Chapter 16
“We’ll bring your luggage to you,” one of the agents said as they sped away. For a moment, the usual activity around the jet was halted. The baggage handlers, ramp crew, and security personnel stopped and watched the SUV disappear. Something important was going down.
“How was your flight?” asked the agent in the front passenger seat.
“Okay, I guess,” Lowell said. You wanna know the truth? The flight was an interminable marathon between two nightmares, one still unfolding somewhere in France and the other facing the families at home. My daughter had just lost her husband and I have no idea if the loss is permanent.
“I’m really sorry about what happened,” the agent said.
The statement meant nothing and Lowell barely acknowledged it. Chelsea hid behind her sunglasses and just wanted to go home, back to the room where she grew up. She could not handle the thought of returning to the small condo she and Paul had leased three months earlier. Maybe later, but not now.
In an effort at cordiality, Lowell asked, “How much do you know?”
The agent’s name was Lon Dyer. He appeared to be in his mid-forties and carried himself with mature authority. He replied, “We’ve spent the past two hours with the Tanners and have some of the background. Mrs. Clayburn and your son Sam arrived an hour ago and we’re talking to them now.”
“Where are we going?”
“There is an office around the corner in the Dulles complex.”
“And my mother is there?” Chelsea asked.
“Yes. She’s waiting.”
Lowell and Chelsea did not respond. They continued in silence for a few minutes. The SUV entered an underground parking garage and stopped by the elevators. Dyer pushed the button to the fourth floor. There, he led them to a room and stopped at the unmarked door.
“The families are here. We’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you,” Lowell said.
Justine practically shrieked when Chelsea walked in. They hugged ferociously as they cried and mumbled. Lowell hugged Linzy and embraced Fritz. Sam held back in a corner, waiting to join the action. Rick Tanner, Paul’s younger brother, stood awkwardly next to Sam.
It was a tearful reunion. Tears of joy and tears of sadness and fear. Chelsea’s return was a rapturous moment, but it only compounded the stark truth that she was alone.
The men managed to stop crying first. They took seats around a small conference table. Chelsea sat between her mother and Linzy, all still holding one another. She kept saying, “I’m so sorry. I wanted to come back with Paul.”
“No one blames you, Chelsea,” Linzy said.
“I’m so sorry.”
Not surprisingly, Justine eventually said, “You look gaunt. Have you eaten?”
Lowell said, “We’ve been eating for three days in Paris.”
“You look well fed, Lowell. I was thinking more of Chelsea.”
This got a quick chuckle. “I’m fine, Mom. Just tired.”
Chelsea had assured her father that she had not been mistreated in any way.
Indeed, her captors had been considerate, under the circumstances.
Her arms and thighs were still sore from the injections, whatever the hell they gave her, but generally she was fine and refused to complain.
Lowell had relayed this welcome news to Justine and Sam days earlier.
Fritz and Linzy had not described Paul’s disturbing image because they did not want to worry the Clayburns.
There was a knock on the door and Dyer entered with another man in a dark suit. He introduced himself to Lowell and Chelsea as Andrew Strong, a deputy director of the FBI. They sat down and Strong took charge.
“I’m sure you have more questions than we have answers. Let me start by saying that we have contacted our people in Paris and the wheels are turning.”
Lowell asked, “The FBI has an office in Paris?”
“Yes, it’s an attaché within the U.S. embassy.
Been there for decades. It deals with all sorts of matters, but especially cases like this where an American has either been victimized or is involved in illegal activity.
We work closely with the French national police.
They have a division called the General Directorate for Internal Security, better known as the DGSI, sort of their version of the FBI.
The French are very good and we have a long history of cooperation.
Keep in mind, we have no jurisdiction. These crimes were committed on French soil. ”
Chelsea asked, “Can you find my husband?”
Strong absorbed the question and smiled professionally. “Well, we’ll certainly try. But the trail is pretty cold right now. You and Paul were abducted seven days ago. That’s a long time and a lot has happened.”
Lowell asked, “Should we have called you earlier? We had no idea what to do.”
Strong again paused before speaking. “My inclination is always to say that the FBI should be involved as quickly as possible. But let’s be realistic.
First, Chelsea is here, and safe. Second, if the abduction had happened in Kansas, then certainly the FBI should have been called.
But things are far more complicated abroad. ”
Fritz said, “We can’t change the facts. There’s no sense in second-guessing.”
Sam slowly raised his hand like a fourth-grader. “I have a question. How often does this happen? How many Americans are kidnapped in other countries.”
Strong looked at Dyer and waited for an answer.
“Tough one,” Dyer said. “We know of about twenty last year, but there are probably more. In some cases, the FBI is never informed. A quick ransom deal is made with the family, just like in Chelsea’s case, the money changes hands, the victim is recovered, everybody hustles back home, and they stay quiet. ”
Sam nodded and said, “Okay, of the twenty last year, how many had happy endings?”
“Almost all. This is a business. In many parts of the world kidnappings are common and carried out by organized gangsters. They just want the money, and fast. It’s bad for business if they harm their victims. Also, of the twenty we know about, several are still in negotiation.
It’s unusual for these cases to drag on longer than anyone wants, but it happens. That could well be the case here.”
Fritz said, “Yeah, but we’ve already paid the ransom. Why would they keep our son after they got the money?”
“I can’t answer that, Mr. Tanner. But there are cases in which the ransom is paid more than once.”
“Good luck with that,” Fritz said with a hollow laugh.
Chelsea asked, “Do you think it’s still possible to rescue Paul?”
Strong cleared his throat and said, “Rescues are complicated, quite dangerous, and rarely successful. The better strategy is to negotiate, assuming, of course, that the criminals want to talk.”
Fritz said, “Why should they? They’ve just walked off with four million in cash.”
“I can’t predict, sir. The question for all of you at this moment is, how long do you want to work tonight? I’m sure you’re exhausted. We are happy to wait until tomorrow morning.”
Chelsea asked the obvious: “What’s involved?”
“Well, we would like to start at the beginning, when you arrived in Paris. Day by day. Where you stayed, ate, visited. Who you met. Specifically, the day trip to Normandy on April the twenty-eighth. Then the abduction and your captivity. It’s important to tell us every detail you can possibly remember.
Same for the family members, especially Dr. Clayburn.
We’ll ask you to let us see your cell phones and laptops. Everything is confidential.”
“They took my cell phone,” she said.
“We know. They used it once to text your mother on the twenty-eighth, then it disappeared. The French are tracking the tower records as we speak, but I’m sure your cell phone, and Paul’s, have been destroyed.”
Chelsea glanced around the room, then said, “I’m willing to sit here for hours and answer all your questions. Anything to help find Paul.”
“Great. It’s almost seven p.m. We can have dinner brought in.”
She shook her head, no. No one had an appetite.
Chelsea said, “Before we get started, I have a question. Dad and I discussed this on the flight. What do we tell people now? Our friends? Paul’s coworkers. We’re still opening wedding gifts and a lot of people want to say hello.”
Dyer was nodding and said, “We’re working on that and there’s already been a meeting.
As you well know, Paul is employed by the Department of Justice.
So are we. The FBI reports to the attorney general, so we’re on the same team.
It’s going to require some deceit and a bit of fiction, but that’s the nature of the problem.
We have no choice but to tell a fib or two.
The story is that Paul fell ill with severe food poisoning and is still hospitalized in Paris.
The AG will cover this. It’s crucial that the truth is buried, for now anyway.
Publicity could cause some terrible problems.”
Strong interrupted. “As I said, you have more questions than we have answers, but we’ll learn more every day. It is our belief that Paul is alive and his kidnappers will want to negotiate. Publicity could frighten them away.”
“And you’ve seen this before?” Lowell asked.
“Well, sir, we like to think that we’ve seen everything, but then we are continually surprised.”
Lowell pressed on. “I mean, a case like this, where a couple are grabbed, separated, one pays the ransom and is released while the other pays the same ransom and is not released?”
A response was given. The families would analyze and debate it for a long time, but the consensus was that the lying had already begun.
Dyer and Strong glanced at each other for a second, a pregnant little gap in the conversation that revealed something other than what was said next.
Strong shook his head quickly and said, “No, this is a new one.”
—
Talking was therapeutic. For two hours, Chelsea unloaded everything she could possibly remember.
She began slow but quickly grew to the challenge, as if the more she recalled the better their chances of finding Paul.
Her parents and the Tanners added details here and there, but she settled into her narrative and walked them through the excitement of the honeymoon to the horror of separation and captivity.
Dyer and Strong took notes and fired questions. A camera recorded it all.
Suddenly, at 9 p.m. everyone was hungry.
Another agent brought in a menu from a deli and dinner was ordered.
He was in the room across the hall with an entire team.
A technician was downloading data from Linzy’s computer when a surprise came through—an email from the kidnappers.
Two minutes later, the families and the team were huddled over Linzy’s laptop, which was wired to one owned by the FBI.
Linzy followed instructions, opened the email, counted down with the numbers. Three, two, one.
There was Paul, in a dark room, with an armed goon at his back, squinting at the camera. He was gaunt, unshaven, wrinkled, and his face was noticeably thinner but not bruised or cut.
A voice from the dark mumbled something.
Paul said, “I’m Paul Tanner. Today is Friday, May sixth. Chelsea, I love you and I’m so happy you are home. I’ll be there soon, I promise. My release has been delayed for security reasons. It is important to avoid any publicity. If word leaks, you will never see me again. I love you.”
His face suddenly disappeared behind the front page of the Financial Times. The camera zoomed in on the date. May 5, 2016. Thursday. Paul was six hours ahead. The screen went blank.
Chelsea covered her face with her hands and began to cry.