Chapter 2
Hurrying, Ken walked inside the big house and found his way to his Dad's study. Dr Hutchinson was sitting behind his desk in the dark maroon coloured room in deep conversation with a man of perhaps 30 years, dressed in plain, slightly casual clothes. They both stopped as Ken walked into the room.
'What's going on?' he asked as he looked from his Dad to the cop and back.
'Nothing to concern you' Dr Hutchinson said, laying down a sheet of paper.
'Ah…don't you think he has a right to know?' the cop said as he turned to look at Ken.
'A right to know? Know what?' the young blond demanded.
'I said it's nothing to concern you. Scaremongering. That's all it is. Just pranksters'.
'Dr Hutchinson, you were concerned enough to call us in. I don't think you thought it was a hoax did you?' the man pushed.
'He doesn't need to concern himself. It's not his problem, it's yours now. He has enough to concern him with his studies'.
'Dad, what's he talking about? I'm sick of being treated like a ten year old; like I'm not here. Tell me what's going on. Is Mom ok? Is she sick, or something?' Ken strode around until he was on the opposite side of the desk. He saw his father turn a piece of paper over quickly, but before Dr Hutchinson could put it away, Ken snatched it from him and held it up. His hand shook as he read the words on the plain white sheet.
Dr hUtcHINsoN. $1,000,000 iN UnuseD bills BY Noon toMorrow, oR KenNy woN'T Be aRound mUcH longEr.
The note was spelled out in print cut from a newspaper or magazine, the letters mismatched and odd looking. But the sentiment was plain enough and the blond hitched a breath.
'So this is the hoax huh? When did you get this? This is so unimportant that I didn't need to know about it? Jesus Dad, feel the love in this room!'
'Don't you dare blaspheme in this house young man. Go wash your mouth out now. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to worry. It's all in hand. The police are dealing with it. We should just continue as always. It doesn't do to pander to these crazy people'.
'And when were you thinking of letting this little snippet drop into the conversation huh? "Oh son, just to let you know there's a million dollar price tag on your head. What would you like for supper?". Dad I'm 21. I'm old enough to make decisions. Another couple of years and I'll be old enough to be in charge of a patient's life for Gods sake! Don't you think I have a right to know that someone out there is blackmailing you?...with my life? So tell me. When did you get this? '
'Yesterday, but its past noon and nothing's happened!' Dr Hutchinson turned back to the detective. 'Would you leave us please? I think you have all the information you need. This is another attempt at blackmail and I won't give in, no matter what. My experimental work on animals means hundreds of human lives are saved and I'm not about to give that up. If you'll excuse…'
'Oh forget it' Ken yelled. 'You wouldn't care if it was all for real. All you care about is your next research grant and which award you can run for next. Well don't let me get in your way. I'm outa here'. He turned on his heel without giving his Father a backwards glance and headed for the door.
'Sir I really don't think it's safe for him to be going out on his own. I could have someone assigned to him now, if that's easier'.
Dr Hutchinson forced a smile onto his face. He hated his only son showing him up like that in front of strangers. It did nothing for his image and embarrassed him to the point where he wished Ken would just up and leave. He could do no better than settle down with that nice Vanessa girl. She had the right breeding, the right looks and the right face to get Ken noticed by any hospital administrator in the country when the time came. And Dr Hutchinson knew just how important image was when it came to applying for and getting the plum jobs. He and his wife Elizabeth had been very successful in that regard, and although they both led almost separate lives for most of the time, it was good to have her draped elegantly over his arm at social occasions and award ceremonies.
'Leave him to me. He'll come back with his tail between his legs when he's had enough. As I said, I've had these notes before. I didn't give in to their threats then, and I'm not about to start now. So, Detective, I'll have the maid show you to the door and you can let me know how your investigation is proceeding'.
Both men stood and Hutchinson senior held out a hand. The detective, Hank Netter barely brushed the long, well manicured fingers and left the room. 'Cold hearted bastard' he muttered under his breath as a well padded Mexican maid showed him to the front door. He paused.
'The younger Mr. Hutchinson. Does he have particular friends? Somewhere he might go if he'd had an argument with his Father? Dr Hutchinson mentioned a woman…Vanessa?'
She snorted. 'If he did, he'd be living there permanently!' She leaned forward conspiratorially. 'Try John Farmer. They live over near 6th Avenue. Or there's that fly woman he's going out with. Vanessa Hammel. Her family have a property down by the lake'.
'Does he do this often?' Netter asked.
'Well, I shouldn't speak ill of my employer, but there's not much love lost in the Hutchinson house' she said, smiling wanly as she closed the door.
Detective Netter made his way back to his car and drove away a troubled man.
Ken shot out of the house and ran down the drive. His years on the track and field team served him in good stead and his long legs powered him down the gravel and through the gates. Pausing a moment, he stood, hands on hips as he panted and wondered what to do next. A small part of him was afraid. Afraid that his Dad would piss someone off so much that they just might carry out the threat on the note. But the biggest part of him was heartily sick of being treated like a second class citizen, as though he didn't matter, and as though nothing else in the world mattered apart from the great Dr Hutchinson. Ken was pretty sure that that was really the reason he didn't want to do medicine. He didn't want to be constantly compared against his Dad, and that would surely happen. He'd spent his whole life so far in the shadow of that one man and he couldn't face spending the rest of it in the same way.
Ken walked towards his car, realising belatedly that he hadn't got his car keys with him. Unable to face going back into the house again, he shrugged fatalistically and set off in an easy, loping stride in the opposite direction. He didn't see the big brown Ford Galaxie that drew out of the bushes behind him. So angry was the young blond that he didn't even hear the noise of the engine as the driver revved it in order to start to follow the jogging man.
In the car, two men sat, eyes glued to the lithe form in front of them. 'D'ya think he got the note?' the man with the nut brown eyes said.
'Either he did and he didn't tell his little boy, or young Kenny there is crazier or braver than we thought' the other golden haired man muttered. 'Keep up with him. There are too many people around here. Just tail him till it's quiet and we have a chance'.
'Shouldn't be too long. He's turning right out into the park. Hold on'.
The big car hung a right and slid through the main iron gates to the big park. Ken came here a lot, to run and think. Physical exercise calmed him. It always had and he prided himself on keeping his 6'1" body in good shape with a daily workout at the university gym and often a jog in the evening.
The park at that time of evening was quiet, just the way he liked it. Early morning and tea time were the best for a proper run. Other times it was full of women taking their poodles for walks and nannies with prams blocking the walkways or sitting on the benches chattering. Now he settled down into his usual gait. Not fast and not slow, but his long legs ate up the yards as he pounded along the wide, hard topped roadway.
Ken heard the sound of the car engine coming up behind him. At first he thought it was the park keeper doing his early evening rounds and he moved over to the side of the road to allow the familiar four by four to pass. He was ready to wave at Jim, the grounds man who'd become a firm friend over the years. Jim was one of those men who enjoyed the company of youngsters and it had been Jim who had first got the young Ken interested in plants, giving him a small plot of land behind the playground for him to till and hoe and plant with radishes and pumpkins and green beans. It had been a haven for the young Hutchinson before his Mother had complained that he was mixing with "the wrong sort" and he'd been forced to leave the older man's company.
Ken continued to run in the gutter by the side of the road but instead of seeing the big vehicle pass by, the engine noise stayed behind him.
C'mon bozo, get past huh? What's up with ya Jim? Eyesight going? Ya want even more room?
Speeding up slightly, the blond suddenly felt a sudden wave of unease as the car behind sped up to keep just on his tail. Mentally chastising himself for having been spooked by the presence of the cop in his Dad's study and the note he had read, Ken ran on allowing the mindless physical activity to calm him. But tonight, for some reason it didn't and his heart started to hammer in his chest. Not the product of the exercise, but something much more sinister. The car remained just behind him and he looked over his shoulder, seeing two men in the dark brown vehicle. Now he was sure he was being followed. The flaxen haired youth slowed, veering off the road and onto the grass, and still the car kept pace, the two men staring at him as though challenging him to make a move.
Now more than a little concerned, he sped up again and without any indication of what he was going to do, Ken dodged swiftly to one side and ran full speed for the shelter of some of the trees bordering the formal flower beds in the other part of the park. He was a good all round runner, competing in both distance and sprint events and he had a good turn of speed, but it was insufficient to be able to outdistance a 2 liter engine.
The car revved it's engines and the driver swung the steering wheel right over, ignoring the "keep off the grass" sign which was mowed down under the tires. The big Ford ploughed two furrows across the soft earth and the passenger wound down the window and leaned out, taking careful aim with a small flare type gun. Slowing just enough for his colleague to take careful aim, the driver kept pace with the fleeing blond as one shot rang out into the gathering gloom.
With a yell of pain, Ken clutched at his lower left back. He felt as though he'd been hit by a freight train and his legs felt heavy and leaden. They refused to answer him any more and he staggered to a halt falling onto his knees. Subconsciously he felt the damp on the grass soak into the material of his jeans as the pains knifed through his back. He clawed at the wound as he fell forward, frantic to get away from the footfalls he heard descending on him, but unable to get up.
'Get away from me' he yelled, although the sound came out more as a tortured whisper. 'Get the hell away from me'.
Ken felt hands on his arms, pulling him up into a kneeling position and he looked up through unfocussed eyes into the face of one of his kidnappers; into dark brown eyes which seemed to laugh back at him.
'Get the stuff' he heard brown eyes say and had just enough time to turn his head before a cotton rag smelling of chloroform was jammed over his nose and mouth. He was breathing deeply already from the exertion of the run and the effects of the drug quickly overtook him. He felt first dizzy and then queasy and his hands left his back to try to steady himself. It was like the first time he'd had gas at the dentist and he had the same odd, terrifying sound in his ears, as though the world was coming and going around him and the sounds were being distorted. He tried to yell out, hoping that Jim might be doing his rounds, but the more he breathed in, the dizzier he got. Now his sight was failing, the view of the world reduced to a tiny pinpoint of light and then even that winked out as he fell limply between the hands of his assailants.
Ken's last thoughts as consciousness left him were of his father and how he'd love to be able to tell his Dad just how wrong he'd been about the note. Strange that he should feel somehow vindicated that he'd been shot and kidnapped. That'd serve Dr Hutchinson right!
Swiftly, they lifted the unconscious blond and loaded him into the back of the Ford and as brown eyes got into the drivers seat and drove away, the other man swiftly tied white cotton rope around Ken's wrists, securing them at the back and linking them to his similarly bound ankles.
