Ryce looked at O2. “You do realize if the end of the tunnel goes boom, we will have to walk all the way back through the mountain?”
Ryce pulled on the cord tied to the block and let go. The block hit the door with sufficient power to open it almost half way. Ryce pulled on the block once more and let it go. He opened the door a little more. Apparently the door did not have contact switches.
Ryce was content to wait a full five minutes before approaching the door. He pulled out his mirror and extended the rod. A careful examination of the opposite side of the door showed nothing. Ryce stuck his head out of the tunnel. When he was not shot at and was not blown up, he walked through the doorway.
Less than ten seconds after Ryce emerged from the tunnel, Ramona was on the radio. When Ryce answered, Ramona confirmed that she had one hot blob on the thermal scan. Ryce told O2 to come through the door. Ramona confirmed she now had two hot blobs. When she added that she hoped the second blob was her husband, Ryce started laughing so hard he could not press the send button to reply. Ramona added that blobs were often very good as husbands.
As the rest of the group exited the tunnel, Dexter brought Ryce up to speed. The three that Ryce was following were almost three miles east of Ryce’s position. They appeared to be headed toward Chief Mountain Highway and would reach it in approximately ninety minutes. Dexter had no one available to intercept them. Did Ryce have any suggestions?
Ryce heard John’s voice on the radio.
“This is John. I am loading a vehicle as we speak. I think we are only about an hour from the Milburn Mine trailhead. It is listed on the paper map, but not on the Internet map. Dexter, could you let me know when I get close to the trailhead?”
O2 interrupted Ryce’s conversation with John. “John, do you have enough people left at the campground to set up an observation post on Chief Mountain Highway?”
Phil’s voice was heard on the radio. “I can drop off some people at the junction of Chief Mountain Highway and Montana 89. I am only five minutes away. I have three Hummers over here that can get there in ten minutes.”
O2 laughed and keyed his radio. “Phil, if you park one of those choppers on the side of the road and point that mini gun down range, you can stop anything.”
Ryce reminded everyone that the recipients of the laptops had gunned down five people at the mining shack. Bulletproof vests were the dress code of the day.
The eastern entrance to the tunnel was more than five hundred feet up an almost sheer shale face. Ryce could see only the slightest indications of a trail to descend on. O2 moved the group down the hill as fast as possible. Ryce was amazed none of the team triggered a shale avalanche.
When they reached level ground again, Ryce set a blistering pace up the trail. Dexter was giving them updates every five minutes. Forty minutes into the chase, the laptop killers were forty-five minutes from the highway, but Ryce was only thirty minutes behind.
At the rate they were closing the distance, Ryce thought they could catch the three before they got to the trailhead. They might even get a chance to see the group get into a car. And if they had a plate number, they could warn John and Dexter.
Ryce set the counter on his cell phone to ten minutes and pressed on. He was hoping the next update from Dexter would show the gap between the team and the killers had significantly diminished.
The next report from Dexter verified that Ryce was catching up to the three men they were chasing. At the speed they were hiking, Ryce was now eight minutes behind the three men, who were fifteen minutes from Chief Mountain Highway.
Ryce motioned for O2 to come forward. “We are eight minutes behind the laptops. We need a point.”
O2 smiled and put on a burst of speed. When he was about two hundred feet ahead, he slowed slightly to maintain his relative position to the team.
After less than five minutes, O2 keyed his walkie-talkie. “I just saw one of them drop down behind a rise in the trail. Time to slow it down.”
Dexter’s next transmission confirmed that the gap was getting really small. Ryce continued the pace until the group caught up with O2. O2 pointed at one of the men carrying a silenced M4 and then out into the woods. As each man came up, O2 alternated the side of the trail he wanted him to occupy. As the last man jogged into the trees, O2 sprinted out to the left side of the trail. Ryce jogged out to the right and then pressed his walkie-talkie send button.
“Let’s get it done.”
Ryce was following two SEALs as he jogged through the trees. He was careful to stay away from deadfalls, ground litter, and brush. His path was constantly twisting and turning. He could not see O2 or even the men he was following.
The Milburn Mine trailhead was almost a complete surprise. Ryce came around a small bluff, and there it was, perhaps a half mile ahead. Ryce looked to his left and saw one of the people they were chasing exiting the forest.
Ryce closed up the group and scanned the area with his scope. The three men they were pursuing were huddled near a burned-out pickup truck. The blackened hulk was the only vehicle in the parking area of the trailhead. Was this their ride out of the trailhead? Ryce chuckled. Perhaps these guys no longer had a way to get out of town.
When Ryce pointed out the burned vehicle, O2 keyed down on his walkie-talkie. “What goes around comes around.”
Ryce heard another voice on the walkie-talkie that sounded a lot like John’s. “I am about a thousand feet from the trailhead exit.”
Ryce asked John to approach at a very slow pace and stop when he had a clear view of the road leading into the parking lot. The parking area was a half mile from the paved road. John should be able to see anyone come in his direction. Especially three men carrying AK-47 assault rifles.
Ryce led his group in a sweeper movement to the right of the parking area. The team was now strung out along a quarter mile line between the trail and the road. He could move his men toward the highway without being detected by the three they were following. Ryce almost had both exits blocked.
John notified Ryce that he had parked the Suburban, his people were now in a good defensive position, and he was slamming a door. Ryce chuckled. Good plan. The three men with the laptops would think that John’s Suburban was a ticket out of the mountains.
Ryce heard the door slam on the Suburban. So did the laptop group. They started walking toward the parking area entrance road, but paused when they had gone less than half of the distance to the highway. A motor home was pulling into the parking area.
The walkie-talkie again crackled. John informed Ryce that a motor home had just pulled off the highway and had entered the parking area. Ryce responded that he could see the vehicle.
The laptop trio had AK-47s, with foldable stocks, which had been stuffed into their packs and were not visible to the occupants of the motor home. The trio waited until the driver and passenger of the motor home, obviously retired, exited the vehicle. When the occupants were fifty feet from the motor home, the trio pulled the AK-47s from their packs. Ryce moved his group closer to the parking area. He wanted a shot at the laptop trio.
The group with the laptops apparently instructed the motor home occupants to empty their pockets. The old man reached into his right front pocket and extracted a set of keys that he attempted to hand to the trio. His hand was shacking so badly, he dropped the keys. When he reached down to pick up the keys, one of the trio punched him in the back of the head with his AK-47 gunstock. When the old man collapsed on the gravel, one of the trio pulled back the bolt on the AK-47 he was holding.
Only one of the laptop trio managed to get off a shot before all three were cut down by six M4s on full auto. Ryce saw the lady fall and pointed his medics in her direction. As they sprinted across the gravel, Ryce also pointed one of his medics at the old man.
O2 led his team onto the parking area, carefully keeping an eye on the three lifeless bodies. Ryce followed his medics to the lady, who had been hit in the thigh. The bullet was a through and through. Ryce walked over to
check the laptop trio.
The medics were completing the emergency triage when John arrived in the Suburban. There were now twelve extremely well-armed men and three very well-armed women standing over the motor home owners.
John pulled out his Idaho State Police identification. “My name is John Pendergast. I am a member of the Joint Border Task Force. We have been chasing those three men on the ground over there for about a month.”
The motor home driver looked really worried. “My name is George Haskins. That’s my wife, Mable Haskins. I hope you don’t kill us.”
Tanya, Marge, and Ramona walked up and reassured the Haskins that they were not in danger.
When Ryce walked over to the group, Tanya wrapped her arms around him, gave him a long kiss, and then said, “I don’t kiss killers.”
Ryce, O2, and John discussed how they were going to cram thirteen people into a Suburban with only six seats. As they worked things out, Mr. Haskins attempted to walk to his motor home. He took three steps and then collapsed once again.
A short conversation with Mrs. Haskins brought to light that they were camping in the same campground as the JBTF team. John suggested that his people could drive the motor home to the campground. Mable was happy to agree. She could not drive a normal vehicle much less a motor home.
John called Phil and told him where to come to pick up the bodies. Ryce walked over to the packs dropped by the dead trio, picked them up, and carried them to the Suburban.
Ryce, Tanya, O2, Ramona, and six SEALs escorted the Haskins to the motor home. They spent five minutes trying to find the keys, until Ryce remembered watching the keys fall out of George Haskins’ fingers.
The ride back to the campground was totally uneventful. After Ryce parked the motor home, John walked over to check on Mrs. Haskins. He was now glad that Pen had insisted that two of her emergency room doctors be part of the support team at the campground. When John mentioned that Haskins had collapsed, the medic immediately grabbed his kit and rushed to the motor home.
Ramona and Tanya were still in the motor home, watching over Mr. Haskins, who had been taken to the master suite. Mrs. Haskins was in the living area, getting additional attention from the medical team that had bandaged her wounds at the trailhead.
A quick examination of Mr. Haskins did not show anything other than he was in his sixties and had gone through a traumatic event. There was a bruise and a slight laceration on the back of his head. The medics applied a bandage, and handed him a pill for the eventual headache. One of the SEALs escorted Mrs. Haskins to the bedroom to be with her husband. She protested when Ramona and Tanya promised to keep an eye on him, but she was not going to win this contest.
Ramona decided she would make coffee, told Tanya to watch the Haskins, and walked out to the kitchen area. Mable protested that coffee was not needed. Tanya smiled and told her that the woman who had just left the room was a world-renowned chef. The coffee was going to be good.
Ramona immediately found the coffee machine, but no coffee near it. She began to inspect the cabinets. The second cabinet door she opened provided a surprise. Laying on one of the shelves was a clip for an AK-47. Ramona frowned. Why would the Haskins have a clip for an AK-47 in the china cabinet? Ramona was still carrying her Glock. She removed the weapon from its holster and returned to the master bedroom.
The door to the suite was still open. Ramona could see Tanya sitting in one of the chairs in the room, but Mrs. Haskins was not visible. Tanya had removed her jump harness on the drive back to the campground. She was no longer carrying her Glock. If Mrs. Haskins had a weapon, it would have already been in the master suite.
Ramona locked the send key on her walkie-talkie in the on position. She carefully and silently placed her Glock on a small table near the door and walked into the master suite.
“I couldn’t find any coffee.”
Ramona stopped. Mr. Haskins was holding an AK-47 pointed at Tanya. Mrs. Haskins told Ramona to come into the suite and sit down.
“We have a slight dilemma. Somehow, three packs that belong to Mr. Haskins were placed in the Suburban at the trailhead where you shot those three men. Inside those packs were three laptops that we were asked to return to their owners in Canada. Our recovery fee is two million dollars per laptop. If your friends want you back in one piece, you need to bring us the laptops.”
Ramona was watching the window behind the Haskins. Ryce’s mirror suddenly appeared in the window. The trick with the send button had worked.
Mrs. Haskins reached into the nightstand beside her and pulled out a revolver. She looked directly at Ramona.
“We both know how to use these, so I don’t think it is a good idea for your buddies to try to break in here. Use whatever communication devices you have to tell your friends we want the laptops.”
Ramona slowly reached for her walkie-talkie, unlocked the send button, looked over at Mable, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I think they already know.”
Mable spun to look at Ramona and frowned. “We don’t have much time. Tell your friends to bring us the laptops in the next ten minutes.”
Ramona tossed the walkie-talkie to the center of the bed. “Tell them yourself.”
Mable carefully picked up the device and pressed the send button. She then began a rambling discourse on how she would exchange the two women for the three laptops and safe passage to the Canadian border. She shakily declared that if the transfer was not completed in ten minutes, the two charming women were going to die.
When Mable released the send button, all she got was silence. She sat for a few minutes getting more and more irritated and then grabbed the walkie-talkie. She screamed into the device and placed it on the bed once more. Ramona quietly remarked that Mable needed to press the send button to get the device to operate. Mable grabbed the walkie-talkie again. She found the send button, pressed it, and screamed into the device that they now had eight minutes to give up the laptops.
When Mable released the send button, they all heard the calm voice of Ryce coming from the walkie-talkie.
“Ma’am, I have personally looked into the packs. I found no laptops. Perhaps you are mistaken.”
Mable was becoming more unhinged. She grabbed the walkie-talkie again and screamed that she would show whoever was talking to her which packs she wanted.
She stood and pointed her pistol at Ramona.
“OK, sweetie, you and I are going to go get the packs. Stand up.”
Ramona slowly stood and started toward the door of the suite. When she got near the table where her Glock had been placed, she appeared to slip and fall. As she went down, she palmed her Glock.
Mable screamed at Ramona to get up. Ramona slowly stood. She had managed to slide the Glock under her shirt.
Mable instructed Ramona to walk to the entrance door of the motor home, and no tricks. Ramona stepped down, pushed the door open and then dived to the right. Mable screamed again and tried to turn to return to the master suite, but was hit by a taser. Ryce carefully entered the motor home, pulled another taser from one of his cargo pockets, and silently walked down the hallway to the master suite.
He carefully set up his mirror to get a look inside the bedroom. When he was convinced he had seen everything in the room, he looked in. Tanya was sitting with the AK-47 in her lap, pointed toward the door where Ryce was standing. She smiled and waved at Ryce.
When Ryce stepped into the room, Tanya stood and threw her arms around him. He called down the hallway that Tanya was OK. Ramona hurried to the master suite.
Tanya looked over at George Haskins.
“He died a couple minutes before Ramona busted out. I think it was self-inflicted. He was chewing on something right before he went limp. Mable was just trying to buy some time to figure out what she was going to do. Check the pistol she was carrying. It wasn’t cocked, and she didn’t even have a cartridge under the hammer.”
Chapter 38
Several agents began a complete inspection o
f the motor home. Tanya discovered a composition notebook under the utensil tray. She held up one of the forks from the tray. Food was still embedded between two of the tines.
“Mable didn’t keep a tidy home.”
The composition book contained a record of every time the Haskins had crossed the border. He included the date, who or what had been taken across, where they had crossed, and the money involved. Ryce quickly scanned the pages of the notebook. The Haskins had used every border crossing from North Dakota to Seattle.
It was soon clear that the Haskins motor home was a vehicle used to move things across the border. However, was it the only vehicle transporting secrets?
The rug on the kitchen floor covered a trap door that led to a compartment between the motor home storage bins. Only when the width of the vehicle was compared to the depth of the bins could the difference be detected.
The hidden compartment was seventeen feet long, thirty inches wide, and twenty inches deep. The sides and bottom had been lined with foam. When Ryce crawled into the compartment and the trap door was closed, it was very claustrophobic. Ryce could only imagine the terror that was felt by anyone being transported into or out of Canada.
After a short search, the team found a movable wall in the master closet, accessible when someone rotated a picture on the wall. The wall around the picture was severely scratched. Ryce remembered the marks made by the china closet at the cabin. Several AK-47s and three cans of ammo were found in the cavity.
The carpet near the passenger seat was dirty and crumpled. When Ramona lifted the carpet, she found a second trap door. This was where Mr. Haskins had hidden all of the money he had collected. It also contained two spiral bookkeeper’s ledgers. They contained names, addresses, payouts, detailed descriptions of the items that had been targeted, and the amount Haskins had received. If Haskins was not the ringleader, he at least knew who was running the show.
The Alberta Connection Page 24