“He still is inspiring as far as we know, Captain,” I said. “You can’t forget that.”
A barefoot figure in a Hawaiian shirt and khakis finally emerged from one of the rear staterooms. The wiry, deeply tanned man came directly over to us and shook our hands, and we introduced ourselves. I noticed that his heavy gold watch had nautical flags on it instead of numbers. I could also see the top of his pajama pants above the waistband of his khakis. He didn’t stagger or smell of alcohol, but I could tell the distraught father had been drinking.
“Thank you so much for coming,” he said with an unexpected thick Scottish burr. With his bald head and mustache, he actually looked a little like Sean Connery. “Have you learned anything?”
“There’s been nothing so far, sir,” Emily said. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through.”
He stared at Emily a moment and then a vicious look crossed his face.
“Maybe that l
ack of imagination is the reason why the first two victims ended up dead, Agent Parker,” he said with a sneer. “I just bought the New York Mirror a few weeks ago, you know. One hears these things.”
Wow, I thought. Looks like James Bond, acts like Attila the Hun. And make that drinking heavily. I understood that Hastings was hurting, but his nastiness was inappropriate and completely uncalled for.
“The pattern of the man who kidnapped Jacob Dunning and Chelsea Skinner is to contact the family,” I said, edging myself between Emily and Hastings. “We don’t know if the person or persons who seem to have taken your son are the same, but we’ll go on that assumption. With your permission, we’d like to put trap-and-trace equipment on your phones.”
“I guess . . .,” Hastings said, brooding.
“Thank you, sir,” Emily continued with a grin. “You wouldn’t happen to know either the Dunnings or the Skinners by any chance, would you?”
“Of course not,” Hastings spat at her again. “What kind of question is that? Do you think we’re part of some billionaire cabal? Don’t they have any actual professionals who take care of kidnappings?”
“Right here, sir,” Emily said with an even wider, lovelier smile. “You’re looking at them. Thank you again for your cooperation.”
“Way to handle that jackass, Parker,” I said as the millionaire left.
“I’ve learned from the best, Mike,” Emily said, grinning.
Chapter 43
OUTSIDE, EMILY AND I huddled with our own team and got busy bringing in the phone-tracing gear from the FBI and NYPD tech cars in the marina’s lot. In addition to recording the conversation, the tech guys were going to run it through voice-analysis software, a kind of high-tech lie detector and emotion indicator. We hooked up my phone to the equipment as well this time.
We’d just finished setting everything up when something sounded from one of the computers in the luxury salon’s corner.
“You’ve got mail,” it said in an inappropriately cheery tone.
“I didn’t know they actually still said that,” I said to Hastings’s secretary.
“They really don’t, but Mr. Hastings insists. He finds it nostalgic,” she said in a way that implied it was one of many nutty insistences that came from Emperor Hastings.
We rushed over. Mr. Hastings’s personal assistant quickly brought up the mail page.
From Subject
[email protected] Whether I live or die
The secretary bit her lip as she opened the e-mail.
Hastings,
If you want to see your son alive again, you’ll get five million dollars in hundred-dollar denominations ready for delivery. You have three hours. The faster we wrap this up, the faster you can get back to your greedy, decadent life.
I do not think I need to remind you what I am capable of.
“What is it?” Hastings said, emerging from his stateroom. He banged a shin on a settee as he rushed over and stared at the screen. Everyone jumped as he emitted a primal moan.
“Oh, Danny! Oh, my son,” Hastings said. He knocked a lamp off the desk as he reached for the computer monitor. Luckily, he missed. He landed with a painful-sounding thump next to the lamp on the Oriental rug.