The Husband

had sat.
    "Mitch," he said, "you've been quite a disappointment to your brother."

Chapter 26

     
    Julian Campbell had the golden glow that could have been achieved only with a tanning machine of his own, a sculpted physique that was proof of a home gym and a personal trainer, and a smooth face that, for a man in his fifties, suggested a plastic surgeon on retainer.
    The wound that had ended his FBI career was not evident, nor any sign of disability. His triumph over his physical injuries evidently equaled his economic success.
    "Mitch, I'm curious."
    "About what?"
    Instead of answering, Campbell said, "I'm a practical man. In my business I do what I need to do, and I don't get acid indigestion over it."
    Mitch translated those words to mean that Campbell did not allow himself to be troubled by guilt.
    "I know a lot of men who do what needs done. Practical men."
    In thirteen and a half hours, the kidnappers would call Anson's house. If Mitch wasn't there to take the call, Holly would be killed.
    "But this is the first time I've seen a man drop the dime on his own brother just to prove he's the hardest hardcase around."
    "For money," Mitch corrected.
    Campbell shook his head. "No. Anson could have asked me to teach these pussies a lesson. They aren't as tough as they think."
    Below this darkest level of the day's descent lay something darker.
    "In twelve hours, we could have them begging to pay us to take your wife back unharmed."
    Mitch waited. For now there was nothing to do but wait.
    "These guys have mothers. We burn down one mom's house, maybe smash another old lady's face, she needs a year of reconstructive surgery."
    Campbell was as matter-of-fact as if he had been explaining the terms of a real-estate deal.
    "One of them has a daughter by an ex-wife. She means something to him. We stop the kid on her way home from school, strip her naked, set her clothes on fire. We tell her dad—next time we burn little Suzie with her clothes."
    Earlier, in his naivete, Mitch had been willing to have Iggy dragged into this mess to spare Anson.
    Now he wondered if he would have been willing for other innocent people to be beaten, burned, and savaged in order to save Holly. Perhaps he should be thankful that the choice had not been offered to him.
    "If we tweaked twelve of theirs in twelve hours, those pussies
    would send your wife home with apologies and a Nordstrom gift certificate for a new wardrobe."
    The two gunmen never took their eyes off Mitch.
    "But Anson," Campbell continued, "he wants to make a statement so nobody ever underestimates him again. Indirectly, the statement's also for my benefit. And I gotta say...I'm impressed."
    Mitch could not let them see the true intensity of his terror. They would assume that extreme fear would make him reckless, and they would watch him even more diligently than they watched him now.
    He must appear to be fearful but, more than fearful, despairing. A man in the grip of despair, who has utterly abandoned hope, is not a man with the will to fight.
    "I'm curious," Campbell repeated, coming around at last to where he had started. "For your brother to be able to do this to you .. . what did you do?"
    "Loved him," Mitch said.
    Campbell regarded Mitch as a wading heron regards a swimming fish, and then smiled. "Yes, that would do it. What if one day he found himself reciprocating?"
    "He's always wanted to go far, and to get there fast."
    "Sentiment is an encumbrance," Campbell said.
    In a voice weighed low with despair, Mitch said, "Oh, it's a chain and an anchor."
    From the coffee table where one of the gunmen had put it, Campbell picked up the pistol that had been taken from Mitch. "Have you ever fired this?"
    Mitch almost said that he had not, but then realized that the magazine lacked one bullet, the round with which Knox accidentally shot himself. "Once. I fired it once. To see what it felt like."
    Amused, Campbell said, "And did it feel scary?"
    "Scary enough."
    "Your brother says you're not a man for guns."
    "He knows me better than I know him."
    "So where did you get this?"
    "My wife thought we should keep one in the house."
    "How right she was."
    "It's been in a nightstand drawer since the day we bought it," Mitch lied.
    Campbell rose to his feet. With his right arm extended full length, he pointed the pistol at Mitch's face. "Stand up."

Chapter 27

     
    Meeting the blind stare of the pistol, Mitch rose from the armchair.
    The two nameless gunmen moved to new positions, as