Exile Hunter

by Preston Fleming

  “Unless you count the money Philip left in Ohio.”

  “You mean to say the story about hiding a portion of what he took from the Cleveland banks is really true?”

  “If you didn’t believe me when I told you about it the first time, why did you bother coming here?” Yost asked.

  “Hope springs eternal, I suppose,” Linder answered with a shrug. “I had to see for myself.”

  “And maybe take some of it with you?” Yost asked.

  “A little travel money would come in handy right about now,” Linder confessed.

  “Come along, then, partner,” Yost beckoned as he took a step toward the barn. “We’ll do a quick inspection of the cache and then I’ll tell you how we’re going to get it out of here. There’s lots to be done and not much time to do it.”

  * * *

  It was early afternoon by the time they left the farm in Linder’s minivan, turned back toward the city, and stopped for sandwiches. To Linder, Charlie Yost’s reappearance was nothing short of a miracle. Only a few hours earlier, he had only the vaguest idea of how he might escape the country. Now, Yost had shared with him a fully developed plan, complete with all the resources necessary to carry it out. If it succeeded, not only he and Yost, but also Caroline, April and Jay would be steaming east toward Lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence River by bedtime of the following day.

  Twenty minutes after finishing their lunch, the two men drove past the old DSS office at Hopkins Airport where Linder and Denniston had met on the eve of the Battle of Cleveland. Spotting the building from the highway, Linder felt a chill at the thought that someone might be watching him now from the same window where he and Denniston had stood drinking coffee.

  “Pull off here,” Yost instructed Linder after they passed the airport. “Let’s find us a coffee shop.”

  “But we just ate,” Linder objected.

  “It’s not for the food,” Yost replied. “We need a pay phone. You’re going to place a phone call to your old employer.”

  “I’m what?” Linder exclaimed.

  “Stop right there, by the fried chicken joint. I’ll fill you in on you all you need to know.”

  Once Yost explained his plan, Linder could not help marveling at its simplicity and how effectively it exploited weaknesses inherent in the DSS mentality. A phone call from him to Denniston would present an irresistible attraction to anyone in the DSS who still followed the case of the missing Cleveland bank loot.

  A few minutes later, Linder left the minivan and walked into the coffee shop. The pay phones were at the front, off to the side of the waiting area. He dialed a toll-free number in northern Virginia and after several recorded prompts was connected with a live operator.

  “I’d like to leave a message for one of your officers by the name of Neil Denniston,” Linder said without introducing himself. “Please tell him Warren Linder called. He’ll know the name. Tell him I have a proposition for him. I’ll call back tomorrow between noon and one. If he’s not available, have him leave a message as to when he’ll be free. Thank you.”

  Linder returned to the car and gave Yost a nod.

  “Do you think he’ll call?” Yost inquired.

  “Oh, he’ll call,” Linder answered, restarting the engine. “There’s no way in the world the bosses would let Neil miss an opening like that.”

  “And do you think he’ll come?”

  “He’ll sure want to,” Linder replied. “If they don’t send Neil, they’ll send somebody else.” He paused and gave Yost a searching look. “Here’s my question to you,” Linder added. “Do you think the plan will work?”

  “I expect some of it will,” Yost said. “But as they say, no battle plan survives the first contact with the enemy.”

  They drove back onto the highway and continued south to an industrial area off West 117th Street, with a variety of electrical, plumbing, and building supply stores. Moving from one store to another, they purchased an innocuous assortment of tools and supplies. When they were finished, Yost looked at his watch.

  “All right, that’s enough for one day. Now, if you don’t mind dropping me at the farm, you’re free till tomorrow morning.”

  “Where do you want to meet?” Linder asked.

  “Meet me at eleven outside the dollar store on Brookpark. And make sure your people will be ready to go the moment you come back for them tomorrow afternoon.”

  * * *

  That evening, Jay Becker arrived in a 22-foot moving van and settled into a motel a quarter mile from where April and Caroline had spent the day. Linder located the hotel and then made a detour to pick up some take-out Chinese food before heading to Jay’s room. Once inside, the two men greeted each other warmly and shared stories of their separate travel to Cleveland. Though Jay expressed suspicion on hearing of Yost’s appearance at the Medina farm, before long he warmed to the plan that Linder laid out for the following day and became satisfied with Linder’s answers to his concerns.

  On leaving Jay’s motel room, Linder returned to April and Caroline with more take-out food, a sack of magazines and paperback books and a fresh deck of playing cards. While the day’s activities had left him exhausted and he was anxious to recover his stamina for the next day’s work, dinner conversation in the room’s tiny kitchenette soon became tense, since April and Caroline were eager to learn what Linder had done all day while they had remained cooped up indoors. At the same time, Linder was unwilling to confide much about plans for the morrow, except that April and Caroline could expect him or Jay to pick them up shortly after dark.

  “And then what?” April challenged as she unpacked the food and laid it out on the table. “Where are we going? Do you really have a plan for taking us out of the country or are you just making it up as you go along?”

  Caroline looked on silently from across the table, sharing April’s impatience but showing in her eyes a desperate will to believe. In a sane world, now would be the time to inform her of her mother’s death. But Linder could not bring himself to do it.

  “I’m sorry, April,” Linder said, taking his sister’s hands in his. “I understand how stressful the waiting must be. But there is a plan, and it’s a good one. Now that Jay is here, we’ll be setting up everything for tomorrow night.”

  “Setting what up?” she demanded, pulling her hands free of his. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s better if I don’t tell you,” he replied, because if either of you were caught and forced to talk, I’d lose any leverage I might have to get you released.”

  “And you really think you can pull this off, Warren? I need to know, because you’re all we have to believe in right now, and I need to know that you still believe in yourself.”

  “April, all I can say is this,” he answered, gripping the back of the chair before him. “I escaped from a strict-regime camp in the Yukon and walked over a thousand miles to get here. I’ll find a way where there is no way. Whoever or whatever has protected me so far, I have faith that it won’t let me down now.”

  And without another word, he gathered both April and Caroline into his arms and held them tight, as if he could etch the moment and the feeling of them into his mind forever.

  * * *

  Linder spent the night with April and Caroline in their motel room and rose early. He found Yost waiting for him at eleven A.M., as planned, outside the dollar store in the pickup truck that Yost had left at the farm the previous day. On seeing the minivan approach, Yost parked the pickup behind the dollar store and left it to join Linder. They role-played the impending telephone call in the parking lot for nearly an hour before taking the minivan another mile down the highway to a truck stop, where a row of pay phones awaited them.

  At noon, Linder exited the van, approached the phone furthest from the gas pumps, and dialed. He followed the automated prompts until at last he connected with a live operator.

  “Neil Denniston, please,” he said.

  “I’ll connect you right away,” the operator replie
d after a brief pause.

  “Denniston here,” came the man’s familiar voice and, for a moment, Linder nearly forgot his script.

  “Hi, Neil, it’s Warren. Did you get the message I left?”

  “Yes,” Denniston replied with a mix of caution and false bonhomie. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to be sensible and give yourself up. Where are you now?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Linder answered. “After we come to terms.”

  “You know I can’t make any promises without getting approval first.”

  “I’ve allowed for that,” Linder said. “Now, here’s what I want from you. I’m offering you the same deal that Philip Eaton proposed to the government last year. I’ll surrender, provided that the Department guarantees amnesty and safe passage for my sister April, Caroline Kendall and my business partner, Jay Becker, none of whom has committed any crime other than associating with me.”

  “Why should we give you that when we’re going to capture you all, anyway?” Denniston boasted. “Besides, Caroline Kendall can leave the country with her mother and stepfather any time she pleases. They’ve already agreed to sign over the Eaton trust funds in exchange for exit visas and a finder’s fee. So you’re not doing the girl any favors by holding her hostage like this.”

  “Patricia and Roger are dead, Neil, and you know it. Without Caroline, you can’t get at the trusts. So, cut the crap. Now, what if I were able offer you something better than the Eaton family trusts? Would a room full of gold and art objects be enough to change your mind?”

  “Ahh, Eaton’s legendary bank treasure,” Denniston mocked.

  “Don’t try that on me,” Linder snapped. “You and I know it’s real because we both saw the empty vaults. Now, how would you like to be the one who finally brings the treasure home to Uncle Sugar?”

  “How do I know you’re not bluffing? We’d need to see it first,” Denniston demanded.

  “Understood,” Linder agreed. “But how do I know you won’t welsh on your side of the deal once I show it to you?”

  “You don’t,” Denniston answered. “But you ought to know more than anyone that the DSS couldn’t function if it didn’t make good on its deals with informants and collaborators. If you lead us to Eaton’s gold cache, I’ll personally escort you and your people onto the next commercial flight to wherever you want to go. Why would we need to keep you once we had the gold?”

  Why does a scorpion sting? Linder wanted to ask, but held his tongue.

  “All right then, meet me tonight in Cleveland,” Linder said after a pause. “Give me a dial-in number and I’ll call you when I’m ready. Can you be at Hopkins Airport by seven with a new passport and exit visa for each of us?”

  “The documents will be a stretch. Better make it eight o’clock,” Denniston proposed before giving Linder the phone number where he could be reached on arrival in Cleveland.

  “One last thing,” Linder added. “Feel free to bring as many goons as you please. I figured you would, anyway.”

  Linder hung up the phone and returned to the car.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said to Yost on closing the car door.

  “Did he take the bait?” Yost asked.

  “All the way,” Linder replied with a grim smile.

  “Fine. Then let’s rendezvous with your man Jay and head over to the farm,” Yost responded. “If all goes as planned, we’ll all be steaming blissfully toward Buffalo by bedtime tonight.”

  But Linder felt far from blissful. While prepared to sacrifice himself, if necessary, to save the others, he did not feel comfortable with a plan that relied even indirectly on promises from a professional liar like Denniston. While Yost’s plan had taken into account a number of ways in which their deal with the DSS might go awry, Linder knew that Denniston’s capacity for deceit knew no limits.

  The pair linked up with Jay and his truck in the bedroom community of Brunswick and motored on through Medina to Yost’s farm, where they spent the entire afternoon making use of the tools and supplies Linder and Yost had purchased the day before. As the sun sank toward the horizon, Linder removed his work gloves and sat on an upturned bucket inside the barn.

  “My God, Charlie,” he told Yost. “I haven’t worked so hard since I was on your logging crew in the Yukon. I’m getting too old for this.”

  Yost laughed.

  “Tell me that when you’re my age,” he replied before looking at his watch. “Anyway, we’ve loaded as much as the truck will carry. You go on back and fetch the women. Jay and I will meet you with the truck at the rendezvous point at ten to eight for the phone call.”

  Linder agreed and drove the minivan back to the hotel to pick up April and Caroline, who expressed their relief at seeing him by pelting him with questions.

  “Where’s Jay?” Caroline asked first.

  “Is this it?” April followed. “Are we really leaving?”

  “Yes, grab your things. The van is out front.” Linder replied.

  “Can you tell us where we’re going yet?” Caroline asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

  “I’ll be able to tell you what’s happening in about an hour,” he told them. “Meanwhile, let’s get going. We have a date at eight and can’t afford to miss it.”

  * * *

  They bought dinner at the drive-through window of a hamburger eatery and ate hurriedly in the van. They reached the rendezvous spot, located a short drive west of the motel, by half past seven. At a quarter before eight, Jay’s truck had not yet appeared. At eight, still no truck. Linder considered calling the DSS on his own but decided against it. At eight fifteen, the truck came into view.

  When it pulled up, Jay dismounted and Linder noticed with alarm that he had come alone.

  “Where’s Charlie?” Linder demanded. “I need to talk to him before I make the call and it’s already past eight.”

  “Never mind the phone call,” Jay answered. “Just bring April and Caroline and get in the truck.”

  “But that’s all wrong,” Linder protested. “You were supposed to bring Charlie so that he and I could go back to the farm while you took the girls up to Lake Erie. What’s happening here?”

  “All of you hop into the truck and I’ll tell you on the way,” Jay replied, straining to remain calm. “There’s no time to waste.”

  “No, tell me right now,” Linder insisted. He felt a sudden chill as a strong breeze hit his back, which was damp with nervous sweat.

  “Charlie made the phone call himself from the farm,” Jay began. “He wants us to go straight to a boatyard in Vermilion. A launch will pick us up there. If he can’t join us in time, we’re supposed to go on without him. He’ll catch up later.”

  “Is something wrong? Is Charlie okay?”

  “Charlie’s fine. I’m sure of it. I can explain everything, but we’ve got to get on the road fast if we’re going to hit our window.”

  Something was amiss. Of this Linder was certain. He felt a chill breeze at his back once again and looked up. Heavy gray clouds moved low across the illuminated night sky like merciless tanks rolling in to crush everything in their path. But he was not afraid. For reasons he could not grasp, his intuition told him not to resist the change. Instead, he rolled open the door to the minivan.

  “There’s been a slight change of plan,” he announced to April and Caroline in a voice more calm than he had expected. “We’re driving the rest of the way with Jay. Hop in and squeeze together. It won’t be very far.”

  Caroline hesitated before stepping onto the pavement. Linder gave her a reassuring look that seemed to have little effect. Similarly, April’s face was pale and wore a grim expression as she stepped out of the van.

  When they had climbed into the cab, with Caroline sitting on April’s lap, Linder said, “It’s going to be okay, now. Really it is.”

  And he prayed that he would not let them down.

  * * *

  Charlie Yost lay on his back in a stubble-filled cornfield adjacent to the barn
where the cached bank loot was buried and looked up at the stars. The grass was dry and the ground was warm but his arms and legs ached as badly as they ever had after a hard day’s work in the Yukon. At fifty, he already felt the way he had expected to feel when he reached seventy. Doubtless the Yukon had shortened his natural life by a decade or more, but by now he knew that something more was wrong with him than premature aging. Though he dared not consult a doctor as an escaped prisoner, it was obvious from his dark urine, swollen lymph nodes, and the recurrent pains in his lower back and gut that he was seriously ill.

  Glancing at his watch, Yost saw that it was nearly quarter to nine. Dogs barked in the distance and shadowy figures in camouflage garb emerged from the tree line on either side of him. Yost raised himself to his feet and found himself surrounded by snarling attack dogs. He raised his hands over his head and froze. Moments later, troops with night vision goggles approached and snapped leads onto the dogs’ collars.

  “Are you Warren Linder?” one soldier asked before frisking him for weapons.

  “That would be me,” he lied.

  “Where’s the gold?” another demanded.

  “Buried under the barn. I’ll take you to it if you call off the damned dogs,” Yost offered.

  “Lodi Six reporting. The subject is in custody,” the soldier reported on a handheld radio. “He claims the goods are hidden in the barn. Request permission to escort him to the barn to commence search.”

  “Denniston here,” another voice crackled over the radio. “Permission granted. Report when the goods are located and the site is clear.”

  Yost led his captors to the barn, opened the Dutch door, and offered to enter first. Lodi Six brushed past him and entered with his night vision goggles lifted and a brilliant headlamp switched on in their place. Yost followed him inside the barn, crossed to a spot behind a wooden support column, and swept away the layer of hay and dirt that concealed a trap door beneath.

  Yost lifted the trap door and, as he had a moment earlier, offered to enter first. This time, Lodi Six held him back while other troops shone their headlamps inside and found a spacious cellar stacked with flat wooden crates, one of them pried partially open. A headlamp caught the dull glint of a gold bar.