“I’m going to open the door,” he said. “Don’t do anything foolish. No one’s going to hurt you. Okay? I know you can’t talk, but if you understand me, just kick the door, okay? We’re going to let you out of the closet, okay? So kick the door if you understand.”
There was a sharp kick on the door.
Then another one.
Then several in succession.
Sharp angry kicks.
“I’m not sure you’re ready for this,” Avery said.
Another series of kicks.
“I’m not sure at all,” he said.
And waited.
There were no further kicks.
He took the key Kellie had given him, inserted it into the hanging lock, twisted it, and then removed the lock from its hasp. He picked up the AK-47 from where he’d momentarily placed it on the floor, and cautiously opened the door.
She was sitting on the floor with her back to the rear wall of the closet, knees bent, long legs tucked under her, skirt tattered, panties showing. Her brown eyes were wide at first. She blinked them against the sudden light that flooded in.
“Nothing stupid now,” he said.
She opened her eyes again.
He was still wearing a dumb Halloween mask. One of those rubber things you pulled over your entire head. He was Yasir Arafat. She looked straight into the mask. Tried to read the eyes in the holes of the mask.
“Take a good look,” he said. “They’re brown. Like yours.”
She craned her neck, lifted her chin, shook her head violently from side to side, telling him she wanted the gag removed.
“You’ll scream,” he said.
She shook her head no.
“If you scream, I’ll have to hurt you,” he said.
She kept shaking her head no.
“Are you hungry?”
She nodded. Then shook her head strenuously again and again and again, asking him to please remove the goddamn gag.
“Promise me you won’t scream.”
She nodded. Rolled her brown eyes heavenward in solemn promise. He smiled.
Reaching behind her head, he felt for the knot in the twisted rag, found it.
“Turn,” he said.
She turned her head.
He put down the rifle for a moment, started plucking at the knot with the fingers and thumbs of both hands. She spit out the gag the moment she felt it coming loose. Kept coughing. He was afraid she might scream. He was ready to hit her if she screamed. He didn’t want to hit her, but he would if she screamed.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Hungry?”
She nodded again.
“I’ll untie your feet,” he said.
She nodded.
“You won’t try to run, will you?” he asked.
Not until you untie my hands, too, she thought.
“I won’t try to run,” she said.
Her throat felt dry, the gag in it all that time.
“If you scream, remember…”
“I won’t scream.”
“I’ll hit you.”
“I remember.”
“Good. So let me untie your feet now.”
Good, she thought. One step at a time.
She stretched her legs out toward him. Suddenly realized she was half-naked in the tattered costume. Almost pulled her legs back. He seemed not to notice. He took a sling blade knife from his pocket, snapped open the blade. It cut through the duct tape like water. She was more afraid of the knife than the rifle.
“Want to stand now?”
“Yes.”
“Want to try standing?”
He closed the knife, put it back in his pocket. She wondered all at once how they’d known where to find her last night. There hadn’t been any publicity about the cruise…well, she supposed anyone who’d been invited might have talked about it. It occurred to her that someone who’d worked on the video might be in on this. She started running faces through her mind. The grips, the stage hands, the prop guy, the lighting people, the sound technicians. Was one of them an accomplice here?
“You have to believe we’re not going to hurt you,” he said.
“I believe you,” she said. “What is it you want?”
“Just to get you back home safe and sound,” he said.
“I mean…how
“That’s none of your business.”
“Who do you expect to pay it?”
“Barney Loomis.”
He knew Barney’s name. He was going to ask Barney for the money, however much it was, unless he’d already asked him. This had to be an inside job. It had to be someone familiar with…
“I’ll be calling him tomorrow morning. We’ll arrange an exchange as soon as possible.”
An exchange, she thought. Me for the money.
How much money? she wondered.
“Everything will be fine,” he said. “You have to believe me. We don’t want to hurt you, and we don’t want any trouble. Just don’t scream, and don’t do anything foolish, okay?”
“I won’t do anything foolish,” she promised.
“Cause no one will hear you, anyway,” he said. “There’s no one for miles.”
She said nothing. Was he lying to her?
“Let’s get you something to eat, okay?” he said.
“I have to pee,” she said.
THERE WAS A palpable air of excitement in the small dark screening room.
Honey and Hawes sat side by side on cushioned movie-theater seats, six rows of them, eight seats to the row, cup holders on the arms of each seat. They were sitting in the third row. Hawes felt privileged. This was a room reserved for top brass. That was part of the excitement. He was a mere flatfoot being treated like a VIP by a beautiful television celebrity.
