Life Blood --XIII---Page 42

"Sure." I pointed the way.

While she was gone, I went to the kitchen and surveyed it,
checking the cabinets. Again, the place was cleaner than it had
been in ages. The look of it momentarily bucked me up.

When Carly came back, she hugged me and then announced she wanted to go check on Kevin.

"I'll do what you said about calling them," she concluded,

reaching for her bag. "I think you're right. That ought to get them
off my case. At least for the moment. As for the long run—“
        "Carly," I said, taking her hand again, "we'll get through this.
Just trust me."

We hugged one more time and then she was gone. I took the
moment to double-lock the door, and then collapsed on the couch.
What should be my next move? I closed my eyes and tried to
review all the insidious things that had happened in the last
twenty-four hours. The illegal drugs, the break-in and theft of my
film, the suspicious nursery of Children of Light, the threats to
Carly . . .

Then it finally came back that she'd mentioned Ramos saying something about me. By now I was getting used to being
threatened by the man, so one more time was hardly news. But I wished I'd asked her the specifics.

That was when I roused myself and reached for the phone.
The time was pushing eleven, but I still wanted to check in on
Sarah, see how she was doing. Had she come back to reality
after I left?

I was listening to the phone ring, my mind drifting to thoughts
of how to gently ask Lou about her, when I realized nobody was
picking up.

What's going on? I wondered, immediately coming alert. Mrs.
Reilly had probably gone home for the day, but no way would Lou
be in bed before midnight. He always had trouble settling into
sleep.

Maybe, I then hoped, I'd just dialed the wrong number. But when I tried again, still no answer.

I clicked off the phone and felt a wave of concern. If Colonel
Jose Alvino Ramos could find out I was making a movie, and then
find out where I lived, he sure as hell could locate my extended
family. Was that what he'd meant when he mentioned me to
Carly?

I grabbed the set of Lou's keys I had stored in my bedroom's desk drawer and flew out the door.

The streets were plastered with a grimy veneer of city snow,
melting fast, but I pushed the limits of safety and ran a couple of
lights since the traffic was spotty. There was a parking space just
across the street from Lou's building, and as I pulled in I looked
over at his windows.

Through the curtains I could tell a dim light was on, probably
coming from Sarah's bedroom. The front room, however, was
dark.

My pulse was pounding as I raced up the steps to the street door. I thought about pushing his bell, but I didn't have the
patience. Instead I just fumbled with the key set till I found the biggest one and shoved it into the lock.

The building had no lobby, just a row of stairs leading up to
the next floor, with Lou's own door set off to the left. I shoved his
Medeco key into the deadlock and pushed it open. The room was
pitch-dark.

"Who . . ." said a startled voice, and I knew it was Lou, somewhere in the direction of the couch.

I clicked on the light switch and saw him lying on the floor,

leaning against the couch, blood everywhere, his eyes in shock.
        "My God! What happened?"

"I'm afraid to move. The phone was ringing and I figured it

was you, but I didn't dare get up. Knowing you, you'd come over if I didn't answer." He was holding his side as he looked at me.
"Morgy, she's gone."

At first what he said didn't sink in as I bent over him. The right
side of his shirt, just above his belt, was soaked in blood. Taking
care, I unbuttoned it and saw an open cut that looked as though
he'd been stabbed with a knife. It also appeared to be reasonably
superficial, as though a thin blade had pierced through a couple of
layers of tread on his ample spare tire. But it was bleeding still,

enough to make it look worse than it probably was. However, if it'd happened to me, I'd doubtless be in shock too.

I got up, went to the bathroom, and pulled two towels off the rack, then doused water over one and came back.
        "Don't move. I'm going to pull your shirt away and try to clean
you up, see how bad it is."

He just groaned and stared at the ceiling.

As I was swabbing his side, what he'd said finally registered. "Did you say . . . Sarah!"

I dropped the towels and ran into the bedroom.

It was empty, the bed rumpled and beige sheets on the floor.

"No." I turned and feeling a hit of nausea, hurried back to his side. "What happened? Did—?"

"Fat Hispanic guy. Spic bastard. He had a couple of young
punks with him. Mrs. Reilly had just left and I went to the door,
thinking it was probably you ringing my bell. He flashed a knife
and they shoved their way in. Then one of his thugs went into the
bedroom and carried her out. When I tried to stop them, the SOB
knifed me. I guess I . . . swooned cause the next thing I remember
is waking up here on the floor."

It sounded garbled and probably didn't occur as quickly

as he thought. But I knew immediately what had happened

Ramos—of course that's who it was—had come to take Sarah. It
was his one sure way to stop me from mentioning Children of
Light in my film. She was a hostage. My first instinct was to kill
him.

"What else can you remember?" I was already dialing 911.
Time to get an ambulance. And after that, the cops.
        After about ten rings I got somebody and, following an
explanation that was longer than it needed to be, a woman with a
southern accent told me the medics would be there in fifteen
minutes. I took another look at Lou and ordered them to hurry,
then hung up. I was going to call the police next, but first I needed
to hear exactly what had happened before he got quarantined in
some emergency room.

His eyes were glazing over again, as shock and blood loss
started to catch up with him. Clearly he would pull through, but
right now, sitting there in a pool of blood, he could have been at
death's door.

"Look . . . at that." He was pointing, his rationality beginning to
fail. For a second I didn't realize what he meant, but then I saw a
fax lying beside the phone. I picked it up. The time on it was 9:08

P.M. and it was from somebody named John Williams. Then I

remembered. Wasn't that the FBI computer whiz he'd talked about the other day at the hospital, after we'd deconstructed Sarah's waterlogged passport?

There was no message, just a sheet with a date—two years
old—and a list of names accompanied by numbers and a capital
letter. Then I noticed the letterhead of Aviateca, the Guatemalan
national airline, and it dawned on me I was looking at a flight
manifest.

I scanned down the page, and then I saw it. Sarah Crenshaw, 3B.

Williams found her, I thought. And she was traveling First
Class.

What caught my eye next was the name of the person sitting
in 3A, the seat right next to hers. A. Godford. Probably a computer
misprint. Or maybe it was the name he used when he traveled. So
if it was him, which it surely was, the bastard didn't even try to
hide it.

I just stood there, thinking. Maybe you get one big-time

coincidence in life, and if so, this must be mine. Sarah and I had
both found Alex Goddard. Or he'd found us. Other women came
and went through Quetzal Manor, but we were different. She'd
escaped from him, half dead but now he'd sent Ramos to bring
her back. It was the one way he could be sure to keep me under
his control. But again, why? Was it just to stop my film, or was
there more to the story?

"Morgy," Lou groaned "that son of a bitch took her tonight. I just know it."

That was my conclusion precisely, though I hadn't been planning to say it to him, at least not yet.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Something they said. I didn't quite catch it, but it sounded like, 'He wants you back.' Then some word. It sounded like 'Babylon' or something."

I stared at him a second trying to remember where I'd heard that before. Then it clicked in. That was the last thing Sarah had said she'd whispered that word when I was putting her to bed. What could she have been talking about?

He wheezed and I went back to him and pressed the towel
against his side. The bleeding was about stemmed but he was
definitely due for a hospital stay. A siren was sounding down the
street. Probably the ambulance. Thank God I thought. Now it's
time to call the police.

Then I noticed he was crying. What was that about?

"Morgy, they didn't actually kidnap her. You see, she—"
        "What?" I guess I was trying to take it in. "What do you
 mean?"

"Know what she said? Sarah?" He choked for a second, then continued. "She said, 'Yes, I want to go back.' "