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More silence.
“Fine,” said Kate. “If you don’t want to do your part to get Patrick home, I’m going to dial in Noah right now and tell him to join us on the next call.”
“No!” he said, and then Kate heard him take a breath, as if he recognized his own overreaction.
“Do we understand each other now?” asked Kate.
“What are you proposing?”
“I’m not on a mission to make a citizen’s arrest. I don’t care what you’re hiding. All I care about is getting Patrick out of here. I’m not saying you should hand over the secret formula to Coca-Cola. Just give them the recipe for Coke Zero. If it comes directly from you, not me, they’ll accept it. By the time they can tell the difference, Patrick and I will be back in the United States.”
Kate waited, and finally he answered.
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“I’ll come up with something to deliver as ransom. Enough to get Patrick released.”
“That’s all I ask,” said Kate. “I’ll call you in one hour.”
Kate hung up.
Enrique looked at her with amazement. “Has anyone ever told you that you have bigger balls than your father?”
Kate knew it was meant as a compliment, and in that light his question prompted a twenty-year-old memory of her father’s warning that if she didn’t clean up her room before he returned from work, everything out of place would land in the garbage. He came home to find her room in impeccable condition—and about half the things in his messy home office in the garbage. Kate’s mother would tell the story for years to come, which usually ended with her using the same anatomical metaphor to describe their daughter.
“Only one person I can think of,” said Kate.
Chapter 55
Gamble took the Super Puma to West Virginia. Technically speaking, he wasn’t traveling on Buck Technologies business, but he had bigger things to worry about than shareholder complaints about the use of the company helicopter for personal reasons. He reached FCP Alderson early enough to be among the first visitors of the day.
“I’m here to see Sandra Levy,” he told the corrections officer at reception.
The guard checked his ID against the list of approved visitors, and Gamble held his breath. He had an appointment, but it was Sandra’s prerogative to refuse to see him up until the last minute.
“Follow the guard into the visitation center,” he said, which Gamble took as a good sign.
The guard led him to the same table as the last visit, which had Gamble guessing how long it had been since then. Two days? Three? He suddenly wasn’t even sure what day it was. So much had happened in the interim. His need to know had grown exponentially. He wasn’t sure how he would increase Sandra’s willingness to talk.
She pulled up the chair opposite him and rested her hands on the table. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”
“So soon, you mean?”
“Ever.”
He wasn’t sure where to go from there.
“That’s a handsome suit you’re wearing, Christian. Like my outfit? Same one I wear every day. Khaki on khaki. They do let me wear a jacket when it gets cold. Sorry I can’t model it for you. They’re afraid we might use it to hide contraband, so I can’t wear it here.”
There was a bitterness about her that she’d managed to hide, for the most part, on the previous visit. Inmates had bad days and worse days, he supposed. Getting her to help him would be an even bigger mountain to climb than he’d anticipated.
“You got a raw deal, Sandra. I get it.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Not as raw as Patrick Battle’s.”