Read Online 03. The Maze in the Mirror by Jack L. Chalker - Free Book Online
Authors: Jack L. Chalker
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foresight to activate the small system under the phone that would automatically record and tell him the number from which the call was being placed. It was a neat service they were now selling to the phone companies themselves for resale as a point-of-call service to customers.
He picked up the phone. "Sam Horowitz," he said sleepily.
"Ah, Senor Horowitz, you sound like we thoughtyou would," came a heavily accented soft male voice.
He shook himself awake and ignored the headache. "Go ahead. I've been expecting your call."
"I assume you have the whole set of lines monitored, and perhaps the Company is as well, but it will do you no good," the voice told him. There was a sudden click and the quality of the line shifted a bit, became a little bit noisier. "Our technology has to be better man your technology or we would have been discovered, even caught, long ago." There was another click, and the transmission was suddenly both louder and quieter. Sam reached over and hit a timer at the next click, then stopped at the click after that. Four seconds.
"You have something of great value to me that is of no value to you except as a way to get to me," he said, hoping that made sense. "I want the boy back, unharmed, and in one piece. I assume you didn't take him just to torture me, so you want something."
"Si-yes, you are most perceptive. The boy is fine. At first he was very scared, but now he is, you might say, less frightened than pissed off, and quite a tiger, but he is being treated well, fed well, and looked after."
"What do you want?"
"That is a matter not to be discussed over telephones when one does not know who is listening, no? This is merely a reassurance call for now. I assure you we do not wish to keep the boy, but his health and his future are in your hands. Keep the Company off. We will make no second offers, no adjustments in our demands, no back up and start overs. If anything goes wrong, no matter whosefault-even if it is nobody's fault-the boy will be killed and we will vanish like the wind. You will never find us, or him, without our help, but even if you did be assured, Senor, that all of us will kill him and then ourselves before we will be caught. Just wait, and when the summons comes do not hesitate and do not try anything at all. Your son's life depends upon it. Goodbye, Senor Horowitz, for now."
There was a final click and dead air, but he didn't immediately hang up the phone. There were ways of doing trace-backs if the line wasn't broken on both ends, particularly if you were receiving the call.
The information printed out on a strip of adding machine paper that emerged from the side of the box under the phone. He took it, looked at it, then broke the connection, waited until the phone company reset the line, then he made a call of his own.
"Harry? Sam Horowitz. Sorry to wake you up a little early but I got a real emergency here as soon as you can do it. I need a location to match a phone number and I need it yesterday."
Harry didn't even have to leave the house for it, and Sam got a callback in under ten minutes.
"It's a private phone, all right," Harry told him. "It's in London."
"England?"
"No, Ontario. Canada. You know-big country up north. In the name of Argos Container and Cargo, Ltd. I'll give you the address."
Sam scribbled it down, then went to his computer, awake now. Who the hell did he have in the Toronto area? Nobody, it appeared. Nobody onthat side closer than Montreal. He tried to think. What was near there? Suddenly he snapped his fingers. Buffalo! Oh, yeah.
And Jerry the Weasel was just the guy for a quick and unobtrusive black bag job. . . .
The morality might be a little questionable, but it was real handy to have even organized crime to draw upon as needed.
The private eye business was rarely if ever as glamorous as it was portrayed in the books, movies, and TV series, but it was every bit as tense in its own way. Even he was disconcerted sometimes by the amount of
He picked up the phone. "Sam Horowitz," he said sleepily.
"Ah, Senor Horowitz, you sound like we thoughtyou would," came a heavily accented soft male voice.
He shook himself awake and ignored the headache. "Go ahead. I've been expecting your call."
"I assume you have the whole set of lines monitored, and perhaps the Company is as well, but it will do you no good," the voice told him. There was a sudden click and the quality of the line shifted a bit, became a little bit noisier. "Our technology has to be better man your technology or we would have been discovered, even caught, long ago." There was another click, and the transmission was suddenly both louder and quieter. Sam reached over and hit a timer at the next click, then stopped at the click after that. Four seconds.
"You have something of great value to me that is of no value to you except as a way to get to me," he said, hoping that made sense. "I want the boy back, unharmed, and in one piece. I assume you didn't take him just to torture me, so you want something."
"Si-yes, you are most perceptive. The boy is fine. At first he was very scared, but now he is, you might say, less frightened than pissed off, and quite a tiger, but he is being treated well, fed well, and looked after."
"What do you want?"
"That is a matter not to be discussed over telephones when one does not know who is listening, no? This is merely a reassurance call for now. I assure you we do not wish to keep the boy, but his health and his future are in your hands. Keep the Company off. We will make no second offers, no adjustments in our demands, no back up and start overs. If anything goes wrong, no matter whosefault-even if it is nobody's fault-the boy will be killed and we will vanish like the wind. You will never find us, or him, without our help, but even if you did be assured, Senor, that all of us will kill him and then ourselves before we will be caught. Just wait, and when the summons comes do not hesitate and do not try anything at all. Your son's life depends upon it. Goodbye, Senor Horowitz, for now."
There was a final click and dead air, but he didn't immediately hang up the phone. There were ways of doing trace-backs if the line wasn't broken on both ends, particularly if you were receiving the call.
The information printed out on a strip of adding machine paper that emerged from the side of the box under the phone. He took it, looked at it, then broke the connection, waited until the phone company reset the line, then he made a call of his own.
"Harry? Sam Horowitz. Sorry to wake you up a little early but I got a real emergency here as soon as you can do it. I need a location to match a phone number and I need it yesterday."
Harry didn't even have to leave the house for it, and Sam got a callback in under ten minutes.
"It's a private phone, all right," Harry told him. "It's in London."
"England?"
"No, Ontario. Canada. You know-big country up north. In the name of Argos Container and Cargo, Ltd. I'll give you the address."
Sam scribbled it down, then went to his computer, awake now. Who the hell did he have in the Toronto area? Nobody, it appeared. Nobody onthat side closer than Montreal. He tried to think. What was near there? Suddenly he snapped his fingers. Buffalo! Oh, yeah.
And Jerry the Weasel was just the guy for a quick and unobtrusive black bag job. . . .
The morality might be a little questionable, but it was real handy to have even organized crime to draw upon as needed.
The private eye business was rarely if ever as glamorous as it was portrayed in the books, movies, and TV series, but it was every bit as tense in its own way. Even he was disconcerted sometimes by the amount of
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