by Aimée Thurlo
“Karl’s with Michael.”
“With him? You mean helping him? Why? I thought you said Michael’s the one who brought you here.”
“Michael’s been blackmailing us. At first we went along with what he wanted because we were afraid. But then Karl and I had enough and we refused to cooperate. When Michael realized that he wouldn’t be able to control us anymore, he kidnapped me. Karl will do whatever he asks now because he knows as well as I do that Michael will kill me if he doesn’t.”
The conviction in Nicole’s voice made a shiver run up Laura’s spine. “What’s your involvement with Michael, Nicole?”
“You mean am I having an affair with him?”
“No. I know you’re not. When you look at him… What I see isn’t affection at all.”
“Diplomatically put,” she answered. “All I feel for that man is loathing. When he came to us and told us he was from my old country, Karl hired him in good faith. Michael said he needed a little money for his family back home, claiming that they were in desperate need of food. I still have family there, and I know how far American dollars go.”
“So what happened?”
“Not knowing Michael was actually a spy, we didn’t watch him very closely when he was working at the senior center. He stole our passwords and got into the bank accounts, stealing money a little at a time. He forged my signature and made it look like I’d been embezzling, and trying to cover for it with phoney expenditures. Then he told us what he’d done. He said he’d see to it that I either went to jail or was deported. He also knew the names of my relatives in West Medias, and said they’d suffer unless Karl and I did exactly what he told us to do. Karl has been forced to help him, even tried to kidnap Elena Baca.”
Laura realized then that Burke and she had been right. Nicole’s revelation held no surprises, only confirmation. “You must have been terrified.”
“Yes, especially about being deported, and bringing harm to my family. I’m not a citizen yet.”
“And now we’re both here,” Laura said, still struggling against the ropes that bound her.
“He won’t kill us until he’s got the journal. When he brought you in, he bragged, calling us his bargaining chips.”
“He’ll never get the journal, Nicole,” Laura assured her. “But now we’ve got to do something to help ourselves. Brace yourself. I’m going to start screaming.”
“Don’t waste your breath. When Michael dumped me here, he told me I could scream all I wanted. From that, I figured we’re in the middle of nowhere. But I still gave it a shot. I yelled until I was hoarse, but no one came.”
“When he brought you here, and me, did you see anything that might tell us where we are?”
“No. He drove me here in the trunk of his car, tied up and blindfolded. I worked the blindfold off once he left, but, as you can imagine, it wasn’t much of an improvement. And when he threw you in, all I got was a glimpse of some trees before he shut the door again.”
“Well, let me give screaming another try. Feel free to join me.”
They made a formidable noise for the next several minutes, but as Nicole had warned, no one came. Winded, with her throat starting to hurt, Laura finally fell silent. They needed another plan.
“I’m going to see if I can find something sharp around me so I can cut through these ropes.”
As she searched, Laura thoughts drifted back to Burke, and silent tears began spilling down her cheeks. If fate had chosen to steal him from her, she’d never forgive herself for not taking advantage of the time they’d been given together. Fear had held her back when she should have let love guide her. If life gave her a second chance, she’d never make the same mistake again.
Holding to that, Laura forced herself to concentrate only on the job before her.
Chapter Nineteen
Burke woke up slowly. A paramedic with a stethoscope was checking his heart. “Damn, I feel as if I’ve been clobbered by a mule,” he muttered, sitting up. “What happened? How did they get past our stakeout team?”
“They posed as utility men who read the gas and electric meters. Agent Wylie spotted the pair and went to warn them off, but they got him before he could draw his weapon. Then they came here and hit the dog, then you, with tranquilizer darts,” Miller said.
“Wolf?” As Burke tried to stand up, a wave of nausea engulfed him. He swallowed back the bad taste in his mouth and held on to the counter for a moment. His head felt as if it was about to explode.
“We’ll all be okay,” Wylie said. “But the dose each of us took was hefty. My guess is that they stole the drugs and dart guns from a vet. The police said that one of the local clinics reported a break-in two nights ago.”
Burke focused on John Wylie’s face, trying to get his vision to clear up. The man had some scratches on his forehead, probably from the fall when he passed out, and looked sympathetic.
As he glanced around, Burke also saw several officers in sheriff and police department uniforms, and some plain-clothes detectives. “Since you’re all here, I assume you caught them, and Laura’s safe?”
Wylie and Miller exchanged glances.
“She is safe, right?” Burke demanded.
“I don’t think they’ll harm her. My feeling is that they took her for leverage to use against you,” Wylie answered.
Burke forced himself to stand up. “How the hell did that happen? You guys were supposed to be keeping her house and this one under surveillance.”
“We were, but all hell broke loose. The roof was burning, you and Laura ran outside and the fire department arrived,” Miller said.
“Nobody knew I’d been taken out already,” Wylie added, “or that you and the dog had been neutralized when you went back inside. Only three or four minutes went by before our people came to check, but by then, the utility truck and Laura were gone.”
“Then the firemen were real?”
“Yeah, but trying to verify that only added to the confusion.”
“And the fire? How did it happen?” Burke asked.
“Enesco or the other guy lobbed a crude fire bomb onto Laura’s roof from the utility access easement behind the house,” Miller said. “We were expecting an intruder, and had a man out back, but they were a step ahead. The utility truck was real—stolen obviously—and nothing about it was out of the ordinary,” Miller said.
“But the diversion, as well planned as it was, wouldn’t have worked if you and Laura had stayed put,” Wylie added in a hard voice. “What the heck happened?”
Burke cursed. “The explosion woke her up, and as I was looking through the window, checking things out, she ran past me. I couldn’t stop her in time.”
“And when they saw you both running out of here, they slipped into your house, took out the dog and waited for you to return,” Miller concluded.
“I’m getting her back,” Burke said, checking his weapon, then placing it back in its holster.
“You’re not going anywhere half-cocked. Sit tight. We don’t even know where to start searching at this point,” Wylie said.
“I do. The senior center. The people who run that place are at the heart of everything that’s happened.” He was about to say more when his cell phone rang. Burke took it from his pocket, flipping it open with one hand.
“You know who this is, right?” The man’s voice came through clearly.
The accent was gone, but the voice belonged to Enesco. Burke knew it in his gut. “Yeah, Enesco, or whatever your name really is. Lost the accent, have you?”
The man’s laugh was cold. “Time for a trade. You get your woman, and I get the journal. But if you don’t come alone, I’ll mail her back to you in pieces. Remember that image, if you think you’ll be able to slip something past me. You and I have been around the block too many times to underestimate each other now.”
“Where do we meet?” Burke asked, his voice glacial and deadly.
“About a quarter mile upstream on the Animas River where it meets the San
Juan. Go to the north shore, where there’s a small backwater stream running parallel to the main body of water.”
“When?”
“Thirty minutes. Come alone,” he said, then hung up.
Wylie shook his head after Burke filled him in on everything except the exact location. “You’re not going anywhere by yourself with that journal. It’s a setup. You know that as well as I do. And the second you hand over the journal, you and Miss Santos are dead.”
“We don’t have a lot of choices here. Enesco’s a trained agent. If you guys tail me, he’ll know. The most you can do is wire me, and even that’s tricky.”
“And you’re prepared to give him the journal?” Wylie asked.
“No, I can’t do that. It’s not mine to give,” Burke said. “But the agency can give me something I can pass off.”
“In time?”
“Yeah. In about two minutes I can get some pages of the original text faxed here. Then I can bind them in a small three-ring leather notebook I have in my office,” he said, remembering that the professor had scanned the journal into his computer. “It won’t be the complete journal, but enough to fake them out.”
Wylie nodded, taking him at his word. “You alert whoever you need to while we work on this.”
Burke walked into the living room and flipped open his cell phone. “Wind, I need you to bring me a car and leave it around the corner from my house. But be careful. The area is crawling with feds and it’s imperative you don’t get caught.”
“Consider it done. What’s the plan?”
“I’ve got to give the FBI the slip, which may be difficult. But I’ve got an idea,” he said, and filled him in quickly. “Just have Handler call the professor, and get that car over here.”
“On my way. Give me ten minutes.”
Burke remained on the phone, keeping his voice low, stalling for time, while Wind used another line to call Handler, then came back to finish his conversation with Burke. Finally, when Wind announced he was in position, Burke hung up.
Hearing the fax machine running in the den, Burke retrieved the pages, then shrank them, using his copier. Lastly, he placed them in the small leather-bound notebook. He was ready.
Slipping it into his jacket pocket, Burke walked over to the doorway leading to the kitchen. Several officers, including Miller and Wylie, were standing around the table, discussing strategy.
“He’s getting antsy,” Burke said, gesturing to the dog pacing in the living room. “I’m going to take him outside and work him for a minute or two. He’s a powerful dog, and when he gets wound up like this, he’s a little on the unstable side. You don’t know if he’s just going to raise his leg, or take a chunk out of somebody’s thigh.”
Wylie gave the dog a worried glance. “Then get going, but don’t go far.”
Burke opened the door, then gave Wolf an almost imperceptible hand signal. The dog rushed out the front door, heading straight down the street. Burke cursed.
“I’ve got to go after him,” he yelled back at Wylie. “There must be a female dog in season around here.”
“You need help?”
“Nah. The way he’s acting he’s likely to bite someone, but he’ll respond to a command if I get close enough.” He gestured to the table. “Throw me that leash.”
Wylie did as he asked, then halfheartedly added, “Let me know if you need help. You’ve only got thirty minutes, remember.”
Burke headed out the door. It had been easier than he’d expected. Wolf had done exactly as he’d been taught: he’d gone about fifty yards in a straight line, then stopped.
Burke ran toward him, leaving the house and the agents behind. As he reached the corner, he saw a young Navajo cowboy in boots and faded jeans, with blue tinted sunglasses and a brown Stetson. The cowboy was leaning against a four-door, mid-size sedan parked beside the curb. He resembled no one Burke had ever seen, but the car was one of the models the agency favored.
“Code name?”
“Wind. This is your car.” He nodded. “The keys are in the ignition. Now I’m outta here on foot—unless you want backup.”
“I do, but not in the way you expect.” Burke put the dog in the back seat, quickly briefing Wind on his plan. “Tell Handler what I’ve told you,” he said. “Now I need you to head back to the house and stall the FBI. Tell them that I’m trying to get the dog out of your yard—whatever. Just buy me some time.”
“I won’t be able to keep them for long once they catch on,” he warned.
“Wrangle five minutes for me. After that you can square it with them.”
“Yeah—FBI agents are bound to be real reasonable.” He smiled, then held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. Do they know exactly where you’re going?”
Burke shook his head, then gave Wind the specific location. “You can bring them. But take the long way.”
“Okay. Knowing where you are will give me an edge. They’ll need me,” Wind said.
Burke slipped behind the wheel. “I better get going.”
“If I recall, the area where you’re headed has a lot of underbrush and young trees. That little backwater is pretty shallow, but there are lots of branches and logs beneath the surface. Are you sure you want to go in there alone? You’re not going to have a clear line of fire except across the water.”
“Neither will they,” he answered. Then, putting the car into gear, he drove off.
Burke didn’t envy Wind’s next task. The FBI wouldn’t take kindly to the ruse. But with luck, he’d have a good head start. He knew Wind would hold them off as long as he could.
While driving, Burke tried to come up with a plan of action. The place where Enesco had told him to go wasn’t far southwest of where he was now—fifteen minutes at most, providing he could find the right road. But convincing him he had the complete journal might be tricky. Burke reached into his jacket pocket, feeling the small, leather-bound notebook. One way or another, he’d have to pull it off. It was his only shot.
LAURA LOOKED AROUND, now that her eyes had adjusted, trying to make out shapes and objects in the dark room where she and Nicole were being held prisoner. As near as she could tell, it was a small workshop or garage constructed of unpainted cinder blocks, with an aluminum roof. There was an inexpensive fluorescent light fixture hanging from a wooden rafter, but it didn’t appear to have any bulbs, and there was a wide wooden workbench that ran all along the opposite wall.
There weren’t any windows, and the door was metal with a metal frame, so breaking out was unlikely. She scooted across the bare concrete floor, searching for a nail, a tool or a jagged spot on one of the wooden pallets stacked against one wall. What she needed was a way to slice through the ropes that bound her hands. Once she was free, she’d try to pick the lock or loosen a hinge on the door.
As she reached the pallets she felt a sliver of glass that had somehow became wedged against one of the wooden crosspieces. “I’ve got a piece of glass that probably came from a broken light tube, maybe stuck here when the rest of the glass was swept up. It isn’t much, but if I’m careful I think I can use it to cut through the rope, one strand at a time.”
“Can I help? Maybe I can roll toward you.”
“No. You wouldn’t be able to tell if you’re cutting me or the rope. Besides, there’s no telling what else is on this floor. You could end up rolling into a black widow spider’s web. Stay put for now,” Laura said.
As she tried to cut through the thick ropes, the glass sliver dug into her flesh, cutting her as well. She tried to ignore the pain, but it was difficult. To make matters worse, the blood trickling down her fingers was making her grip slippery.
Determined to get free, she continued sliding the edge of the glass against the rope fibers with her thumb and forefinger. “I’m almost there,” she said, after what had seemed forever.
“If we both get free, then what? Even if we can somehow get the door open, we don’t know where to go.”
“We’ll figure it all
out one step at a time, Laura murmured. “First, we have to get free.” The individual strands of rope felt looser now and, as she tugged against them, the final threads broke and the rope fell away from her wrists. “Got it!” She untied the rope at her feet, then stood and moved toward the gray shape she knew was Nicole. After so long in the low light, it was easier to see now. “Come on. We need to try and get out before Enesco returns.”
She was struggling clumsily to undo the knots holding Nicole’s hands when the door was suddenly thrown open and bright daylight came streaming into the small workshop.
Squinting, she looked at the dark silhouette in the doorway, but before she could jump up and run, the man grabbed her by the arm and threw her against the far wall. She landed hard, hitting her side against the workbench and her knee on the floor.
“Just where did you think you were going? I’m not through with you yet,” Enesco snarled.
He shoved her against the stack of pallets, and she slammed her head painfully against the rough lumber before staggering to her feet.
“Down on your knees, with your hands behind your back. Don’t make me have to knock you to the floor,” he snarled.
“Where’s Karl? What have you done with him?” Nicole yelled out from behind Laura.
“He got uncooperative just when I needed him the most. But if you cooperate, you may get the chance to see him again alive,” Enesco snorted.
“Michael, please don’t leave me here alone again,” Nicole begged.
Enesco ignored her as he pushed Laura to her knees, retied her hands behind her back, then slipped a noose around her ankles, tightening it with a yank.
“I can’t walk with a rope around my feet,” Laura protested.
“You’ll get by,” he said, then grabbed the rope holding her hands behind her back and pushed her toward the door. She had to shuffle her feet quickly to keep from falling, but managed to get outside without tipping over, pushed along by Michael’s hold on the rope at her wrists.