The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 42

Charlie took a deep breath, her gaze distant as if retracing the steps of that fateful moment.

"She was asking about Logan. Then she lets out an expletive, saying some truck had pulled right out on the street in front of her. Then she looks behind I think she wanted to reverse, and another truck has stopped, preventing her from reversing back. She said someone was getting out. I think the exact words were 'Why are they getting out to swap insurance numbers?' Or 'Why are they getting out? Do you think they want to swap insurance numbers?' Then 'Fuck, Peter, that guy has a gun.'"

"Peter was the bodyguard?" The Agent prompted, his tone gentle yet probing.

"Yeah, I think Peter had been assigned that day," Charlie confirmed. Her concern was palpable as she asked, "How is he?"

"He was clubbed with a length of steel tube. He's unconscious," Agent Farrow explained, his words carrying a weight of gravity that matched the severity of the situation. "No real description of the attackers?"

The room seemed to hold its breath, the gravity of the conversation echoing through the air. The shadows cast by the dim lighting added a layer of somberness to the scene, underscoring the seriousness of the events being recounted. Charlie's words danced in the air, carrying with them a sense of urgency as she continued to unravel the chaotic sequence of events that had unfolded on that day.

The Agent had investigated the scene. An artisan bread truck had been stolen to order. A month old tracker had ben found under the Polstar Convertible's wheel arch. She had been under observation for that time. While Peter's attention had been captured by the truck, from behind a woman in a mask had walked up from behind and put a black cloth bag over his head and clubbed him. His gun had blanks, an ordinance mistake apparently. The car was open topped, they had picked up the baby first and Rachel Levant now distort must have just complied. They exited past the truck to a van, drove off then disappeared. It was a carbon copy of a kidnapping in San Paluo four months before. Witnesses were confused One black, one female or two black men one black woman, may be two one whiteish they were not sure.

"Did Mrs. Levant say anything else?"

"I think her exact words were 'What do you mean it's not loaded... I'll phone you back'." Then the phone went dead."

This confirmed the forensics report. The bodyguard's gun was empty, some ordnance mistake.

The agent examined Charlie. "Did you phone the police at that point?"

"No, I phoned the security team. We have a standard protocol; it's part of the insurance policy," Charlie explained.

"Do you think Mrs. Levant was driving?" The agent asked.

Charlie hesitated for a second, her brows furrowing as she struggled to find the words. "In the Polstar, probably. She's not supposed to, She... she likes driving. Peter or the security guard normally sit in the back. The front seat has the hooks for the baby seat. She had tweeted she was late for the meeting; she would probably prefer to speed to avoid any... any social embarrassment."

"Mr. Levant said she had done a kidnapping course. Would she vary the route?" The agent's question seemed to cut through the room's tension, causing Charlie's voice to tremble.

"I don't know, probably not. She thought the whole bodyguard stuff was for show. I think she never thought of herself as being important enough," Charlie answered, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. "Look, I know Douglas... Mr Levant has been on television. Have the kidnappers made contact?"

The agent's gaze shifted downward, his silence adding to the heavy atmosphere. "Let's just stick to your side of what happened. Did you hear anything? Did you get any description, anything?"

Charlie's eyes lowered to the floor, her voice quivering as she spoke. "No. That was... that was it. It was so quick. 'Fuck, Peter, that guy has a gun.' A muffled 'What do you mean it's not loaded? I'll call you back.' That's... that's all I remember."

The room's subdued lighting seemed to deepen, casting shadows that echoed Charlie's distress. Agent Farrow's posture remained attentive, a steady presence in the midst of Charlie's heightened emotions. The weight of the situation was almost tangible, casting a somber tone over every word spoken.

"Who do you think knew her route?" Farrow asked, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Charlie pulled a face, a mix of frustration and concern crossing her features. "Well, everyone at the architects, surveyors, ocean group, wildlife--oh, and for sure the locals. But you know she tweeted before leaving, and like a couple of days before, so lots of people knew her destination and most likely her origin. Was Peter really clubbed by them?"

"Did Mrs. Levant often drive the car? It's an open top, isn't it?" The agent inquired.

"It has good anchors for the baby seat," Charlie replied, a touch of weariness in her voice. "Will you find her?"

The agent looked momentarily puzzled by the change in direction. "We are going to do our best," Agent Lane reassured.

"She's pregnant," Charlie revealed, her voice carrying a mix of tension and concern. It was an open secret, and the possibility that the kidnappers might be aware of it weighed heavily on her mind.

"I know." Agent Farrow said "How far along?"

"first trimester," Charlie lied with a hint of urgency. "Not public knowledge, but it's twins. A boy and a girl, I'm told. She's a young, fit woman, but the strain could badly affect her and the babies."

Levant had told Charlie to stick to the public story over the pregnancy. He didn't want his heir to have any doubts over his legitimacy. He kidnappers might go easy when word got out.

"That's terrible," Agent Lane responded, her fingers rubbing her forehead in a gesture of frustration.

The conversation then shifted to routine questions, each prompted by a prepared list of inquiries. Charlie's memories of any suspicious activity around Rachel or the surroundings were examined, every detail analyzed. Eventually, the interview came to a close, marked by Agent Farrow's words.

"Well then, Miss Bechtel. Thanks. We will be following up on every lead."

The atmosphere in the room, once charged with urgency and tension, now carried a sense of resolve. Charlie's descriptions and emotions brought a human element to the unfolding investigation, making it more than just a puzzle of facts and leads. Agent Farrow's presence was both assuring and persistent, ensuring that every potential lead was explored as the mystery continued to unravel

.**********

Eventually, the FBI agents collected what they could from Charlie and left. They had set up an incident room in suite 1441. Agent Farrow went down to lead the team meeting.

In a room awash with the pale light filtering through the curtains, Agent Farrow stood before a whiteboard, his presence commanding attention as he addressed the assembled team. "I've just interviewed the manager, Bechtel. She's confirmed most of what we know. It sounds like a professional hit, a carbon copy of one in South America five months ago. Same MO."

His eyes scanned the room.

"The tracker was ripped and phones were left behind. The bodyguard was attacked from behind, hood over his head, tied up, and clubbed. They wore rubber masks. The truck blocking the way is a classic technique in a narrow street. I've seen this kind of thing in South America often enough. They are on our streets now, and that's bad. This is very high profile. If Levant is seen to pay up, every two-bit South American kidnapper is going north. If we don't pay up, they will kill her and the kid. Kids..." Agent Farrow's voice trailed off, the weight of the situation heavy in the room. "We are not going to let that happen. No matter what the Governor says about us we are here for Rachel Levant and Baby Elizabeth... plus we have confirmed two twins. They are a priority, so we are going to be professional as I don't have to remind you."

The collected Agents began to look to each other inhaling resolve.

"How the fuck do they think they can collect? They don't think they can get away with this? Not here." One of the agents announced.

"Sir. Do you think she's going to make it through this?" Agent Lane voiced the unspoken concern.

"It's hard to hide someone with a face like that. Hard to leave with her. Her best option is if they realize they've bitten off too much and decide to spit her out and just leave. On the other hand they don't want to be seen as weak; it makes the next kidnapping harder. Let's be honest. At this point, I think she's got fifty-fifty odds," Farrow admitted with a touch of grim reality.

"Fuck," Lane muttered, her frustration echoing the sentiments of the room.

"She's difficult to move. I think they're still hiding in the city somewhere. We can't let them leave. They're going to have some exit strategy. So we sit on the airports, train stations, airports--talk to the police conduct searches on the cars and trucks leaving the city," Farrow contemplated aloud.

"The Governor's phone is tapped. He is bugged," Lane added, contributing a piece to the puzzle of surveillance and information gathering. "As soon as the phone rings we can track them."

******

It was twenty-four dreadful hours before the first contact was made. The kidnappers had uploaded a video to YouTube. They had been smart enough to use Rachel as their mouthpiece. She was in tears. The kidnappers wanted one hundred million dollars. They had a number for a private line to the penthouse at the Thornbury, where they would provide instructions on how to deliver the money.

They only wanted to talk to Levant, not the police. Rachel had spoken with a strange wire cage over her head. She had said they had threatened to start filling the cage with hungry rats if the money wasn't handed over. The press didn't air the video, but copies were found online by everyone. Pundits believed this was a professional team of South American kidnappers. The most pressing concern was the impact on Rachel's second pregnancy.

The police didn't make much progress. Witnesses had said that Rachel had been driven off in a stolen old diesel delivery truck. The van had been found later, abandoned and set on fire, destroying any DNA evidence. Alcohol had been found in Peter's bloodstream; he was still in the hospital with a concussion. He claimed he couldn't remember anything. His gun was unloaded, he only had blanks. The whole situation was a disaster.

Levant had gone on record, blaming the federal bureau for failing to protect him and his family. Protection was typically a state police responsibility, experts explained, but this didn't seem to matter to Levant. His popular California independence campaign was gaining momentum, and he seized every opportunity to assign blame for any failings to the federal system. He had been days away from announcing a public referendum on staying in the Union. Instead, he offered one million dollars for information leading to the discovery of the kidnappers and the safe return of Rachel and his daughter.

The public backed him. People organised spontaneous searches to help.

No one had seen him this angry. He paced around the Thornbury penthouse like a caged bear on a short lead. The insurance people had found the money, but the state department and police wouldn't let him use it. He had told them where to go. Then he tweeted an angry message, saying he was increasing the reward to two million. This just intensified the flood of false leads the FBI waded through. A police raid had uncovered a wealthy couple who had kept a migrant as a slave, but nothing related to Rachel.

Public opinion followed Levant; people supported paying for Rachel and the baby. The local banks had stocked up on cash in case the kidnappers wanted paper money. The streets around the Thornbury resounded with the sound of sirens. San Fransisco shuddered in the tension of what was happening. The city became a cage of suspicion and everyone collectively held their breath waiting for the kidnappers' next move.