Chapter 65

CHAPTER 65

MARPLE STARED AT her screen and waited for the image to settle. She felt Dodgett leaning close over her shoulder. The first view was of a bare industrial ceiling, maybe thirty-five feet up, with movie lights rigged on horizontal black bars. Suddenly, a new face filled the frame.

Marple saw the sibling resemblance right away. Same pale English skin. Same curly brown hair. Megan’s face was narrower than Jane’s, her features more pinched. But the voice had the same timbre and intensity as her sister’s—and the same attitude.

“Who the fook are you?” Megan asked, staring at the screen. “Where’s Jane?”

“Show me the babies,” said Marple, her voice calm.

“You FBI?” asked Megan. “Interpol?”

“I’m somebody you don’t want to cross,” said Marple firmly. “Show me the babies. I need proof of life. Or I promise you, nothing good will happen.”

“Wait…” Megan’s voice again, tight and low. The camera turned toward the center of a vast, empty space with a few black partitions. Thick cables wound across the floor like snakes.

The camera was moving again. It tipped and wobbled in the direction of three small duffel bags set close to a bare concrete wall. Marple could feel her heart pounding. She gripped the phone tighter. “Closer!” she said.

The camera moved in and did a shaky pan across the row of black bags, each with a tiny, perfect baby nestled inside. They looked as still and lovely as painted dolls.

“They’re not moving,” said Marple.

The camera whipped around again to show Megan’s face. “Because they’re bloody sedated !” she hissed. “I want to talk to Jane. Where is she?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” said Marple. She flicked the phone around toward the tiny enclosure as Jane gave out another ear-piercing shriek.

Marple turned the camera on herself again. “Your sister is in a very small cell. And unless you want to end up in an even smaller one, I suggest you listen to me.”

She saw Megan’s jaw tighten.

The rest took less than a minute.

At the end of the conversation, Marple heard a switch being thrown. The view from the phone camera showed a motorized metal door rising. Then a flood of men, an armory of guns, and loud shouts. “Get down! Face down! Arms out!” She heard Megan’s voice crying, “Jane!” For a few moments, the phone got passed from hand to hand, flipping and jittering, until it lit up again with the smiling face of Brendan Holmes.

“Margaret! It’s over!” he said. “You did it!”

“The babies! Are they okay?”

“They’re putting them in ambulances now,” said Holmes. “But the paramedics say their vitals are fine.”

“Hold on a moment,” said Marple. She put down her phone and nodded toward Jane Robinson, now slumped and silent on the floor of her cell. Marple looked at Dodgett. “I think we can take her out of your toy jail and put her in a real one now,” she said. “I’d say you’ve got grounds for conspiracy.”

“So it was Jane and her sister behind all this?” said Dodgett.

Marple shook her head. “Hardly. We haven’t even scratched the surface.”