The Target

Willie. "I'm not behind any conspiracy, Louey, and there, quite simply, isn't anybody else. There's another little point that's really very disturbing. The man who had Emma. He abused her sexually and beat her."

    Louey lunged to his feet, his face white. "No! That's impossible. Molly said that, but I didn't believe her. There must be a mistake... not Emma, no one would dare touch Emma like that."

    Mason Lord sat slightly forward. "Didn't you bother to make sure that the man you hired to hold Emma in that cabin in the Rockies wasn't a child molester?"

    Louey collapsed back into the chair. "Listen, I didn't hire anybody! I don't know anything about any of it. Dammit, she's my daughter. I wouldn't have my own daughter kidnapped."

    "Oh?" It was Molly's voice coming from behind him, cold and hard. "You'd do anything for money, Louey. Anything. I'll just bet you owe some big shot lots of money and you left the country because you couldn't pay. Is that it?"

    He turned on her, so furious the pulse pounded wildly in his thin neck. "You have the gall to talk high and mighty about money. You took me for every dime I had. You didn't deserve anything at all. All you managed to do was get pregnant. Dammit, I didn't have Emma kidnapped!"

    Mason Lord slowly rose. He pressed his palms against the desktop. He said in that same soft, oily voice, "I think Molly's right. You're in big debt to somebody and this was your way of paying them off. Tell us the names of the men, Louey. Tell us who helped you pull this off. Tell us why they're still after Emma."

    "I don't know about any men! I don't know anything! Molly's dead wrong."

    "Gunther, please come here."

    Gunther, huge and menacing, his big hands relaxed at his sides, said, "Yes, Mr. Lord?"

    "Gunther, please take Mr. Santera to one of our guest rooms. He's weary from his long journey. He flew in from Germany today, you know. Yes, he's tired and needs to rest. Take him upstairs and put him to bed. Stay with him, Gunther. Remind him that life is sometimes very difficult. Remind him that I forgave him once, but patience is a precious commodity. Remind him that I'm not always such a patient man. Oh yes, he doesn't need to speak to that creature who is supposedly his bodyguard. Keep Mr. Santera quiet and apart. He needs to rest."

    "I didn't have Emma kidnapped!"

    "I'll see you after you've had a nice rest, Louey," Mason Lord said. He rose and watched as Gunther wrapped one huge hand around Louey Santera's upper arm and pulled him toward the study doors.

    Louey jerked around at the door. "If it's Molly who's claiming I did that, she's crazy. She hates me. Maybe this judge character is her lover and they wanted the money. Yeah, maybe Molly did it."

    Gunther quietly closed the study doors, and there was silence.

    Ramsey whistled. He said, "I sometimes forget the awesome power people like you wield. Every day I deal with people claiming that they're as innocent as their dear grannies, but you know they're lying through their teeth, you know that most of them are thugs, cons, just plain scum, and many times much worse.

    "And the thing is, of course, that in our justice system you can't just beat the crap out of them even though you know they're so guilty they're bulging with it. No, we play by rules that seem absurd in their gentleness, in their lack of focus and force. We use compromise and negotiation, not metaphorical thumb screws." Ramsey shrugged. "On the other hand, your performance hasn't yet resulted in anything, except to terrify one skinny little man. Molly would probably disagree with me on how often we get to it, but the truth is always there, somewhere. Don't beat the crap out of him yet, sir. Your threats are just as potent. I'd like a chance to talk to him myself. From what I could see, Molly should probably keep her distance. She's quite good with that pistol of hers."

    Mason Lord said easily, "Of course I know my threats are potent, Ramsey. They wouldn't be potent, however, if occasionally I didn't back them up, and the knowledge of that got around. Talk to Louey, see what you can dig out of the little bastard."

    Ramsey nodded, then said to Molly, "I'm thirsty. Would you like to drink a glass of lemonade with me and Emma?"

    "Yes. Then I've got phone calls to make."

    * * *

    Dr. Eleanor Loo, a tall Chinese-American woman in her mid-thirties, was wearing a leg cast. She rose clumsily when they came into her office. Molly had gotten her name from Emma's new