Two Little Girls in Blue by Mary Higgins Clark Page B

car.”
    â€œBegin to transfer the money from the suitcases into two trash bags. Secure the bags with the blue tie you are wearing and the red tie you were instructed to carry. I will call you again shortly.”
    It was twenty minutes of nine.

29

    A t nine fifteen, the phone in the cottage rang, a loud, startling jangle that made Angie almost jump out of her skin. She had just opened the bedroom door to look in on the kids. Hastily, she pulled the door closed and ran to answer the phone. She knew it couldn’t be Clint—he always called her on her cell phone. She picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
    â€œAngie, I’m insulted, ree-al-ly insulted. I thought my old buddy Clint was going to call me about having a beer last night.”
    Oh, no, Angie thought. It was that stupid dope Gus, and she could tell from the sounds in the background that he was in the Danbury Pub. So much for your knowing how much suds to drink, Angie thought, noting his slurred voice. Still she knew she had to be careful, remembering that one time Gus had shown up uninvited at the door, looking for company.
    â€œHi, Gus,” she said, trying to sound friendly. “Didn’t Clint phone you? I told him to. He felt kind of lousy last night and went to bed early.”
    From inside the bedroom, she heard Kathy begin to cry, a loud, distressed wail, and she realized that in her hurry to answer the phone, she had not closed the bedroomdoor completely. She tried to cover the mouthpiece with her hand, but it was too late.
    â€œIs that the kid you’re minding? I can hear her crying.”
    â€œThat’s the kid I’m minding, and I got to go check on her. Clint went to look at a car some guy is selling in Yonkers. I’ll tell him to meet you for a drink tomorrow night for sure.”
    â€œYou could use a new car. That’s some rattletrap you’re running around in now.”
    â€œAgreed. Gus, you can hear the kid crying. Tomorrow night for sure with Clint, okay?”
    Angie began to hang up, but before the receiver was in its cradle a now-awakened Kelly began to scream, “Mommy, Mommy!”
    Would Gus realize that he was hearing two kids, or was he already too drunk to know the difference? Angie wondered with concern. It would be just like him to call back. He wanted to talk to someone, that was for sure. She went into the bedroom. Both twins were standing now, grasping the rails of the crib and hollering for their mother. Well, I can fix one of you, Angie thought as she yanked a sock out of the dresser and began to tie it around Kelly’s mouth.

30

    A gent Angus Sommers held his cell phone to his ear as, along with Agent Ben Taglione, who was driving, he kept his eyes riveted to the car in front of them, the sedan containing Franklin Bailey. Immediately upon seeing the Excel Driving Service logo, Sommers had contacted the dispatcher at the company. Car 142 had been hired in the name of Bailey and charged to his American Express card. The car’s destination was the Brooklyn Museum for a passenger pickup, and from there they were to go to the Pierre Hotel on Sixty-first Street and Fifth Avenue. It’s too pat, Sommers thought, a feeling shared by the rest of the kidnap team. Even so, a dozen FBI agents were already on the way to the museum, and several were also staked out at the Pierre.
    How did the Pied Piper get Bailey’s American Express card number? he wondered. The feeling that the person behind the kidnapping was someone known to the family became more and more certain to Sommers. But that was not his concern now. First they had to get the girls back. Then they could focus on the perpetrators.
    Five other vehicles with agents were following Bailey’s car. On the West Side Drive the traffic was almostat a standstill. Whoever was planning to meet Bailey and take the money might easily get nervous waiting at the contact point, Sommers worried silently. He knew they all had