Avedissian shrugged. He had been thinking along the
same lines himself but had to confess that he had not
reached any conclusion. He said, That seems logical but
there could be other reasons. The kidnappers may know
that the Irish could only fund this thing with the help of
American money. They may have decided to set up shop
close to the bank, so to speak.'
'So they could be any nationality.'
'I suppose so.'
'Why Chicago?' asked Kathleen. 'Wouldn't it have been
more sensible to use a city on the East Coast?'
'My guess is that they are taking no chances. Chicago is in
the middle. That gives them options to move north, south,
east or west with equal predictability.'
They stopped talking to allow a stewardess to ask them if
they wanted anything to drink. Both said no.
‘
I wish we were on the way back,' said Kathleen ruefully
as the captain made a slight course correction.
Avedissian smiled. 'Do you know what I wish?' he said. 'I
wish that we .really were Dr and Mrs Farmer travelling with
our son David for a holiday in the States.' He put his head
back on the seat cushion and closed his eyes. He was pleased
to feel Kathleen take his hand and squeeze it.
The flight landed on time in Chicago and they were met by a woman who took charge of David. She wished them well before disappearing into the throng on the main con
course. It happened so quickly that Kathleen was visibly
surprised. She looked wistfully after the child as he
vanished among the arms and legs of the airport crowd.
'No problem with goodbyes,' said Avedissian.
‘
I suppose not,' said Kathleen.
They took a yellow cab to their hotel and saw immediately why it had been chosen. It was enormous.
Kathleen had to strain her head back to look up at the huge tower block. 'Identical rooms for identical people,' she said.
The edge of excitement that had been so much in
evidence at the start of their journey had been dulled by the
long flight and the knowledge that they were now in for
another period of waiting. Their instructions, given by
Bryant before they had left Belfast for London Heathrow,
were that one of them was to stay in the hotel at all times. The other had to check back at intervals of no longer than
two hours.
'Hungry?' asked Avedissian when they had finished un
packing what little belongings they had.
'Just tired,’ replied Kathleen.
'I want to stretch my legs,’ said Avedissian.
'I shan't go out,’ she assured him.
Kathleen was fast asleep when Avedissian returned from a brief walk in the streets around the hotel; he had enjoyed
the exercise but had found the humidity oppressive and was
glad to return to the air-conditioned comfort of the room.
He tried to make as little noise as possible in taking a
shower.
There was no message for them throughout the following
day and they grew nervous with the waiting. Each had been
unwilling to leave the other so they had spent almost the
entire day talking in their room. It had not been unpleasant
but always, at the back of their minds, they had known that they were waiting for something to happen and the seeds of
frustration had been sown.
At seven in the evening Kathleen had just finished saying,
'They might keep us a bit better informed,’ when the phone
rang and their excitement grew. Avedissian answered. It
was Paul Jarvis.
'Meet me in the bar of the Regency Hotel at seven-thirty,’
said Jarvis. 'It's three blocks west of where you are.'
An American woman in her thirties was holding court in
the bar of the Regency when Avedissian and Kathleen
arrived. Her spreading buttocks slid around the bar stool as
she emphasised every comment with extravagant hand
gestures.
Her audience, mainly older men, were hanging on every
word, not that what she had to say was important; it wasn't,
just loud, but Avedissian could see that she was flirting with
each of them in turn.
A slightly built man in his early forties sat next to her and,
at intervals, the woman would take a cigarette from the
pack on the bar in front of her and have it lit by him, then
she would turn away. The long-suffering husband, thought
Avedissian.
Avedissian ordered gin and tonic for Kathleen and
himself and five minutes later they were joined by Paul
Jarvis.
Avedissian had deliberately picked a table well away from
the crowd so that they could talk without being overheard.
'Does the team have the boy?' he asked.
'Not yet,’ replied Jarvis.
'But you know where he is?'
'Not exactly.'
'But. . .'
'I understand from Bryant that the plan is to take the boy
from the
IRA
after the exchange has taken place. He thinks
it will be easier than dealing, with both the kidnappers and
the Irish at the same time. There's also the question of
NORAID.
We don't know what kind of a presence they are
going to put up. There's a lot of money involved.'
'What do you want us to do?' asked Avedissian.
'First I've to give you these.' Jarvis handed Avedissian a
sealed envelope and said that it contained airline tickets for
the two of them and the boy. Avedissian put them safely away in an inside pocket.
'What about the kidnappers?' asked Avedissian. 'Do you
know who they are?'
'Every lead has petered out into nothing as if a whole
bunch of red herrings had been prepared in advance. Who
ever they are, they are certainly no amateurs. They are
almost too good to be true.'
'What about the Irish?' asked Avedissian.
That's our trump card,’ replied Jarvis. 'We know who
their contact man is and we know where he is. If we stick
with him he is going to lead us to the child. His name is Innes and he is staying at the Stamford.'
'How did you get on to him?'
'Intelligence from Bryant in London.'
'Then you have been in contact with London?'
'Of course,' said Jarvis. 'Nothing is done without Bryant's
say so.' He turned to Kathleen and asked, 'Have you ever
heard of this man Innes?'
Kathleen nodded. 'Malcolm Innes. They call him the
Tally Man. He looks as if he wouldn't harm a fly, but he's
dangerous.'
'Can you describe him?'
Kathleen gave Jarvis a description.
‘
That's the man all right,' agreed Jarvis. 'Is there anything
else you can tell us about him?'
Kathleen shook her head and said not.
'Are there any more
IRA
here?' asked Avedissian.
'Not overtly,' said Jarvis with plain meaning.
'But you think there might be?'
'What do you think?' said Jarvis.
Avedissian nodded then asked, 'Has Innes been contacted
by the kidnappers yet?'
'Yes, that's why I called you. He was contacted by phone
this afternoon and told to attend a baseball game this eve
ning.'
Then the exchange could take place tonight?' said
Kathleen.
'I don't think so,' replied Jarvis. There hasn't been time
to finalise the ransom details. It's my guess that
NORAID
or
the Irish have asked to see the goods before they do busi
ness.'
'So the child could be at the stadium?'
'Perhaps, or maybe it is just being used as a crowded
meeting place. Innes may be taken somewhere else after
contact is made.'
'Are you going to be there?' asked Kathleen.
'We all are,' said Jarvis. 'We know where Innes will be
sitting but we don't know who will be with him. I want you,
Miss O'Neill, to have a look at the faces round about. Tell me if you recognise any of them.'
Kathleen nodded and Avedissian asked what he was
supposed to do.
'Just be on hand,' replied Jarvis.
Under instruction from the
NORAID
man, Roker, not to do
anything without keeping
NORAID
informed, Malcolm Innes
had gone to a pay-phone in the street and called the number
that he had been given. He told Roker of the contact that had
been made and gave him details of his seat ticket for the
game.
'Nothing else?' asked Roker.
'Nothing,’ confirmed Innes.
It was true when he made the call but, as he left the hotel to
attend the game, a bellboy handed him a pair of binoculars
and an envelope. Innes opened it in the cab. It contained a
piece of white card with a code on it. It said 'Section J, Seat
L-17'. He examined his own ticket and saw that it was in a
different part of the stadium. So that was it, he would be
allowed to see the boy across the stadium using binoculars.
Innes edged his way through a crowd at a popcorn stand
and climbed the steep banking to reach his row. He excused himself and a line of knees turned to the left to let him past.
He had just settled into his seat when he felt a hand on his
shoulder and a voice said in his ear, 'You came well
equipped.' It was Roker.
Innes half turned and saw that Roker was referring to the
binoculars. He told him how he had come by them.
'Did they give you anything else?'
Innes showed him the card.
Roker whispered, 'Let us deal with this.'
'Don't interfere!' hissed Innes. The last thing that he
needed was the antics of bungling amateurs.
Roker gripped his shoulder more tightly and leaned close to his ear. 'Now get this, Innes! It's our money! A lot of our
people have gone into hock over this. If there is the
slightest chance that we can get the boy without paying
through the nose for him we are going to go for it!'
'These people are not amateurs!' insisted Innes. 'You
could ruin the whole thing!'
'Just sit on your butt and wait!' hissed Roker, getting up and leaving his seat.
Innes looked to his neighbours to see if his whispered
altercation with Roker had attracted attention. There was
no sign that it had. A family of four occupied the seats to his
left and a teenage boy and girl sat to his right. In front two
middle-aged couples shared out food and drink while be
hind him a man was explaining loudly to his wife or
girlfriend exactly why he thought that Johnson was a better
pitcher than Schwarz.
The steepness of the stadium made Innes uneasy for he
had never been at peace with heights and he was sitting on
the top deck of a series of steeply banked tiers. It seemed a
very long way down to the brightly lit diamond where the
players were now being introduced.
A roar from the crowd followed every announcement of a
name and each player ran on individually to. acknowledge
the cheers with a raise of his arm. Innes put the glasses to
his eyes and focused on one of them as he stood in line,
shuffling nervously and chewing gum with monotonous
regularity. He picked out the chain round his neck and
could see that it carried a St Christopher medallion.