Hot Rocks

Later.”
    Jack spoke with his head back, his eyes closed. “It’s dangerous to drive talking on one of those things.”
    “Shut up, Jack.” But because he agreed, Max started to put it aside, when it beeped for an incoming. Certain it was Laine, he answered. “You’re quick. I was just . . . Vince?”
    When fear bounced like an ice ball into his belly, he whipped the car to the side of the road. “When? For Christ’s sake, that’s more than an hour ago. I’m on my way.”
    He tossed the phone on the console, punched the gas. “He’s got her.”
    “No, no, that’s not true.” Even the sickly green had died away, leaving Jack’s face bone white. “He can’t have her, not my baby girl.”
    “He got her out of the shop just after five o’clock. Vince thinks they’re in a dark sedan. A couple of people saw her get into a car with a man, but he doesn’t have a good description of the vehicle.” He had the Porsche up to ninety. “Jenny’s got a good description of the guy. Long brown hair, ponytail, soul patch, sunglasses. White male, forty-five to fifty, six-foot, average build.”
    “The hair’s a blind, but it’d be him. He’s got to get to me to get the diamonds. He’ll hurt her.”
    “We’re not going to think about that. We’re going to think of how to find them and get her back.” His hands were ice cold on the wheel. “He needs a place. If he thinks the stones are here, he won’t go far. He needs a private place, not a hotel. He’ll contact you, or me. He’ll— shit !”
    He fumbled for the phone.
    “Give it to me. You kill us, we can’t help her.” Jack snatched it away, punched for the voice mail.
    “You have two new messages. First new message received May eighteenth, at five-fifteen P.M.
    They heard Laine’s voice, dead calm. “Sixty-eight East is a long road. Are you adding interstate abduction to your list?”
    “Smart,” Max breathed. “She’s very smart.” He shot the Porsche like a bullet onto an off-ramp, spun it like a top and rocketed to backtrack toward the interstate.
    He listened to every word, blocked the fear. When the call ended, he had to order himself not to tell Jack to replay it just so he could hear her voice. “Get Vince back, give him the vehicle description and the destination. Alleghany Recreational Park. Tell him we’re en route and that Crew is armed.”
    “But we’re not waiting for the cops?”
    “No, we’re not waiting for them.”
    He flew toward the forest.
     
     
    Laine stepped into the cabin, looked around the spa cious living area with its stone fireplace and dark, heavy wood. It was time, she concluded, for a change of tack.
    Stalling was fine, it was good. Anything that kept her from getting shot or beaten was fine and good. But it never paid to depend on a last-minute cavalry charge. Smart money depended on yourself.
    So she turned, offered Crew an easy smile. “First, let me say I’m not going to give you any reason to hurt me. I’m not into pain. You could, of course, hurt me anyway, but I’m hoping you’ve more style than that. We’re both civilized people. I have something, you want something.” She strolled over to an overstuffed checked sofa, sat, crossed her legs. “Let’s negotiate.”
    “This”—he gestured with the gun—“speaks for itself.”
    “Use it, get nothing. Why don’t you offer me a glass of wine instead?”
    He angled his head in consideration and, she thought, reevaluation. “You’re a cool one.”
    “I’ve had time to settle down. I won’t deny you scared me. You certainly did, and still could, but I’m hoping you’re open to a reasonable dialogue here.”
    She flipped quickly through her mental file of what she knew of him and what she could observe.
    Towering ego, vanity, greed, sociopathic and homicidal tendencies.
    “We’re alone, I’ve got no way out. You’re in the driver’s seat, but still . . . I have something you want.”
    She threw back her head and laughed, and could see she’d surprised him. Good. Keep him off balance, keep him thinking. “Oh God, who would have believed the old man had it in him? He’s been second-rate all his life, and a serious pain in my ass. Now he comes along with the score of a lifetime. Hell, the score of ten lifetimes. And he drops it right into my lap. I’m sorry about Willy though, he had a sweet nature. But, spilled milk.”
    She caught a flicker of interest on Crew’s face before he opened a drawer, took out a pair of