom-used front room, stopped, and had to come back. It wasn’t the absence of Rachel I was feeling but the presence of someone who shouldn’t have been there.

Cyrus Thorne was on the couch. He was leaning back with one foot propped on the corner of the table in front of him. He had his glasses on and was reading the top page of a stack that was in his lap. On the table in front of him were a big, black, large-caliber semiautomatic handgun and the leather portfolio that held Lyle’s notes. There was also a bag of cherry cough drops. He was sucking on one, rolling it around in his mouth.

Harvey was there, still in his wheelchair. His wrists were tied to the arms of the chair.

Cyrus pointed to the stack of Lyle’s notes and smiled. “Are you writing a book?”

“Someone gave that to me. I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.”

“There are taped interviews, too.” Without changing position, he reached out for one of the cassettes and managed to snag it with just the tips of his fingers. “Do you know who’s on this tape? My late partner, Mr. Tony Blackmon.”

“No kidding.” I kept my eye on his weapon and tried to look around casually. I knew he wasn’t alone, but I couldn’t see anyone else. “I guess you didn’t believe me when I told you I needed more time.”

“That’s because you were lying.” He got up and came toward me. “Mr. Kraft is on his way.”

I looked at Harvey. “How would you know something like that?”

He reached around my waist, and the sweet smell of his cherry cough drop was right in my face. I could hear it clacking around his molars. He found the key in my back pocket. “He’s coming for this.” While he was back there, he took the Glock. “He’ll call you for location, and as long as you don’t say the word quiet, he will feel safe to meet you.”

He smiled, and I had a deflating feeling that only flattened me more when he took my phone from my hand, held it up next to his ear, and whispered, “We’ve been listening.”