The Midas Code

“I grew up on a farm near Des Moines. My parents didn’t have a lot of money, so we never traveled except to go camping in Minnesota. I always wanted to see all those wonderful cities in Europe, so I thought getting a Classics degree would help me do that. Halfway through grad school, I realized research wasn’t my calling. I forced myself to finish anyway, but I still had a hundred thousand in student loans to pay back, so when I heard about auditions for Chasing the Past I signed up. I’m not an actress, but they wanted someone with solid credentials rather than some bimbo reading a teleprompter, so I got the job. I paid my loans off in one year.”

“Your parents must be proud. They still in Iowa?”

“They’ve passed away. They were both smokers. Cancer got them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s just me and my sister now. She was in law school. Is in law school, dammit.”

Tyler gave her knee a squeeze. Just a small gesture of sympathy, but she appreciated it.

His phone pinged. “Probably Grant,” he said, but when he looked at the screen, his expression became grim.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s Orr. He says to check my email.”

After a few taps, he leaned in closer and expanded a video on the screen. Stacy heard some words, but she couldn’t make them out.

Tyler angled the phone so that Stacy could see it and restarted the video. The opening frame was centered on a newspaper with today’s date. Then it receded until she could see a man in a black ski mask standing next to another man sitting in a chair. The seated man appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties and was dressed in a suit. His wrists and ankles were cuffed, but he didn’t look injured. In fact, he looked incredibly fit, and not just for his age. He was blindfolded, but his strong jaw and short brown hair left little doubt that she was looking at Tyler’s father.

A voice in the video said, “Name.” The picture changed slightly, as if it had been edited. The seated man then confirmed her suspicions.

“Sherman Locke,” he said with a sonorous baritone, reminiscent of Tyler’s voice but deepened with age.

The proof-of-life video abruptly ended. Stacy closed her eyes and saw in her mind a replay of a similar video she’d received this morning of Carol bound and unconscious.

She shook it off and looked up at Tyler expecting to see rage. To her amazement, he was smiling.

“That son of a bitch,” he said with a chuckle. “Something tells me he’s not going down without a fight.”

THIRTEEN

T yler could tell Orr was no fool by the spot he’d picked for the rendezvous. Only fifteen minutes remained until the Wednesday-afternoon baseball game started, and a crowd of fans massed outside the southwest entrance to the stadium waiting to get in to see the hometown Mariners take on the Angels. Street vendors barked “Programs!” every few seconds, and the sweet smell of kettle corn drifted over them. The worst of the rain had passed, but the roof of the steel-and-brick Safeco Field was closed to shield the fans from the occasional drizzle.

On a normal day, the trip from the ferry dock to the stadium would take just a minute, but the stop-and-go traffic extended the drive by a factor of fifteen. By the time Tyler parked the Viper in the garage, it was 12:30. He bought a couple of hot dogs and some drinks from a street vendor to eat while he and Stacy waited. Neither of them was particularly hungry, but Tyler had learned in the Army that you had to keep up your strength even more than usual in stressful situations.

“So what’s Orr look like?” Stacy asked between bites. “Dark hair,” he said. “Naturally tan. Brown eyes. A little shorter than I am. Roman nose broken and not put back together right. Missing the tip of his left pinkie. Not the prettiest guy to look at.”

“Can’t wait to meet him.”

Twenty minutes went by. They leaned against the wall next to the ticket window, Stacy looking in one direction, Tyler in the other. Twice Stacy pointed out someone that fit the description, but neither of them was Orr.

Right on time, Tyler saw Orr approach from around the corner. He looked just as Tyler remembered, wearing a bulky Mariners jacket and cap, with a backpack slung over his shoulder. His hands were in his pockets. He fit right in with the fans still streaming past.

No one was with him. He came to a stop just out of arm’s reach. They appraised each other for a few moments. Tyler fought the urge to strangle the life out of his smug eyes.

“We came alone,” Tyler said.

“I know,” Orr said with a grin. “I’ve been watching. You really shouldn’t wolf down your food like that.” His eyes went to Stacy. “You look even hotter in person.”

“Screw you,” Stacy said.

“Don’t I wish.”

“How about we make a deal?” Tyler said. “You release my father and Stacy’s sister right now, and I won’t kill you.”

“I’m going to have to pass on that fine offer.”

“Or maybe we’ll make a swap.” Tyler nodded to two patrol officers working the intersection. “I bet those policemen over there would give me a hand.”