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"Don't Stop Believin'"

Just a small town girl

Living in a lonely world

- Journey

Joyce glanced at her watch for at least the dozenth time. "Come on, Murray, we've got to make this call."

"One moment, please." He kept typing while Joyce read the note over again. At last the computer beeped."Voila. Okay, you are now calling from Durham, North Carolina. But, if this is KGB, they will still be able to trace us eventually, so keep it brief."

"How brief?"

"A minute, max. And …"

"Proof of life. Got it."

"Okay."

Joyce sat down and picked up her phone. Carefully she dialed the number on the note, then she and Murray counted silently together before, at the same time, she plugged the handset into his fancy machine and he punched the button to record the call.

The phone on the other end rang, which was a relief. At least the number worked. Joyce hardly dared to breathe, hoping against hope that this was real.

When a voice came on the other end of the line saying "This is Enzo" she forgot everything that she was supposed to say for a moment. She was grateful for Murray there, reminding her of what needed to be done.

"Hello, Enzo? This is Joyce. I received your message, and I would like to make a reservation."

"Yes. Good, good," said the decidedly Russian-accented voice. "But for reservation, you need to make deposit."

"Uh, what … what kind of deposit?"

"Forty thousand dollars."

Joyce and Murray looked at each other in shock.

The voice continued, "You have it in Hopper's trust, for the girl, yes?"

"Uh, yes. Yes. Forty thousand."

"Good."

"Bring to Yuri's Fish'n'Fly in Nome, Alaska."

"Uh, you want me to go to Alaska?" Joyce asked, confused.

"Yes. You give Yuri money, Yuri gets me money, I give him your friend. Simple trade, understand?"

"Uh …"

Murray urgently mouthed 'proof of life' at her, gesturing with his hand to hurry.

"Uh … first, we … we're going to have to speak to Hopper. We need to know that he's alive."

A loud sound in the background of the call startled them both, some kind of voice, and then Enzo's voice came back. "I'm afraid not possible."

"Why not?"

"Your friend is, uh, stuck. But you give me money, I make him unstuck. You must trust me."

"How do I trust you?" Joyce demanded. "I don't know who you are."

More Russian in the background, then Enzo said quickly, "Forty thousand. Yuri's Fish'n'Fly. Two days. Do not call again." And the line went dead.

Joyce and Murray looked at each other. "Well, that wasn't the KGB," she said.

"But it wasn't a friend, either."

"So we're both wrong." She frowned. "Who the hell was that?"

Murray shook his head. "I don't know."

"Let's play the tape. Maybe there's something on there."

They sat there and listened through the whole conversation three times. Murray shook his head. "Joyce, whoever Enzo is, the answer is not on that tape."

Not listening to him, she rewound back to where the woman started speaking in Russian in the background, holding up a finger for Murray to wait and listen. "You don't hear that? In the background?"

"So he's outside. Someone's talking. Not surprising."

"I think she's talking to Enzo."

Intrigued, Murray leaned over her shoulder. "Play it again."

They listened to the woman's voice. "Can you translate that?"

"Uh ... I can't understand it. It's too low."

"Come on." She grabbed the tape out of Murray's tape deck. She didn't have a house full of teenagers for nothing. Will's stereo was state of the art. Leading Murray into his room, she popped the tape into the stereo system.

Murray sat down and put the headphones over his ears, and Joyce played the tape for him. "Turn it up," he told her. She did, rewinding a bit, and Murray listened intently, nodding as he began to follow the woman's words. "She … she wants to use the phone. She's mad at Enzo. Calls him a moosor."

"'Moosor'?" Joyce echoed.

"It's slang."

"For what?"

"Literally, moosor translates to 'trash' or 'garbage'. It's like 'pig' here, often directed at cops."

"Cops?"

Murray pulled off the headphones, the pieces falling into place for both of them as he said, "Or guards."

"Hopper's stuck."

"And Enzo can get him unstuck. Enzo's a prison guard."

"Maybe Hopper bribed him."

"Sounds like Jim, doesn't it?"

Looking at Murray, Joyce felt hope surge through her. This was real—even Murray admitted it. Hopper was alive. A little bit of money, a few days, and they could have him back. Eleven could smile again. Joyce could smile again.

She got up and hurried out of Will's room, finding her purse in the middle of the dining room table.

Murray came running down the stairs just as she headed for the door. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Bank," she told him. "I'm going to get Enzo his damn money, and we are getting Hopper back."

He stared at her a minute before shrugging and following her out the door. "Okay."

The teller at the bank looked at them like they were holding up the place when Joyce demanded forty thousand dollars in cash—but the money was there, in her bank account. Hopper's money. It seemed only fair to be using it to get him back. There was no way she was leaving here without it. Joyce stared at the girl until she got the bank manager, and stared at the bank manager until he got the money.

It was heavier than she would have expected, and that felt right. The means to save Hop should feel substantial.

"What time are we leaving for Alaska? Tonight?"

"Tomorrow, after I tell the kids." She frowned at Murray. "We?"

"Of course. I'm going with you." When she started to protest, he cut her off. "Joyce. If you think I'm letting you take forty grand to Alaska in some insane Russian prison break by yourself, you're crazier than I am."

And there was no arguing with him. In truth, Joyce was relieved. She'd have gone alone if she had to, but it would be a relief to have someone to yell at if things went wrong.