Read Online Dead Silence by Randy Wayne White - Free Book Online

a biologist or that presented an unusual technical challenge. I was a private contractor, in theory, who had yet to accept my first job.
    Harrington had offered me missions in Venezuela and Pakistan. I already had enough enemies in South America. For the Pakistan job, I needed at least six weeks to get in the kind of shape the job required.
    I had said no to both.
    Going after the teenager, though, was a good fit. Because I had a personal interest, I would have requested the job even if hack amateurs had abducted him. But these people weren’t hacks, they were pros—I’d seen their work. If they kept the boy alive, I had a decent chance of doing a reverse snatch-and-bag. The kidnappers would expect law-abiding cops, not someone like me.
    I said, “Then I can pursue the matter.” The kidnappers and boy, I meant. “I’m all for it. But gloves on while you’re on the reservation.”
    I said, “Of course,” because it’s what I was required to say. “What else do you know?”
    “They want four cartons, two labeled j, two labeled S. Why? I don’t know yet.”
    The image of a semi came into my mind, the cartons like oversized blocks, filling the trailer. j for jewelry , S for salvage .
    “They sound like businessmen, not collectors.”
    “Or salesmen. Too early to say.”
    “A straight trade?”
    “With a deadline. Sunday morning at eight.” I was looking at my watch as he added, “A little more than sixty hours. But that’s their guess, so it could be way off. It depends on the battery.”
    I didn’t know what that meant. “Maybe we can humor them, get an extension.”
    “Not a chance. They don’t have control over the deadline.”
    “You just lost me.”
    “I’m thinking of your home state. Do you remember the name Mackle? As in Mackle Brothers ? Think back. You’ll understand the deadline.”
    Mackle —the name had a distant familiarity.
    I said, “They were developers. Maybe still are. Are those the—”
    “Yes, the same.”
    The Mackle Brothers did Florida megaprojects. Marco Island was one. Port Charlotte was another. Turnkey cities. Big money. I said, “One of the brothers had a daughter who was in the news because—” I caught myself because I remembered now. The Mackle girl had been kidnapped. Her abductors had devised an ingenious way to put responsibility for the girl’s life into the hands of law enforcement.
    I said carefully, “She was detained.”
    “That’s right.”
    “In a . . . small room.”
    “She might as well have been underground.”
    I didn’t remember how long the girl had been buried. “Thirty-six hours?”
    “Almost four days. With only the basics: a little water, a battery-powered fan. Very motivational.”
    I understood now about the deadline. I whispered, “The sonsuvbitches.” “I hope you can pass the message along personally, Doctor.”
    Suddenly, my transportation problems were more urgent. I needed to get home. I had weapons there, and other equipment. A commercial flight home wasn’t good enough.
    When I told Harrington, he said, “There are some fairly decent outfitters closer to your hotel. Langley, Beltsville. How about Little Creek?”
    If I needed weapons, he was telling me, I could choose from the best armories.
    I said, “No need. A quick trip to Florida, down and back. Then anyplace else I need to go.”
    Harrington knew what I was requesting. He said check back in a hour, he would see what he could do, then added, “But stay focused on your research. You’re working two jobs now—don’t forget.”
    He was referring to Barbara and Castro’s files again. What did the woman know?

6
    T hey’ve threatened to bury Will alive,” Barbara told me when I returned to her suite. “We have until eight a.m. on Sunday. They mean it. Our driver was found dead, stuffed into the trunk of the car.”
    She’d just gotten the news.
    The woman gave me an emotional hug, her eyes clear, not red as I’d expected, but she sounded dazed. “I’m sorry