“Nevertheless, I’ve paid for someone else’s child. And why did you lie on TV? Why did you say that Lili’s father was a British soldier?”
Judy spun round and faced the angry Curtis. “Just be grateful that I didn’t say it was you, Curtis.” Suddenly Judy was equally angry as she demanded, “Do you understand what desperation is, Curtis? You’ve never been poor, you’ve never been desperate. You’ve never been tempted, you’ve never had to survive by yourself!”
Judy remembered that bleak winter day in 1956, after the Hungarian uprising, when she had returned to New York from Europe after her unsuccessful search for Lili in those chaotic refugee camps on the Austrian border.
Returning after a fourteen-hour, overnight flight, Judy had staggered into the hallway of her apartment house on East Eleventh and dumped her shabby suitcase in the hall. She felt desolate and alone. After Lili’s birth, after breast-feeding her
for three months, Judy had been forced by poverty to hand her baby daughter to somebody else, and Judy had never seen her again. Now her daughter was dead; Judy would never know her. Judy felt as if the world had turned against her. Everything seemed pointless. She would never achieve anything. Life was going to be one endless struggle, and there was no reason to continue it. Everyone wanted to take, take, take. No matter what talent she had, however hard she worked, Judy was never going to get her head above water in this tough jungle called New York City.
She checked her mailbox. Bills, bills, bills. And on top of those, she owed Pat Rogers the plane fare. Pat Rogers was the department head of Judy’s office. Pat knew that Judy hated to borrow money, because it made her feel humiliated, but Pat also understood that Judy couldn’t exist in New York City on only stamina, ambition and one hot-dog a day, cut into three pieces.
Standing beside the dark waters of the Bosphorus, Judy could still remember what it felt like to be hungry, not to be able to afford bus fare, not to be able to afford shoe repairs. Even though she lived and worked in luxury, Judy would always be that young girl who had lived on a hot-dog a day and, at heart, her sympathies would always lie with hopeful young girls who had not yet been kicked in the teeth by fate, or dumped by rich boys with no problems.
Judy looked at Curtis and suddenly didn’t mind giving him her next bit of information. She said, “I think I ought to warn you that the Turkish police think that your wife may be involved with this kidnapping.”
Curtis stood still and gaped at Judy. “Debra?”
Judy nodded. “You know that party I told you about, before Lili’s gala in London. It turns out the anonymous benefactor was Debra. We were only told this morning.”
Curtis’s neat-featured face seldom registered emotion, but now he looked horrified. Somehow he knew that this time Judy was telling the truth. She said, “The Turkish police got Scotland Yard onto the London hotel; they opened up their books and found that the money for the party had been anonymously paid, but it was traced through the paying bank. It came from Debra’s account in Philadelphia.”
“My God!” Not for the first time in his life, Curtis wished
that he had stayed in Switzerland with Judy, instead of bowing to the family ambition and marrying that bundle of trouble. He said, “But Debra doesn’t need ten million dollars! She’s worth far more.”
“The Turkish police think that Debra might have arranged to have Lili killed, and that all these mad ransom notes are just a cover-up for the murder.” Judy’s voice cracked, “I’ve already been told that if Lili’s body is found, Debra will be a murder suspect. I’m sorry to distress you, Curtis. It’s obviously untrue and I don’t believe it. Only a crazy person would do a thing like that.”
Curtis said, “I’ll have to get back home immediately.” He thought, I’ll telephone Harry and Dr. Joseph from the Hilton before I catch the plane. He dared not think further than that.
* * *
“Kidnapping insurance?” Hopeful ecstasy was on Judy’s face. “You mean, Omnium took out kidnapping insurance? The insurance company can pay the ransom? Wonderful!” She beamed at the three men who had been waiting for her when she returned from her meeting with Curtis.
Oscar Sholto was head of the legal department at Omnium Pictures. He was accompanied by a chubby man called Steve Wood, who was from Special Risk, Inc., Omnium’s Parisbased insurance consultants. A weary, pale Colonel Aziz had joined the group and now they sat around the table in a private dining room, which Colonel Aziz had commandeered for his investigations. Around the room, spindly gilt chairs were stacked in fours. The bedraggled decorations from a party were fading and curling.
Oscar Sholto had been darkly handsome, but it had all dropped a little. He cleared his throat. “As you know, Miss Jordan, it’s not unusual for the star of a major picture to be insured by the backers. Omnium has millions tied up in Helen of Troy.”
Smiling, Judy sat back in her chair. “I’m thrilled to hear this! I know it’s tough for the insurers but if I get my daughter back…”
“I must warn you, Miss Jordan,” said Oscar, “that Omnium cannot act in any way against Turkish police policy. And the police don’t want the ransom paid, because it’s against
their national policy. No payment for kidnapping, because it only encourages other kidnappers. The main aim of the police is
to find
the kidnappers, and that will probably take time.” He folded his plump hands on the dust sheet which covered the round table and said, “But the Turkish Police have to decide between two alternatives. They don’t want an international kidnapping to take place in their country, but neither do they want to transgress their own laws by turning a blind eye to ransom payment.”
“Of course they’ve got to allow payment!” Judy’s smile had disappeared.
Oscar said, “What we’re telling you is that the Turkish government may not allow us to pay the ransom
here.”
Judy broke in, “What are you going to do, as it’s illegal to pay ransom in Turkey?”
“We have to work out how to get around the law. Maybe pay it over at sea, outside territorial waters,” said Oscar.
“All we can do for the moment,” said Steve, the insurer, “is to wait for contact. The kidnappers will probably ask us to set up a safe, untapped telephone, so we can talk to them. Just give us time.”
“Time!” exclaimed Judy. “How much time? Months? Years?”
“Two weeks,” said Oscar. “Special Risk also covers Omnium for any other delay in shooting Helen of Troy. We’re due to start shooting in a couple of weeks.”
“That should be ample time,” Steve confirmed. “But, as you know, we first have to establish contact with the kidnappers, then establish that they really are holding Lili, then establish how we’re going to get her back, then establish the price, then…”
“But we know the price!” Judy interrupted. “They’ve already asked for ten million dollars.”
“At Special Risk, we always try to bargain down,” Steve said evenly. “If we draw out negotiations, it gives the police more time to discover where the kidnappers are holding their victim.”
“And your company saves their cash, of course. So what happens after that?” July had heard enough tactfully understated explanation; she wanted the bottom line on getting her daughter back. She had worked out the insurance company’s
old, familiar angle, which was always the same whether you’d had your bicycle or your Lear Jet stolen. Steve was only offering advance justifications for not paying the insurance in full. Judy was unimpressed; she’d used more ingenuity to string along the landlord of her East Eleventh Street studio, in the bad old days when she was starting out in business.
Smoothly, Steve said, “As soon as we are in communication with the kidnappers, we start stalling. We’ll say that the payment has to be okayed by a lot of people in America, and then paid over discreetly, so we’ll ask for five days’ extension. Then we’ll go back to them and say that we can only raise five million in cash, so we ask for more time. When they see five big ones within their greedy grasp, they’ll give us more time. And then, in the end, we settle for six million.” Steve looked around the table, then added, “And we take as long as we can over the whole business, so that the police and our special contacts can try to find Lili and perhaps obviate the necessity…”
“Of paying over your money,” Judy angrily interrupted. She turned to Oscar Sholto. “Lili’s made a fortune for Omnium. She won’t be able to make any more money for you if she’s dead, will she?”
“Miss Jordan, both you and Omnium want the ransom paid fast,” said Oscar. “That’s why Omnium paid enormous insurance premiums to Special Risk.”
Steve said, “I’m here to pay the ransom to the right people, provided we get the right results. Of course, we’ll do everything we can to get Lili released as fast as possible.” He saw the panic on Judy’s face. He had encountered parent hostility before, so he emphasized, “Remember, Miss Jordan, as soon as we start to bargain with the kidnappers, Lili’s life is much safer.”
Judy threw him a flinty stare. “I’m Lili’s mother and the way I see it is that the longer we wait, the more dangerous it is for Lili. I can’t bear to think of her in the hands of those thugs.”
“They won’t be thugs if this is a terrorist operation.” Steve tried to smooth out the hostile atmosphere. “If we’re dealing with terrorists, they’re not likely to be disadvantaged peasants striking back at society, they’re far more likely to be clever, well-educated, middle-class idealists, and they won’t treat
your daughter badly, Miss Jordan. They’ll be in the whole business as much for the sake of their public image as for the money.”
Colonel Aziz said, “Whoever they are, I don’t understand why the kidnappers haven’t yet been in touch, to instruct us where to pay the money.”
“The delay makes me think it’s likely that the kidnappers
are
terrorists,” offered Steve, “because terrorists don’t always want the money, they want the maximum publicity over the maximum time. Terrorists fight dirty because there aren’t many of them, and they haven’t got the money to run the sort of war they want. A kidnap is sometimes a really cheap publicity stunt. You don’t need many people, or much equipment, and you get a nice financial bonus at the end. Their weapon is intimidation—kill one and frighten a million.”
“This is terrifying.” Judy looked at Oscar and Steve who had started to put their files back in their briefcases.
Oscar got up and extended a hand to Judy. “Try not to worry, Miss Jordan. Lili will be in less danger as soon as we are communicating with the terrorists, and they see they’re getting newspaper space for their message. It just takes time to set up the communication.”
Steve added, “We’re also concerned about your safety, Miss Jordan. We’d like to fly you out of here. There’ll shortly be dozens of people coming forward, with reports and information. All of it will be false, and every time another witness comes forward with another story, your hopes will be raised and then dashed to the ground.” For several reasons, Steve always tried to remove close relations of the victim. First, if any real communication was conveyed, then a distraught relative had only to tell
one
friend (and they always did), and the secret was general news within twenty-four hours. Second, you never knew what distraught relatives might do. They might refuse to cooperate with the police, or agree to cooperate with the police and then change their mind without informing anyone, thus screwing up a carefully prepared police ambush.
“I’m not going anywhere!” Judy almost shouted at Steve. “I’ve a right to be here! I’m not leaving my daughter and you’ve no right to make me leave. I also have the right to
know everything that’s going on—and I insist that you tell me everything!”
As he and Oscar climbed back in their car, Steve muttered, “Tough lady.”
“Are we going to keep her informed?” Oscar asked.
Steve looked at the rabble of photographers who still kept a disorderly vigil at the hotel. “Of course not. We’d be crazy to pass on any information. She’s emotional, and she might become hysterical, so she’s a bad security risk. We’re going to tell Miss Jordan as little as possible.”
* * *
Half an hour later, Judy and Pagan sat together in Judy’s hotel sitting room. In silence, they sipped iced water. Judy had just finished telling Pagan of the conference with the Omnium lawyer and his security consultants.
Judy said, “I can’t stand this inaction. Just sitting around and talking is driving me crazy.”
Hoping to distract her thoughts, Pagan said, “By the way, I got a letter from Kate today, sent on from London. She’s bought a typewriter, a 1952 Remington which cost seven hundred dollars. The secondhand ribbon was fifty dollars extra. She says that the major powers—China, as well as Russia and America—are getting involved in Chittagong and it isn’t just the little jungle war that it appears to be. It could be as expensive and senseless and unwinnable as Viet Nam, she reckons.”
“Any more good news?”
Pagan turned over the crumpled blue paper. “They interrogated Kate for two hours, and she’s afraid that the Bengalis are going to throw her out. Apart from that, she’s well and happy. Isn’t it odd that Kate’s never happy unless she’s uncomfortable?”
Judy didn’t answer.
The only sounds in the room were the faint roar of the city and the insistent lapping of the water below.
A knock at the door brought Judy to her feet. Pagan watched expectantly as she opened the double doors; beyond them, a page boy held a cellophane-wrapped bouquet of roses, identical to the one that had concealed the original kidnap note. Judy snatched the flowers and ripped open the
plastic to get at the envelope that accompanied them. “Thank God they’ve made contact at last!”
Pagan peered over Judy’s shoulder as she ripped open the miniature envelope and pulled out a garish florist’s card.
Judy gave a moan and dropped the card as if it had burned her, then fell into a brocade armchair and began sobbing. Pagan picked up the florist’s pink and yellow card. Below the good-luck Messages printed in Turkish were a few typewritten lines. “Put one million ten-dollar bills into a briefcase. At six o’clock tomorrow evening, let a man with a red armband take it on the Guzelhisar ferry that crosses the Bosphorus. Further instructions will follow. Tell no one. Lili will be strangled with silken cords unless I am obeyed.”