“And I’m sure Marcus will share those clues with the team,” she reassured me. “But your covert status makes it impossible for you to be directly involved. I know you want to help, but don’t worry. These agents are good at this. The very best.”
“What about Marcus?” asked Margaret. “Is he going to be part of their team?”
“They’ll keep him around until they’re fully up to speed,” she said. “Then they’ll ask him to leave too.”
“He won’t like that.”
“No, he won’t,” she agreed. “But he’ll do it because he understands the procedures.”
Margaret and I both nodded reluctantly.
“Now, I’ve got to go see how I can help. Are you two okay?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Thanks,” added Margaret.
Kayla headed back toward Yin’s dressing room, but we just stayed there for a moment.
“I feel like my head’s spinning,” I said. “Forty-five minutes ago we were watching Yin onstage and now he’s vanished.”
“Are you worried about him?” Margaret asked.
“Of course I am.”
“Do you have faith that those guys are going to find him?”
I paused before answering. “You heard her. They’re experts. The best.”
“That wasn’t the question, Florian. I asked if you had faith that they’re going to find him.”
I thought about it for a second and reluctantly shook my head. “Not really,” I admitted. “They already have a plan in mind and they’re just going to go with that. I’m worried they’re going to miss the little things. I’m worried they’ll miss the TOAST.”
“So am I,” she said. “Tell me, did they have a CARD team looking for you when you were kidnapped by Nic the Knife?”
“Yes.”
“And were they the ones who found you?”
“No,” I replied. “Marcus found me.”
“That’s because he had the skills and also cared about you,” she said. “Just like we care about Yin.”
I gave her a look. “Are you saying you want us to look for him?”
“No, I am looking for him,” she replied. “I’m saying that if you want to help, you can come along.”
“Margaret, we’ve got to be smart.”
“I know,” she said. “But in my entire life I’ve never felt more useless than when you were missing and I was just sitting at your house waiting for information. It was awful.”
“There was nothing you could’ve done,” I reminded her. “By the time you knew anything was wrong I was already tied up in the back of a van somewhere in Northern Virginia.”
“Right, but that’s not the case this time,” she said. “This just happened. Yin’s still nearby. This time I can help.”
There was no further discussion. She just started walking briskly and I followed her down a hallway that ran directly behind the stage. The music was loud and momentarily my thoughts shifted from Yin to Lucy. She had just been thrust into a nearly impossible situation playing intricate solos that she hadn’t practiced in front of a large audience.
“Listen,” I said, signaling Margaret to stop. “You’re the one who knows classical music. How does she sound?”
We stood silently for a moment as Lucy played a solo, and when she was done, Margaret gave me a big smile. “Good. Really good.”
We exited through a door that led to the Hall of Nations. It was long and narrow with plush red carpet, polished marble walls, and the flags of nearly two hundred countries hanging above us. It’s also where we saw Dr. Putney nervously pacing back and forth in the middle of a phone call.
“Well, he was technically under the supervision of the symphony, not the school,” we overheard him saying. “So that liability is not on us. The Kennedy Center is supposed to take care of all security. When the news breaks, make sure he’s identified as a member of the Washington Youth Symphony and not as a Chatham student.”
Margaret shook her head and whispered to me, “He’s more concerned with who gets the blame than he is with finding Yin.”
“Not a surprise,” I said. “But you still haven’t told me what we’re doing.”
“I will in a second,” she said.
Again, she left no room for debate as she approached Dr. Putney. When he got off the phone he turned and saw us.
“What are you two doing out here?” he asked. “You should be in the concert hall right now.”
“Actually, we’re helping the FBI look for Yin,” said Margaret.
It was a total lie but there was nothing I could really do about it at this point, so I just nodded as confidently as I could.
“You know about him?” he said.
“Yes, and we have to follow a lead,” she responded. “But we didn’t want to leave the building without telling you. We know you’re concerned with student safety and didn’t want you to panic if we didn’t show up at our bus.”
“Right,” he said. “That’s good.”
“Will you tell Ms. Curtis?” she replied. “We can’t tell her what’s up without spoiling our cover, but she’s the main chaperone on our bus.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he said.
“Great,” she said.
She headed straight for the door and I was right behind her.
“Make sure you find him,” he said with genuine concern. I hoped that concern was for Yin’s safety and not the school’s reputation.
We exited the building onto the entrance plaza, which was still filled with school buses.
“Where are we going?” I demanded once we reached a spot where no one else could hear us.
“The Metro,” she replied. “Foggy Bottom is the nearest station.”
“You know what I mean,” I said firmly. “We were taken off the case and we just lied to get out here. Things are going from bad to worse.” I stopped on the top step and stood my ground. “I’m not going any farther until you tell me your plan.”
“You’re not going to like it,” she said.
“I kind of got that idea the first few times you wouldn’t answer.”
She walked back toward me and let out a sigh. “We’re going to see a different type of expert.”
“What does that even mean?”
“The CARD team is made up of agents who are experts at finding someone who’s been kidnapped,” she said.
“Right.”
“I thought we might try to talk to someone whose expertise is actually kidnapping people.”
It took me a second to piece together her plan. “Do you mean Nic the Knife?”
She smiled. “See? It makes total sense.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said, incredulous. “I was kidnapped and thrown in the back of a van. Nic the Knife’s a notorious mob boss. And, oh yeah, he happens to be the US representative of the EEL crime syndicate.”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” she answered. “And as you just pointed out, all those terrible things make him an expert in this subject. Besides, he owes you. You’ve never really told me everything that went down when you were in that barn with him, but you kept him from getting into too much trouble. He helped with the missing Monet, so maybe he’ll help with this.” She started back down the stairs. “Now let’s hurry up.”
This was, in my estimation, the worst idea in the history of mankind. That’s just on the surface of it. It was even worse than that when you consider the part that I couldn’t tell her: that Nic the Knife was in fact her birth father. That’s what I discovered when I was sitting there with my hands tied behind my back in that barn. That’s what I swore to him she’d never find out.
“We can’t do this,” I said as I chased after her. “This is a very bad idea.”
She stopped, and even though she was a step below me since she’s taller, we were eye to eye.
“Yin has vanished. We’re his friends. Maybe his only two friends on this entire continent. And we’re good at solving mysteries. It’s the only lucky break
he’s caught. His only friends also happen to be secret consultants for the FBI. We need to help find him and no one in there is going to let us. So this is the next best way.”
“No,” I said. “We’re going back inside. I’m calling it off.”
“I wasn’t asking permission,” she said. “I’m going to visit Nic the Knife. I’d like you to go with me, but I’ll go with or without you.”
(Okay, so I was wrong. Her going without me was the worst idea in the history of the world.)
“I’ll come, I’ll come,” I said, caving. “I guess the bright side is that if I get shot or end up in the hospital, I won’t have to sing in the talent show.”
“That hurts,” she said. “But I’m going to let it slide. Now let’s go find us a criminal mastermind.”
28.
Nic the Knife
IT TOOK ABOUT THIRTY MINUTES for us to ride the Metro and get to Nic’s office. I spent the entire time trying to figure out the first words I would say when he saw us. Despite his career choice, I knew he truly loved Margaret and was determined she be protected from his world of crime. Because of this, he told me, it was vital she never learn that he was her father. My worry was that our unexpected arrival might make him think she knew more than she really did.
The headquarters of Nevrescu Construction were located on the third floor of a nondescript office building in Southwest. The decoration in the reception area was limited to a few plants, some pictures of building projects, and a couple of framed articles about the scholarship foundation he’d created.
“We’d like to speak to Nicolae Nevrescu,” I said to the dark-haired receptionist whose nameplate read Ioana. “My name is Florian Bates and this is Margaret Campbell.”
“What’s this concerning?” she asked, eyeing us with curiosity rather than suspicion. (Of course the fact that I was dressed up for the symphony made me seem even that much more out of place.)
“It’s a personal matter,” answered Margaret.
“Just tell him that Florian Bates and Margaret Campbell are here,” I said. “I think he’ll want to see us.”
No doubt there were many unusual visitors who came to see her boss, so the receptionist didn’t question us any more than that. Instead she just directed us to have a seat while she checked with him.
Within seconds of us sitting down on the couch, the door to an office opened and Nic stalked out into the waiting area. He wore a dark pin-striped suit that had been tailored to make his broad shoulders and powerful arms that much more intimidating. He looked at us, his expression at half-scowl, and checked to see if anyone else was in the waiting area.
“Before you say anything, let me explain,” I said, going through the lines I’d rehearsed in my head.
He nodded so I kept on going.
“This is my friend Margaret Campbell. We’re in the middle of an urgent situation, and she thought you might have certain insight that would help us. I told her it was not a good idea to interrupt you at work. But she was determined and said she was going to come with or without me. Since she doesn’t know anything about you,” I said, stressing the word, “I thought it would be best if I came along.”
He relaxed a little and asked, “So you’re looking for my expertise in some matter?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Does this have something to do with building construction?”
“Actually, it’s a different area of professional experience,” I said as delicately as I could.
“It’s about a kidnapping,” Margaret blurted out.
His eyes opened wide and he scanned the room again to make sure no one else was there.
“I don’t know what you think, but . . .”
“A friend of ours was kidnapped,” she said. “We’re really worried about him. We want to help and to do that we need your help.”
In that moment Nicolae Nevrescu was no longer Nic the Knife. He was a father, and even though she didn’t realize their connection, his daughter had come to him for help. He looked at Margaret and melted.
“I don’t know how I can help,” he said calmly. “But come into my office and we will see if there is a way.”
She smiled at him and he beamed.
“I’m really sorry,” I whispered to him as we entered his office. “I tried to stop her.”
There were three chairs around a small coffee table and I took the one in the middle so they were on opposite sides looking at each other.
“Margaret, that’s your name, right?” he said.
“Yes,” she replied. “Margaret Campbell.”
“I’m not sure what you’ve heard about me, but I don’t see how I can help you in this situation,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “I promise you I have nothing to do with whatever happened to your friend.”
“No, it’s not that,” she said. “We don’t think you’re involved. We just can’t figure out what happened and thought you might be able to help us analyze the situation.”
“I run a construction company,” he replied. “I don’t know anything about kidnapping.”
Margaret gave him a look, and then she realized something. “We’re not recording you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said. “But if it helps, we can talk in hypotheticals. Perhaps you like to read mysteries or watch crime shows on television and along the way you’ve picked up some insight into criminal behavior.”
He nodded. “Okay. Let’s do that. Tell me about this situation.”
“Right,” she said. “Imagine a boy during the intermission of a concert. He’s a prodigy and the soloist. But when it’s time to go back onstage there’s no sign of him. He’s completely vanished from his dressing room.”
“Are there any signs of a struggle?”
“No,” we both answered.
“Were there any witnesses?”
“No.”
He thought about this for a moment. “But it was in a crowded area. Backstage at a concert?”
“Right,” I said.
“Has there been a ransom demand?”
“No, there hasn’t,” said Margaret.
“Then why do you think it was a kidnapping?” he said.
Margaret and I shared a look for a moment. “Well, there was a note asking for help left at the scene.”
He nodded.
“Okay, you need to look at this a different way,” he said. “If you don’t have any indication how he was taken, you have to ask yourself why someone would take him in the first place. Is there a great deal of money for a ransom? Does taking him apply pressure to someone important? From what I have read and seen on television, these are the telling factors in such situations. If there were a ransom you should ignore everything except for the ransom and how it relates directly to the victim. Once you can figure out the reason, then it’s case closed.”
I looked up at him with a huge smile.
“What did you just say?”
He wasn’t sure which part I was referring to. “Case closed,” he said. “You’ve got it solved.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I said.
“I am?” he said, even more surprised.
“His case was closed,” I said to Margaret. “His cello had been wiped down and put away in its case.”
“Of course it was,” said Margaret. “He’s totally OCD about his cello. He always does that.”
“When he’s finished,” I said. “He puts his cello away like that when he’s done. But it was intermission. He would only have done that . . .”
“If he knew he wasn’t going back out to perform,” she said, completing my thought.
“Do you know what that means?” I asked.
“He wasn’t kidnapped,” said Margaret.
“That’s right,” I said. “I’ve got to reach Marcus.”
I hurriedly began sending a text to Marcus, and while I was, Nic and Margaret had a brief conversation.
“Thank you,” said Margaret. “I knew you could help.”
?
??It was my pleasure,” he replied.
My text read, Huge TOAST. Big breakthrough. Need to talk.
Margaret gave Nic a funny look. “You’re not what I expected you to be like.”
He smiled. “That’s probably a good thing, I think.” Then he added, “I saw you play soccer in the city championship, by the way.”
“That’s right,” she said, smiling at the memory. “Florian told me you had a niece playing on the other team. Sorry we had to beat them.”
He had a satisfied look as he thought back to that game. “No, you deserved to win. You were magnificent. I’m sure your parents are awfully proud of you. I know I would be.”
I realized it was as close as he would ever get to telling her what he thought of her.
My phone buzzed and I looked down at a text that was all caps. WHERE ARE YOU?
“We gotta go,” I said. “I think we may be in a bit of trouble.”
“Good-bye,” Margaret said as we got up and headed for the door.
“Good-bye, Margaret,” Nic said. “It was very nice to meet you.”
29.
God Save the Queen
MARGARET’S MEETING WITH NIC THE Knife went a whole lot better than ours did with Marcus. He was furious that we’d left the Kennedy Center. Even more upset that we were working on the case after being told not to. And he almost went full volcano when he found out whom we’d gone to for advice.
But he also thought I was right about the cello case.
The problem was, like us, he was no longer part of the investigation. So the three of us just sat there in front of Nic’s office building. We were in Kayla’s SUV (which Marcus had borrowed because his car was still at school), trying to make sense of it all.
“Okay, if you’re right and he wasn’t kidnapped, that means he ran away,” said Marcus. “Which also means he could be in real danger.”
“We’re missing something,” said Margaret. “The pieces still don’t make sense.”
“It’s got to be the Key Bridge,” I said. “That was the only real clue in his dressing room. And we still don’t know what it means. Once we figure that out, then everything else should come together.”
“Okay, let’s think about the bridge,” said Marcus. “It’s close to the Kennedy Center, just a few minutes’ walk. So Yin sneaks out of the concert and walks to the bridge. What happens then? Does he meet a friend?”