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phone. What is the number of your cell phone, Mr. FBI agent?”
    â€œIt’s 917-555-3291,” Carlson said.
    â€œI’ll repeat that: 917-555-3291. Give your cell phone to Franklin Bailey. Remember we will be watching him. Any attempt to follow him or to apprehend the messenger who accepts the suitcases will mean that the twins will disappear forever. The alternative is that once we have validated the amount and authenticity of the cash, sometime after midnight, someone will receive a phone call telling you where to pick up the twins. They’re very homesick and one of them has a fever. I suggest you make sure there are no slipups.”

19

    W alking back from their neighbor’s house, clutching Steve’s arm, Margaret tried to believe that within twenty-four hours the twins really would be home. I have to believe it, she told herself. Kathy, I love you. Kelly, I love you.
    In her rush to get first to Rena Chapman’s house, and then to their other neighbor for the second call, she had not even been conscious of the media vans parked on the street. But now the reporters were outside the house clamoring for a statement.
    â€œHave the kidnappers contacted you?”
    â€œHas the ransom been paid?”
    â€œHave you confirmation that the twins are alive?”
    â€œThere will be no statement at this time,” Carlson said brusquely.
    Ignoring the questions that were shouted to them, Margaret and Steve darted up the walk. Captain Martinson was waiting for them on the porch. Ever since Friday night, he had been in and out of the house, sometimes conferring privately with the FBI agents, other times simply a reassuring presence. Margaret knew that his officers at the Ridgefield Police Department and the Connecticut State Police had distributedhundreds of posters with the picture of the girls standing by their birthday cake. One of the posters she had seen had a question printed on it: DO YOU KNOW ANYONE WHO OWNS, OR OWNED, A ROYAL MANUAL TYPEWRITER?
    That was the typewriter on which the ransom note for the twins had been written.
    Yesterday, Martinson told them that people in town had pledged a ten-thousand-dollar reward for any information that would lead to the safe return of the twins. Could someone have responded to that? Had someone come forward with information? He looks upset, but surely it can’t be bad news, Margaret promised herself, as they stepped into the foyer. He doesn’t know yet that a ransom drop has already been arranged.
    As though afraid that they would somehow be overheard by the media, Martinson waited until they were in the living room before he spoke. “We’ve got a problem,” he said. “Franklin Bailey had a fainting spell early this morning. His housekeeper called 911 and he was rushed to the hospital. His cardiogram was okay. His doctor thinks he had an anxiety attack brought on by stress.”
    â€œWe’ve just been told by the kidnapper that Bailey is to be in front of the Time Warner building at eight o’clock tonight,” Carlson snapped. “If he doesn’t show up, whoever has the children will suspect a double cross.”
    â€œBut he’s got to be there!” Margaret heard the hint of hysteria in her voice, and bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. “He’s got to be there,” she repeated, this time in awhisper. She looked across the room at the pictures of the twins that were on top of the piano. My two little girls in blue, she thought. Oh, God, please bring them home to me.
    â€œHe’s planning to be there,” Martinson said. “He wouldn’t stay at the hospital.” He and the agents looked at each other.
    But it was Steve who voiced what they all were thinking: “Suppose he has another weak spell and becomes confused or passes out while he’s getting the instructions on delivering the cash? What happens then? If Bailey doesn’t make contact, the Pied Piper said