To Run With the Swift

by Gerald N. Lund

  I perked up at that. “Really? Like what?”

  “No one was actually diving, of course. That would have brought a whole SWAT team running. But we did have a fishing boat come in and anchor not far from the sandbar. They would fish for a couple of hours, then disappear again, going up into the canyon. But then they’d come back in the afternoon. They always anchored in the same spot. Fortunately, one of our guys up there had fished Lake Powell. He said that was not highly unusual, but normally the fishermen liked to stay in closer to the cliffs where the fish were more likely to feed. And very few fishermen are so loyal to one particular spot.

  “But there was another thing as well. The camera caught a single Jet Ski going back and forth, too. In the morning, she’d go downstream past the camera, then an hour or two later, she’d come back. That happened several times. I say ‘she’ because it looked like it might be a woman.”

  “It was a woman,” I exclaimed. “It was Gisela. She was the sentry. She would go out and patrol the main channel while the divers were working.”

  “Divers?” Brett said. “We never saw any divers.”

  “They had two scuba divers, but they’d change into their gear off camera and then swim in underwater. The boat would only go in when they were ready to load. Which they always did on the side of the boat opposite the camera.”

  He was clearly dismayed with that. “So did they get the gold?”

  “Gold?” Louis yelped.

  I feigned a sorrowful, stricken look. “They did. Every single bar of it.”

  Grandpère sniggered. “Yep. All eleven hundred dollars of it.” Then he hooted aloud. “Oh, what I’d give to be there when they discover what they’ve got.”

  I don’t know who was more puzzled, Louis or Brett. Which caused the rest of us to laugh. Which caused the two of them to look all the more perplexed. Which caused us to howl all the more. Finally, Clay explained the whole thing about bars of lead sprayed with gold-leaf paint. That delighted them both immensely.

  “Go on with your story, Brett,” Clay said, after the laughter finally subsided.

  “Well, so Agent Warner and I came down here to check it out. We got to Bullfrog a little before the sun was going down.” He looked a little sheepish now. “That late in the day, almost everything in Bullfrog was either closed or closing. We did manage to rent this boat, but we decided we had to wait until morning to go check things out.”

  “That’s when I called them,” Clay said.

  “That sent us running,” Brett said. “We linked up with the Kane County deputies and decided to split up. I went down to the houseboat rental area to watch for them. The deputies went to the boat ramp. Warner went up on the ridge by the parking lot to watch for them with the binoculars. This late in the season, we figured it would be pretty hard to miss them.”

  “And did you see them?” Dad asked.

  “Not at first,” Brett said, obviously not happy. “Then Warner said there was a houseboat across the lake, almost to Hall’s Crossing.” He paused to explain that to Louis. “That’s across the lake, a little upstream from Bullfrog Marina.”

  “So what did you do?” Louis asked.

  “I was closest to the boat, so we went tearing to the marina and took off. I had one of the deputies come with me. Warner and the other deputy called the San Juan County Sheriff’s Department. Halls Crossing is in their county, but their nearest patrol car was at Blanding, which is almost ninety miles away.”

  “Did you find them?” Cody burst out. This was the stuff TV movies were made of, and he was hanging on their every word.

  “Not right away. We went to the houseboat rental docks there, but nothing had just come in. So we went looking for them. We finally found them parked on the boat ramp, where they had a panel truck and a car waiting. As we got closer, we could see them using hand trucks to wheel out wooden crates of something very heavy.”

  He shook his head ruefully. “About then, one of the guys opened fire on us with an automatic rifle. I don’t think he was trying to hit us, just to scare us away. It worked. We wheeled around and took off. We then beached the boat behind a low hill and took off running toward the ramp, both of us armed with rifles now too. Unfortunately, by the time we came up on the ridge, they were driving off. And we had no way to follow them.”

  I slumped back in my seat, the bitterness like bile in my mouth.

  “We know now that they had a Lear Jet waiting for them at the Cal Black airport,” Clay said. “It took off shortly after six thirty with a flight plan for Mexico City. That means they are well out of the United States by now.”

  The Cal Black Airport was a modern, jet-capable airport literally out in the middle of nowhere, ten miles east of Hall’s Crossing. It catered to the jet set who flew in to Lake Powell in their private planes to go out on their million-dollar houseboats and soak up some sun.

  Once again, I heard Niklas’s voice in my head. “‘Plan impeccably. Strike boldly. Exit swiftly. And leave nothing to chance. Nothing!”

  As Brett and Clay exchanged places again, Clay turned his head. “We do have one little snippet of good news.”

  “What?” several of us asked together.

  “I just got a text. Agent Warner and the deputies caught Raul Muñoz at the Jet Ski rental dock. He walked right into their arms and gave up without a fight.”

  “Oh, Clay,” Mom cried. “That is much more than a little snippet of good news. That is wonderful news!”

  “It doesn’t get much better than that,” I agreed. “I hope you put him in a cell and let him rot for the rest of his life.” Then I had another thought. “Maybe send in a couple of hungry lions to keep him company.”

  “Danni!” Mom looked shocked. Then a slow smile teased the corners of her mouth. “I was thinking of something a little less invasive. Like maybe a pit viper or two. You know, something that he might feel a little more comfortable with.”

  We were coming around a bend in the main channel, and up ahead the shoreline was suddenly speckled with lights. We were entering Bullfrog Bay; the marina was just a couple of miles away now. With more visibility, the ranger’s boat was accelerating, and Clay pushed the throttle up a little as well. “About ten minutes now.”

  I looked at Rick. “Do you realize that we haven’t had a bath since our hotel in Caen, which is ...” I gave up trying to remember how long ago that was.

  Grandpère leaned forward. “One week ago today.”

  I lifted one arm and pretended to sniff my armpit. “Whew!”

  “I could have told you that you have B.O. without you having to sniff yourself,” Cody said.

  As I swung at him, he jerked away. I leaped up and horse-collared him, wrestling him down against the seat. “Wanna know what I’ve got to say to you, Little Brother?”

  “No, I don’t,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to stop from giggling.

  I was about to give him a real good noogie when suddenly the image of him slamming back as two Taser electrodes hit his body flashed across my mind. So instead, I bent down and kissed him softly on the check. “I love you, Bro. Like a ton and a half.”

  He recoiled instantly. “Ew!” he cried, wiping at his cheek in disgust. Then he laughed and horse-collared me back. He pulled me down until we were face to face. “And I love you too, Danni.” He grinned. “Maybe about a pound and a half.”

  Ticaboo Lodge, Ticaboo, Utah

  October 28, 2011

  Once again, all of us were gathered in a hotel conference room discussing—what else?—the saga of the McAllister Family’s Ongoing Fabulous Adventures. The only thing that had really changed was that Louis Girard and Charlie Ramirez were there, and that we were finally on the back end of our adventures, not just going into them. At least, we kept telling ourselves that.

  Clay stood up and stretched, yawning as he did so. Looking down at the pad of notes he had taken—s
everal pages’ worth—he nodded in satisfaction. “Good work, guys. You are amazing.”

  Louis shook his head. “If I did not know it to be true, I could never believe that it is true.”

  Sobering, Clay said, “I was expecting nothing less, and still it blows my mind.” Then he glanced at his watch. “Let me call the team up in Hanksville. See if they’re finished with the house yet. I assume you’d rather go home than have lunch here first.”

  “Yeah!” Cody cried. “And I want to call Mayor Brackston. He owes us a parade!”

  The rest of us groaned at the thought.

  “Just kidding,” he said.

  Charlie spoke to Clay. “Thank you for letting me be here to hear the whole story.” Then to Rick, he added, “Your sisters are very, very anxious to see you.”

  “And I them,” he said.

  “Okay, then, let’s call this meeting over and—” Clay began.

  Dad cut him off. “Not so fast, Agent Zabriskie. We answered all your questions. Now it’s our turn.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Does the FBI or Interpol have any idea where Gisela and Niklas and the others were going?”

  “Not for sure, Mack, but we think it’s very likely Argentina. Probably the province of Córdoba. We and Interpol are vigorously searching as we speak.”

  “Argentina?” Mom asked. “Why there?”

  Grandpère, who was seated next to Clay, took a sip of water from his glass. “During World War II, Argentina was a strong socialist country that sympathized with the National Socialist Movement in Germany, commonly called the Nazi Party. In 1946, Juan Perón, an ardent Nazi supporter, was elected president. There was already a large German immigrant population in the country. Since they were mostly a wealthy and influential group, Perón created what was called ‘ratlines’ to help prominent Nazis and German collaborators secretly escape from Europe. He assisted literally thousands of them to find refuge in Argentina.”

  “That’s right,” Clay said. “People of German stock make up the second-largest ethnic group in the country. We think the von Dietzes will choose Córdoba because it has about half a million people of German descent, the highest number in the country. Many of these came from former high-ranking Nazi families, so we think the von Dietzes would be warmly welcomed there, even though no one will know exactly who they are.”

  “What if they knew they were criminals?” I asked.

  “If the crimes targeted those who testified against former Nazis, they would have no problems with it.”

  “If you do find them, can you go after them?” Dad asked.

  To my surprise, Louis spoke up. “Not without the specific permission and cooperation of the Argentine government, which is highly unlikely, especially for the United States.”

  “That’s right,” Clay agreed. “They don’t take kindly to Americans interfering in their internal affairs.”

  “And so they get away scot-free?” Mom said in dismay. “After all they’ve done?”

  His brow furrowed. “Louis and I were talking about this earlier. With the information his investigative team has compiled on their illegal activities, especially against those who were only innocent family members, perhaps we can build a strong enough case against them to get the government to file charges against them. Or at least extradite them back to Europe.”

  “Not likely,” Grandpère said. “At most, they might expel them.”

  I was like Mom. I was feeling a lot of outrage at the moment. “You know that when Gisela and Niklas discover that Rick and I conned them on the gold, that all they have is half a ton of lead worth little more than a thousand dollars, they’re gonna go ballistic. Do you really think they won’t come after us after that?”

  Clay nodded. “We’ve already considered that. And, much as I hate to say it, we may have to reconsider a witness protection program.”

  “No!” Cody cried. “No way!”

  “Yes, way,” I shot back. “We may not have a choice, Cody. Rick and I led them into a trap, and they were nearly caught. They lost thirty million dollars. They lost Raul, their team leader. The FBI and Interpol are hot on their heels. But it’s more than that. Rick and I made them look like idiots. We sucked them in like they were a couple of country bumpkins come to the big city for the first time. To Gisela, the humiliation of that will be worse than losing the money. We have to assume she will retaliate.”

  “We’re not going away again,” Dad said quietly. “If we have to carry weapons around the clock, post a guard at night, fine. But we are through running.”

  Mom was startled by that, but she instantly reached out and took his hand. “I totally agree.”

  Grandpère began to stroke his goatee, as he always did when he was deep in thought. “Sounds to me like there may be an alternative. Right, Louis? Right, Clay?”

  “Are you talking about our FBI consultant program?” Clay said with a smile.

  “That is precisely what I’m talking about.”

  Then Clay turned to me and Rick. “So now that you two have had this three-day vacation on a houseboat, are you ready to go to work?”

  “Vacation?” I yelped. But I saw that he was teasing. “What is it that you want us to do?”

  “Just what you said. I want you and Rick to start working with us and with Interpol, along with Louis and Jean-Henri. Our task will be to get them out of Argentina so we can get at them.”

  “But how can we do that if we don’t even know where they are? “ I cried. “And why us?”

  Grandpère decided to answer that. “Danni, remember when we were outside the library and I told you that your task was not just to stop them from getting away with all that they had done, but to make them believe that they had done just that? Well, you and Rick did that brilliantly. I had never even thought of using the gold as bait, but you sucked them in and got them to leave your family behind. I still am marveling at how you did that.”

  He stopped to take a quick breath. “Louis and Clay and I can provide the backup and the equipment and the support that you need, but we need you two to get into their heads and rattle them so badly that they will start making mistakes. Because if they do that, then we’ll have them.”

  Now I understood. “What you’re talking about are mind games. Just like they did to us.”

  “That is exactly what we are talking about,” Clay burst out.

  “That’s what it’s all about with them,” I said, marveling at how my mind was opening up again.

  “Yes,” Rick cried. “That’s their weapon of choice. If you don’t understand that, you cannot understand them. They don’t kill people. They don’t torture them. They don’t beat them up and leave them lying bloody and battered in an alley somewhere. They’re mind assassins. They attack the heart and soul.”

  “Oui,” Louis said in a very quiet voice. Mind games.” He seemed far away. Then he looked at me and Grandpère. “I did not tell you this before, but after we paid the ransom for my granddaughter, they told me where to find her. She was in an old deserted apartment building. When we got there, she was on a bed. Her face was pale as death itself, and her body was ice cold. We thought she was dead. My daughter actually collapsed and fainted dead away. But, as it turned out, she had only been drugged with something. Three hours later, she was fine again. But I later asked myself, ‘Why drug her?’ She was locked in a room. She couldn’t get out. So why make it look like she was dead?”

  His eyes were suddenly teary. “But now I understand. I shall never forget that moment when I first saw her. It was as if a sword had pierced my soul.”

  I laid a hand on Grandpère’s shoulder, then looked at Rick. “So,” I said. “I’m in. How about you?”

  “I figure there’s a lot of payback waiting to be done,” he said. “I’m not sure where we start, but I’m in too.”

  Grandpère reached up and laid h
is hand on my hand, which was still on his shoulder. He extended his other hand across to Rick. Then he pulled us together and placed my hand in Rick’s. “Then let the games begin,” he whispered.

  CHAPTER 42

  Danni’s Bedroom, McAllister Ranch, Hanksville, Utah

  November 5, 2011

  Well, it’s about time, I’d say. The last time I wrote in here was October 7th, almost a month ago now. Wow! So much has happened since then! Way too much to try to put down right now, that’s for sure.

  Kind of a big day today. We’re taking Louis and his wife, Dorothée, who flew out to join him here, on a red-rock tour of Southern Utah. We’ll drive over to Moab and see Arches and Canyonlands National Parks. Then we’ll continue south through Monticello and Blanding before turning east again. Dad wants to go down and see the Goosenecks of the San Juan and the Valley of the Gods, which aren’t that far out of the way, but I don’t think we’ll have time. After hearing Rick and me talk about Leprechaun Canyon, Louis is pretty keen on it, too, and he and Dorothée go back on Monday, so this will be their last chance to see it.

  Big day, but a great one. Fortunately, the weather should be perfect. In the mid-seventies and nothing but sun. I love this country, and I love to show it to others. I’ve already warned them that once they get this red dirt in the bloodstream, they’ll be hooked for life.

  Three last things, then I’ve got to quit. One. I miss Le Gardien even more fiercely than I expected I would. I have left the nail in the wall by my dresser. Seeing that empty place every day reminds me of the pouch—as if I could ever forget—so I think of it several times a day. I’ve even had a nightmare or two where I saw Gisela throw it into the fire. In one of them, she turned and started hurling fireballs at me, too. It was awful. Anyway, GP keeps reminding me that I am still the keeper of the pouch, even if there isn’t a pouch to be keeper of. We’ll see if that’s true or not, but I miss it. A lot!

  Two. First thing Monday morning, we have a big strategy meeting. Joel Jamison, Deputy Director of the FBI, will be here with Clay. Rick and Charlie are coming. Louis and Dorothée will also be there. I didn’t think Dorothée would want to, after having one of her grandchildren kidnapped, but she wants to know what she can do. And, of course, all of my family will be there too. Later that afternoon Dad and Grandpère will take Louis and Dorothée to the airport, and they will fly home. There is a ton of stuff Louis needs to be doing back home to help us make this all work.