The Target
Page 58
"I do hope you're not doing cocaine again. I really hate drugs, you know that. I told you that when you were married to Molly. If the coke doesn't kill you, then it's usually something else. Like the guys selling it to you getting pissed off. I've never seen simple sleeping pills dilate your pupils."
"I'm not doing drugs."
"Did you meet Ramsey Hunt?" Mason Lord waved a hand toward Ramsey, who was still standing by the door, arms crossed over his chest.
"I told you, he was the bastard who-"
"It's Judge Ramsey Hunt. Perhaps you've heard of him?"
"No. Who is he? Some gigolo your young wife wanted?"
"Ah, Louey, you do like to push the envelope, don't you? I suggest you think a bit before you open your mouth. If you ever mention my wife again, I'll have Gunther cut off the end of your tongue. Your singing wouldn't benefit from that. Now, since you appear to be ignorant as well as unwise, I'll tell you that Ramsey Hunt is the San Francisco Federal District Court judge whose picture was on the covers of both Newsweek and Time magazines a while back. He's a real hero, they say. Don't you remember? The big drug murder case in San Francisco? What Judge Hunt did all by himself when they tried to break the defendants out of the courtroom?" Louey looked blank. Mason Lord sighed. "Ah, Louey, I do pray that Emma didn't inherit your brains, your inability to recognize the importance of anything that doesn't pertain directly to you. It would be a pity."
Ramsey said, "Ignorance isn't the same as stupidity."
"In Louey's case, it seems to be."
"She's got his talent, Dad," Molly said, coming into the room to stand beside Ramsey. "In fact, she's got all the talent that he could ever claim. And his talent is good even if his brain isn't."
"Impossible," Louey Santera said, whirling around to see Molly standing beside that damned judge. The guy was too young to be a judge. She'd come in very quietly. How long had she been standing there? "Emma? She's a little kid, only what, five years old?"
"Six, Louey. Your daughter is six years old."
"Yeah, well, what talent?"
"She can play the piano for you. She's incredible."
"Enough!"
Everyone looked at Mason Lord. He relaxed slowly, saying nothing more, knowing that he had all their attention again.
Louey said, "Why did you want me to come back? You got Emma. What else is there?"
"It appears there's a conspiracy afoot. Not just one kidnapper, Louey. Judge Hunt believes there are a goodly number of men involved since it appears to be a very professional operation, and they're all after Emma. Indeed, the men tracked Molly and Ramsey all across Colorado into California. Do you know anything about this, Louey?"
"That's ridiculous! What would I know about that? Emma's my daughter, for God's sake. I don't know anything about any conspiracy."
"Well, there's a problem," Mason Lord continued, his voice suddenly soft, oily with sincerity. It reminded him of Bill Matthias's voice, a lawyer in San Francisco unoriginally called Slick Willie. "I'm not behind any conspiracy, Louey, and there, quite simply, isn't anybody else. There's another little point that's really very disturbing. The man who had Emma. He abused her sexually and beat her."
Louey lunged to his feet, his face white. "No! That's impossible. Molly said that, but I didn't believe her. There must be a mistake... not Emma, no one would dare touch Emma like that."
Mason Lord sat slightly forward. "Didn't you bother to make sure that the man you hired to hold Emma in that cabin in the Rockies wasn't a child molester?"
Louey collapsed back into the chair. "Listen, I didn't hire anybody! I don't know anything about any of it. Dammit, she's my daughter. I wouldn't have my own daughter kidnapped."
"Oh?" It was Molly's voice coming from behind him, cold and hard. "You'd do anything for money, Louey. Anything. I'll just bet you owe some big shot lots of money and you left the country because you couldn't pay. Is that it?"
He turned on her, so furious the pulse pounded wildly in his thin neck. "You have the gall to talk high and mighty about money. You took me for every dime I had. You didn't deserve anything at all. All you managed to do was get pregnant. Dammit, I didn't have Emma kidnapped!"
Mason Lord slowly rose. He pressed his palms against the desktop. He said in that same soft, oily voice, "I think Molly's right. You're in big debt to somebody and this was your way of paying them off. Tell us the names of the men, Louey. Tell us who helped you pull this off. Tell us why they're still after Emma."
"I'm not doing drugs."
"Did you meet Ramsey Hunt?" Mason Lord waved a hand toward Ramsey, who was still standing by the door, arms crossed over his chest.
"I told you, he was the bastard who-"
"It's Judge Ramsey Hunt. Perhaps you've heard of him?"
"No. Who is he? Some gigolo your young wife wanted?"
"Ah, Louey, you do like to push the envelope, don't you? I suggest you think a bit before you open your mouth. If you ever mention my wife again, I'll have Gunther cut off the end of your tongue. Your singing wouldn't benefit from that. Now, since you appear to be ignorant as well as unwise, I'll tell you that Ramsey Hunt is the San Francisco Federal District Court judge whose picture was on the covers of both Newsweek and Time magazines a while back. He's a real hero, they say. Don't you remember? The big drug murder case in San Francisco? What Judge Hunt did all by himself when they tried to break the defendants out of the courtroom?" Louey looked blank. Mason Lord sighed. "Ah, Louey, I do pray that Emma didn't inherit your brains, your inability to recognize the importance of anything that doesn't pertain directly to you. It would be a pity."
Ramsey said, "Ignorance isn't the same as stupidity."
"In Louey's case, it seems to be."
"She's got his talent, Dad," Molly said, coming into the room to stand beside Ramsey. "In fact, she's got all the talent that he could ever claim. And his talent is good even if his brain isn't."
"Impossible," Louey Santera said, whirling around to see Molly standing beside that damned judge. The guy was too young to be a judge. She'd come in very quietly. How long had she been standing there? "Emma? She's a little kid, only what, five years old?"
"Six, Louey. Your daughter is six years old."
"Yeah, well, what talent?"
"She can play the piano for you. She's incredible."
"Enough!"
Everyone looked at Mason Lord. He relaxed slowly, saying nothing more, knowing that he had all their attention again.
Louey said, "Why did you want me to come back? You got Emma. What else is there?"
"It appears there's a conspiracy afoot. Not just one kidnapper, Louey. Judge Hunt believes there are a goodly number of men involved since it appears to be a very professional operation, and they're all after Emma. Indeed, the men tracked Molly and Ramsey all across Colorado into California. Do you know anything about this, Louey?"
"That's ridiculous! What would I know about that? Emma's my daughter, for God's sake. I don't know anything about any conspiracy."
"Well, there's a problem," Mason Lord continued, his voice suddenly soft, oily with sincerity. It reminded him of Bill Matthias's voice, a lawyer in San Francisco unoriginally called Slick Willie. "I'm not behind any conspiracy, Louey, and there, quite simply, isn't anybody else. There's another little point that's really very disturbing. The man who had Emma. He abused her sexually and beat her."
Louey lunged to his feet, his face white. "No! That's impossible. Molly said that, but I didn't believe her. There must be a mistake... not Emma, no one would dare touch Emma like that."
Mason Lord sat slightly forward. "Didn't you bother to make sure that the man you hired to hold Emma in that cabin in the Rockies wasn't a child molester?"
Louey collapsed back into the chair. "Listen, I didn't hire anybody! I don't know anything about any of it. Dammit, she's my daughter. I wouldn't have my own daughter kidnapped."
"Oh?" It was Molly's voice coming from behind him, cold and hard. "You'd do anything for money, Louey. Anything. I'll just bet you owe some big shot lots of money and you left the country because you couldn't pay. Is that it?"
He turned on her, so furious the pulse pounded wildly in his thin neck. "You have the gall to talk high and mighty about money. You took me for every dime I had. You didn't deserve anything at all. All you managed to do was get pregnant. Dammit, I didn't have Emma kidnapped!"
Mason Lord slowly rose. He pressed his palms against the desktop. He said in that same soft, oily voice, "I think Molly's right. You're in big debt to somebody and this was your way of paying them off. Tell us the names of the men, Louey. Tell us who helped you pull this off. Tell us why they're still after Emma."
