Athena couldn’t blame anyone for feeling queasy. She was feeling queasy herself, mostly because of fear of what would come next.
-o-o-o-
FBI Office, Durango
After eliminating the few possibilities for chartering a bus in Durango or Pagosa Springs, Beau focused on the towns to the north. Beau also contacted the Colorado State patrol to give them the few details they had about rogue vehicles. Yang and Heather did the same with regard to charter companies and police to the south of Durango.
Although it took longer than Beau had hoped, he eliminated every transportation company in Silverton, Ouray, and Telluride. His annoyance grew as he struck out over and over.
-o-o-o-
US 550, Ouray
When they reached Ouray, Athena realized Misha wasn’t interested in hiding in the San Juans. They’d passed through the entire range and kept going.
She asked Maggie, “Any idea where the hell we’re headed?”
The older woman shook her head. “I just want to get there soon. Jackie needs to rest in a stationary bed. These constant twists and turns are horrible for her, not to mention the rest of us.”
Athena glanced over at Jackie. Her eyes were closed and her face calm, but she was sweating profusely—even though the bus was cool.
Athena wondered what would happen if Jackie went into labor while they were traveling. It seemed unlikely that Misha would stop for humanitarian reasons and take her to a hospital. He had to realize that the instant Jackie came into contact with any outsider, she’d scream for the cops. And even if she kept her mouth shut, the hospital would never let Misha run off with a baby. Modern maternity wards included lots of security to prevent that kind of crime.
Poor Jackie! Many women had delivered babies in the backs of moving vehicles and lived to tell the tale, but it could be dangerous. It certainly would be a horrible experience. The mere thought of it made Athena shudder.
Chapter 14
FBI Office, Durango
Beau called two bus charter companies in Montrose before he contacted Galway Expeditions. Its website claimed the company specialized in scenic mountain tours with luxury accommodations.
As usual, Beau asked to speak to the senior manager on duty. And he kept checking the time on his laptop. It’d been over two hours since he and Costello had left Oxford. They’d obviously lost contact with the prisoners. He couldn’t imagine what was happening to Chris and the others, but they had to be horrified. Beau had a raging headache, but overdosing on ibuprofen hadn’t helped.
When the Galway manager picked up, Beau said, “I’m calling about an emergency situation. It’s a case that involves multiple murders and kidnapping. We need to locate the company that chartered a bus or other large vehicle this morning to transport about four dozen people from a rural area near Durango to parts unknown.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus!” the manager cried out. “I knew something was wrong on that deal.”
He told Beau about the bus he’d sent to Durango and its replacement currently on the way to Cortez.
“I think I’ve found what we’re looking for,” Beau said. “If so, your driver is in grave danger. The group of criminals we’re chasing has killed at least nine people so far, including four in the last two days. You’ve got to get a hold of your driver right away. Warn him and find out exactly where he is.”
“Hold on.”
A moment later, the manager came back on. “Couldn’t reach him. His phone rang a few times then went to voicemail. I left an urgent message.”
Beau sighed, but the news wasn’t all bad. The fact that the call hadn’t gone straight to voicemail meant at least one cell tower had connected with the driver’s phone. “I need that number and the driver’s name.”
The manager supplied it, and Beau promised to call him back as soon as he had news.
To Heather and Stephen, he said, “I got somethin’ interesting for a change.”
After he explained, Heather said, “Give me the name and number. I talk tech to the phone companies all the time.”
“Bless you.” He did better in conversing with ordinary people, not geeks.
-o-o-o-
US 550, South of Ridgeway, Colorado
When the bus driver’s phone rang, he said to Misha, “It’s the company again.”
“Don’t answer it,” Misha said. This was corporate harassment, pure and simple.
“Listen,” Leo said to him in Russian, “remember that the CIA can locate phones, even when they’re off. Maybe, the FBI can, too.”
Shit! To the driver, Misha said, “Turn the damned thing off and give it to me.”
The driver did so but slowly and with a scowl.
Misha used his cell to contact the black RRT sedan right behind the bus. He spoke to Sabin, the big Greek, and told him was happening.
“We should’ve thought of that,” the man said. “Collect all the phones on the bus and make sure they’re all off, including yours. We’ll get rid of them. From here on, they are likely to be useless anyway. I’ll lead you in the right direction.”
Misha wanted to scream, Just tell me where the fuck we’re going!
But he knew better. Instead of bitching, he hung up and said to the other guards, “Shut off your phones and hand them forward.”
Misha wasn’t sure whether he should turn his phone off, too. It was his only connection to Sabin.
A few minutes later, the Greek called Misha back. “In a minute, we will reach Colorado 62. Go west. As we cross the river to the left of us, toss all of your phones into the water.”
Even though Misha owned a no-contract unit he’d bought online, he did what he’d been told. Damned if he’d be the person who compromised their security after Sabin had been so specific.
The black sedan zoomed around the bus, and Misha told the driver, “From now on, follow that car.”
The sedan turned left at a light, and the bus followed. When they reached a bridge over the Uncompahgre River, Misha ordered the driver to stop and open the door. One by one, Misha tossed all the phones into the murky water.
“Proceed ahead,” he told the driver.
They soon left the small town of Ridgeway and began climbing into the mountains to the west.
Misha had reached his limit. He hadn’t slept since the day before, thanks to their near escape from the FBI. And things hadn’t improved since. He took a long pull on a flask in his briefcase. He’d brought along a liter of Patrón reposado tequila to soothe his nerves. Hopefully, it would be enough.
-o-o-o-
FBI Office, Durango
Beau’s worry about Chris and the others grew, and in addition to his worsening headache, his stomach churned.
Heather said, “Bingo. That call to the bus driver went through a cell tower in Ridgeway, Colorado. It’s a tiny town between Ouray and Montrose. The bus is on US 550, but a hundred miles north of us.”
“Bring up a map on the big display,” Yang said.
She opened an online program on the large monitor at her desk. With a pencil, she pointed at Ridgeway, a tiny pinprick on the northern edge of the San Juan mountains.
“If they keep going straight,” she said, “they’ll pass through Montrose and reach US 50. That road leads to Delta and Grand Junction. If they head west from Ridgeway on Colorado Highway 62, their destination could be Telluride or one of the Podunk towns in far southwestern Colorado or southeastern Utah.”
“Are you from that area?” Yang asked.
She grinned. “Grew up in Dolores, another one of those Podunk towns.” She pointed it out.
“To tell you the truth, the whole region is almost empty—an enormous no-man’s land from Grand Junction to Vegas—over a hundred thousand square miles, mostly desert wilderness. And the few folks who do live out there hate the Feds. When I visit home, I tell my friends and family I sell used cars in Denver. That’s so they’re not ashamed of me.”
Beau couldn’
t tell whether she was joking, but probably not. Lots of his relatives living back in the bayou hated the Feds, too.
“Where the hell is the bus going with those women and girls?” Yang asked. “They could go anywhere in those badlands?”
“You got it,” she said. “Life is pretty much the same out that way as it was a century ago. Polygamy is still popular with some Mormons in those parts.”
“Merde!” Beau said. “I’ll contact the Colorado State Patrol again and give them our latest details.”
-o-o-o-
CO 62, West of Ridgeway
Athena continued to sympathize with Jackie. She was having a helluva time. Her contractions had started, but everyone hoped they were false labor. Erica remained by her side to help her cope with whatever came next.
Maggie whispered into Athena’s left ear, “We really need to figure a way out of this nightmare.”
“I’ve been racking my brain. The biggest problem is, we’ve got no way to communicate with the outside world.”
They were stuck inside a giant silver coffin hurtling along the highway. And every so often, one of the guards walked back to harass the women and girls.
A strong gust of wind hit the bus from the side, and it whistled through one of the partially open windows. Because they weren't vomiting as much, the stink had diminished. Most of the windows had been closed.
But the whistling gave Athena an idea. She turned to Maggie. “If we can find some paper and a pencil or pen, we could drop sheets of paper outside as we pass through towns or cities.”
Maggie nodded. “I have a pen. No paper, but several of the women brought books. We could tear pages out and write pleas for help on them.”
Wasn’t much, but at least they were doing something positive. A warm glow filled Athena’s heart. “You find us some paper, and I’ll think about what we should write. I used to be a professional wordsmith.”
-o-o-o-
FBI Office, Durango
Time passed without Beau hearing any news. In this case, no news was bad news.
Finally, Heather said, “If the bus is continuing north, it should come into range of one of the cell towers near Montrose soon. The phone company supervisor I spoke to promised to call me as soon as they got another ping.”
“And the state troopers have an officer parked along the highway south of the city limits,” Beau said.
Nobody called. Beau’s chest tightened, and it seemed harder to breathe. The online map Heather had created showed dozens of side roads along US 550 between Ridgeway and Montrose. The thick forests along the highway contained plenty of hiding places. The bus could simply drop the people off and keep on going.
Or the kidnappers might’ve turned west at Ridgeway and taken the road to Telluride or those Podunk towns Heather had mentioned. That state highway intersected even more local roads. The bottom line was, finding the women and girls once they’d hunkered down within the vast expanses of the West would be virtually impossible.
Beau called the state patrol office in Montrose again to make sure they hadn’t lost his phone number.
The captain in charge of the office said, “My trooper has been in position for twenty minutes. Hasn’t observed any buses coming from the south. If one does go by, he’ll photograph it and send me the picture, which I’ll forward to you.”
That didn’t ease Beau’s worry much. “Thanks so much for your help, ma’am. Is there any chance you have a trooper working west of Ridgeway?”
“Someone’s currently patrolling Colorado 145 south of Telluride and north of Dolores. That officer is well aware of the vehicle you’re looking for, as are all my other officers patrolling the highways. Our troop covers seven counties.”
Beau looked at a map of the southwestern part of the state. “You wouldn’t have anyone over by Norwood, for example, by any chance?”
Her voice turned sharper. “Not today. Listen, those roads are seldom traveled, and we rarely patrol so far from populated areas.”
After hanging up with the state patrol, and just to be sure, Beau called the police department in Telluride and the San Miguel County Sheriff’s Department. Both agencies had seen his BOLO and distributed the details to their staff. They promised to call right away with any news.
-o-o-o-
Colorado 62, west of the Dallas Divide
The bus continued heading west, completely avoiding Telluride. As they left the mountains behind, the land flattened out, and the highway crossed wide fields and pastures.
Athena and Maggie decided their leaflets would work best if they looked like reward posters. One of the women had donated a paperback full of poems, which gave them plenty of paper. Using a bold pen, Athena printed text in big letters, $10,000 REWARD. Below that, they added, Contact FBI agent Beauregard Boudreau, and gave his phone number. At the bottom, she wrote, Mention that Chris Nielsen and forty other prisoners came this way.
When written in large block letters, that was enough text to fill an entire paperback page. It was a long shot, but no obvious downside to trying.
-o-o-o-
FBI Office, Durango
It soon became clear to Beau and the others that the hijacked bus hadn’t continued north on US 550 to Montrose or driven to Telluride. He began calling the police departments in the Podunk towns west of the San Juans. Norwood was his first contact. According to Wikipedia, it only had about five hundred residents. Beau spoke to the police chief.
“No,” the man said in a nasal voice, “I didn’t see any BOLO on a hijacked charter bus. We get a ton of email, mostly spam. Truth be told, not much that happens east of here matters to us, so email’s not a priority. But I’m on duty at the moment, and I’ll keep an eye out.”
As soon as Beau hung up, he called the police department in Naturita with the same result. Its population was six hundred.
The bastards were slipping away.
Chapter 15
CO 62, Placerville, Colorado
Athena’s heavy heart went out to Jackie. Her contractions were strengthening, and the time between them shortening. Definitely not false labor.
The mom-to-be grimaced. “Won’t be long now.”
“So,” Athena asked Erica, “is this your first delivery in motion?”
“Afraid so, but everything is fine so far.”
But she asked Maggie, “Would you ask Misha about finding us a hospital, or even an urgent care clinic?”
“Sure,” the older woman said and walked forward.
A few minutes later, she returned with a welt on her cheek and a frown. “He’s drunk. Bottom line—no chance he’ll take her to a medical facility. But he is willing to stop the bus for a few minutes right before birth.”
“Asshole!” Erica said. “For now, things are progressing slowly. I’ll let you know when to ask him to stop.”
To distract her new friend caught in an incredibly tough situation, Athena knelt on the floor near Jackie and read poems from the paperback. It seemed to help.
-o-o-o-
CO 145, Norwood, Colorado
The bus slowed, and the road widened. They’d reached a small town Athena had never heard of. No traffic lights or stop signs on the main highway. But the speed limit was 30 mph.
Each time they reached a cross street, Maggie pushed a copy of their reward flyer through a narrow crack in her window.
At a gas station, the bus pulled in. Misha yelled from the front, “Stay quiet, ladies, or you’ll be my foil’s next victim. No gestures at the windows either. Bring up your empty bottles and barf bags. We’ll get rid of them and resupply.”
Two of the guards, Leo and Pete, stood in the aisles to make sure the women didn’t cause a scene. But when Jackie screamed during a particularly strong contraction, the men ignored her.
Through a closed window, Athena watched another guard at the fuel pump. Still another carried the trash to a dumpster next to a small convenience store.
There was no
point in trying to draw anybody else’s attention because the only other vehicle nearby was the same sedan Athena had noticed at the La Plata compound.
A few minutes later, two guards handed out water bottles and snacks. Chips and the few peanuts didn’t count as lunch. Athena wolfed her food down and asked for more.
“Sorry, lady,” Rick said, “that was the best I can do for now. Wasn’t much food available in the store. We cleaned it out.”
Athena bit her tongue, despite her growing frustration. Couldn’t believe how isolated they were from everyone else in the land of the free and the home of the brave. So few chances to get help.
The bus started again, and everyone remained trapped inside. But as they continued through town, Maggie dropped more leaflets.
After they left the town behind, she and Athena got busy preparing more reward flyers, to be ready for their next opportunity.
But their bus didn’t pass through any more towns. Instead, it motored across an endless expanse of rolling plains dotted with sagebrush clumps of dead grass. The mountains slowly receded behind them.
Up ahead, black storm clouds towered into the deep blue sky. Southwest Colorado didn’t usually get many thunderstorms this late in the year, but it’d been much hotter around Durango than usual. Up ahead to the southeast, bolts of lightning flashed, but they were too far away for Athena to hear the thunderclaps.
-o-o-o-
FBI Office, Durango
Beau bit back an oath after his latest useless call with the state patrol’s captain in Montrose. Beau didn’t want to appear vulgar in front of haughty and formal Yang because he held Beau’s career by the short hairs.
The ugly truth was, Chris’s bus had somehow vanished into fucking thin air despite the fact that dozens of Colorado cops were supposedly on the lookout. Why didn’t I insist she move temporarily to a motel at the Bureau’s expense? I’ll never be able to forgive myself if she gets hurt.
Snatched Page 10