I raised my hand, but Clay didn’t see it. He was extracting a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “Danni, you and Rick said you overheard some of them calling each other by their first names. Do you remember what they were?”
Rick answered immediately. “The two who chased us into Leprechaun Canyon, the ones Danni called Doc and Gordo, called each other Raul and Lew.”
“Yeah,” I came in. “Lew was the short, fat one. Raul the tall, ugly, mean one. And El Cobra called his wife Eileen, and she called him Armando.”
“Good, that’s what I remembered. Interpol thinks the leader of the group is named Armando Mendosa. He is not from Latin America, as you supposed, but from Malaga, Spain.”
“Is Eileen Irish?” I asked. “She had a strong accent.”
“She is. She’s originally from Dublin but now holds Spanish citizenship, probably because of her marriage to Mendosa.”
Rick was following this closely. “And Doc and Gordo?”
Clay looked at his list. “Raul is probably Raul Jose Carrero Muñoz. He was born in Colombia, but his family immigrated to Spain when he was a boy. He and Armando evidently were close friends in high school.” He smiled at me. “And he is known to have a liking for Doc Martens shoes. Lew is almost certainly Lewis Fortier. He was born in England but lived with his French father in the Basque region on the border of France and Spain for most of his life.
“They’re still working on some of the other names, but they think they have identified one from France, two Brits, and one Belgian. Very international.”
“So, the three who escaped are probably the two Brits and the one from Belgium,” I guessed.
Mom’s head swung around. “Escaped? Who escaped?”
Clay was startled, then instantly apologetic. “Sorry, I gave Mack and Jean-Henri that information yesterday. I forgot I hadn’t shared that with you yet. But yes, that is correct. As Danni knows, when the gang took off from the houseboat, three boats headed upstream for Bullfrog Marina, but one went downstream with three men in it. We had teams waiting at all the marinas and picked up all of them except the three who went south. They never showed up.”
“So they slipped past your agents?” Rick asked.
“Actually, no. Late that afternoon, we got a call from a park ranger. He found an abandoned boat at a place called Crosby Canyon. You familiar with where that is?”
All of us looked at each other, then shook our heads.
“It’s a small cove at the north end of Warm Creek Bay. That’s the next bay up from Wahweap. There’s a back country road that comes right down to the lake at that point. It’s the only place on Lake Powell that you can get lake access by vehicle other than the main highways.”
“So they had someone waiting for them there?” Mom asked.
Again he shook his head. “We don’t think so. Our team did some exploring up the road for a ways. They found a place on a little two-track side road where someone had parked a truck in the underbrush of a dry wash. There were three sets of boot prints around where the truck had been parked, and fresh tire marks leading away from the site. We’re pretty sure they initially came in that way, then left their truck there so they could go out that way. Which is actually pretty clever when you think about it. Don’t send everyone out by the same route. And it worked.”
“Where does that road go?” Cody asked.
Clay’s sigh was one of frustration and weariness. “Unfortunately, it splits a few miles above the lake. If you turn west, you come out on US 89 at Big Water, which is just above the Arizona line. If you go east, eventually the road goes all the way north to Escalante. So, several options.”
Mom said, “So they got away?”
He shrugged. “Probably. We’ve put out an APB—an all points bulletin—to every police and sheriff’s department in Southern Utah and Northern Arizona. If they did go out through Big Water and cross into Arizona, they probably headed for Mexico. By now they could even be back in Europe.”
“Which means they are no longer a threat to us?” Mom said.
“Until we find them, we always consider them a credible threat. But we think it is a very low possibility. The plan seems to have been to have the whole gang scatter to the wind, get out of the U.S. as quickly as possible.”
I had another thought. “What about the two locals who came in the pickup to help Gordo?”
“Ah, yes. Thanks to your description of the truck, we picked them up in Salt Lake City. They were a couple of lowlifes, muscle that El Cobra hired out of Salt Lake and brought in just to back up his team. They are cooperating, but they know practically nothing.”
Cody abruptly stood up. “So can we go home now?”
Clay pulled a face. “Um ... yes, but ... I’ve got one more thing first.”
It was obvious that Clay was uncomfortable. He kept glancing over at me, then away. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ve been on the phone with Joel Jamison, who is the Deputy Director of the FBI in Washington. He is my direct-line supervisor. We are concerned that if this whole story gets out, we’re going to have a media blitz that could greatly hamper our investigation.”
“You mean about us?” I asked, somewhat knocked back by that.
He waved his hands in the air, like he was putting up a banner. “Young Teen Thwarts Vicious Gang of Professional Criminals. Boyfriend Shot.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I broke in. “We’re just best friends.”
“That’s right,” Rick said, blushing a little.
Clay laughed shortly. “Try selling that to the media.” He turned back to Mom. “Think about it. Home break-in, family held at gunpoint, twenty-million-dollar ransom, a rhodium mine in the mountains. Come on. If this gets out, there will be a media feeding frenzy.”
Mom still looked confused. “Are you suggesting we keep it all a secret?”
“No, that’s not possible. When we made the arrests at Bullfrog Marina, there were people around who saw us do that. And then, of course, there’s the boatload of people who came over to help Armando and Eileen and who were shot at. They immediately called that in to park headquarters. So far, the press hasn’t got ahold of that yet, but rest assured, they will soon enough. Not only will publicity severely hamper our investigation, but it could put you at risk.”
Mom’s head came up slowly. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Your family are key witnesses in this case. Any convictions will depend heavily on your testimony.”
We all looked at each other. This was not good.
He went on quickly. “So, here’s what we recommend. There will come a time when we will release the full story, of course, but for now we’ve put out a brief press release. It states that over the weekend, the FBI and the Utah Highway Patrol cooperated in making a major drug bust of one of the Mexican cartels transporting drugs here at Lake Powell. Your names have not been mentioned, nor will they be for now. We’re saying that this is an ongoing investigation and no further info will be available at this time.”
“Um ...” I raised my hand. “Aren’t you forgetting about Rick here? The staff here at the clinic all know that he was shot.”
“Yeah,” Rick said. “I was thinking about what I might tell people when I show up in Hanksville hobbling around on crutches.”
Mom laughed. “You’ll be like a field of flowers to a hive of bees, especially with the girls.”
To my surprise, Clay was looking at me now. “I was just getting to that.” He turned to Rick. “Even while you were on your way here, I talked to the clinic administrator and told him that the gunshot wound was an accident, and that until the investigation into the incident is completed, the person responsible will not be identified.” There was a momentary flash of panic on Clay’s face. “You didn’t tell anyone what really happened, did you?”
“No. Like I said, no one asked me about it.”
Clay ignored that, and so did Rick. Clay was looking at me again, and, to my further surprise, he looked very apologetic. “But since Rick is being released today, we’re going to have to release the name of the person who shot him.”
“Who?” Rick, Cody, and I all blurted it out together.
He cleared his throat. “Well, um ... when you think about it ... uh ... the angle of the wound is such that it clearly was not self-inflicted. So we can’t blame Rick. And ... uh ... since we can’t say anything about El Cobra’s team being on the houseboat with you, I ... I think we’ll have to say that it was a family member.”
The silence in the room was total for about two seconds. Then I shot to my feet. “You’re telling everyone it was me? But you—”
He held up his hand, cutting me off. “Think about it. Your dad often carries a pistol, but he has a reputation for being very, very careful with his weapons.”
Mom saw it now too. “And everyone knows that I don’t like guns, even though I know how to use them.”
“No!”
“And it’s a bit of a stretch that Cody would be handling a weapon on a houseboat.”
I turned to Rick, and he had this stupid grin on his face, like he was two years old. I dropped my head in my hands and groaned. “No, no, no.”
“Come on, Danni,” Clay said softly. “This has to be believable. And eventually the truth will come out. Then you’ll be the big hero.”
I didn’t look up. “Okay. I get it. Danni loves guns. Danni’s a ditz. Danni’s the perfect fall guy. Or fall girl.” I was picturing how this was going to go down in Hanksville. Lisa. Angie. Megan. Rick’s friends. All doubled over with laughter. The lunch crowd at Blondie’s. The guys at the service station. The clerks at the store.
I moaned inwardly. Hanksville was only the beginning! Even though the towns in Wayne County were miles apart, I knew without the slightest doubt that the word would spread to every person within a hundred miles, faster than you could spit at a jackrabbit.
“I’m sorry, Danni,” Clay started, “but—”
Waving him off, I glared at Rick, who quickly wiped the grin off his face and was trying to look sufficiently stricken. “One crack out of you, buddy,” I hissed, “and I’ll shoot you in the other leg. Maybe in both arms, too.”
“One more thing,” Clay said. “Flying you guys into Hanksville in an FBI chopper is no longer an option.”
“Why don’t we walk back?” I suggested sarcastically. “Or swim. It might take a little longer, but hey, who cares?”
He laughed. “Thanks, Danni. Thanks for seeing what has to be done.” He turned to Rick. “We took that Silverado pickup back to the rental company. Your 4Runner is in the parking lot at Bullfrog Marina where you met El Cobra and Eileen. It has all your stuff in it. So, here’s the plan. Even landing at Bullfrog has too high a visibility, so we’ll drop you off on the other side of the lake, near Hall’s Crossing. Once the chopper’s gone, then you can take the ferry across to Bullfrog and pick up your car.” He reached in his back pocket, took out his wallet, and extracted two hundred-dollar bills. He handed them to Mom. “Here’s enough to pay for your ferry tickets and to grab a bite of lunch before you head back.”
She nodded as she took the two bills. “What about our Suburban? They brought me and Cody here in that, and I assume it’s still at Bullfrog too.”
“Not anymore. Your father took it Salt Lake to join up with Mack. So you and Cody will go back with Rick and Danni. Okay?”
She nodded, visibly relaxing. And I had to admit, it was good to know that Clay had thought of everything and was not taking any chances.
“Mack and Jean-Henri are at my office in Salt Lake right now, giving their statements. They should be back home in Hanksville by late this afternoon or this evening. Then we’re hoping things can start getting back to normal for the McAllisters and the Ramirezes.”
He stood up. “We have new satellite-capable smart phones in the chopper for you. One for your dad, too, Rick. They have your names on them. They are bug free and encrypted so they are completely secure. Mack already has his. Jean-Henri didn’t want one. I had the staff put my number and all of your numbers on each of the favorites list, along with all your personal data—contacts, calendar stuff, and so on. These are your personal phones now, even though they have satellite capability. Any questions?”
No one spoke.
“Then let’s go.” He stood up and led us out.
As we reached the chopper, the rotor began to spin with a sharp whine even before we were out of the car. One of the waiting agents took Clay aside and conferred quickly with him. He nodded and turned to us.
“Good news,” he said. “We received a tip from a service station in Big Water. Last night, three guys in a white Ford pickup truck stopped for gas at the station. An attendant came out to help, but they waved him away.” He grinned. “But not before he saw at least one assault rifle in the backseat.”
“Our three escapees?” I blurted, delighted with that news.
“We think so. Unfortunately, the guy didn’t think to get a license plate number, but he said they did turn south, headed for Arizona, just as we thought.”
His fellow agent spoke up. “We’re already on it. We’ve got teams setting up checkpoints along all the major roads as quickly as possible.”
“Good. All right, guys. Into the chopper. Rick first.”
I was the last to climb in, and Clay gave me a hand up as I did so. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he shouted as I strapped myself in.
“What?” I shouted back. “Oh, you mean being sacrificed on the altar of shame?”
He laughed. A few moments later, we lifted off and headed east.
CHAPTER 2
By the time Clay dropped us off half a mile above Hall’s Crossing and we walked down to the ferry, took it across to Bullfrog Marina, grabbed a bite to eat, and finally approached Hanksville in Rick’s 4Runner, it was almost three twenty in the afternoon. Mom was driving. I was in the front seat with her. Cody sat in the back with Rick, giving Rick enough room to stretch out his leg. I could tell by watching his face that it was hurting him, but, of course, he said nothing.
However, when we saw the town in the hazy distance, Rick leaned forward. “Could you get my phone out of the bag, Danni? We should be in coverage by now.”
“It’s a satellite phone,” Cody reminded him. “You have coverage everywhere.”
Rick nodded and went on. “Dad’s at work, so I told Aunt Shauna that I’d call her and tell her when we were almost home.”
“We’ll drop you off, Rick,” Mom said, “and then we’ll get your car back to you tomorrow, or later tonight if you need it.”
“No,” he said. “Go to your house first. I can drive that far.”
I had bent over and was opening the gym bag, but with that I shot him a warning look. He ignored me. But then I think he saw Mom staring him down in the mirror. “Uh ... or maybe it would be easiest to just have you drop me off.”
“That’s better,” I said. I found his phone. “Want me to dial it for you?”
“Yeah.” Another surprise. I did so, listened until it started to ring, then handed it back to him. He took it, wincing as he leaned back again.
I was still watching him when his eyebrows shot up. “Dad?” A moment’s pause. “I thought you were working today.” He listened again. I could hear the tinny sound of his father’s voice through the phone. “Oh. That’s good. I’m anxious to see you too. I was going to tell Shauna, but—yeah, I’m fine, Dad. Really.” Pause. “Still a little tender, but—”
I shook my head and gave him a pitying look.
“Look, Dad. Mrs. McAllister is going to drop me off. We should be there in about ten
minutes, and—”
This time the interruption went on for thirty or forty seconds. Rick’s face fell, and his expression turned from surprise to irritation and then finally to dejection. “Okay. Okay. Yeah, I understand.” And he hung up.
“What is it?” I asked. I knew him well enough to know that he was not happy.
“We’re to stop at the Chevron station. There’s a welcoming party waiting for us.”
“What?” Mom and I blurted out simultaneously.
“Clay called my dad. That’s why he’s home early. Clay thinks it’s a good idea to get this over with.”
“Get what over with?” Cody came in.
Rick pulled a face. “Clay asked Dad to call the mayor and tell him what happened to me. Which he did. You know Mayor Brackston. He’s decided he wants to have a ‘Let’s-Welcome-the-Wounded-Warrior-Back-Home’ experience this afternoon. So there’s already people gathering at the Chevron station.”
“No!” I was genuinely dismayed. “Not today.” I wasn’t ready for this yet.
“Unfortunately,” Rick went on, “Dad agrees. He says the sooner we deal with it, the sooner it will go away. So he’s calling the mayor back right now to let them know that we’re almost there. Dad will meet us at the station.”
“Thanks, Rick,” I muttered.
His eyes widened in surprise. “For what?”
“This involves all of us, you know. Not just you.”
My mother jerked around so fast, I thought she was going to take my head off. But after a moment, she shook her head and looked away. “I agree with your father, Rick. Let’s be done with it and get on with life.”
In Hanksville—which had a registered population of 219 in the 2010 census—three is considered a crowd, five, a mob. Mom slowed down as the Chevron station came into sight, and I groaned aloud. There had to be fifty or sixty people milling around, with more coming on the run as we approached.
Someone saw us and started pointing and yelling, waving their arms, jumping up and down. In a moment, the whole crowd was swarming toward us—to the point that Mom had to bring the car to a stop just barely off the highway. As the crowd pushed in, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned. Rick managed a tight smile, and I could see the pain in his eyes. “Sorry, Danni.”
To Run With the Swift Page 5