The Vanishing by Gary Brown (top 10 motivational books TXT) 📕

“Where is Amanda, Joseph?”

Startled, Elaine looked at her husband. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Who are you talking to? What’s this about Amanda?”

Oliver motioned with his hand to quiet her. He couldn’t speak now. He had to focus on Krebeck and the information he had about Amanda.

“Somewhere you’ll never find her.”

5

OLIVER KNEW HE had to keep Krebeck talking if he was to find out where the madman was hiding his daughter. He took a deep breath, steadied his voice.

“Give me back Amanda, Joseph. I’ll give you anything you ask for. What is it you want? Money? Name your price and it’s yours. I’m a very wealthy man. You know that. You have my word no one will ever know this conversation took place. Just bring my daughter back to me tonight. Back home where she belongs. If it’s my professional help you need, you’ll have that too. But for God’s sake, let’s talk about this. Face to face.”

“You just don’t get it, do you, Ollie? You have absolutely nothing of value to offer me. But I have everything of value to you.”

Time was running out. Every second that ticked by felt like an eternity, each minute more precious than the last. He was losing ground. Krebeck had the control, had the power… had Amanda. Oliver felt as manipulated as a marionette under the control of a master puppeteer.

“Can’t we talk about this? Come to an understanding? Where are you Joseph? Where are you now?”

“Watching you.”

Oliver looked around the parking lot. A small crowd had gathered near the observation deck, watching the fireworks while their children played nearby. No one in the crowd was using a cellular phone.

“What do you mean, watching me?”

“Look at your chest.”

Oliver looked down. A red dot followed a path upward from his waist, then stopped over his heart. Though he had never seen an infrared beam from the laser sight of a high-powered rifle, he intuitively knew what it was. He held his breath as the beam jumped to Elaine, inched up her neck, and stopped in the middle of her forehead. Innocently unaware of the bullet that lay between her and a single beam of light, Elaine stared at her husband, fixated on his conversation.

“Don’t do this, Joseph,” Oliver pleaded. “Take me, not her. I’m begging you. For God’s sake, please.”

“For God’s sake, Ollie? Just what the hell do you know about God?”

Got to keep him talking, distract him, Oliver thought. A few seconds. That’s all I need. Just give me a few more seconds!

Keeping his body still, aware Krebeck was watching Elaine through the scope and not him, Oliver moved his hand to the ignition, turned the key, started the car. The engine thrummed quietly. He had only one option to save them both from certain death. Krebeck would kill Elaine. There was absolutely no doubt about that. In a matter of seconds he would pull the trigger, and Oliver would watch his wife’s head explode before his very eyes.

“You asked me what I wanted, Ollie,” Krebeck said.

Oliver slipped the car into gear, engaged the clutch.

“Yes, Joseph. Anything you want. Name it. It’s yours.”

“I want to see your expression.”

“What expression would that be, Joseph?” Oliver braced his foot over the gas pedal and stared at Elaine, watching the death dance of the tiny beam of light as it moved across her brow.

“I want to see the look on your face when I blow your wife’s brains out.”

Oliver slammed the accelerator pedal to the floor, let out the clutch. The Porsche tore away from the parking spot as Krebeck fired. The passenger window blew out.

Elaine screamed. “My face!”

“Get down!” Oliver yelled. He threw down the phone, grabbed Elaine by the back of her neck, and pushed her head down as he tried to protect her from Krebeck’s next bullet. Elaine brought her hand to her face, drew it back, and screamed. Blood ran in rivulets from the bullet-torn gash, covered her hands. Her cheek hung open, scored to the bone by the bullet.

“That explosion,” Elaine cried. “I think I’ve been… shot!”

“For God’s sake, stay down!” Oliver yelled. He wrestled with the steering wheel as parents ran for their children and pulled them out of the way of the speeding car. The Porsche raced out of the parking lot and hurtled down the canyon road.

Cursing the sudden, unexpected sway of the tower, Krebeck re-focused the night scope on the spectral-green image as it rounded the turn. From his station on the tower his view was unimpeded. Sharpening the focus of the scope, he zeroed in on the left rear tire and concentrated. This time there would be no chance for error. He had become one with the gentle sway of the tower, the speed of the car, the balance of the weapon, and the firestorm seething within.

All factors were completely under his control now.

Wind.

Trajectory.

Target acquisition.

Range.

Rage.

Two cars were on their way up the canyon road, which he approximated to be at least ten seconds away from the Porsche. He squeezed off a second round. The bullet found its mark, shredding the left rear tire. Through the scope he watched the sports car swerve violently, first to the left, then right, back to the left, then right again until finally it broke through the wooden guardrail, launched off the cliff into the air, and disappeared from view. Seconds later, a spectacular orange fireball exploded up the side of the cliff from the shoreline below. Offertory tendrils of acrid gray smoke swirled skyward in silent, ritualistic procession, a stark contrast to the welcome glitter-dance of green, yellow, pink, red and white raining down from the night sky.

6

CARS SKIDDED TO a stop as the Porsche broke through the barrier ahead of them. Panicked drivers and passengers leaped out of their vehicles and swarmed to the broken barricade in a vain attempt to help the victims below, only to be pushed back by the rancid smoke pouring up from the twisted, burning wreckage.

No one would have heard