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we’d never see our children again.”
    Agent Tony Realto did not reveal the concern that had been growing in his mind to a virtual certainty. We never should have let Bailey get involved. And why did he insist on “helping”?

20

    A t twenty minutes past ten on Wednesday morning, Lucas was staring out the front window of his apartment, puffing nervously on his fifth cigarette of the day. Suppose the Pied Piper gets the seven-million-dollar wire transfer and decides to dump us? I have the voice recording of him, but maybe that isn’t enough, he thought. If he pulls out, what do we do with the kids?
    Even if the Pied Piper plays it straight and arranges delivery of the million in cash, it will take both me and Clint to try to make the pickup and get away without being caught. Something would go wrong. Lucas knew it in his bones, and he respected this kind of warning. It had proved accurate when he was a juvenile and was caught by the cops. Ignoring it as an adult had sent him to prison for six years. That time, when he broke into the house, he had sensed that he shouldn’t set foot in it even though he had successfully bypassed the alarm.
    And he’d been right. Cameras on a separate system had recorded his every move. Tonight, if he and Clint got caught, he’d be facing life.
    And how sick was the one kid? If she died, it could be a lot worse.
    His phone rang. It was the Pied Piper. Lucas turned on his recorder.
    â€œThings are going smoothly, Bert” the Pied Piper said. “The wire transfer went through. It’s very clear to me that the FBI won’t jeopardize getting the children back by following you too closely.”
    He was using the phony growl that he thought passed for a disguised voice. Lucas ground out the rest of his cigarette on the window sill. Keep talking, pal, he thought.
    â€œIt’s your ball game now,” the Pied Piper continued. “If you want to be counting money tonight, listen very carefully to my plan. As you know, you will need a stolen vehicle. You have assured me that Harry is capable of securing one easily.”
    â€œYeah. It’s the one thing he’s good at.”
    â€œWe will begin making contact with Franklin Bailey at eight o’clock this evening in front of the Time Warner building on Columbus Circle. At that time, you and Harry must be parked on West Fifty-sixth Street, at the passageway to Fifty-seventh Street that is just east of Sixth Avenue. You will be in the stolen vehicle. You will have replaced the license plates of that car or van with plates from another vehicle.”
    â€œNo problem.”
    â€œHere is the way we’re going to work it.”
    As Lucas listened, he grudgingly admitted that the plan had a good chance of succeeding. Finally, after unnecessarily assuring the Pied Piper that he would be carrying his special cell phone, he heard the click that meant the connection was broken.
    Okay, he thought. I know what we’re doing. Maybe it’ll work. As he lit a fresh cigarette, his own cell phone rang.
    The phone was on the dresser in his bedroom, and he hurried to answer it. “Lucas,” a weak and strained voice began, “this is Franklin Bailey. I need you this evening. If you are already engaged, please use your replacement driver for that engagement. I have a most important errand in Manhattan and must be in Columbus Circle at eight o’clock.”
    His brain racing, Lucas jammed the phone against his ear, at the same time grabbing the half-empty pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “I do have a booking, but maybe we can work it out. How long do you expect to be, Mr. Bailey?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    Lucas thought of the funny way the cop had eyed him on Friday when Bailey had driven over to the Frawleys’ house to offer to be the go-between. If the feds decided that it was a good idea for Bailey to have his own driver, and then found out he was unavailable,