Melissa fell silent. Brian knew she was thinking she’d made a mistake by bringing up the X-ray—that they’d exposed too much about themselves.
“Look,” Brian said, thinking quickly, realizing that the connection Malone wanted to make was one for which he had no real information. “We know who’s looking for us. The trouble we’re in started before we met Malcolm and Dee this summer. If something was implanted in Melissa, we can add that to our list of problems whether there’s a connection or not. We’d decide what to do about the pregnancy if that was the case.”
“If you can do this,” Melissa said, feeling somewhat relieved at Brian’s response, “we’d be in your debt.”
“You already know what I want,” Neff said. “I want your husband’s time. We need information from him about what he’s been posting.”
Malcolm and Dee simultaneously gave Brian a mystified look.
“I’ll explain later,” he told them, then turned to Neff. “We didn’t have time to get into all that. I suppose you have a deal.”
Neff’s reply took Brian and Melissa by surprise. “Dr. Scott, I don’t want your help if it comes only out of a sense of obligation. I want you to help us because you trust us. I’ll give Clarise a call and see what she can do.”
22
A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.
—Jean de La Fontaine
“Ready for show and tell?”
“Yes—and take your time,” Melissa replied. “If there’s anything to notice, I don’t want you to miss it.”
“I won’t. Nobody’s going to interrupt us on a Sunday, unless somebody in town finds a body.”
“A body?”
“The guy whose office we’re borrowing—his name is Cal—is a pathologist, as well as the local coroner. He’s got some corpses stored away down the hall. We just don’t want to have him bringing in any new ones.”
“I see,” Melissa replied uneasily.
“Are you queasy?”
“No, just a bit on edge.”
“I don’t expect this to take long.”
Melissa watched the tall, striking woman attaching her X-rays to the lighted viewers. She appeared to be her own age, roughly mid-thirties. Her long, tight curls of light brown hair shifted wispily as she looked back and forth from image to image. Melissa started to dress as Clarise silently moved down the row, intermittently positioning and then removing the narrow, dark-rimmed glasses that hung from a delicate chain around her neck. It was the perfect look—studious yet stylish.
“Congratulations on the twins, by the way,” Clarise said, turning to her with a sincere smile.
“Thank you.”
“Any problems with the pregnancy so far?”
Melissa hesitated, taking note that Clarise had asked the question while inspecting the X-ray of her abdomen. “No, none at all.”
“Good. Everything looks fine here, at least in terms of what can be seen in an X-ray.”
Clarise moved to the next image, continuing her inspection. The images provided a complete head-to-toe view. Melissa noticed her lingering over several. “Anything out of place?” she asked apprehensively.
“Not yet,” Clarise replied, leaning in on the images of Melissa’s feet. “I don’t do a lot of this sort of thing, but I’ve read a good bit about implant technology. Usually the best place to hide something is the digits—between toes and fingers, that sort of thing—and teeth, of course.”
“Teeth?” Melissa asked incredulously.
“Teeth.”
“How much of that sort of thing really happens?”
“Hard to know, but happen it does. Obviously there isn’t a truckload of published work on this sort of thing. I wish I’d seen your friend’s implant before Nili ditched it, but they obviously couldn’t bring it along. Some of the patents I’ve seen are fairly exotic. Since hers was military, it may have been especially interesting.”
“Patents?”
“There are lots of tracking implant devices. The government knows about this sort of research and naturally funds and develops some of it. All implants are supposed to be registered with the federal government in the National Medical Device Registry. I’m betting your friend’s wasn’t.”
Melissa looked at her, dumbfounded.
“I know, you have better things to read than healthcare laws and medical patents,” Clarise continued. “The legislation doesn’t specifically mention things like tracking whereabouts—something like RFID—but it doesn’t rule it out, either. It just describes implants that might contribute to gathering medical information and ‘patient safety,’ ” she added with wry smile.
Melissa remained speechless.
“But you don’t have to worry about that,” Clarise said, removing her glasses. “You’re clean, just like your husband.”
Melissa sat down on the edge of the examining bed, visibly relieved. “Thank you so much. And tell your friend how much we appreciate him letting us use his office.”
“I’ll do that—although this didn’t come without a cost.”
“You mean whatever it was that he asked in return?” Melissa asked, recalling the brief exchange she and Brian had overheard between Neff and Malone on the plane.
“Right.”
“I know it’s awfully forward to ask, but—”
“I don’t know what he wanted,” Clarise interrupted her. “And if I did, I’m not sure I could tell you.”
“I understand. It’s just that Mr. Neff seemed agitated about coming here without knowing specifically what was expected in return.”
“He was,” Clarise admitted, grabbing the doorknob and opening it for Melissa. “But Graham wanted to do it. He believes you were worth the risk.”
Melissa looked at her uncertainly.
“Graham likes to help people. It’s a deep character flaw,” she explained, grinning. “So does my friend Cal, but he had something specific in mind when he lent us his office for the day. We’ll find out soon enough whether it was a Faustian bargain.”
The two of them left the examining room and walked the short distance to the waiting room to rejoin the others.
“Find anything?” Neff asked as soon as they appeared.
“She’s clean,” Clarise announced, “just like him.”
“Good,” he answered, looking at Brian.
“Thanks again,” Brian responded. “We really do appreciate this.”
“You’re welcome,” Neff replied. “Now we need to discuss what’s expected of us in return.”
“Shouldn’t we do that without them?” Clarise asked, glancing first at Neff and then Malone.
“They can be here,” Neff replied. “If we end up agreeing to this—and, frankly, we don’t have much choice—it looks like they’re going to be caught in the middle.”
Brian saw an immediate change in Clarise’s expression. She made no attempt to hide her alarm. Then he looked quickly at Malcolm and could tell he’d picked up the change as well.
“What does Cal want?” Clarise asked. “We’ve worked with him before. Is it … the same sort of business?”
“Yes, and no,” Malone answered. “Same kind of cargo, but an unusual situation. Since we haven’t had the chance to do any pre-planning, it’s less predictable than usual—and therefore possibly dangerous.”
“What kind of ‘business’ are you talking about?” Malcolm broke in, asking the question for the rest of the outsiders.
Neff waved his hand. “Not now. If my partners and I are on the same page, you’ll see. But Malone’s right—certain elements make this task dangerous.”
“How many are we talking about?” Clarise asked.
“Thirty,” Neff replied. He paced a few steps to look out the window.
“We need the Hook for that,” she responded. “What’s the timetable? Can we get one of them here?”
“Dawn tomorrow,” Malone replied, “so we have enough time. We’ve proposed a location about 120 miles northeast of Duluth just stateside of
the Canadian border. A chopper can be there in time, even though it would have to refuel twice. From where we’re at now in International Falls, we’re less than an hour away if we take the Lear. There’s an abandoned airport a mile or so from the airport where we’d actually land. That would be the site.”
“But the Hook is in for maintenance,” Neff interjected, still gazing out the window.
“The Puma won’t hold thirty,” Clarise replied. “It’s not the kind of helicopter that can pull this off.”
“I know. That’s one of the reasons it’s complicated.”
“Can we take the rest in the Lear?”
“We can’t fly into the active local airport because we’d never get the cargo out,” Malone explained. “The abandoned airport’s runway was originally only 2,800 feet. It would be unbelievably risky to try to land and take off with the Lear on something that short—and you can bet the runway now is even shorter and in disrepair. And it’ll be covered with snow. We’d probably either crash or get stranded.”
“I think I know what’s coming next,” Clarise said in an apprehensive tone. “Is this really that important? Can’t we pay Cal back another way?”
“We’ll have to have both Pumas from Miqlat,” Neff said, finally turning toward them and rejoining the small group. “Three of our pilots are right here in the room, which means—”
“Which means the other two have to either fly without co-pilots or with co-pilots who aren’t fully trained … and Kamran can’t use the radio. This is sounding too dicey by the minute.”
Malone chimed in, making no attempt to contradict her. “One Puma has the LRAD on it; the other has the prototype EMP cannon. They’ll transport weapons since we can’t take anything in the Lear through airport security.”
“Pardon me,” Dee interrupted in an insincere tone, “but I’m not liking the sound of all this.”
“Did you just say ‘EMP cannon’?” Malcolm asked incredulously, nearly speaking over her.
“That’s understandable, Dr. Harper,” Neff acknowledged, ignoring Malcolm, “but irrelevant.”
“And just why is that?” she demanded. “Why can’t you just do what you need to do and leave us here?”
“We can leave you here, in a manner of speaking. In fact, I’d recommend that you and Dr. Kelley stay behind at the hangar where we leave the Lear, given your circumstances. But—well, we need Dr. Bradley and Dr. Scott with us. They’ll improve our chances for success.”
“Graham—”
“This is starting to sound like some private war,” Dee shot back angrily, cutting off Clarise. “I say we get our own tickets and head back to North Dakota.”
“With what?” Neff asked, his voice piercing. The retort stung, as intended.
“We can buy plane tickets,” Brian replied in her defense. “We can all get back to North Dakota.”
“Yes, I suppose you could do that …” Neff’s voice trailed off and his gaze fell to the floor as he collected his thoughts. “But if you do that, you’ll miss your chance to see what we do. You and your wife have wanted to know that from the beginning.
“I admit, I’m less than enthusiastic about the idea of you learning about our business, but we don’t have much choice. To be honest, we’re short-handed. I’d feel better if you and Dr. Bradley were there … in case something goes wrong. We may need assistance. We usually plan these sorts of things weeks in advance. This is completely unscripted.”
“Man, you’re gonna have to level with us about this ‘business’ before we agree to anything,” Malcolm said, his face hardened with conviction. “And I don’t like the idea of leaving Dee anywhere—and I’m certain Brian feels the same way about Melissa.”
“It’s not going to happen,” Brian confirmed without hesitation. “And that means I want to know the risks up front.”
“I’ve already said it’s dangerous.”
“I heard you. But there’s no way I’m leaving Melissa alone. If someone is watching us, leaving her alone would present an easy opportunity for them to try to take her. If we ever meet up with our problem, I at least want to make it difficult for them to get what they want. We’re staying together.” He looked at Melissa for confirmation, and she nodded.
“That’s acceptable.”
“I didn’t agree yet,” Brian quickly followed. “I want to know this isn’t something I’ll be ashamed of later. Laugh if you want, but I try to do what’s right in God’s eyes with the information I have. I don’t have much to show for it, but that’s who I am.”
“Ditto,” Malcolm agreed.
Neff eyed both of them thoughtfully. A trace of a smile, barely perceptible, appeared on his face. “I’m grateful to hear that.”
“Graham,” Clarise interrupted gently, “you haven’t really answered my question yet. We’ve never done this before with outsiders. Is this really worth the risk? I mean, can’t it be done another time?”
“There’s one other thing you should know about the payload,” Malone responded for Neff, watching Clarise’s expression. “The Filipinos are in this lot.” He raised his eyebrows to accentuating his point.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Cal has confirmation, and it’s convincing.”
“That’s unbelievable.”
“Is it?” Neff asked slowly, a faint expression of irony on his face. “We don’t believe in coincidences, remember?”
“How did he pull that off? That had to be absolutely—”
“Reckless?” Neff mused, completing her thought.
“Yeah.”
Neff shrugged. “That’s his middle name, remember? He thinks the people he pissed off a little over two weeks ago are still looking for their property. Cal’s kept the lot together. He brought them across the border in a two-seater, one trip a night, flying under the radar—literally. The last was yesterday. They have to move now.”
“Have you asked Miqlat about this?”
“A few minutes ago,” Malone answered.
“And?”
“Everybody thinks it’s the right thing to do.”
She shook her head. “Okay then.” Then, in a more confident tone, her expression strangely relaxing, she went on, “The timing is certainly ideal.”
“Wait a minute,” Melissa burst in, her rage building. “Your friend Cal ‘brought them across the border’? Your business is human trafficking? What’s wrong with you people?”
“You’re right, Melissa,” Neff answered calmly. “We buy and transport people, among other ventures. But you won’t be turning us in to law enforcement.”
“The hell we won’t!” Dee seethed.
“No, you won’t, Dr. Harper,” he smiled. “You of all people will appreciate what we do, the risks we take. Remember the Underground Railroad? It’s alive and well today—and you’re about to get a glimpse of how it works.”
23
Better to fight for something than live for nothing.
—General George S. Patton, Jr.
“When we get to the site,” Neff instructed as he drove, “I want all of you to get into the helicopter right away.”
Brian, who was riding shotgun, nodded. His head was throbbing from the flight. He hated flying.
“One of the Pumas is already there, according to my watch. The other one will touch down about a half hour from now. That’ll put us about forty-five minutes until the rendezvous. It should be enough time for Clarise and me to show you and Dr. Bradley the setup and explain the plan.”
After landing at the small airport, the seven of them had piled into a rented SUV for the short drive to the pick-up site, a little over a mile to the south. Brian glanced out the window. The trees lining the heavily-wooded two-lane road glistened with snow. The break of dawn produced the sort of picturesque scenery you’d see on a postcard. The natural beauty manifesting before Brian’s eyes clashed with the anxiety churning inside him. Even on a ride this brief, he’d expected to see at least a handful of cars on the roads, but there hadn’t been
any. The location felt terribly remote.
As they came to an intersection, Brian spotted a clearing straight ahead. It didn’t test his powers of deduction to discern that this was their destination. The snow wasn’t deep enough to obscure the roadways, which were subtly revealed by tall shoots of underbrush visible in scattered tufts on the otherwise flat surfaces on either side of the now defunct entryway. He shook his head at the road signs, which announced they were approaching Airport and Devil Track Roads.
The abandoned runway came into full view in less than fifty yards after they crossed the road. The Puma, not visible from the intersection, was positioned off to the left, its nose pointed perpendicular to the runway toward the entrance so that its side doors faced both ends of the runway. Its engine was off. Neff parked the SUV a short distance away and off the entry road as the Puma’s pilot emerged.
While Neff, Malone, and the pilot conversed, Brian and the rest did as they’d been told and boarded the helicopter under Clarise’s direction. They passed what looked to be a large, round speaker, perhaps four feet across, covered with a metal mesh and mounted on a sturdy cast-iron roller. It was strategically positioned so that it could be swiveled and pointed out of the large side doors at either side of the helicopter.
Brian counted a dozen or so upright seats, two across on one side and a single-seat row on the other, with a small aisle between them. A visible arm and hand flipping toggle switches in the cockpit informed them that someone else was on board, though they couldn’t see who. Clarise took the opportunity to give them a sort of orientation.
“This is one of our two Puma helicopters,” she began, “at least from our main base of operations. We have a few others on the coasts and locations scattered here and there in other countries. It has room enough for about twenty seats, though we’ve removed a few for the LRAD—the long range acoustic device. It’s the device set up in the center of the Puma.”
“The round thing?” Brian asked.
“Yes,” she answered. “It’s designed for long-range verbal communication up to a mile and a half. It can also disable people with sound.”
“So it’s a headache machine?” Malcolm surmised.
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