“Even the tunnel traffic on the way back to Boston was light at ten thirty at night. We parked in a garage on Boylston Street. I walked her to the top of the long escalator at the entrance to the Park Street station of the MBTA. The bells of the Park Street Church sounded eleven o’clock exactly. What I was about to do went against every alarm in my system. I could hear the ghosts of John Hancock, Paul Revere, Samuel Adams, and, for the love of Pete, the real Mother Goose, all keeping vigil in th...e Old Granary Burial Ground next door, warning me against it. I agreed with their forebodings, but it still seemed the better part of valor to follow the directions of the kidnappers to the letter. That meant sending Colleen into the pit alone. I handed her the briefcase holding ten thousand dollars. My final words were, “Just wait down there. Let him come to you. I’ll be right here if you need me.” I watched the long down escalator swallow her up, while I stood frozen at the top, looking into the small illuminated area visible below and listening for any sound.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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