you. You don’t want to hear it, but Noah is right. The police are much better at this sort of thing than I am. I know you probably don’t like the Bureau. I can understand that. I’m not crazy about them, either. But they take kidnapping very seriously, especially when a child or young girl is the victim. You will be treated just like any other mother. Cops have kids, too. They will pull out all the stops. They have vastly more resources than I have, especially where technology is involved. They’re not as good as Hollywood makes it seem, where they ping cell towers and triangulate signals and all that crap, but you stand a better chance with them than with me.”
Maura Dallas dismissed Scarne’s arguments with a wave of her hand.
“I don’t want the F.B.I. hanging around, taking the opportunity to plant bugs or otherwise intrude in my affairs, under the cover of looking for my daughter. I want my daughter back. Alive. But I have my own resources and I thought it prudent to follow the instructions on the videos while I used them. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. If I did, I will have to live with it.”
“Then why involve me?”
“My activities are concentrated on the West Coast. As Vincent noted, we have some reliable people in New York, but they are low-level. I have checked you out, thoroughly. I have studied some of your cases. You are not only good, but you have a reputation for bending the rules, even breaking them when necessary, to help your clients. And you have contacts, on both sides of the law.”
“If you studied my cases, you also know it didn’t turn out too well for some of the people involved.”
Maura Dallas reached into the pocket of her suit and took out a photo, which she slid across to Scarne.
“One in particular, Mr. Scarne. You asked the reason why I came to you. This will explain.”
Scarne picked up the photo. It showed two young women in ski clothes, sitting together with arms around each other at an outdoor table at what obviously was a resort. It was probably a summit restaurant, to judge by the skis piled against a wall in the background and the red cheeks on the girls. Both girls had steaming cups in their free hands as they posed. One of the women was Maura Dallas, younger, with shorter hair, but looking not much different than she did now. The other girl was a lovely blond. He looked up at Dallas, too stunned to speak. Noah Sealth walked around the table and took the photo from Scarne.
“Jesus Christ,” Sealth said.
“She was my best friend,” Maura Dallas said. “I named my daughter after her.”
She looked at Scarne.
“And I know how much Alana Loeb meant to you.”
CHAPTER 6 - TWO ALANAS
Maura Dallas turned to Anastasia.
“Vincent, I would like to talk to Mr. Scarne alone. Perhaps you and Mr. Sealth can go in the other room and catch up on old times. Compare bodies.”
Sealth looked at Scarne, who nodded. Then without another word he and Anastasia left, shutting the door behind them. Scarne sat, facing the woman. She picked up the photo from the table.
“This was taken when we were both in high school, or what passes for high school in France. We attended Notre Dame des Monts, Our Lady of the Mountains, in Chamonix. Do you know it?”
“The ski resort. I’ve been there. Is that where the photo was taken?”
“No. St. Moritz, in the Engadine Valley in Switzerland. On holiday. We skied all over Europe. Mostly Chamonix, of course. It was basically right out the door of the school.”
“I never heard of Our Lady of the Mountains.”
“Not many people know about the school. It’s private, run by a small order of nuns, and specializes in young girls who, for one reason or another, are hard to handle. Not troublemakers, exactly, but what I like to call free thinkers. Rebellious. Also, girls whose families wanted them educated far from their home environments.”
Maura Dallas smiled.
“I qualified on all counts, and so did Alana Loeb. We
Maura Dallas dismissed Scarne’s arguments with a wave of her hand.
“I don’t want the F.B.I. hanging around, taking the opportunity to plant bugs or otherwise intrude in my affairs, under the cover of looking for my daughter. I want my daughter back. Alive. But I have my own resources and I thought it prudent to follow the instructions on the videos while I used them. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. If I did, I will have to live with it.”
“Then why involve me?”
“My activities are concentrated on the West Coast. As Vincent noted, we have some reliable people in New York, but they are low-level. I have checked you out, thoroughly. I have studied some of your cases. You are not only good, but you have a reputation for bending the rules, even breaking them when necessary, to help your clients. And you have contacts, on both sides of the law.”
“If you studied my cases, you also know it didn’t turn out too well for some of the people involved.”
Maura Dallas reached into the pocket of her suit and took out a photo, which she slid across to Scarne.
“One in particular, Mr. Scarne. You asked the reason why I came to you. This will explain.”
Scarne picked up the photo. It showed two young women in ski clothes, sitting together with arms around each other at an outdoor table at what obviously was a resort. It was probably a summit restaurant, to judge by the skis piled against a wall in the background and the red cheeks on the girls. Both girls had steaming cups in their free hands as they posed. One of the women was Maura Dallas, younger, with shorter hair, but looking not much different than she did now. The other girl was a lovely blond. He looked up at Dallas, too stunned to speak. Noah Sealth walked around the table and took the photo from Scarne.
“Jesus Christ,” Sealth said.
“She was my best friend,” Maura Dallas said. “I named my daughter after her.”
She looked at Scarne.
“And I know how much Alana Loeb meant to you.”
CHAPTER 6 - TWO ALANAS
Maura Dallas turned to Anastasia.
“Vincent, I would like to talk to Mr. Scarne alone. Perhaps you and Mr. Sealth can go in the other room and catch up on old times. Compare bodies.”
Sealth looked at Scarne, who nodded. Then without another word he and Anastasia left, shutting the door behind them. Scarne sat, facing the woman. She picked up the photo from the table.
“This was taken when we were both in high school, or what passes for high school in France. We attended Notre Dame des Monts, Our Lady of the Mountains, in Chamonix. Do you know it?”
“The ski resort. I’ve been there. Is that where the photo was taken?”
“No. St. Moritz, in the Engadine Valley in Switzerland. On holiday. We skied all over Europe. Mostly Chamonix, of course. It was basically right out the door of the school.”
“I never heard of Our Lady of the Mountains.”
“Not many people know about the school. It’s private, run by a small order of nuns, and specializes in young girls who, for one reason or another, are hard to handle. Not troublemakers, exactly, but what I like to call free thinkers. Rebellious. Also, girls whose families wanted them educated far from their home environments.”
Maura Dallas smiled.
“I qualified on all counts, and so did Alana Loeb. We
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